On May 19, 1980, Mt. St. Helens blew its top. The major eruption was captured on film and it was spectacular. The geologists told us about pyroclastic flows and made estimates of the enormous amounts of earth that had been blasted into the heavens. People in the Northwestern U.S. coughed and choked through thick clouds of ash and smoke for weeks.

Of course, back here in the East, we watched the story unfold and were once again grateful that we lived far away from the earthquakes and volcanoes of the American West. I was working for a consulting company in Fairfax, Virginia at the time. It was my job to help with the research in the libraries and other places before we headed out to the field for an archeological survey. The company, Iroquois Research Institute, worked on projects all over the U.S. It was a great place for a baby archeologist to get a lot of varied experience.

In those days before the Internet, conducting this background research meant that you actually had to go to the information. You couldn't plop down in front of your computer, google a few terms, call up a few maps, and email the local experts. I've always been an information junky, so working for a company in the 'burbs of Washington, DC was a dream come true. When I needed to do research, I hopped on the Metro and zoomed into the city to spend the day at the Library of Congress. I was awestruck everytime I went there. I'd stand there in front of that gigantic card catalog (yes, this was even before libraries had computerized catalogs!) and know that within a few hours I'd have more information than even I could stand. And across the street, in the Geography and Maps Division in the basement of the James Madison Building -- ahhhhhh, heaven on earth. Maps, aerial photos, etc. etc. etc. I often dreamed of being accidentally locked in there and spending the night in the throes of cartographic bliss.

But I digress. One fine day in May, 1980, I headed away from the city to Reston, Virginia, the home of the headquarters of the US Geological Survey. This was the home of every topographic map the government had ever made. I'd take my modern map and compare it to earlier maps of the project area to see how the landscape had changed. Then, when we went to the field, we knew where we would be most likely to find evidence of the folks who lived there through the centuries. I happened to be in a room happily surrounded by reels of microfilmed maps when a machine on the other side of the office rumbled to life. Suddenly, the room filled with geologists erupting with excitement. The first photos of the Mount St. Helens eruption were coming across the wire! I was honored to share the moment with these professionals.

By the way, the project that I was researching that day -- I was studying the lower Mississippi River, from Baton Rouge to New Orleans to the Gulf of Mexico. We had been hired by the US Army Corps of Engineers to do an archeological survey of the levees.