Actually Dan, my very first job was as an archaeologist.
I was 6 or 7 years old living in Chicago, and not far from our house there were railroad tracks at a point where a couple of the rail lines converged.
Back then, most of the railroad tracks in the city were bordered on both sides by several yards of open land that had lain for the most part undisturbed (except by previous generations of 6 and 7 yr olds) so if you dug in the ground deep enough you never knew what you'd find. My brother and I found all kinds of old porcelain electrical converters, antique soda and milk bottles (the square ones), an occasional old coin or bottle top, even an occasional rusty horse shoe, all kinds of stuff from way-back-when. And remember, when you're 6 or 7 years old anything that's the same age as your parents, or even older, is an artifact from remotest antiquity.
I can still remember how much fun it was making those discoveries, feeling like you'd been transported back in time to a time when the whole world seemed like the setting for a Steinbeck novel: holding something in your hand that may have belonged to a Great Depression Era hobo or railroad worker (or a bank robber trying to make his get-a-way by freight train
) , or just some other 6 or 7 yr old who'd probably become a grandfather or great-grandfather by the time you got a hold of it.
Living history, can't beat it.