Perhaps I'll lose some readers over this one. But, oh well.
On my last trip back to Illinois, my mother gave me a few snaps (I believe the rest of you call them "photographs") of various family members. Though the "gay thing" has pretty much called for me to keep my extended family at arm's length, the past few years have been marked by the deaths, both expected and unexpected, of an assortment of my extended kin. Thus, with so many passings, my immediate family has been a bit preoccupied with family history.
As I've somehow become a (hack) scientist in the midst of a family of musicians and teachers, I believe my mother, in particular, is eager to trace the science genes ("science alleles, mother...") through her lineage. I, though, maintain that occupation is still predominantly an environmental cue, and far from fixed in stone. I don't really consider myself to be a scientist; I just play one at work. And so far, no one's come in to lead me away, back home to play with Legos. But, I'll admit, it is still intriguing to ponder familial connections in what-I've-done-so-far-with-my-life. Since you can count my immediate scientist progenitors on one hand, it's pretty easy to trace the science alleles back. Hence, I should not have been surprised that, on my last trip back, included in the snaps of one of my pappaws as a child, or one of my mammaws as an infant, there was an 8" X 10" photograph of my great-grandfather while he was in medical school.
He and I share the same first name. Since his son (my pappaw) and I slouch the same way, perhaps he did as well. That's really about all that I know. But, he was a scientist. The photograph shows him in a class for medical school. He's standing in the back (quite frankly, I tend to do the same), with only his face peering over a much shorter classmate's head.
Though I do indeed keep much of my blood kin at arm's length, I was actually excited to receive a copy of this photograph from my mother. I suppose, though I've built up my own "family" over the years, fearing many of my own conservative relatives, I still have a small urge to look back at my predecessors, and think: this is another part of how-I-got-here.
So, I bought a frame, slipped the photograph in, and mounted it on the wall next to my B.A. ("gift certificate") above my desk.
When I showed it to Zach, he looked not at my pappaw's father, with whom I share my first name, but at what my pappaw's father and his classmates were doing in class that day:
"James, what's that they're standing around..."
I look:
"Why, it's a cadaver. What'd you think it was, silly?"
Though he had probably guessed that on his own, I'm willing to bet that Zach was hoping for another answer...
1. "Oh, I thought I'd be funny to photoshop in a dead body."
2. "It's a mannequin."
3. "Didn't you know they had blow-up dolls back then?"
4. "One word: cannibalism."
You really can't see more than the lower legs. Students are blocking most of the rest, as are some rather soiled-looking rags. But, seriously folks, let's be honest about this: it's medical school. Of course you need cadavers to study human anatomy and physiology! Sorry guys. There are no substitutes. Only the Real McCoy will do. We've tried substitutions before: Galen, due to cultural taboos forbiding human dissection, had to use barbary apes, leading to countless myths and misinterpretations which persisted up through the Enlightenment.
As for the corpse, I'm sure he or she had lived a full life, and had stated explicitly that his/her body should be donated to science upon death. I would hope, at least. Anyway, perhaps it wasn't the most appropriate time or place for a photograph - no one is smiling, at least. But still, there it hangs, on my wall. Nine live humans, and one dead.
At least my ancestor was one of the breathing ones.
Posted by James at July 5, 2005 09:49 PM