Day 3 - You're in Good Hands with Me

*Please note that today’s post is not for the faint of heart. Read further if you wish, but maybe not while you're eating.

Saturday was my first day without rain or snow. Nothing but sunshine from Eureka to San Francisco.

I departed from Eureka slightly later than I expected, but I gained time because my phone didn’t want to give me the option of California State Route 1 and by taking 101, I had less water to see but also less time to travel.

My goal was to arrive in San Carlos, where I am staying, by 6:30 PM and I planned my travels to put me in Albany, CA at least three hours before that.

I wanted to be in Albany for a specific reason -- to shop at a specific shop. During my month in Tacoma, I watched or rewatched all of the seasons of Mythbusters. During one of the first seasons, they attempted to make a new (and improved!) Buster, their crash test dummy. In order to create lifelike thresholds for Buster’s new bones, they needed to find out how much weight it takes to break the strongest bone in the body, the femur. And in order to do that, they need a femur.

So the guys set off for the Bone Room, and so did I. (BTW: It takes between 600 and 625 lbs to break a femur.)

The Bone Room is one of only a handful of stores in the US that sells human bones (others are in New York and Oklahoma City). My intention was to leave with more bones than I came with. I thought, what better way to start of my life studying bodies than with a piece of a body?

The night before, I read through the store’s website to give me an idea of what to expect. Skulls were way out of my price range, but I could totally afford a clavicle, a cervical vertebra, or a patella. While musing over which would look best holding down some papers, it occurred to me: Where did these bones come from?

According to the website, India and China. Two fine countries that are not so fine to their citizens. I read on to find out why India and China had so many human bones available, but apparently that is not a question that is frequently asked.

About a year ago, my mom and I watched the documentary Good Hair by Chris Rock. I was particularly struck by the story of weaves. According to the movie, a large portion of the human hair used for extensions and weaves comes from India. A ritual called tonsure involves women growing their hair long and then shaving it all off into pits in the name of spirituality. The hair is then gathered up and turned into weaves that can sell for more than $1000 in salons. Something tells me whatever religious fulfillment the women receive for shaving their heads, it pales in comparison to the monetary fulfillment the weave manufacturers receive as they get their raw materials for free and sell them at an enormous mark up.

Suspecting that similarly shady practices might be involved, I knew that in order to feel comfortable buying a bone, I would need to ask more questions.

I arrived at the Bone Room ahead of schedule and with plenty of time to shop. I walked into the small store and saw all kinds of human, animal, and doll (?) ephemera. I took a lap around and saw dead and mounted butterflies, bugs, and spiders, live crickets and a snake, disassembled doll parts in jars, antique medical equipment and surgical supplies, and lots and lots of bones.

I approached the woman at the counter and explained that I was on a cross-country trip to nursing school and that this was a planned stop on my route as I thought a bone would be a neat souvenir to take with me to school. I then asked why these bones happened to be available. She seemed surprised by the question and began to give me the same explanation from the website. Expanding it, she said that for a couple hundred dollars, some people in India and China will tattoo a message on themselves instructing their bodies to be “donated” after death. Either that or bodies would be found tossed out on the street. (If no one else is going to use it, why not break it down and sell the bones to a little shop in California for future nurses to buy as souvenirs?)

Not feeling particularly reassured, I told her I am planning to be a women’s health nurse practitioner, and while I know there are very few bones in the reproductive system, could she think of something appropriate? She sent her coworker upstairs to bring down a bankers box full of half pelvises.

Pelvises are the tell as to whether a skeleton is male or female. She sorted through them trying to find the females. “This one is from someone who was small. This one is from someone who was very young. See how the bone hasn’t finished fusing? This one is from someone who gave birth. This one is from someone who was older and had arthritis. This one is from someone who was malnourished. See how thin and cracked the bone is here?”

She handed me several to inspect. Some had writing on them, numbers and notes. Some were bright white and some were darker brown. I held one of the smaller white ones and clarified. “This is a real bone I’m holding? Like, from inside someone.” She confirmed that that is where that pelvis was originally found.

I asked to step out for a moment and think about whether or not to take a pelvis home with me, but before I went I asked for a price range to expect. She told me that depending on the grade of the bone, it would be somewhere around $125. The grade? She went on to say that grade A bones are the most expensive and the best quality, but that most of the bones in the box would be discounted.

A while ago I had an ethics question I was hoping to get some guidance on from my dad. Before I even described the circumstances, he quoted the ethicist Randy Cohen: If you find yourself asking an ethics questions, you probably already know the answer.

I knew as I explained the situation over the phone to my father that I already had my answer. I don’t feel like the bones are honorably obtained and I don’t think holding down some papers is an honorable usage for what used to be part of a person.

My dad asked me some questions to clarify my position. If it was available, would I buy a whole cadaver? I said no, because I couldn’t possibly fit it in my car. He asked if I would buy one if I could fit it in my car. I said no, because I already have a body of my own. My decision was made. No human bones for Shoshana except the ones she came with.

Beyond that, I felt conflicted about buying anything at the store as it might perpetuate what seems like an unethical cycle.

I went back to let them know they could put the box of bones back and found a larger, older gentleman sitting behind the counter. Initially, I had been encouraged to see only women working at the store as it gave it an air of care and thoughtfulness. One of the women explained to the gentleman that I was the one that had been looking at the pelvises and the gentleman and I started talking. I told him why I’d come in and he said he’d never met a nurse he didn’t like or wouldn’t want caring for him.

I asked what the purview of the shop is. He said it’s whatever interests him. I asked what his relationship to the store is. He said he owns it.

We went on to talk more about the shop and I thought maybe he could win me back. I asked if they deliver (in case I change my mind) and he said they ship every day. I mentioned that it’s a good thing I’m not going to Emory because the website lists Georgia as one of the states that prohibits the import and export of bodies. He said that may not actually be the case, and laws on the books are different from laws that are enforced. He explained that there’s a law in California banning the sale of python parts, but that he’d sold python bones for years with no problems. Recently, though the powers that be have been cracking down to the tune of $5000 per violation.

It occurred to me how restrictive the laws are for bones versus fur. He agreed saying that when they get coyote pelts in, they come with protesters. But the coyote bones? Eh, not so much. I said there must be a different emotional connection to the outsides versus the insides of and animal. He agreed, and I segued into the emotional aspect of what he sells, observing that it didn’t seem like he was in it for the money. He agreed again, but said he would defend the position of someone who was in it only for the money. (Definitely not the winning line for me.)

He said he was in this line of work to learn and discover, and to be around pretty girls. With that he reached over and brushed up and down the arm of a 20-something year-old employee who was watching some customers on the other side of the store. (Yup, he lost me for good right there.)

He said he also likes to show his special collection to special people. If his special collection was in any type of curtained or closed off area, I likely would have gotten the hell out of there, but he had me check out the surgical supplies while he got ready to show me his special pieces next door in the gallery open to the public.  

(I will spare you from pictures in the next section.)
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I looked at knee hammers, urinary catheters, and “kill jars”. Then he came over and showed me some vintage speculums and forceps. As we were admiring, a frequent customer came over to explain what some of the more obscure instruments were for.

Then we all headed next door to see the treasures. The man sat down and stacked two fabric covered boxes beside him. He asked if we were familiar with a technique that involves making the skin of an animal transparent and dying the bones inside red. He also said that what he had in the boxes made a woman faint.

What he had inside one of the boxes was a fetus (that had undergone the aforementioned technique) preserved in a yellow liquid in a jar. The skin was transparent and tiny little bones glowed red under the surface.

Now, due to the line of work I’ve been in, it was not a sight that would cause me to faint. It was actually quite large compared to the ones I’ve seen before and even though the man guessed it was about 12 weeks along, I’m fairly sure it was a few weeks beyond that.

I became curious again. How does one obtain a specimen like that, I asked. Are there dealers for that kind of item or can one search for “tiny human fetus preserved in yellow stuff” on eBay? He said a guy from Ohio came in and offered it.

In the second box was another fetus (the one he said caused the woman to faint) not in a jar, but perfectly preserved and able to sit curled up in a hand. It was several weeks further developed – probably 16 you 18 weeks – and its skin was properly opaque. It looked very human. 

I asked where he’d procured this find and he said it was from the same guy from Ohio. What’s this guy from Ohio up to that he has access to this type of product, I asked. He changed the subject.

He asked if we’d seen BodyWorlds. I have and it was a great leap from my being unable to walk past the frozen meat section at the grocery store without feeling queasy and citing moral objection to dissecting an owl pellet in eighth grade. I think that it helped that the bodies were dry. (I've always believed that bodily fluids should remain inside the body.)

There was another girl working at the table beside him, gluing animal skulls back together. He asked her to fetch something from his “curiosity cabinet” in the back. She returned with half of a face . . . in her hands, her face was fine. The face was preserved in the same way as the parts from BodyWorlds was cut down the middle, exposing all of the nasal passages and sinuses on one side and the parietal glands behind the cheek on the other.

The frequent customer held the face first and then offered it to his girlfriend who politely declined. Then he offered it to me and I thought, why the heck not hold half a face today, I’ve come this far!

Lastly, she showed us Hans, a full head and shoulders preserved with the same technique as the face. The frequent customer lifted the box that covers it, shielding children from it (or it from children?). The man pointed out that the back of the skull comes off. The frequent customer removed the back of the skull and handed it to me. I looked down at the inside of Hans’ head. The dura mater was still inside where the brain’s two hemispheres are separated. It was slightly floppy. I looked at the side view where dura, skull, periosteum, and scalp form the inside to outside of our heads. Hans’ hair was still attached and felt very much like a wig.

The man then pulled out a box of medical tools he thinks came from an otorhinolaryngologist. Among the hooks and scalpels and chisels was a tool that looked like it would be excellent for removing corks from wine bottles but turned out to be for removing circles of skull from heads (to allow for the removal of demons or something like that). 

Okay, one picture

After that the frequent customer and his girlfriend (who refused to hold everything was offered) left and I continued to sift through the instruments.

“It’s too bad you’re leaving for the East Coast, I like to keep pretty girls like you around,” the man said.

“What does this do?” I asked picking up an instrument that looked like a tiny golf club.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Well,” I replied, “it sounds like you still have a lot to learn.” 

And with that I went to look at the cabinet of curiosities.

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While I was looking, the man went back to the store portion of the building. Before I left, I stopped to talk with the young woman gluing skulls. I asked if she did that often and she said, yeah, they break a lot during shipping. She mentioned she’d overheard that I was heading east and asked where I’d be going. I told her that I was on my way to Massachusetts and she said that’s where she’d be going for college after she graduated from high school this coming weekend. I asked her where she would be going as MA is the land of colleges. “Oh, a school called Hampshire,” she said.

I did my best not to taint her experience before she has a chance to form her own opinion, talking up the sandwich bar and downplaying the fact that I left after one semester. After wishing her the best of luck, shaking the man’s hand, and thanking him for his time, I hit the road again with only my own bones and all of the money I’d brought with me.

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My next stop was San Carlos, a wee bit south of San Francisco and home to family friends Cindy, Joe, and Alan. 

I’ve met Cindy before, but it was my first time meeting her husband and her son. Also staying with them is “a man we just met today” who, she went on to explain, is a friend of friend and not someone they just scooped off the street.

Cindy is a gracious and generous hostess, making sure I have everything I need (including a spot in their driveway) and pointing out the intricacies of the house -– like how to lock the non-intuitive door downstairs and where to stand for the best view of the birds that fly through the valley below.

We all went out to dinner at a cute Indian restaurant nearby in one of the family's two Priuses (this apparently is the land of Priuses) and learned about each other. Afterwards, we walked back to the car as toddler Alan asked about the make of each car we passed.

“What kind is that?” he asked.

“It’s a Buick,” his father said as we passed the Honda.

When we returned to the house, it was time for Alan to go to bed. I hung out in his room, perusing his bookshelf while his mom changed him and got him into his jammies.

“I think Shoshana would like to read you your bedtime story,” Joe suggested.

Oh dear. Shoshana would like to live in a world with only grown-ups who read to themselves. But since she doesn’t and this trip is an opportunity to try new things (see above) how bad could it be to read to the kid?

So I was placed in the rocking chair and Alan was placed on my lap (he is likely the first kid to occupy that territory in over 15 years). We read a story about how if you eat a lot of cake and cookies you can’t button your pants, but if you eat the same amount of carrots and yogurt, your pants will button properly. Alan helped turn the pages and when the book was done, his parents tucked him in, gave him a cuddle sandwich, and he went to sleep.

After that, the rest of went upstairs where I was given the tour of some of the amazing projects Joe took on and completed in his amazing house. Even though his job is heavily conceptual and in the realm of psychology, his hobbies are heavily physical and in the realm of construction. Cindy showed me the bathroom that Joe remodeled from scratch and that took him exactly a year to complete. It is simply gorgeous with mosaic tiles, handmade vanity, and Cerberus-esque shower.

The night wound down with us sitting together, playing with Buckyballs, and Cindy agreeing with me that spelling and grammar are important. (But please do not castigate me for any errors here. Let me know of any misplaced or misspelled whatnots and they’ll be taken care off. : )

Tomorrow Joe agreed to explain to me how wind works. He gave me a sneak peek explaining that there are different types of wind and one kind blows up from the ground up into their house through the registers. He claims it smells like outside ground air, but Cindy has no idea what he is talking about.

Tonight is the first night I’m not sleeping in my sleep sack for fear of those who came before me in my cheap hotel room. It’s also the first night of two that I will be spending here and it’s very nice to know that.


Odometer Start: 34633 

Odometer End: 34984
Miles Driven Today: 351
Miles Driven Total: 1164
Today In/Around: San Francisco, CA
Tomorrow: San Francisco, CA again
States Visited: 3 (Washington, Oregon, California)
Skulls Held: 3
Kids Read To: 1