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Below are the first 10 and last 10 pages of uncorrected machine-read text (when available) of this chapter, followed by the top 30 algorithmically extracted key phrases from the chapter as a whole.
Intended to provide our own search engines and external engines with highly rich, chapter-representative searchable text on the opening pages of each chapter.
Because it is UNCORRECTED material, please consider the following text as a useful but insufficient proxy for the authoritative book pages.
Do not use for reproduction, copying, pasting, or reading; exclusively for search engines.
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Introduction
For the Love of Bones
Diane France loves bones. Does that sound weird? It will
make perfect sense in a moment, as soon as you read her
amazing story. Diane is a forensic anthropologist, a bone
detective. Skeletons are her key to a life full of grand
adventures.
Bones lead Diane all around the world and back in time.
One day she's in Russia "meeting" the skeletons of a royal
family who lived a century ago. Another day she is
peering into the empty eye sockets of an American outlaw.
Meanwhile, the skulls of eight Civil War soldiers line the
shelves of her Colorado lab.
Diane is thrilled, most of all, when she uses her science
know-how to help people struck by disaster. Moments after
a phone call, she rushes to the scene of a plane crash, a fire,
an accident, or terrorist bombing to identify victims. She
examines the bodies of murder victims for clues about how
they died. When a body is missing, she searches for it with
a team that specializes in finding hidden graves.
Why does Diane France love bones? How did she
become a bone detective? This small-town girl let science
lead the way to a world of adventure.
ix
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Why does Diane France
love bones?
How did she become
a bone detective?
This small-town girl
let science
lead the way to
a world of adventure.
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1
DIANE FRANCE'S
BRAIN
A brain is floating in a plastic bucket that's sitting, alone,
on a table. The hand-printed label says "Diane France's
brain."
The people who file in and out of the room know that name Diane France handles
well. Dr. Diane France is a well-respected scientist--and has been bones almost every
day, measuring them
for nearly 20 years. To many of these people, she is also a friend.
(opposite) and study-
A visitor blurts out, "Oh no! What happened to poor Diane?" ing them for clues
There's a moment of silence as eyes shift from the visitor to the about a person's life
and death (above).
bucket and back to the visitor. Then, everyone cracks up. Between
She reminds herself
chuckles, someone explains that the brain does belong to Diane to "handle with care"
France; that's true. But it isn't her brain, the one inside her head. That out of respect for
the original owner:
brain is still alive and thinking and, at this very moment, sharing
a living human being.
its knowledge with other scientists just a couple of miles away.
Diane is in Washington, D.C., to teach a course at the 1994
Armed Forces Institute of Pathology (AFIP) annual conference on
anthropology. For now her mind is on bones, not brains. She is
teaching participants how to tell the life story of a dead person by
examining the skeleton in fine detail. After the class she plans to
drop off her bone specimens and pick up her brain at the AFIP's
museum, the National Museum of Health and Medicine (NMHM).
The brain--the one in the plastic bucket--is one of 10,000
anatomical specimens housed in the museum.
1
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Paul Sledzik (right) A buddy of Diane's, Paul
investigates the Sledzik, is in charge of these
contents of a
17th-century grave brains, hearts, lungs, limbs,
for a study of life in bones, samples of blood
colonial Maryland. and skin tissue, and other
DETECTIVE Diane France
(below) creates a preserved body parts. Paul
fake crime scene for happens to be an expert on
a class she teaches vampire legends, but that's
BONE on recovering
evidence. not what earned him this
macabre job. He's a physical
anthropologist, a scientist
skilled in identifying skeletal
remains.
So is Diane. That's why,
when she asked Paul for a
brain one day, she knew he
wouldn't blink.
What Is Forensic Anthropology?
Anthropology comes from the Greek word for the "study
of human beings." We humans are a complex bunch, so
there are four areas of specialty:
cultural anthropology (societies--past and present)
linguistic anthropology (languages)
archaeological anthropology (past civilizations studied
through their artifacts)
physical anthropology (all variations in the biology of
the body, including human ancestors and relatives)
Forensic anthropologists are physical anthropologists who
examine human remains that are part of an investigation--a
murder, an accident, or a disaster, for example.
2
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~Hand Me a Tissue
Anthropologists routinely handle "specimens" or "anatomical sam-
ples" or "biological material." Sometimes, they just call it "tissue."
All of these shapeless terms veil the human truth--that every
body part once belonged to a living being. Diane believes that
this fact is very important to remember and respect. It's something
she tells her students as soon as she introduces them to human
bones. On the other hand, working with body parts is creepy,
even revolting at times. Using scientific terms can make a rather
nauseating job easier to handle.
Humor helps, too. The "Diane France's brain" story is already
making the museum rounds. In fact, this "just another day at the
Scientists study
office" attitude is why Paul labeled the brain in the first place. He
body parts at
didn't want a well-meaning curator (a museum worker) to reshelve the NMHM in
the brain before Diane had a chance to pick it up. Washington, D.C.,
to learn about
Diane is collecting brains as a job, not a hobby. The National
injuries, diseases,
Zoo in Washington, D.C., hired her to make casts--or detailed and medical
copies--of animal brains for an exhibit. So far she has rounded treatments from
Civil War times
up a nut-sized squirrel brain, an orangutan brain the size of a
to the present.
large fist, and a fin whale brain the size of a basketball. These
specimens are waiting for her at the
Smithsonian Institution in the heart
of Washington, D.C. Later, she will
fly to Detroit, Michigan, to borrow
an elephant brain from a biologist.
"Diane France's brain"--the one at
the museum--is human.
Many of the specimens at the
NMHM are historic. The museum
began collecting them in the 1860s,
during and after the American Civil
War. But Paul made sure that Diane's
brain is "pristine and modern" so that she can produce a good cast.
The well-preserved brain is from a recently deceased cadaver,
a body donated for use in medical schools and research.
DIANE FRANCE'S BRAIN 3
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Diane makes a rubber Finding fresh brains
mold of a cranium,
has turned out to be
the top part of the
skull. Liquid plastic the easy part. Making
poured into the mold brain casts will be a real
will harden quickly
intellectual challenge.
DETECTIVE into a cast--a high-
quality copy of the Diane usually makes
cranium. Diane's plastic casts of hard
casts sell to zoos,
tissue--bones, teeth,
BONE museums, schools,
and anyone else who and cartilage--but
wants to bone up on brains are floppy and
anatomy.
jiggly. Set one on a
table and it droops like an underfilled water balloon. Somehow,
Diane will have to make these brains keep their true shape while
she makes a mold. There's no "how-to" book on the subject, so
she'll have to use her own brain to invent a way.
~What a Day to Dress Up
After Diane's class ends and the AFIP conference winds down, she
packs up her bones and gets ready to swing by the NMHM. She
opens the door to a sky dumping buckets of rain. She is seriously
dressed up in a pink silk blouse, black suit jacket, matching black
slacks, high heels, dangling earrings, and a long gold necklace.
She has no umbrella. She has no car. Luckily, she has another
good friend.
Tom Crist is an archaeologist, someone who normally hangs
around artifacts that are old and decrepit. But when it comes to
cars, he prefers one that is new and shiny. He offers to drive
Diane in his spotless Pontiac Bonneville--"dark green with tan
leather seats," he adds.
It's a no-brainer. Minutes later, at the museum entrance, Diane
unloads her box of bones in the downpour. The rain shows no
sign of easing up, so Tom kindly agrees to drive Diane downtown,
to the Smithsonian Institution, where she plans to make her casts.
Diane asks him to wait--it will take just a minute--while she
collects her brain.
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She winds her way through the museum to a small back room
and spots "Diane France's brain" on a table. She picks up the plastic,
two-gallon bucket. It's light--about the weight of half a gallon of
milk--even with the liquid preservative. Diane recognizes the
odor of formalin: sharp with a hint of wintergreen, but not as
pungent as formaldehyde, the preservative in its pure form. In
fact, it's barely noticeable through the bucket's plastic lid.
~Not-So-Easy Does It
As Diane heads back to the museum lobby, she tries to keep the
brain from sloshing around too much. The high heels sure don't
help. Wearing them, or any shoes, for that matter, isn't her usual
style. She and her malamute dog, Moki, both
pad around barefoot in her casting lab in Fort
Collins, Colorado. It's one of the perks of
owning the place, and her sole human
employee doesn't mind a bit. Diane even
gives lectures and teaches workshops while
barefoot, a habit she started in order to feel
less nervous and now does for comfort.
Sometimes, she invites the audience to
take off their shoes, which gets a few
laughs and puts everyone at ease.
Bucket firmly in hand, high heels
balanced, Diane walks out the door
of the small specimen room. She
goes around the bend, past some
filing cabinets and shelves, down a long, narrow
passageway, a turn to the left, and, the tricky part: a one-
handed push through a brass-and-glass door. Then, both hands
back on the bucket, she continues down the long corridor to Diane's pet malamute,
the lobby, where her heels echo--click, click, click--across the Moki, knows not to
stick her nose into
marble floor.
anything in Diane's lab.
The lobby is a public exhibit area. This being a museum of She's content to sit and
preserved body parts, the displays both repulse and fascinate visitors. watch the bones go by.
DIANE FRANCE'S BRAIN 5
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Diane doesn't even notice what's in the glass cases. She's
focused solely on the specimen in her hands. Through the exit
doors, she can see that the rain hasn't let up and that Tom's car is
parked in a driveway about 15 feet away. She'll have to make a run
for it--high heels, brain, and all. Paul opens one of the museum's
DETECTIVE
four giant doors, and Diane steps out onto a large roofed terrace.
Grasping the bucket with both hands, she makes a beeline for
the Pontiac.
BONE
Tom has opened the back door so that she can slide right in. She
plops down on the smooth leather seat and, in the blink of an eye,
the unthinkable happens: The plastic bucket flexes in her hands,
the lid pops off, and the brain splashes out on her lap. Without
thinking, Diane scoops it up and pops it right back in the bucket.
Then, she thinks, Wow, this burns.
~Feeling the Burn
Formalin is all over Diane's lap, her hands, and--oh man, poor car!
Mortified, she notices that the fine leather in Tom's brand new
ride has taken a direct hit. She feels bad about the car--she really
does--but her legs and hands feel like they're on fire. Diane
jumps out into the downpour, hoping the rain will wash away
some of the formalin.
"Oh man, it's still burning," Diane says, waving raindrops onto
her body. Formalin can sting the nostrils a little if you sniff it up
close. Diane begins to wonder what it might be doing to her suit
pants, her silk blouse, her skin, and--oh no, Tom's new leather seats!
Her skin wins out.
Diane runs to the museum's ladies' room. She strips off the black
pants . . . the suit jacket . . . that fancy pink blouse . . . and splashes
handfuls of water on her stinging skin. Finally, after some wet paper
towel action, the pain eases to a tolerable level. But then, Diane
realizes, she's standing there in her underwear. She puts on her
blouse and high heels and looks at the formalin-soaked slacks on
the floor. No way am I wearing those things anytime soon.
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There's a knock on the restroom door and then a familiar voice.
"Are you okay, Diane?" her pal Paul asks from the other side.
She calls back that she's more embarrassed than hurt. "Would
you happen to have anything I could wear?"
Moments later an arm appears through the door holding a pair
of men's gym shorts. Paul's not a large man, but Diane is petite--
short and thin with a small frame. She puts on his shorts, but the
baggy things won't stay up. She'll have to hold them. She pinches
the waistline tight in her fist
and walks awkwardly out of The plastic bucket flexes in her hands,
the ladies' room, still in her the lid pops off, and the brain splashes out
high heels. on her lap. Without thinking, Diane scoops
Paul can't help it. He starts it up and pops it right back in the bucket.
laughing, which gets Diane
laughing too. She does look ridiculous, and these guys are going
to tease her about it forever, but at least she's okay. She wonders if
Tom can say the same about his car.
Still holding up the shorts, she dashes out the door and
through the rain. Diane looks first inside the bucket on the floor
of the car. No brain damage, she's relieved to see. There's even
enough formalin left to cover the tissue. Then, she glances at
Tom's leather seat. It's both soggy and stinky. It will eventually
dry, but Diane can only hope the stench of formalin will fade with
time. Tom tells her not to worry; it's just a car. A brand new Pontiac
Bonneville, dark green with tan leather seats, Diane can't help thinking.
~A Drop in the Bucket
Clearly, Diane has no choice but to call it a day, so Tom drops
her off at her hotel. Diane's mother, Dolores, has come along for
the trip and watches, wide-eyed, as her 40-year-old daughter
walks into their room. Diane is carrying a brain in a bucket in one
hand, holding up baggy gym shorts with the other, and reeking of
an odor not found in nature. She's still wearing the heels, earrings,
and gold necklace, but now they look comically out of place.
DIANE FRANCE'S BRAIN 7
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Dolores can't imagine what has happened, but the sight before
her is not a total surprise. Here's her only daughter, a well-respected
scientist with a Ph.D., looking like the unruly tomboy she once
was. Dolores remembers dressing Diane in ladylike outfits and
pin curls, only to find her playing in a mud puddle moments later.
DETECTIVE
Mother and daughter share a good laugh as Diane heads for a
hot shower.
The next day Diane carries the brain to the Smithsonian on the
BONE
Metro train without mishap, though she has no trouble imagining
a spill--kerplunk, kerplunk, kerplunk--on the long escalator
ride down to the subway. As the Smithsonian
curators hand over their squirrel, orangutan,
and fin whale brains, they mention they're
worried about damage, especially to the
whale brain. At about 15 pounds, that brain
takes two very strong hands just to hold
it. Diane assures them that she's a trained
professional--she knows what she's doing.
Then she thinks, But I still don't know how
to do it. How in the world am I going to make a mold
of these floppy brains?
That hurdle turns out to be a lot higher than
Diane expects. In one of the Smithsonian's curation
"Diane France's brain" rooms, she carefully places "Diane France's brain" on a table and
made it from plastic props it up around the edges with clay. But the clay doesn't stick
bucket to bronze cast
to the table, and the brain loses its shape. That's no good.
with all its folds,
grooves, and other Next, she tries putting the brain in a pan and smooshes clay
details intact. around the inside edge of the container. Still no good.
Finally, after more trial and error, Diane grabs a stainless steel
bowl--just like one in her kitchen--and presses clay in a ring
around the curved bottom. She adds a layer of formalin-soaked
paper towels to keep the bottom of the brain damp. Then, she
carefully nestles the brain in the ring. It works! The brain holds its
shape as she coats the top with a liquid form of silicone rubber.
The rubber hardens to make one-half of a mold. To make the other
half, all she'll have to do is flip over the brain. Mission accomplished.
8
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Please touch: A girl
examines a bronze
cast of a human
brain at the Think
Tank exhibit at
Washington's
National Zoo, while
another visitor
probes a bronze
cast of an elephant
brain.
Back in Colorado, Diane uses the brain molds to make bronze
casts for the National Zoo's Think Tank exhibit. They look so cool
she makes two extra copies. She gives one to her father, Dave. He's
a doctor, and they share a love for anything anatomical. Diane
keeps the other brain for herself as a reminder of her latest adven-
ture. It's just a drop in the bucket compared to her many other
"great moments" in science, but the memory will always make her
chuckle. Humor helps lighten the darker side of her life as a
forensic anthropologist, as she analyzes human remains that are
evidence in an investigation--murder victims, for instance.
Both casts and crimes have taken Diane around the world, but
the journey all began in a tiny town called Walden. There, as a
young girl, Diane France's brain was full of curiosity--and a little
mischief, too.
DIANE FRANCE'S BRAIN 9
Representative terms from entire chapter:
plastic bucket