Old Bones

21 Mar

Wednesday morning I took my “grabber” when I went out to collect the recycling bin from the end of the drive, and picked up all of the beer cans, paper cups, and soda bottles from the ditch, along with a human ulna. From the size of it, I’d say it was from a child.

I brought it up to the house and wrapped it in a paper towel, intending to put it in my car and take it over to church, so Fr. Matthew could bury it in the cemetery. I put it on the shelf under the kitchen window, and didn’t get around to moving it, and now it is gone.

Back in the 20s, one of the local hospitals got rid of all of their medical specimens by taking them to the dump.  About thirty-five years ago, the State Highway Administration did some major repair work along our road, including replacing the culvert, and, unknowingly got their fill dirt from the same dump. From time to time, a bone will work its way to the surface, and The Squire or I will wrap it up for a proper burial.

The first time we found a bone – a stained and gnawed femur – I called the police. A young man had disappeared in our area and I thought maybe we had found one of his bones. The officer who came to the house told us that the young man had been found years ago, buried in a shallow grave in the State Park about a mile up the road, and then explained about the medical specimens.  He said bones turn up from time to time, and some people really panic over it. I suppose if what I had found was a mandible, rather than a femur, I’d have been a little less sanguine about it.

Anyway, I am really upset about some animal taking this arm bone. This was somebody and whoever it was, they deserved better, not only from the hospital, but from me.

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