A Forensic Anthropologist's Office: The Body Farm

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"Oh, I see she had open-heart surgery," he says, and lifts out the rib cage. The bones are taupe and smooth; three strands of bright silver wire join the two halves. "And this one," he continues. "It looks like she nicked this leg bone at some point." The son stands rigid, a look of confusion clouding his face. McSween is no longer listening to Bass' impromptu lecture. He tentatively puts his hand in the box and withdraws an arm bone. He turns it slowly in his hand. A subtle wave of emotion seems to wash over him. He replaces the bone. Bass pauses, then puts his hand gently on McSween's shoulder. "You can come visit her anytime you'd like." He replaces the lid, then the box.

Bass never dreams about his work or his guests at the Farm, but he has thought a lot about God and the nature of our being. "The thing that makes us different from most animals," he says, "is that we have a soul; what makes us human is the spirit." But this man, who understands the scientific process of death and dying, also has personal knowledge of death's emotional toll.

"I will have to admit that with the death of my second wife," he says softly, "I have seriously wondered whether there really is a God. She was a very, very nice lady. She died of lung cancer. Never smoked a day in her life. We did everything science could do and did not have what it took to overcome what happened. I am religious. I do go to church. But if you ask me, am I 100 percent sure there's a God, I would have to say I don't know." He looks down at his hands, rubs them together twice, then lays them flat on the desk in front of him.

The traditional trappings of death don't appeal to him. "I don't like mourning," he says. "I don't like funerals." He won't be cremated; the idea doesn't fit well with a life that's been devoted to anthropology, which raises a question: Is there a place waiting for him at the Farm? "You know, it's funny," he says. "I talked it over with my first wife, and we decided that I'd go to the Farm after I died. But she died first. And so I discussed it with my second wife, who was against it. But then she died unexpectedly as well. So now I'm remarried, just a year now, and I haven't broached the idea with her." He ponders the thought in the manner of a man who has already made up his mind. "I have to be honest," he says. "I'm leaning toward it.”

From The Oxford American (Jan.-Feb. 1999). Subscriptions: $19.95/yr. (6 issues) from Box 1156, Oxford, MS 38655.

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