Curiosities | Einstein’s Brain
I hadn’t seen such an explosive force of emotion since earlier that year, when our History teacher had some sort of emotional meltdown because several kids in class laughed at his slides of concentration camps. Mr. Pearson was a wormy guy—pale with a greasy moustache and an equally greasy leer for some of my classmates. I remember once, he invited my best friend at the time over to watch Star Wars. That seemed a bit weird to me.
In retrospect, I can’t blame the kids who did laugh. We were freshmen in high school, which is traumatizing enough without the added anxiety of seeing all that crazy shit after the most anxiety-inducing build-up of all time:
“I’m going to show you some slides today from the holocaust. These are going to be the most horrible, terrifying images you have ever seen. If you need to leave, please do so now.”
He paused a few minutes for dramatic effect.
“Okay then.”
Off went the lights and up came the first slide. A man, thinner than Pearson, laying on his side, in the dirt. Then came the giggles.
Off went the projector, on went the lights, and out of his mind went Pearson, “What the hell is wrong with you people?!” His lip quivered. He pounded on his desk. “Do you think the slaughter of six million people is funny?” Spittle rained down upon our heads. “I guess you aren’t mature enough to see these images!!”
I never did care for that emotional douchebag.
Later that year, another teacher had invited Dr. Harvey to come in and give us all a talk about sexually transmitted diseases. Dr. Harvey had been my doctor and, to this day, he’s the best doctor I’ve ever had: he’d take the time to explain the problem, why it was happening and how to fix it. Ever since he retired, when I was 20 or so, I’ve been somewhat disappointed in the quality of medical care—”take these pills and don’t bother me.”
Anyway, Dr. Harvey shuffled into the classroom, small, slightly bent forward, thin white hair. He reminded me of Yoda. He brought some plastic models with him, of male and female reproductive organs. He set them up on the teacher’s desk and got through maybe three sentences before mentioning “penis.”
The giggling came, in a Pavlovian fashion.
Dr. Harvey turned around and looked over the classroom, the giggling stopped… until he mentioned the “vagina.”
He turned around, calmly, and slammed a thick, hard-cover book on the desk with an astonishing force.
“I understand why you’re laughing. But this is important. Pay attention!”
There wasn’t so much as a clearing of a throat after that.
I always loved Dr. Harvey.
I went to visit him some time after that… I was growing rapidly which was causing my scoliosis to get unbearable. I can’t remember how it came up, but Dr. Harvey told me had done an autopsy on Einstein and had kept his brain for study. He let me see pictures of it.
Decades later, a writer took Dr. Harvey on a road trip to deliver the brain to Einstein’s granddaughter. The book doesn’t really describe the good doctor I knew. I may write more about him, but it was so long ago my memory isn’t that great.
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