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03.19.00 We went to my mother in law's last night and Hula brought home his grandfather's head. She had left it in the basement for years under a leaky pipe, and didn't want it anymore. Of course, Hula had to have it. It's creepy for a variety of obvious reasons.
It looks a little like Hula. Proud, defiant, possessing a stern complexity behind the eyes, contradicted by a sense of whimsy around the corners of his mouth. I imagine as we grow older, the resemblance will become more pronounced.
This familiarity, however, doesn't stop it from being creepy to me. Having the head of a man 20 years dead in your home is disturbing. I can't stop staring at him and he startles me as I come into the room. What if he moved? Just a little? What if a tear came out of his eye? What if a strange noise came out of his mouth? What on earth would I do? That he suffers from water damage and a little sphinxing about the nose does not make him any less foreboding.
I imagined scary things last night. Unspeakable deeds involving the head and household implements.
But after taking these photos (with the web cam, hence the poor quality) I felt like I made friends with him. He was my husband's grandfather after all. And in life, while prone to bouts of melancholy and periodic gruffness, was not a violent man. He was thoughtful, intelligent, and admired and revered in his field (zoology). His many books line our shelves and it almost feels appropriate that his head is now here too look after us. 
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