Why My Grandmother Carried a Plastic Brain in Her Purse

I remember the bag from my childhood. Transparent and oblong, just large enough to fit a handful of papers, a few essentials, and a plastic brain.

My 93-year-old grandmother, Marjorie Pearlson, once loved this bag, filling it with conversation starters. She was a woman who could talk to any stranger and pull an organ replica out of her purse with a straight face. Growing up, I would witness this scene at the supermarket, in a post office, out at dinner between salad and the main course. It was brilliant performance art. She was passionate about her decision to donate her brain to science, following in the footsteps of her mother, who survived multiple brain surgeries, and her older brother. She spoke about the decision—visual aid in tow—matter-of-factly to anyone.

At her 90th-birthday tea party, we sat around my grandparents’ dining table