Times have changed

I wish I could write like our grandparents did.  Especially the English ones, if you are of that lineage (like I sometimes like to pretend I am).  Lately I have been listening to a podcast of letters written by survivors of the Titanic .   When I think about the Titanic I can’t help but to think of images I’ve seen on screen of wealthy first class passengers strolling around on deck in their fine clothing, and dining in even finer fashion.  But the Titanic actually had more second and third class passengers than first class ones.  I am guessing these poorer people did not have the educational advantages we have today, yet to hear their letters you would think they held doctorates in creative writing.  Their accounts of their experience are so poignant I cry everytime I hear one.  Which is why I can only listen to a few a day or else I’ll have to break out the Cymbalta again.

But then again there is something about the Titanic in general that captivates me.  I feel an attachment to it for some reason.  Maybe it’s because my grandmother arrived at Ellis Island on the RMS Carpathia around the same time she rescued Titanic survivors.  I think about my grandmother’s experiences and know they mirror the same experiences of those ill-fortuned folks.  She made it safely, and if she had not I would not be here to tell it.

Still, that doesn’t explain why I can’t watch movies that take place in or below the water.  My Oldest Friend and Travelling Partner used to tease me relentlessly because I am afraid of the pool drain.  I have dreams of drowning, or someone else drowning.

I like to joke that in a previous life I was Edwin Charles “Fred” Wheeler, personal valet to George Washington Vanderbilt.  George and his wife were booked on the Titanic but changed their minds and did not sail.  Instead they sent Fred on with their baggage.  Fred drowned in the sinking.  George Vanderbilt built the Biltmore estate in North Carolina.  I visited there once and that same familiarity and unexplainable emotion I get when I think about the Titanic came over me inside the estate.

What does that reveal about my personality?  The fact that I imagine I was once the valet to one of the richest men in America instead of actually once being the richest man in America.  Too often I find I sell myself short. I must have been absent the day the self-confidence lesson was taught.

Anyway, don’t think me strange, or evil for thinking about reincarnation.  I can’t say I believe in it 100%, but it is fun and interesting to think about.  It’s the stuff of a good story, one I wish I was talented enough to write.

This brings me back to the letters.  Why is it kids today have problems forming a complete sentence intelligibly, but those less educated of a hundred years ago wrote so eloquently?  Take a listen if you get a chance.  You can access the letters in the iTunes store under Podcasts.  Search for Titanic Letters, BBC Radio Ulster.  They are free.

To those who read my musings (i.e. ramblings), or my occasional columns in the paper, I am grateful.  I know I am not the most entertaining writer, or the most eloquent.  I know sometimes I border on the sappy.  But for you to take time out of your day to read the words I string together is both flattering and heartwarming to me.  As heartwarming as listening to those hundred year old words.