Had a very long, very full day…so I think I will break it into two parts and tell about the lovely writers’ dinner I went to tonight tomorrow.
Today, I would like to share my thoughts on something I’ve touched on before, but think should be mentioned today. This afternoon, knowing that I needed to be in the north end of town for dinner, I left the house early enough to go to the 1 pm showing of Titanic. It was very important to me personally to see it today…on the big screen…and remember. I caught it in 3D, which was really unnecessary, but interesting. But, as I sit here at my computer, I can’t help but think that 100 years ago this very night the passengers and crew of that mighty ship were enjoying what would be the last night on earth for more than half of them.
At this very moment, the first class passengers were probably enjoying dinner, or chatting in the salon. Perhaps some had turned in early to read in their staterooms. The men were talking politics or finance, the women discussing fashion or gossiping about society.
Down in the steerage, things were probably more boisterous. Perhaps there was a dance like Cameron shows in the movie. Probably, the late sitting was at dinner. It was crowded, and noisy, and full of hope. Many of these passengers were seeking their fortunes in a new land, having scraped together the funds for their tickets. Most of them would not see the light of day.
No, there was no Rose. There was no Jack. But there was a Thomas Andrews, and a Bruce Ismay. Molly Brown was on the boat, and so was John Jacob Astor. It is the glimpses we get of the REAL people on the Titanic that move me most when I watch Cameron’s epic.
I cannot make it through that film without crying at least once or twice. The first time I saw it, back in the initial release, I was in tears before the opening sequence was over — because I had researched it enough to know the pathos of that lonely hulk decaying on the sea bed. To realize that no matter what happened in this film, there would be no happy ending. Not really.
The Titanic has lurked in my dreams since I was a tiny girl. It humbles me to think that this is the weekend of the 100th Anniversary of the disaster. That if I started watching the film at midnight tonight…the striking of the iceberg would be eerily close to the moment of the original 100 years ago.
[EDIT: My literalist husband has pointed out to me that since I am not in the same time zone that the ship went down in, I would have had to have started the film an hour ago (as of this writing) to match the correct time…I still maintain that it would FEEL like it was the precise moment to me…]
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About RieSheridanRose
Rie Sheridan Rose multitasks. A lot. Her short stories appear in numerous anthologies, including Nightmare Stalkers and Dream Walkers Vols. 1 and 2, and Killing It Softly. She has authored twelve novels, six poetry chapbooks, and lyrics for dozens of songs. She tweets as @RieSheridanRose.
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4/14/12
Had a very long, very full day…so I think I will break it into two parts and tell about the lovely writers’ dinner I went to tonight tomorrow.
Today, I would like to share my thoughts on something I’ve touched on before, but think should be mentioned today. This afternoon, knowing that I needed to be in the north end of town for dinner, I left the house early enough to go to the 1 pm showing of Titanic. It was very important to me personally to see it today…on the big screen…and remember. I caught it in 3D, which was really unnecessary, but interesting. But, as I sit here at my computer, I can’t help but think that 100 years ago this very night the passengers and crew of that mighty ship were enjoying what would be the last night on earth for more than half of them.
At this very moment, the first class passengers were probably enjoying dinner, or chatting in the salon. Perhaps some had turned in early to read in their staterooms. The men were talking politics or finance, the women discussing fashion or gossiping about society.
Down in the steerage, things were probably more boisterous. Perhaps there was a dance like Cameron shows in the movie. Probably, the late sitting was at dinner. It was crowded, and noisy, and full of hope. Many of these passengers were seeking their fortunes in a new land, having scraped together the funds for their tickets. Most of them would not see the light of day.
No, there was no Rose. There was no Jack. But there was a Thomas Andrews, and a Bruce Ismay. Molly Brown was on the boat, and so was John Jacob Astor. It is the glimpses we get of the REAL people on the Titanic that move me most when I watch Cameron’s epic.
I cannot make it through that film without crying at least once or twice. The first time I saw it, back in the initial release, I was in tears before the opening sequence was over — because I had researched it enough to know the pathos of that lonely hulk decaying on the sea bed. To realize that no matter what happened in this film, there would be no happy ending. Not really.
The Titanic has lurked in my dreams since I was a tiny girl. It humbles me to think that this is the weekend of the 100th Anniversary of the disaster. That if I started watching the film at midnight tonight…the striking of the iceberg would be eerily close to the moment of the original 100 years ago.
[EDIT: My literalist husband has pointed out to me that since I am not in the same time zone that the ship went down in, I would have had to have started the film an hour ago (as of this writing) to match the correct time…I still maintain that it would FEEL like it was the precise moment to me…]
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About RieSheridanRose
Rie Sheridan Rose multitasks. A lot. Her short stories appear in numerous anthologies, including Nightmare Stalkers and Dream Walkers Vols. 1 and 2, and Killing It Softly. She has authored twelve novels, six poetry chapbooks, and lyrics for dozens of songs. She tweets as @RieSheridanRose.