The Manic Mechanic

Yesterday I heard that the last remaining survivor of the sinking of the Titanic has died, after 97 full years of life. As many of you might know, I have been an aficionado of sorts of all things Titanic, the ship itself, the era it was born in, the industrial might of the day, the people, and, of course, the tragedy itself and the resulting history. With the last human connection to that fateful day gone, it transitions forever into the history books. Like every historical event, of triumph or tragedy, large or small, anything of note, once there are no longer any people who can speak of it from being there, somehow it becomes almost a different sort of event. Such events lose some of the impact when the human presence disappears. It's as if it marks the point at which history becomes 'dusty'.

My fascination of the vessel and the events surrounding it could be a book of it's own. Yet even now, I still learn things I did not know previously. Ms. Elizabeth Gladys "Millvina" Dean, the last survivor and I share the same birthday. She was born in London on Feb. 2, 1912, just over two months old at the time of the sinking. We were born exactly fifty years apart. My feelings changed a bit more with the addition of a single word. We were born only fifty years apart. Something to think about, as I speed towards my own fifty years.

Bon Voyage, Millvina.