Natalie - fascinating to hear that kind of personal connection. Sometimes it occurs by sheer accident. My grandma Anne told me a story when I was a kid that she visited a girlfriend from school who had become ill, and was unhappy. As a result of her illness she and her family were missing a big church outing that June day. While Anne tried to cheer her friend up they heard yelling and cries in the street - he excursion boat that the friend was supposed to be on was burning up in the middle of the East River. It was (of course) the General Slocum, which burned while carrying a large number of people from the community of "Little Germany" in Manhattan for an excursion and picnic. Somewhere between 900 and 1031 men, women, and children were lost, off North Brother Island where the ship finally sank, in what has been called "the Titanic of Queens". I have often wondered in later years what that girlfriend of my grandmother must have felt like thinking about her illness leading to her survival (and her family's).
Jeff
Jeff
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