Dear reader, with luck I will find my way to the Titanic museum in Pigeon Forge Tennessee tomorrow where I hope to sign books during the weekend as I absorb the sight of others there, commemorating Titanic. Strangely, or maybe not so much anymore, I feel sadness that seems to come from empathy for those who spent these weeks, after Carpathia returned, suffering awakenings about endings as they reckoned with their losses. It was impossible, as it always is, to make sense out of something so unpredictable, so tragic. We lose sight of pain we shun. We capitalize on the occasion; but also it gives us pause to think about our own choices, our lives and our behavior.