How many Americans can say that on the day of the hundredth year anniversary of the Titanic, they were in Belfast, Ireland, at the birthplace of “The Unsinkable Ship”? Not many, I’d think. But this girl can!
One major thing struck me as I moseyed about the Titanic museum with my new friend Flo (I adopt strangers. It’s rather a fond hobby of mine). Belfast makes a huge deal out of the Titanic. In fact, they erected an entire center of town for it, complete with tours, coffee shops, and a museum, all for this. At first, this all really bugged me. Why on Earth would you celebrate something that is such a point of shame? Yannic, my host parent, answered me by saying “well it wasn’t the Irish that sunk it.” And that’s true. Building the Titanic reignited the economy of Ireland for a time. It was a ship built with hope, commissioned with hope, and sunken with broken dreams and broken bodies.
More than that, though, there were thousands of letters aboard the ship. Millions of words, commas, sentiments, questions, and propositions were lost to the depths of the sea. How many family members, business partners, and loved ones never received word that they so hoped for? And in the end, there was silence. Silence for years. It remained a rather quiet affair until the major motion picture came out.
And that’s another reason Belfast is blowing up with publicity. They exploit their connections with Titanic to a world that has heard a beautiful love story. It is no longer about the ship or the real event. We’ve turned a tragedy into something we can market. And I can’t decide whether I should be in awe or be ashamed. But at least it is remembered, no?
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