painting by Woody Farris
Hello, Poetry Friend
In 2012, I left for Northern Ireland on a Tuesday, after going through the Sacrament of Confirmation on the preceeding Saturday night at the Great Vigil of Easter. Things with my husband, who did not convert, were tense. Things with my children, who didn’t understand why Mom jumped off the deep end into Catholicism, were worse. I was traveling on assignment to cover the 100-year anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic. I didn’t know who I was anymore except I was a writer and a very new Catholic.
The refrain I heard over and over in Belfast about the ship was, “She was all right when she left here.” I heard it at the shipyards, at the museum, at a reception, at the hotel, and from our tour guide, who shook his head as he said it.
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