We’re not setting any speed records in going through boxes of things once belonging to my parents. Every so often, when inspired, a new item surfaces. While the significance of this Bible was probably pointed out to me by my father a few days ago, my wife cracked open the cover and read the inscription and started considering all the ramifications involved in its journey.
The woman named Bertha in the inscription was my paternal grandmother. If that name brings some stereotypes to mind, she wasn’t your typical Bertha but was a rather petite, soft-spoken woman.
My youngest son Aaron, whose writing we’ve featured both here and at our sister blog Christianity 201 before, has the heart of a poet and looked at this differently. For me it was about seeing the thing, but for him it was about holding it in his hands. He wrote on Facebook:
This handsome metal-bound Bible was given to my great grandmother by one F Smith who was later a casualty of the Titanic. Doing a little digging, it seems my great grandmother’s friend served on the ship as a pantry assistant (the “Victualling crew”). Kinda strange holding an object that was once held by hands now at the bottom of the Atlantic. Rest in peace, Frederick. Your gift is is in good hands.
“…Once held by hands now at the bottom of the Atlantic.” I would never think of that way. Except now I do. It’s interesting that we were talking a day earlier about degrees of separation and because Aaron knew my dad, and my dad knew my grandmother (his great grandmother) and she knew the man who gave her this gift, I think that’s considered only three degrees of separation.
Information about people who perished in the Titanic’s sinking is widely documented online, so as mentioned above, Aaron was able to find a picture of the man.
So Frederick Vernon Hilton Reeves, or Frederick Smith? Which was it? That was the challenge Aaron faced at the outset. He explained it to me: “His mother remarried a Smith, so outside of official documentation, he went by his step-father’s last time.”
He was 20 years old. His body was never identified and the lists that Aaron found only included identified bodies, which also slowed the search for more information; a search which, I need to say for the record, I would never have taken the time to embark on. Smith may have been “Body #216.”
His hopes and dreams were never realized. Did my grandmother fit into those dreams? It looks like it would have been a fairly expensive gift for those times. Unfortunately my grandmother and my father aren’t exactly around to ask, and previously, I was caught up in my own exploits and wouldn’t have been as interested as I am today.
So thanks, Aaron, for taking a second look at the inscription and being wiling to go the extra kilometer to learn more.
For the rest of us, don’t rush to donate books and Bibles to charity which belonged to parents and grandparents. Take an extra few moments to consider the inscriptions or dedications pages.
You never know what you’re holding in your hands.
Or who held it before.