Feng Shui Before It Was Cool

 

A rare night, the whole family was sitting down for dinner, swapping stories about our wacky ancestors. The conversation turned to our opinionated Great-Grandma, and everyone was laughing so hard they were crying. That lady was a pistol. She could roast you to a crisp, but it was so funny you couldn't help but laugh along.

Granny wasn't just the family comedian; she was a living, breathing history book. She could spin yarns that were passed down through generations for hours, and we were all amazed by her almost total recall. Her memory was sharper than a Ginsu knife, she could remember the smallest, most insignificant details.

One day, my cousin got the bright idea to write down some of Granny's stories. Turns out, a lot of them check out! We had an uncle who knew the Wright Brothers, a cousin who served as a messenger under General Pershing in WWI, and even a relative who caught one of Buddy Holly's last gigs.

But the one story that always stuck with me was one that I had heard of many times, but I had no way of knowing if it was true.

My great-great-grandfather rearranged the deckchairs on the Titanic.

Talk about a pointless exercise, right? It's like trying to bail out a sinking boat with a teaspoon. The phrase "rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic" even became a family joke, symbolizing any pointless act in the face of disaster. Like lighting a match during a house fire or wearing a parachute on a submarine. 

Yet, the more I thought about it, the more curious I got. With all the information available on the Titanic these days, could there be any truth to Granny's story? So, I started digging. I dove headfirst down the internet rabbit hole, scouring databases and survivor accounts like a bloodhound.

I knew my great-great-grandfather was aboard the ill-fated ship on its maiden voyage. He was stuck down in third-class steerage near the engine room. That’s documented.

But here's where it gets interesting: family legend had it he was a neat freak, obsessed with order. The guy couldn't stand smudges, crumbs, or anything out of place. He had a reputation for changing seating arrangements at holiday dinners, and he even got arrested for breaking into a friend's house to alphabetize their books!

As I sifted through old documents, I stumbled upon two separate survivor interviews that mentioned a "madman" running around the decks as the ship went down after hitting the iceberg.

As the deckchairs were sliding toward the listing bow, this man was picking them up and placing them back in neat rows. He had them evenly placed so the people could efficiently walk around them without having to change the direction in which they walked.

 One witness even said the new arrangement was better than the original and wondered where this guy had been the whole voyage. He said it was wondrous to see!

Now, I can't say for sure if this mystery man was my great-great-grandfather, but it sure sounds like him. And you know what? It makes me proud. Faced with certain doom, he did what he had to do, no matter how pointless it was.

So, the next time you hear the phrase "rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic," don't just think of it as a symbol of futility. Think of it as a testament to the human spirit, even in the face of absurdity. And who knows, maybe we all have a little bit of that "madman" in us.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go investigate another family legend: Did we have an aunt who invented buffalo wings?