Even when we put down the windows, my family’s 1998 Toyota Sienna minivan still smelled like a basement. Maps that we used to rely on before we had iPhones, old faded copies of National Geographic and Cooking Light, and a couple of packs of gum that had long lost their crisp shape, were all crammed into the pocket behind the driver’s seat. Squeezed behind these obsolete artifacts was a book, lovingly crumpled from a combination of wear, and, later, of neglect.
882 ½ Answers to Your Questions About the Titanic sustained me through most car rides, long and short, throughout early elementary school. Each section in the book was short and manageable, introducing me to facts about the steerage, and the bow and the stern every time I turned the page. Some passengers brought their dogs on board. The kitchens were equipped with twenty-five cases of olive oil, and the three hundred cases of shelled walnuts. Supposedly, thirteen couples traveling were on their honeymoons. Some scholars speculate it would have been safer to hit the iceberg straight on. All eight members of the ship orchestra lost their lives. I learned that April 15—tax day—was the day the Titanic sank. Engrossed, I didn’t mind the mild nausea I felt as I read in the backseat.