Helen Keller wrote…
I long to accomplish a great and noble task, but it is my chief duty to accomplish small tasks as if they were great
and noble
You will have no doubt read my seemingly wild claim of Caronia having had a life-long impact
on all those who lived aboard her. Well, you only have to peruse any of the “travel by ship” forums
on the Web for very few minutes to see that most ships tend to impact on people's lives in one
way or another. So, what was different about the Caronia?
As I build this Timeline page decades after my service on board Caronia, you may also wonder what impact life aboard
her had upon me. I was sent this quotation within the footer of an email from Denny Lancaster, owner of the erstwhile
“Talking Hands Award” scheme. I've placed it here because, although I've never consciously set out to make
it my chief duty, it definitely carries the essence of an attitude that I have subliminally adopted these past years.
Meeting Transient Expectations
When I think back to those times, it's probably the attention to detail that was instilled in me most. Living in a
closed community, where there was really tremendous pride attached to everything that you did, meant that you soon
learned that it was always the detail that brought you the most satisfaction.
Even if it was simply picking just the right sprig of parsley from the bunch to carefully place as garnish for the
curls of butter on the silver dish, in full knowledge that it would be disturbed only minutes later, it didn't matter.
For those brief moments, you had the inner satisfaction of knowing that an aesthetic of that meal's presentation was
as close to perfect as you could get it.
A Family Tragedy
It's quite natural to think that travelling aboard a fabulous transatlantic liner will be a wonderful experience for
everyone. However, that is not always the case. My researches occasionally unearth some very tragic circumstances and
this is one that I feel bound to record.
During the 01 August 1952 transatlantic to New York, a 12 year old boy, Stephen Lawall, died at sea from a cerebral
haemorrhage on 06 August 1952. He was travelling back to New Jersey with his mother, father and younger sister.
No other details, other than the brief entry in the Immigration Record, is presently available. This page
is dedicated to his memory.
Most of the above menus came from a 6-table in the Balmoral Restaurant on this Westbound transatlantic
voyage.
The table's occupants were…
Mr. William A. Klophel, Miss Ethel Hawkins, Miss Linda Meertief,
Dr. & Mrs. Maxwell Beal and Miss Helen B. Miller
