Part 6: Exploring innovation ~~ Isle of Mann

Resilience, bravery, a song in your heart and dance.

Sixth in series about exploration and innovation — why does it matter to the soul?

This is the story of my great-grandmum Eda Christian’s courage in a short life. In her honor, I lovingly dedicate the following.

Between 1875 - 1922, in her forty-seven years my great-grandmother with moxey and a limiting grade school education, traveled by a small wooden boat the rough Irish Sea from the Isle of Mann to the port of Liverpool — and eventually pioneered by long roadway to the state of Washington. The song in her heart may have been akin to Brad Paisley’s new release ‘You Only Get So Many Summers.” (Love this song). Here is her tale of spirit and courage.

Dear Lord, be good to me. The sea is so wide and my boat is so small.

Photo by Pedro Kümmel on Unsplash

Footnote on the isle, isolated they had their own language of Manx, looks similar the Welsh language, which is no cakewalk, so to speak. A quiet, rocky 222 square mile isle with no trees. My family tree, however traces back to the 1600s there.

Yes, inquiring minds want to know, Manx cats hail from there too ~ but I do not know if Detective Joe Mannix, circa 1968 TV series was from the 🏝 isle. I have a friend whose last name mirrors that of the island ,,,, I wonder if we are related! It was a small island after-all ~~ stranger things have happened…

It may not have been paradise island or even Gilligan's Island in the latter 1800's for conveniences. Looks as though you are living on a big rock at sea.

1912, Liverpool, England — James my great-grandfather, a grocer manager became acutely ill with stomach pain and bicycled himself to the hospital, where he succumb to appendicitis.

Photo by Mikkel Bech on Unsplash

In 1913, the year following Titanic disaster — using the same cruise line — his widow Eda, mother of five parceled all she owned for tickets to travel from Liverpool to Chicago with her three oldest children. Leaving industrial England behind in the hopes of a brighter life, future in America.

She left her two youngest children in Liverpool out of necessity. Louisa, age 13 was left with an aunt, and youngest Tom in an orphanage — until the family would have enough money to send for them.

“One thing the ocean has taught me all life on this planet is in the same boat.” — Jacques Costeau, oceanographer

In 1914, the first world war broke — and the two youngest children would not travel from England until after the war would end.

1915, a hot summer July morning about 7 a.m. in Chicago, a year after her post-Titanic voyage, my Grandma Emily a.k.a. ‘Dolly’ age 18 was working as a seamstress in a warehouse along the Chicago River. With windows cranked wide open, there was loud human commotion riverside and she ran to the window and was witness to the immediate aftermath of the rollover of the SS Eastland.

As with the Titan submersive tradegy in June 2023, this event in 1915, prompted public concern and regulatory evaluation of maritime safety standards. A hundred years of regulatory safety excelling forward has kept many of us safer than not it can be said.

The family was shook, their voyage from Liverpool had been sandwiched between two maritime disasters, as they still awaited Louisa and Tom.

In November 1918 the break came for the family to reunite when the war ended. My Grandma recounted that her mum, my great-grandmother Eda got up and danced on top of the heavy oak clawed dining table on the news

Photo by Mitchell Luo on Unsplash

— prayers answered, she would soon see Louisa and Tom after nearly five years. No texting, no phones, I wonder how often letters? Such uncertainty. Children by nature, are not voluminous letter writers. How difficult.

What allowed her to remain patient, steadfast and faithful to purpose, as I impatiently wait at the Target checkout line?

In 1921, Eda pioneered further west going from Chicago to Washington state by automobile. Did they even have road maps back then for common folk?

Photo by Austin Park on Unsplash

Where did they sleep and eat? — asks her less brave great-granddaughter.

My sense of direction was not inherited from Eda, as I can get lost in a paper bag it's widely known…so much being paired with a pilot says me.

That's about all I know of my Great-Grandma but that's enough to love her on.

In January 1922, she died in Washington state. Eight family members, at different times, have walked the cemetery of her burial, and never found a headstone bearing her name.

A few years ago I made one and gave her a space on the wall of her great-granddaughter, admiring her courage as a single mum, nearly a decade of grit, navigating turns for family.

Few conveniences, innovating solutions. She took the options ahead, customized them with bravery and flexed to achieve better results. She was a joyous woman, my Grandma said.

Photo by Nicola Fioravanti on Unsplash

"Make love your flawless moral compass.” — Peter M. Breggin M.D.

Eda's joyful daughter, my beloved Gram.

“This is the day that the Lord hath made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.” — my Gram would start the day, opening her kitchen curtains, on Leavitt Street before making her tea.

Happy Friday — only so many of those too in a lifetime ~~ make it a good one! Brad Paisley’s song 'You Only Get So Many Summers.’

Jan, from Mann