Oh gosh. Yeah, just wonderful ones. I think, um, one that comes to mind was my where my grandparents on that ship and in steerage, of course, and my mother used to talk about, well, one, there are two things. One of them, my mother used to talk about my grandmother, saying, you know, that she had never experienced an elevator before. And, you know, somehow or other she witnessed somebody or people going in a door, closing the door, opening again, and they were gone. And what did that mean? What happened to them? You know, it was like a was it magic? Was it, you know, um, black magic? Was it what happened to them? The other wonderful, touching, really poignant story was my mother would say that once, of course they left. They had no contact anymore with the family they left behind. And my grandmother had, um, was divorced. She had divorced. Her husband had two children who died. And she married my grandfather who needed a wife because his wife had died. And he already had three children. But my mother said that my grandmother once in a while would muse, what was I doing when my mother died? Was I ironing? Was I baking? You know, just wondering at what moment would my. You know that I'm not aware of. Did my mother die? And I never knew it because there was just no more communication. So it's, you know, things like that that just make me, um, like admire the courage that it took to just leave and, you know, come to this country and start a new life and, you know, um, and in a very brave way, especially I think for her, because it was with this new man and his three children already, and then went on to have three daughters, my mother being the youngest in New York.
