As we played a jovial tune, pastel skirts and starched pant legs flashed across my vision. Smiles graced the faces of every stranger that danced to the rhythms of our song. That is why I played. That is why we played. We played for young love, for old love, and for new love. We played so that maybe, even aboard this beautiful monster of a ship, we might create music lovely enough to grace every corner of this sailing, magnificent beast. Dance after dance, song after song, we played. Still, when the call came for life jackets to be strapped on and the order for women and children to go first was made, we played. We, the Titanic band, stood firm and strong as titanium through the chaos. As I played my violin, I watched families ripped apart as with bow and stern. I watched as men struggled to be strong enough to keep it together until the lifeboats that held their wife and children lowered over the edge of a ship soon to be swallowed by the sea. They wanted, needed, to keep their tears in so as not to scare their loved ones any more than they already were. As we played, I saw the looks of despair on the faces of the women and the looks of ignorance on those of the children. That is why I played. That is why we played. As that ship went down, we continued to play so that maybe the last sound those folks would hear would not be screams of fear or sobs of sadness. We played so maybe, hopefully, the last note they heard would be of peace, or at the very least, acceptance. Acceptance of their fate.