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Published: July 19th 2010
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8/03/07 The Anne Frank house is in Amsterdam. It is the part of my journey I have been waiting for and dreading the most. Today was the second time I have climbed the stairs to the secret annex, but the experience this time around was quite different. Anne Frank was one of the first biographies I read; the first time a book brought tears to my eyes; the singlemost book that immediately connects me with the person who introduced it to me over twenty years ago---my mom.
This email is much different than its predecessors. It is the first I am writing intentionally outside of my own audience. It is the first I am typing fresh without copying from my written records, and it is the first where I want to tell more about my connection with my destination because of the guide who took me there. I would like to share with you who Anne Frank is to me because of who she was to my mom.
My mom's dad, who was not especially religious, raised her to have a special place in her heart for the Jews as God's chosen people. Mom carried this with her and raised her two boys with the same values. She passed on stories her dad told her about fighting in WWII--how he was behind enemy lines and witnessed the autrocities of a concentration camp. She studied the Holocaust and, throughout our years together, shared with us pieces of her ever-growing knowledge.
Her first book on the subject was the Diary of Anne Frank, which she first picked up in her elementary years. My mom so connected with Anne's experience of adolescence: her struggles, joys, learnings and insights all the while coping with seclusion, confinement and the horrors of war and genocide.
In high school, my mom was in the stage production of The Diary of Anne Frank. She played Miep, the secretary who helped hide and keep alive the people in the attic. Miep and Anne's father are the only two people from the book who survived the Holocaust.
My mom shared her stories about the practices and productions with her young sons. She also reminisced while looking at my travel pictures after my first visit to Amsterdam. The last time I was to hear them was over five years ago when I took her to the travelling broadway performance of The Diary of Anne Frank.
A couple years back, mom reread the diary while I was teaching it in my classroom. I told her what it was like to pass the history to my students, while she marveled at Anne's maturity as seen from the perspective of a 40-something woman.
I remember thinking of my mom a lot on my first visit to the Anne Frank house. I so wanted to have her there with me to see it in silence and later share our connections. On this visit,I felt like she was telling me her teachings and stories as I walked through Anne's bedroom and looked at the movie star clippings pasted to the wall. The reality and emotion of the attic deepened.
Hearing her voiceless voice hurt tremendously, but this changed by the time I completed the museum and started to hear it differently. Inside my heart was pride and gratefulness for my teacher. I also was filled with an awareness of her voice in mine, and a desire to speak with it.
In this spirit, I bought a copy of the Diary of Anne Frank for my neice to read and wanted to share these experiences with my friends and family.
From Anne Frank, to my mom, to us...One person can touch and effect so many others. Thanks for reading and loads of love to you.
I return to my life soon with a goal to be the change I want to see in the world
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