I keep getting fatter and fatter.
I just returned to my room after hearing a Holocaust survivor speak. Her name is Ethel, and she’s the grandmother of a student here. She spoke about her experiences from the ages of 7 to 13 at seven different concentration camps, beginning at Auschwitz, about being in her mother’s arms when she was killed and about finding her father, her last surviving family member, when the war ended. After her talk and some questions, many people left, understandably to do their work and whatnot. But I, not being a person with schoolwork as a main priority, felt like I couldn’t leave. I’m sure that other people felt the same way too. There was no real reason to stay, the talk was over, and ultimately Ethel and I won’t begin a lifelong friendship, but I felt that to leave would be to abandon her. She said a day doesn’t pass without bringing her memories of what happened, a night without nightmares. She was born when Hitler came to power; that’s a pretty long time.
Time becomes heavier, it’s hard to move yourself through it and go about things like you did just a little while ago, even though you know eventually after hearing about bad things you can banish them to some hidden corner in good time. But when you experience those things, you can never hide from them, you don’t control them.
How do we prevent dehumanizing experiences? I think about this often–and I hope that you do too–and even more so recently, or whenever I’m struggling with the purpose of my life, my education, whatever intellect and skill I have. I will write about this sometime soon.
