People talk about "the War" here a lot, and they're usually referring to World War II. The legacy of that war remains strong.
I went to the Dutch Resistance Museum after lunch, and walked into an exhibit full of stories. About men and women who resisted the Nazis and most often were killed. I hadn't realized how total the German occupation was. I mean, I knew that occupation means occupation, but I didn't realize. Nor did I realize that Dutch men were rounded up and sent to Germany to work.
There was a chilling map of Amsterdam with dots on it, representing 10 Jews each. Of the 130,000 Jews living in Amsterdam in 1940, by the end of the war, 100,000 had died.
As I read about those who resisted the occupation, I cried. I wished my Grandfather was with me, so I could tell him I thought he did good by serving in the War, and that while I wish I lived in a world in which war was not necessary, it seems sometimes that war is the only thing that will stop horrible suffering and death.
After the DRM, I went back to the Bicycle and met up with classmates to head over to the Anne Frank Huis. I cried here too, mostly because of how in Nancy Pearl's class she told of one of her friends who re-reads Diary of Anne Frank every so often, because every time, she hopes the ending will be different.
Walking through the house, you get to see pages of Anne's diary. She writes like any other kid, with doodles and pictures interspersed among stories and daily thoughts. She posted a picture of Greta Garbo on her wall, and hated the blackout curtains they had to use all the time.
She couldn't ever go outside. They still don't know who turned them in. Not that it matters, I suppose. It wouldn't change what happened.
I think that quotation from Anne's dad Otto is a pretty good one to think about.
I too re-read Diary of Anne Frank and, every time, I hope the outcome is going to be different. If she only waited that those couple of weeks before the camp was liberated or if they weren't turned in.
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