Your poem really epitomizes the feeling I had at the Yiddish book center in Amherst, MA, looking through Yiddish plays and sheet music and knowing that I held something that was once vital and everyday which had accidentally become hallowed and fleeting.
You should write a poem about that. It is such a strange process. Just the act of needing to be remembered confers such weight.
I am amazed that I've never seen those, given the depth of my high school age obsession with WWII primary sources, particularly about the holocaust.
I don't think I'd seen any of them. (I had read about the Jewish Brigade.) I don't know if they change the narrative of the Holocaust for me, because I did not grow up only with stories of victimhood, but they are stories I did not know and I am glad to glimpse them. I loved the commenter recognizing their grandfather in the photo of the man with the "Gift for Hitler." I want to know more about the woman with the radiant face; I hope the rest of her life was as charmed as that moment.
May we all remember as clearly, and with as much depth, but perhaps more understanding in 50 years.
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You should write a poem about that. It is such a strange process. Just the act of needing to be remembered confers such weight.
I am amazed that I've never seen those, given the depth of my high school age obsession with WWII primary sources, particularly about the holocaust.
I don't think I'd seen any of them. (I had read about the Jewish Brigade.) I don't know if they change the narrative of the Holocaust for me, because I did not grow up only with stories of victimhood, but they are stories I did not know and I am glad to glimpse them. I loved the commenter recognizing their grandfather in the photo of the man with the "Gift for Hitler." I want to know more about the woman with the radiant face; I hope the rest of her life was as charmed as that moment.
May we all remember as clearly, and with as much depth, but perhaps more understanding in 50 years.
Amen.