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Gathering aids to memory, ordinary, real things that link to the past and so help keep the past “real,” is a great service to all of us. This post is part of the November theme, “Service.” The month is filled up, so I will post December’s theme shortly.
I have read a large number of books written about the holocaust. And I prefer these first person accounts.
I got lost in those stories.
I remember reading, somewhere? about how the stories that emerge from the Holocaust are, by definition, the stories of the lucky ones, the ones who received support and help from non-Jews even if it was no more than the posting of a last letter thrown from a train headed into the abyss. I think of these as a sort of hail mary pass, flung into the future in the wild faith that there would be hands waiting to catch and hold their memories. The remarkable thing—indeed, the excruciatingly hopeful thing—is that they weren’t wrong.
But that breaks my heart too.