I fell when I was 13. When I tried to save myself, I landed on the ball of my right foot. Weak ankles should have been my middle name. The ball of my ankle actually popped out of the socket and then went back in. Yeah. That was the first week of summer break between sixth and seventh grade. I spent the whole summer laid up and barely able to move. So I finally got desperate enough at age 13 to read a book. My mom brought home a stack of books a few days after my accident and in desperation I picked one out.
It was 1983. There was no internet. We didn’t have cable. The 7 or 8 free tv channels we had didn’t have anything interesting on. There was no VCR or VHS tapes yet. I couldn’t walk on that leg for weeks! Never got an x-ray or anything. My parents wouldn’t pay for that. So I sat around and read this book I’d picked from my mother’s stack of books and loved it so much I realized that’s what I wanted to do for the rest of my life: write stories!
The book was Daughter of Witches by Patricia C. Wrede.
I worked for 36 years as a caregiver because that just happened and it didn’t require much from me – just my soul and all my time and whatever was left over at the end of the day, assuming my day didn’t just melt to the next day in a triple shift of caring for someone with mental illness or alzheimers.
My father was my last patient. I retired after him. I sat around for a while and rested. I really needed that rest. Then I decided after my contemplation to go back to college then to university and pursue that degree that would allow me to write which is all I ever wanted to do.
So this, my second semester at UTD, my first as a Junior, I had a class called Contexts. This class focuses on a type of literature. The Professor, Dr. Patterson, focuses on memoirs and diaries, specifically one type of memoir and diary: the Holocaust.
One thing I learned is that there are 4000 memoirs and diaries to come out of the Holocaust. People who were already threatened by death went on to document the crimes happening to them and around them even though if they got caught it would mean being shot. I got to read two diaries and three memoirs over the Spring Semester. To say they are depressing is a huge understatement.
One of those the professor mentioned but that I’ll never read is this one.
The Nazis had the Jews do all the hard work. This means that the gas chambers and to some extent burning the dead were all jobs which Jews themselves had to do to their own people, a method of completely dehumanizing someone. Those who were working in the crematoria were called Sonderkommandos. This person accepted the job not knowing what it was and spent months pulling his own countrymen out of the gas chambers. If you’re in any way into horror, this is it right here. Real. Horror.
We’re approaching 90 years since the Holocaust happened. There are people who completely deny that the Holocaust ever occurred. The fact there are 4000 diaries and memoirs suggest that it did.
I’m considering highlighting portions of the books I’ve read. I thought about doing it on Facebook but I’m not sure they’d be cool with the subject matter. WordPress might allow me the freedom to post some excerpts with the understanding that these excerpts aren’t about happy things. There’s not a happy thing that happened in regard to the Holocaust. Most of those who were rescued after Hitler was defeated didn’t believe being rescued was a happy thing. By the time they were rescued, their ability to feel happiness had been forever altered.
The author of the above memoir did not survive.