Today is the international day of remembrance of the Holocaust. Though some have tried to claim that it never took place, we MUST NOT ever forget the very sickeningly real genocide that resulted in the death of an estimated 6 million Jews. It was on January 27th of 1945 that the Soviet forces liberated the most notorious of all concentration camps, Auschwitz-Birkenau, which has become the symbol of the Holocaust representing the deep depths of man's own inhumanity toward other men.
I had the honor of meeting a Holocaust survivor many years ago. I was outside waiting and watched a group of obnoxious teenagers with that unmistakeable "We are the shit!" attitude walk over to the bench where an old woman sat and start hassling her. I would have intervened regardless but I happened to notice that on this old woman's arm was a crude tattoo of numbers. I went over to the group and said they might want to think twice about causing problems especially with this woman. My remark was met with snickers and a huge amount of attitude when they asked what a one legged gi,p was going to do about it. My response to them was simple. I told them that while this one legged gimp could easily kick their asses, it wasn't me they should be concerned with. Again, they snickered this time at the thought of such an old woman being in any way threatening. When the loudmouth of the group laughed and asked if I was talking about "grandma here" I said that I was talking about her.
I moved ever so slightly closer to the loud mouthed jerk and asked if he'd seen the old woman's arm. He looked at me like I'd grown a second head and then once again laughed saying that if I was thinking that she'd beat him at an arm wrestling contest I was insane. I simply smiled at him for a moment before very quietly saying, "Son. You see that numbered tattoo on her arm? That's no gang sign. That's no set of lucky numbers. That's no random drunken night mistake."
That kid continued to stare at me as I went in for the final blow. "Let's see if you know your basic history. Do you have any idea where she got that tattoo?"
He continued to look at me oddly but his eyes grew quite large when I asked if the name Hitler rang any bells. I watched this young punk lose his control over the tough guy persona he was used to wearing as he first stared at me and the. At the old woman on the bench. I watched his eyes take in her tattoo with horrifying recognition. I then watched him apologize to her for his comments and behavior and the confused look on the faces of more than one of his friends who obviously was just as stupid as they looked while recognition of what I'd said and what it meant finally washed over another young man. The two who understood the significance of what I'd just said and who they were in the presence of quickly apologized for their mistreatment of that old woman and herded their dumber friends quickly away.
That old woman reached out a hand and asked me to please sit and I did. She was surprised that I'd even seen the tattoo, that I knew what it was, and that I'd stepped in on her behalf to teach a few obnoxious kids a quick lesson. I offered her my apologies for "going there" without warning knowing that many of the few survivors left don't like their tattoos showing and don't like to talk about it. I started to ramble that if it had caused her pain or sorrow that I was truly sorry because I know too well the horrors of Post Traumatic Shock and reliving horrifying events as though they had taken place yesterday because someone had said just the right thing to trigger it. She took my hand in hers and with tears in her eyes, she thanked me for doing exactly what I'd done and for noticing and remembering. She told me briefly about being a Jew in Nazi Germany, about the cramped railway cars, about being split up from her father and brothers, about the harsh disturbing realities of life in a concentration camp, and about never seeing her father or brothers again. I've had a number of meaningful conversations over the years but this conversation holds the top space alongside the final two way conversation I had with my older sister before she passed.
The survivors of this horrific event in human history when some of humanity showed just how evil it can be while others showed how resilient a person can be, are dying out. Soon there will be no more survivors. It is our duty to not only honor them and respect them but also to never forget them and what an estimated 6 million people didn't survive.
To anyone who still believes that the Holocaust did not take place...meet one of the few remaining survivors. Listen to their stories. Visit the Holocaust museum in Washingon DC. The Holocaust was very real, my friends. They say that if one does not learn from the past that they are destined to repeat it and we, as a whole, are proving that statement true. Genocides on smaller scales are continuing to happy around the world to this very day.
No comments:
Post a Comment