Friday, August 2, 2024
יום שישי, כ"ז בתמוז, תשפ"ד
I bought a notebook in the Gift Shop—not the replica of the red plaid diary that Anne wrote in, but rather the school notebook with lines that she used when she finished all the pages in the diary. It’s not so different from notebooks I used in school, twenty years later.
I will try to write on the lines and keep my hand-writing legible, like Anne’s. Lately, my hand-writing has not been legible even to me. I need it for my notes since I haven’t gotten used to taking notes on the Notepad app on my phone or to sending myself voice memos. In the notebook without lines I write in many different directions to attach thoughts to each other, which helps me connect but sometimes gets too messy to see. My eyes are not as good as they could be; neither are my hands.
We are drinking coffee in the cafeteria. My instinct is to walk around and thank everyone who has come here today especially the families with children (mostly American and East Asian). Ed says I can’t; that it would be terribly patronizing. I feel that for close to a year we have felt that everyone hates us and would be happy were we to be exterminated once again. The fact that almost all the people here appear to be not Jewish, cheers me. I am curious as to why the building was built this way originally, with a back attic with so many rooms. Was it supposed to be a dwelling place for people who worked downstairs? (A few days later we saw another similar construction.) I will have to look this up.
There is no question that our visit was enriched by having heard Rachel Moses, the sister of Anne’s friend, on Yom Hashoah.
Otto Frank, “My conclusion is that even a close parent does not know what is in the mind of a teenager".
שתפו:
אשת חינוך וניהול, פעילה חברתית.