November 14-15

It is beautiful, but after seeing the main attractions – Anne Frank’s house, the red light district, and the infamous coffee houses – Eddie and I found ourselves out of things to do. I guess those three are enough for most tourists to handle. It was just almost weird because it was my first time to start up the second day of a trip not knowing what there was to do two hours later. Amsterdam was a really quiet city that smelled like weed everywhere (people and places in passing) and not really meant for sight-seeing. Two days were definitely more than enough – I don’t know if I could handle staying longer, haha.

The Red Light District

Loved the light reflections and swans. Let’s just say, it was an unique experience walking through it, and we can leave it at that.

Anne Frank’s House

Honestly, the admission ticket was overpriced, but it was cool to see what the apartment looked like inside. Boy, they lived in a HUGE place. I always thought that the place would be small, since it was supposed to be hidden from the Nazis.

Actually, I went to two museums in Amsterdam, and both were overpriced (one was disappointing). What can I say, I guess museums aren’t really the attractions in Amsterdam…

Canal Boat Tour

The tour was good though! The canals in Amsterdam were beautiful. It was really lovely riding on the boat and listening to the historical information. This was one of the highlights of my stay.

Lastly, a greeting photo from Amsterdam!

Apparently I haven’t posted since early October.  Yikes.

But today there is news!  I had a meeting after school (well, actually, I snuck out a little early) with a teacher at THS.  He is a fairly young, fairly intense dude, and I like him.  He gave me some syllabi to look over and we talked about what the classes will look like and his “coaching” style with student teachers.  It all sounded lovely to me.  He teaches advanced sophomore English, co-taught junior English (this means there is a high percentage of IEPs, so a learning specialist is present), and regular senior English.  I have a list of literature to review or become familiar with.  Winter break reading?  Here’s the (partial) list:

1. Lord of the Flies - I’m pretty excited about reading this again.  I have only read it once, and it was in 8th grade.  I can safely say I didn’t get much out of it.

2. The Canterbury Tales – Only the introduction and two stories, thankfully.  I actually have not studied this piece yet.

3. Hamlet – Ah, Hamlet.  Read this in AP English my junior year of high school.  It will be good to review it.

4. All Quiet on the Western Front – a novel about a German solider in World War I (written by a German WWI veteran).  I’m very excited about this one, although I have never read it and don’t know much about it.

5. The Stranger – French existentialism at its best. (Also never read.)

Tomorrow is day three of my Anne Frank work sample.  Grading has been tedious but I’ve stayed caught up.  The hardest part was giving specific written feedback to every single student on the first journal entry so they will have an idea of what to do better next time.  Tomorrow will be fun – we are “speed dating” with all the characters from the play, and then we’re reading Act One: Scenes 1 and 2.

The worst part of student teaching is the work sample reflections.  There are a lot of best parts!  I have grown to really like the middle schoolers I have, even though I am still pretty sure I’ll like teaching high school more.

are viv + i?
“hallo…” from amsterdam, netherlands!

definitely an interesting place… especially after the scenic, country-side feel we experienced while in southern france. amsterdam is well known for many things: it’s historic churches/buildings, great public transportations: trains, trams, buses + bicycles, windmills and beautiful canals… and probably equally known for their, er… ummm… well, open views (like hatred of google, recreational drug use + prostitution, just to name a few).

steve balmer's favorite t-shirt (had to censor the 'F' word for the younger viewers)...

I AM-sterdam-it!

viv had heard about their “special” brownies so we decided to take a stroll towards the dam square (yeah, i chuckled in disbelief when i first heard this square was actually called “dam square”). anyway, we ran across no shortage of “special” coffeeshops that offered these delectable delights. and in the immortal words of former president ‘slick willy‘: we ‘did not inhale‘. j/k…
viv nor i, partook in any of these delirium-inducing desserts… besides, there were PLENTY of other delicious pastries/treats to munch on… one of my favorites: stroopwafels (thanks for the heads-up on this one, julie)! 

"stroopwafels" - they are AWE-friggin-SOME (and i just found out trader joe's sells them... whee!)

we managed to visit many of their local cafes and eat some killer food. our favorite place was recommended by several of the locals:

viv + i having our hazelnut latte + cafe americano at tisfris cafe...

and our corresponding lunch, a roast beef + avocado samich, a sausage, cheese + tomato samich and the best tomato basil soup i've had!

dam square was dam nice. a mash-up of modern + medival sites and sounds. a bit too touristy for me though.

bikes, bikes and more bikes... heading towards "dam square".

oh so picturesque! i couldn't have staged it any better...

sunset (that's the reflection of it in the building's window) at dam square...

when in amsterdam, do as the amsterdam-ians… we decided to rent a tandem bike and stroll around the city streets.

look how happy viv is to go biking in amsterdam!

and wouldn’t you know it? being rain-less (albeit a little cold) our entire stay in amsterdam, the day we decide to bike, it rains and is super windy! like a gentleman, i was in the front seat and took most of the rain and wind to my face…  :|

viv showing how bummed we were b/c the heavy rain + super wind/gust prematurely ended our biking adventure...

and what is a visit here if you don’t see the infamous ‘red-light district‘? it was quite a shock as viv and i walked and discovered our first bay of windows occupied by women right across the street from the ??? church. and as we strolled more, we found that no matter what street we turned into, we found ourselves facing more banks and banks of these windows.

the infamous red-light district...

it launched viv + i into a discussion about these women, their profession, how they got into this line of work and countless others. these women are someone’s daughters/sisters/and some… even mothers!
wanting to be a father (hopefully soon if the Lord’s willing!), i told viv how my heart was just crushed and deeply saddened by what we were witnessing. this led me to think of countless millions who are trafficked and sold into the sex-industry. it renewed our desire and commitment to the great organizations that are out there wanting to bring justice and liberation to those oppressed (www.ijm.org + www.thesoldproject.org just to name a few).
wasn’t expecting to get on a soap box, but i guess my heart needed to vomit this out. it is something viv + i will continue to wrestle,pray and dedicate our lives + resources to help make an impact for God’s kingdom and His people.

- amsterdam.
  places visited:
    – 9 streets shopping district:  some pretty cool stores. you can definitely spend hours/days walking around and enjoying what each unique place/store has to offer.
    – anne frank huis museum.  
    - van gogh musem.
    – rikjsmuseum “national museum“:  an absolutely beautiful museum… but much of it was under renovation. it featured many european artists’ collections alongside a group of dutch master paintings. 
    – red-light district:  you just have to experience it.
    – canal cruise.

the view from our seat while we did the canal cruise for the day...

another beautiful amsterdam/canal shot...

flight itinerary:
- amsterdam
- gatwick london
- back to -> marseille
- back to ->paris
- back to ->hong kong (total travel time = 27.45 hours… ugghhh)

tot ziens (for now)…

for more reading:
- where in the world… (part 3)
- where in the world… (part 2)
- where in the world… (part 1)

//

“How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.” – Anne Frank

At some point in our lives, we all need a little inspiration. Here are quotes on living, being, and doing. Share some of your favorite quotes to inspire others. Need more inspiration?

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În niciun alt oraş nu miroase atât de tare a viaţă, a ghenă, a lux, a deznădejde şi a moarte în acelaşi timp. E capitala olandeză, europeană şi, poate, mondială a distracţiei care merge până la depravare. Amsterdamul e magic, pentru că e liber şi ştie exact ce înseamnă asta.

A trecut ceva timp de la povestea aceasta, dar nu e ca şi cum ar conta. În adânc, Amsterdamul nu se schimbă.

E 30 aprilie 2009, Ziua Reginei. Amsterdamul s-a colorat în portocaliu, ca ţările din Răsărit la ultimele revoluţii ratate. Suntem patru. Am intrat în burta acestei mulţimi-balaur (cu sute de mii de capete colorate şi fantastice) căutând, fiecare, altceva.

Alexandru e jurnalist. Are douăzeci şi cinci de ani. După o săptămână lucrătoare, când s-a întors în România, a scris aşa: „Amsterdamul respiră prin toţi porii un erotism vicios şi aparte, te loveşte cu voluptatea sa sobră, te poartă pe culoarele unei istorii măreţe şi, la final, te invită calm în decoruri suprarealiste”.

Raluca e eco. S-a rătăcit de câteva ori pedalând pe străduţele curate şi încâlcite ale oraşului ăsta clocotitor. Un clişeu cu aromă de contabilitate: sunt 500.000 de biciclete în Amsterdam. Nu e puţin lucru. A revenit acasă cu câteva lalele şi cu genunchii zdreliţi, ca un copil neascultător. E complicat să fii turist-biciclist în Amsterdam.

CA ÎN EXOD

Ştefan poartă genul acela de barbă nerasă care te îmbătrâneşte şi căciuli cu inserţii jamaicane. E aici ca să o facă legal. Fumează. Sunt sute de coffe-shop-uri în Amsterdam şi marijuana pentru toate gusturile şi categoriile sociale. Rămâne pentru totdeauna replica lui Ştefan, veşnic înfometat şi însetat, într-un Amsterdam ameţitor: „Mă simt ca în exod”. În ceea ce mă priveşte, am mers pentru că m-am îndrăgostit. A fost întâi imaginea aceasta pe internet: un pod care uneşte două străzi mici. Străzile mici sunt păzite de case înalte şi înguste. Şi mai e liniştea, un colţ de linişte într-un oraş care nu e în toate minţile. Era seară în imaginea asta şi un gol, străzile stăteau sub golul acesta şi sub linişte. Sunt 1.200 de poduri în Amsterdam şi niciunul urât.

A mai fost, apoi, pictorul acela nebun care şi-a tăiat urechea într-un gest de frondă, la beţie, sau aşa. Muzeul Van Gogh e ceva ce Ştefan a pierdut. Ceva ce rămâne mult după ce ultima ţigară se va fi stins.

DECI, CINE A FOST ANNE FRANK?

La urmă, şi decisivă, a fost ea. O fată într-un sacou gri, cu părul ciufulit. Anne Frank. „Cine e Anne Frank?” e o întrebare caraghioasă şi probabilă în România. Istoria e aşa: în Amsterdam, pe strada Prinsengracht, la numărul 23, oamenii, milioane de oameni în fiecare an, se aşază unii în spatele altora, şi aşteaptă, într-o ceremonie solemnă, să intre în „Casa Memorială Anne Frank”. Aproape, dintr-o statuie, zâmbeşte reţinut o fetiţă. Deci, cine a fost Anne Frank? Între 12 iunie 1942 şi 1 august 1944, această adolescentă evreică a ţinut un jurnal despre Amsterdamul mutilat din vremea Holocaustului.

Anne Frank a murit în 1945, la 15 ani, bolnavă de tifos. Peste două săptămâni lagărul unde ajunsese avea să fie eliberat. E, probabil, cea mai cunoscută victimă a Holocaustului. Jurnalul ei a fost tradus pretutindeni, a ajuns în sălile de teatru şi în cinematografe şi şi-a câştigat dreptul la nemurire. Amsterdamul meu a fost un amestec de uimire, încântare şi silă. Olandezii ştiu să se îmbete şi să danseze, îşi fac nevoile în public, nu poartă perdele la geamuri. Sunt un fel de barbari rataţi. Au construit, cu inteligenţă, o societate deschisă, complexă şi tolerantă acolo unde alţii s-ar fi mulţumit cu o mlaştină. Bisericile lor sunt gigantice şi goale. Lângă locurile unde femei tinere şi bătrâne, de toate rasele, îşi expun, în vitrine, sexul. Aşteptând, fardate şi obosite, clienţii.

* acest articol a fost publicat in adevarul literar si artistic din data de 19.11.2009

Bara rubriken är absurd men det är svårt att rubrikssätta detta inlägg utan att driva med det här.

Den militanta gruppen Hizbollah arbetar för att utesluta och censurera Anne Franks dagbok som lärobok i Libanon efter en kampanj där de hävdar att boken främjar sionismen. Boken är en lärobok som används av en privat engelskspråkig skola i västra Beirut.

Hizbollahs tv-kanal Al-Manar (förbjuden i Frankrike) sände ett inslag som körde över boken eftersom att den belyste förföljelsen av judar under andra världskriget. Al-Manar är en antisemitisk kanal som återkommande hetsar mot judar.

(Bild: Hassan)

I en intervju med Al-Manar  om denna fråga yttrar sig Hussein Al-Haj Hassan, Hizbollah politiker i Libanon, där han sagt att:
-Ingen lär ut en bok i libanesiska skolor utan att känna till dess innehåll. Dessa prestigefyllda och respektabelt skolor, istället för denna undervisning om vad de kallar “tragedi” i denna unga flickas fall, så bör de undervisa tragedin för det palestinska folket och det libanesiska folket tragedi och Libanons historiska motstånd och lidande för befolkningen i södra Libanon under sionistiska ockupationen”, Hizbollah har även uttryckt oron över att Libanon på grund av detta blir föremål för ett “sionistisk kulturell angrepp.”

(Film: En av Al-Manars sändningar, i detta så talar Hizbollahs ledare Hassan Nasrallah som nyligen blivit omvald som gruppens ledare för sjätte gången.)

Förutom att jämförelsen är hemsk och allt som sägs är motbjudande så glömmer dessa islamister att Anne Frank på något sätt inte är en israelisk representant, utan en flicka som förde dagbok under andra världskriget. Man kan fråga sig var de här finner någon som helst agenda eller att Frank ens sionismen. Kopplingar mellan förintelsen och sionismen eller koppling mellan förintelsen och Palestina är obehagliga men tyvärr något återkommande.

I won’t go in to too much depth about Prose’s other titles  here, except to say that she’s a New York Times bestselling author, was a finalist for the National Book Award, and has written about Caravaggio, muses, breasts, gluttony, and of course the lives of imaginary people. You’re sure to find something you’ll enjoy.

You can also hear an interview with Francine Prose that aired today on CBC’s Q by following this link. http://podcast.cbc.ca/mp3/qpodcast_20091119_23327.mp3 (the interview begins at 14:40).

And you’ll be able to watch a video recording of last night’s talk at the Toronto Public Library’s website soon. I’ll update this post with the link once the video is available.

Amsterdam’s Anne Frank House recently put on YouTube rare footage of Anne Frank leaning out of a window to get a look at a newly married couple in her neighborhood:

And here’s Anne Frank, at a younger age, in a group photo:

Anne Frank is the little girl to the left (in a dress in the front row). Margo Frank, Anne’s older sister, is with the taller kids in the back row, and is wearing a dress similar to her sister’s. Margo is the one on the right. Both Anne and Margo died of typhus at Bergen-Belsen Concentration Camp in March, 1945. Bergen-Belsen is near Hanover, in northwest Germany.

Here’s an image from Bergen-Belsen (taken in 1945):

Source for both photos: U.S. Holocaust Museum Photo Archive

Bergen-Belsen’s consumption of Anne and Margo Frank drives me to ask with Wilfred Owen (in his 1918 poem, “Futility”):

Was it for this the clay grew tall?

—O what made fatuous sunbeams toil

To break earth’s sleep at all?

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Please open for attached is a Word Document about how they treat the Jewess Anne Frank as a “Saint” in the Catholic Church. How could the Jews fool the Catholics and Protestants. The Jews did not for a moment fool Jesus Christ. Not for one moment.
I’m sure there are plenty of stories of White Polish women who died in “work camps,” like Anne Frank did, yet no one hears about the “poor” suffering Poles, just the rich Jews that will keep getting richer for the Jews have oru children’s minds, just like they use our children for sex, and for murderous ritutals in the past.

I do not know how to paste picture so if anyone can help me please let me know. Here is the link of the website to see the news clipping of Anne Frank as they canonize her as a “saint” practically. That is why we have few Catholic or White saints today, the “famous” women are Jewish: Anne Frank, Golda Meier, Barbara Boxer, Diane Feinstein, Barbara Walters, Barbra Streisand, Pink, Bette Midler, all the Jewish wives that have “MRS.” in front of their husband’s names like Mrs. Bernie Madoff, Mrs. Paul Wolfowitz, Mrs. Allen Greenspan, (Federal REserve Bank) Mrs. Ben Bernacke, (Jewish Federal Reserve Bank head)

http://trentandkate.wsapyouth.com/files/Anne%20Frank%20in%20Hell.jpg

When I think of Anne Frank, the Jew who died from Typhus, not gassing, and having her book biography in 80 languages and mandatory reading for our public schools with White Tax $$$, to “mislead, confuse, and destroy our White people, I think she better be in hell. In the Diary of Anne Frank she writes about her “lesbianism,” to promote trash around the world can be anything but “evil,” and deserving of hell for eternity.

I was in college recently and a snip it from her book was an essay out of my textbook. The college “forced” me to read about “Jewish Homosexuality,” luckily they didn’t include this Anne Frank the Jewess Princess, trash, in the curriculum. Now, I’m looking for different versions of “I Need a Hero,” or “Holding Out for a Hero,” by Bonnie Tyler. I happen to bring up a video about criminals being “punished” for their crimes. And lo and behold they are ‘dancing,’ on White Tax Dollars.

What is worse is in the video they have pictures of heroes. Mostly brown, even 3 black which were more black than Whites. But, after they have the videos of the “heroes,” if you watch carefully, there is a black and white picture of a teenaged Jewish girl….. Anne Frank. Yes, even in prisons, they brainwash people, in such subtle ways, no would never detect it. The Jewish media makes her out like a “hero” and “heroine,” when she never died in a gas chamber, because it is doubtful there were “human” gas chambers, just gas chambers for Jewish lice. And I know for a fact they have them, cause my Polish While American Mama worked for them and brought lice home from the Jewish woman who gave my Mama old rags for us to wear. Cinderella in rags looked like a queen compared to what I looked like sometimes when younger.

Whites are not considered “Heroes” anymore, but a race to be erased and eradicated from the earth. This is our “thanks” from the Jews and browns! For all we have done for them in 2,000 years, and they stab us in the back.

I wouldn’t advise watching the video unless to shake your head at what they are doing.

Here also is a news clipping asking is Anne Frank in hell. She better be, because if heaven is good, they can’t reward Jewish princesses and lesbians when heterosexual White women like myself and my Mama were White Polish-American slaves. If Anne Frank is in heaven, then my idea of God as loving, honest, good, charitable, hard-working, where God lives, must be wrong, because Anne Frank fits none of those. And to think they “force” our children to not only “read” about her, but to “worship” her. Let them worship, God Almighty, not a Jewish bag of blood and bones, and dead ones at that.

Anne Frank in Hell

Here is the video of the “dancing criminals,” just like the dancing Israeli Jews that were celebrating near their van when 9/11 happened.

Here is the Mexican video that equates Anne Frank with the White Polish Pope! Notice, these same Mexicans that we are giving our treasury to with White Tax $$$$, have more Jews, browns, and blacks for “Heroes.” I say cut off their welfare checks immediately. I would never take such shoddy rude and belligerent treatment from criminal illegal brown immigrants.

I don’t know how I find this stuff, but it sure makes my blood boil.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fDdPuCsOLaQ&feature=related

“Aquele que é feliz espalha felicidade.
Aquele que teima na infelicidade, que perde o equilíbrio
e a confiança, perde-se na vida”

Anne Frank

Nem tanto para lá, nem tanto para cá… Acho que estou num momento de minha vida em que quero apenas encontrar um ponto de equilíbrio – um meio termo capaz de me acalmar a alma e, ao mesmo tempo, gerar os maiores turbilhões emocionais. Será que este lugar existe?

Wie die Märkische Oderzeitung berichtet, haben Taucher die Gedenktafel gefunden. Demnach habe die Feuerwehr die Gedenktafel am Mittwoch aus dem Strelasund “gefischt”. Somit ist die Echtheit eines Videos wohl bewiesen. “(…) Nach dem Diebstahl war die Messingtafel auf rechten Internetseiten ausgestellt worden. Anfang der Woche entdeckten die Ermittler im Internetportal Youtube ein Video, das dokumentierte, wie die Tafel in den Strelasund geworfen wurde. (…)”

Ebenfalls gefunden wurde mein Artikel, allerdings von Altermedia. “RevierFörster” hatte auch gleich eine Belehrung für mich: “Berufsantifaschisten wie Florian Röpke vergessen immer wieder, daß ihre Gedankenwelt krank ist nicht die der Nationalisten. (…)”. Stimmt, das hatte ich “vergessen”.

ANNE FRANK 80 YEARS
PHOTOGRAPHIC IMPRESSIONS

A Memorial Tour in Current Images
Frankfurt am Main, Aachen, Amsterdam,
Camp Westerbork, Auschwitz-Birkenau, Bergen-Belsen

PICTURE BOOK
PHOTOGRAPHER/AUTHOR:RONALD WILFRED JANSEN
RWJ-PUBLISHINGIN ASSOCIATION WITH UNIBOOK 2009
FULL COLOUR
HARD COVER
SIZE FORMAT: A4
LANGUAGE: ENGLISH
NUMBER OF PAGES: 160
NUMBER OF COLOUR PHOTOGRAPHS: 265
PRICE €(INCLUDING VAT, EXCLUDING SHIPPING)
ISBN/EAN: 978-94-90482-01-5

You can also order directly from www.unibook.com,or at any good bookshop.

My picture book has been registered at Centraal Boekhuis BV by Unibook.

Anne Frank is world famous. Millions of people from all over the world have read her diary.
As such, the Anne Frank Foundation promotes Anne Frank and her mental legacy.

The travelling exhibition ‘Anne Frank — A History for Today’ is the most visited Dutch exhibition worldwide.

I visited The Annex for the first time in 2001. The Annex creates a deep impression on many people, and I was no exception: I could feel the tensions of the persons in hiding, and I realised that Anne had become caught in the Nazis web; she had been torn away from her everyday world. Her life was broken before it could blossem. Anne was interested in culture, religion and science, and had a keen interest in society at large, being very concerned about everybody’s experienced ups and downs — and that was why I thought it was so dismal that she had been killed. And, sadly, this was for one reason only: because she was a jew.

The need in me arose to portray the life of Anne Frank. Not by means of a biography or a book with old pictures, many of which have been published already before. Instead, I wanted to discover whether there are still remnants of her past life and surroundings in the present.

In 2008-2009 I made a photoreport about the residences of Anne Frank (1929-1945). I visited her home addresses in Frankfurt am Main, Aachen, the Merwede Square in Amsterdam, her place of hiding — the Annex in Amsterdam — and the concentration camps of Westerbork —Auschwitz-Birkenau and Bergen-Belsen — where she was kept imprisoned.

I have provided the pictures of short notes explaining the connection with Anne Frank. My recent pictures are an important addition to the many old pictures of Anne Frank.

The emptiness left behind by Anne Frank becomes evident when I place a recent picture next to an old picture depicting her, both taken from the same angle. When taking the pictures, I took special notice of interesting details and the historical character of the subject after all, the pictures are the result of personal experiences, which were often quite intense. My pictures show the traces of her residences which are still visible in the (rural) landscape; you can map out your own route along the places which are reminiscent of Anne Frank.

I was given permission both for visiting and taking pictures of the (inside) locations from the organisations concerned. My visits to these locations were carried out respectfully, whilst taking into consideration the applicable rules of the locations.

I hope that my picture book inspires the reader and watcher to delve deeper into the history of the Holocaust and Anne Frank, and that it contributes to the mutual tolerance and understanding between people and cultures.

I also hope that my picture book contributes to the maintenance of the cultural heritage that still reminds us of Anne Frank.

Ana Frank

Todo el mundo debería conocer la historia de Ana Frank: una niña judía que tuvo que vivir escondida de los nazis durante la II Guerra Mundial. Escribió un diario contando su día a día en la Casa de atrás (así es como se refiere a la casa donde se escondían). Al ser un diario no hay, por tanto, una trama principal. Ana escribe sobre su vida en la casa, sobre sus padres, sobre la guerra en algunas ocasiones, sobre Peter (su amor adolescente), sobre ella, etc.

No voy a contar mucho más. Solamente voy a citar algunos fragmentos que creo que son destacables para comprender su angustia, los cambios de humor en ocasiones, alguna reflexión sobre la guerra y alguna cita que deja entrever cómo vivían los escondidos.

Los domingos reina aquí en casa una atmósfera deprimente, aletargada y pesada; fuera no se oye cantar a ningún pájaro; esa pesadez se aferra a mí como si quisiera arrastrarme hasta los infiernos. Papá, mamá y Margot me son indiferentes de tanto en tanto, y yo deambulo por las habitaciones, bajando y subiendo las escaleras, y me da la sensación de ser un pájaro enjaulado al que le han arrancado las alas violentamente, y que en la más absoluta penumbra choca contra los barrotes de su estrecha jaula al querer volar. Oigo una voz dentro de mí que me grita: “¡Sal fuera, al aire, a reír!”. Ya ni le contesto; me tumbo en uno de los divanes y duermo para acortar el tiempo, el silencio, y también el miedo atroz, ya que es imposible matarlos.

29 de octubre de 1943

Y por las noches, cuando acabo mis rezos pronunciando las palabras “Te doy gracias por todas las cosas buenas, queridas y hermosas”, oigo gritos de júbilo dentro de mí, porque pienso en esas “cosas buenas”, como nuestro escondite, mi buena salud y todo mi ser, en las cosas queridas, como Peter y esa cosa diminuta y sensible que ninguno de los dos se atreve a nombrar aún, el amor, el futuro, la dicha, y en las cosas hermosas, como el mundo, la naturaleza y la gran belleza de todas las cosas hermosas juntas. [...] Mi consejo es: “Sal fuera, a los prados, a la naturaleza y al sol. Sal fuera y trata de reencontrar la felicidad en ti misma; piensa en todas las cosas bellas que hay dentro de ti y a tu alrededor, y sé feliz”.

7 de marzo de 1944

Algún día volveremos a ser personas y no solamente judíos.

11 de abril de 1944

Hoy por la tarde comimos lechuga podrida cocida. Lechuga en ensalada, espinacas y lechuga cocida: otra cosa no hay. A eso se le añaden patatas podridas. ¡Una combinación deliciosa!

3 de mayo de 1944

Yo no creo que la guerra sea solo de grandes hombres, gobernantes y capitalistas. ¡Nada de eso! Al hombre pequeño también le gusta; si no, los pueblos ya se habrían levantado contra ella.

3 de mayo de 1944

Que pase algo pronto, aunque sean tiros, eso ya no nos podrá destrozar más que esta intranquilidad, que venga ya el final, aunque sea duro, así al menos sabremos si al final hemos de triunfar o si sucumbiremos.

26 de mayo de 1944

Twenty years ago yesterday, November 9, 1989, after supper, I was in my bedroom with Bettina, our exchange-student from Germany.  West Berlin to be exact.  I was in Grade 12 and she was in Grade 11.

We were doing our homework when my mother rushed in and excitedly announced, “Bettina!  They’ve opened the wall!  It’s on the news – they’re taking it down!”

To which Bettina replied in disbelief, “That will never happen!” which after she realized it was happening, quickly changed to, “But I’m stuck in Canada!”

For the next few months, we were glued to the television whenever there was coverage to see if she could spot anyone she knew.  We had already heard stories about her family from the East who had been separated from her family in the West when the Wall went up.  We had heard about how her cousin was going to be either a dentist or a doctor, I don’t remember anymore, and that the family had applied to buy her a car for her graduation seven years before.

New Year’s Eve was especially painful for Bettina since her sister and friends in Berlin were all ringing in the New Year of 1990 at the Wall.  Again, we were glued to the television.

In 1994, I was lucky enough to be able to go to Berlin overnight to visit Bettina while on a trip to Amsterdam.  We went to the Brandenburg Gate and to the Berlin Wall Museum at the site of Checkpoint Charlie. To see the images and the history there, coupled with a visit to the Secret Annex of Anne Frank in Amsterdam was overwhelming.  To this day, I can’t sing “O Canada” without getting teary;  if I hear a group of children sing it, I’m a mess.

Looking back, I’m sure that the Fall of the Berlin Wall was probably my first conscious realization of some of the horrible things that happen in the world.  Because I had a personal connection, these events that we learned about in history class or heard on the news became real.

Tomorrow, as we do each year, we will take our family and go to the Cenotaph for Remembrance Day.  During the moment of silence, I will think about those who fought and continue to fight so that we may bring our children up without the first-hand experience of war.  And in the words of Anne Frank, I will reflect on “How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.”

I’ve been wanting to get this post down for ages, but I was bogged down with things like PW and school and the excitement of actually having PHOTOS to post with that I just left it hanging. Now that I’ve got some time, I can truly start on my compilation of Anne Frank quotes that I liked. These are sentences or prargraphs that I picked out from her diary MYSELF, things she said or expressed in such a manner that struck me deeply, things that I felt I could relate to, or things that were insightful.

In many ways, while reading Anne’s diary, I also felt like I was reading my own thoughts, only better articulated. The beginning was just like any other diary, filled with accounts of school life, friends and family. After she went into hiding and grew older, her entries consisted not only of the fear of being discovered and life in hiding, but also of her deep, complex thoughts that I not only understand, but also have experienced(most of them). I never knew such feelings were universal, but perhaps humans from different cultures are more alike than we think.

I tried to make the quotes as short as possible, but sometimes I had to put the whole, few paragraphs down. If not, you will never be able to understand the complexity of her thoughts and the beauty of her language, and will never be able to grasp the essence of her character and personality. The last thing I want is for someone to read these and misunderstand her. Because while I don’t relate to ALL of her thoughts and ideals, I can pre empt that to many who have not experienced feelings similar to what she has described, it will seem absurd and irrational.

(I’ve colour coded the quotes, double checked, and there’s no typo there. SOme prargraphs are only one line, some sentences I took from the last line of the paragraph and went on to the next one.)

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Now that I’m rereading my diary after a year and a half, I’m surprised at my childish innocence. Deep down I know I could never be that innocent again, however much I’d like to be.

We’re so fortunate here, away from the turmoil. We wouldn’t have to give a moment’s thought to all this suffering if it weren’t for the fact that we’re so worried about those we hold dear, whom we can no longer help. I feel wicked sleeping in a warm bed, while somewhere out there my dearest friends are dropping from exhaustion or being knocked to the ground.

I get frightened myself when I think of clsoe frinds who are now at the mercy of the cruellest monsters ever to stalk the earth.

And because they’re all Jews.

In bed at night, as I ponder my many sins and exaggerated shortcomings, I get so confused by the sheer amount of things I have to consider that I either laugh or cry, depending on my mood. Then I fall asleep with the strange feeling of wanting to be different from what I am or being different from what I want to be, or perhaps of behaving differently from what I am or want to be.

Everyone thinks I’m showing off when I talk, ridiculous when I’m silent, insolent when I answer, cunning when I have a good idea, lazy when I’m tired, selfish when I eat one bite more than I should, cowardly, calculating etc., etc. All day long I hear nothing but what an exasperating child I am, and although I laugh it off and pretend not to mind, I do mind.

I’m stuck with the character I was born with, yet I’m sure I’m not a bad person. I do my best to please everyone, more than they’d ever suspect in a million years. When I’m upstairs, I try to laugh it off because I don’t want them to see my troubles.

Everyone expects me to apologize, but this is not something I can apologize for, because I told the truth, and sooner or later Mother was bound to find out anyway.

I don’t think my opinions are stupid but other people do, so it’s better to keep them to myself.

Who else but me can I turn to for comfort? I’m frequently in need of consolation, I often feel weak, and more often than not, I fail to meet expectations. I know this, and every day I resolve to do better.

I’m no longer the baby and spoiled little darling whose every deed can be laughed at. I have my own ideas, plans and ideals, but am unable to articulate them yet.

Can you tell me why people go to such lengths to hide their real selves? Or why I always behave differently when I’m in the company of others? Why do people have so little trust in one another? I know there must be a reason, but sometimes I think it’s horrible that you can’t ever confide in anyone, not even those closest to you.

We aren’t allowed to have an opinion! My, my, aren’t they progressive! Not have an opinion! People can tell you to shut up, but they can’t keep you from having an opinion. You can’t forbid someone to have an opinion, no matter how young they are!

At such moments, I don’t think about all the misery, but about all the beauty that still remans. This is where Mother and I differ greatly. Her advice in the fate of melancholy is: ‘Think about all the suffering int he world and be thankful you’re not part of it.’ My advice is: ‘Go outside, to the country, enjoy the sun and all nature has to offer. Go outside and try to recapture the happiness within yourself; think of all the beauty in yourself and everything around you and be happy’.

I don’t think Mother’s advice can be right, because what are you supposed to do if you become part of the suffering? You’d be completely lost. On the contrary, beauty remains, even in misfortune. If you look for it, you discover more and more happiness and regain your balance. A person who’s happy will make others happy; a person who has couragte and faith will never die in misery!

Ordinary people, ordinary girls, teenagers like myself, would think all this self-pity is a little crazy. But that’s just it. I pour my heart out to you, and the rest of the time I’m as impudent, cheerful, self-confident as possible to avoid questions and from getting on my own nerves.

It’s because we’re always together. I don’t want the person I confide in to be around me all the time.

Above all, I have to maintain my air of confidence. No one must know that my heart and mind are constantly at war with each other. Up till now reason has always won the battle, but will my emotions get the upper hand? Sometimes I fear they will, but more often than not I actually hope they do!

The nicest part is able to write down all my thoughts and feelings; otherwise, I’d absolutely suffocate.

I’m my best and harshest critic. I know what’s good and what isn’t. Unless you write yourself, you can’t know how wonderful it is; I always used to bemoan the fact that I couldn’t draw, but now I’m overjoyed with the fact that I can write. And if I don’t have the talent to write books or newspaper articles, I can always write for myself. 

I don’t want to have lived in vain like most people. I want to be useful or bring enjoyment to all people, even those I’ve never met. I want to go on living, even after my death! 

When I write I can shake off all my cares. My sorrow disappears, my spirits are revived! But, and that’s a big question, will I ver be able to write something great, will I ever become a journalist or a write?

I hope so, oh, I hope so very much, because writing allows me to record everything, all my thoughts, ideals and fantasies.

If God lets me live, I’ll achieve more than Mother ever did, I’ll make my voice haerd, I’ll go out into the world and work for mankind!

I now know that courage and happiness are needed first!

 As you can no doubt imagine, we often say in despair, ‘What’s the point of the war? Why, oh, why can’t people live together peacefully? Why all this destruction?’

The question is understandable, but so far no one has come up with a satisfactory answer. Why is England manufacturing bigger and better aeroplanes and bombs and at the same time churning out new houses for reconstruction? Why are millions spent on the war each day, while not a penny is availabe for medical science, artists or the poor? Why do people have to starve when mountains of food are rotting away in other parts of the world? Oh, why are peple so crazy?

I don’t believe the war is simply the work of politicians and capitalists. Oh no, the common man is every bit as guilty; otherwise, people and nations would have rebelled long ago! Thre’s a destructive urge in people, the urge to rage, murder and kill. And until all of humanity, without exception, undergoes a metamorphosis, wars will continue to be waged, and everything that has been carefully built up, cultivated and grown will be cut down and destroyed, only to start all over again!

To be honest, I can’t understand how the Dutch, a nation of good, honest and jupright people, can sit in judgement on us the way they do. On us –  the most oppressed, unfortunate and pitiable people in all the world.

Sometimes I’m so deeply buried under self-reproaches that I long for a word of comort to help me dig myself out again. If only I had someone who took my feelings seriously. Alas, I haven’;t yet found that person, so the search must go on.

It’s not just my imagination — looking at the sky, the clouds, the moon and the stars really does make me feel calm and hopeful. It’s so much better medicine than valerian or bromide. Nature makes me feel humble  and ready to face every blow with courage!

In the book Men against Death I was greatly struck by the fact that in childbirth alone, women commonly suffer more pain, illness and misery than any war hero ever does. What’s her reward for enduring all that pain? She gets pushed aside when she’s disfigured by birth, her children soon leave, her beauty is gone. Women, who struggle and suffer pain to ensure the continuation of the human race, make much tougher and more courageus soldiers than all those big-mouthed freedom-fighting heroes put together!

I don’t mean to imply that women should stop having children; on the contrary, nature intended them to, and that’s the way it should be. What I condemn are our system of values and the men who don’t acknowledge how great, difficult, but ultimately beautiful women’s share in society is.

I have one outstanding character trait that must be obvious to anyone who’s known me for any length of time: I have a great deal of self-knowledge. In everything I do, I can watch myself as if I were a stranger. I can stand across from the everyday Anne and, without being biased or makign excuses, watch what she’s dong, both and good and the bad. This self-awareness never leaves me, and every time I open my mouth, I thnk, ‘You should have said that differntly’ or ‘That’s fine the way it is.’ I condemn myself in so many ways that I’m beginning to realise the truth of Father’s adage: ‘Every child has to raise itself.’ Parents can only advise their children or point them in the right direction. Ultimatly, people shape their own characteristics.

I didn’t want to hear about ‘typical adolescent problems’, or ‘other girls’, or ‘you’ll grow out of it’. I didn’t want to be treated the same as all-the-other-girls, but as Anne-in-her-own-right, and Pim didn’t understand that.

I’ve let myself be guided entirely by my feelings. It was egoistical, but I’ve done what was best for my own peace of mind. I would lose that, plus the self-confidence I’ve worked so hard to achieve, if I were to be subjected to criticism halways through the job.

‘Deep down, the young are lonlier than the old.’ I read this in a book somewhere and it’s stuck in my mind. As far as I can tell, it’s true.

So if you’re wondering whether it’s harder for the adults here than for the children, the answer is no, it’s certainly not. Older people have an opinion about everything and are sure of themselves and their actions. It’s twice as hard for us young people to hold on to our opinions at a time when ideals are being shattered and destroyed, when the worst side of human nature predominates, when everyone has come to doubt truth, justice and God.

Anyone who claims that the old people have a more difficult time in the Annexe doesn’t realize that the problems have a far greater impact on us. We’re much too young to deal with these problems, but they keep thrusting themselves on us until, finally, we’re forced to think up a solution, though most of the time our solutions crumble when faced with the facts. It’s difficult in times like these: ideals, dreams and cherised hopes rise within us, only to be crushed by grim reality. It’s a wonder I haven’t abandoned all my ideals, they seem to absurd and impractical, yet I cling to them because I believe, in spite of everything, that people are truly good at heart.

It’s utterly impossible for me to build my life on a foundation of chaos, suffering and death. I see the world being slowly tansformed into a wilderness, I hear the approaching thunder that, one day, will destroy us too, I feel the sufering of millions. And yet, when I look up at the sky, I somehow feel that everyuthing will change for the better, that this cruelty will too end, that peace and tranquility will return once more. In the meantime, I must hold on to my ideals. Perhaps the day will come when I’ll be able to realize them!

As I’ve told you many times, I’m split in two. One side contains my exuberant cheerfulness, my flippancy, my joy in life, and above all, my ability to appreciate the lighter side of things. By that I mean not finding anything wrong with fliratations, a kiss, an embrace, a saucy joke. This side of me is usually lying in wait to ambush the other side, which is much purer, deeper and finer.

My lighter, more superficial side will always steal a march on the deeper side and therefore always win. You can’t imagine how often I’ve tried to push away this Anne, which is only half of what is known as Anne – to beat her down, hide her. But it doesn’t work, and I know why.

I’m afraid that people who know me as I usually am will discover I have another side, a better and finer side. I’m afraid they’ll mock me, thnk I’m ridiculous and sentimental and not take me seriously. I’m used to not being taken seriuosly, but only the ‘lighthearted’ Anne is used to it and can put up with it; the ‘deeper’ Anne is too weak. If I force the good Anne into the spotlight for even fifteen minutes, she shuts up like a clam the moment she’s called upon to speak, and lets Anne number one do the talking. Before I realize it, she’s disappeard.

A voice within me is sobbing, ‘You see, that’s what’s become of you. You’re surrounded by negative opinions, dismayed looks and mocking faces, people who dislike you, and all because you don’t listen to the advice of your own better half.’ Believe me, I’d like to listen, but it doesn’t work, because if I’m quiet and serious, everyone thinks I’m putting on a new act and I have to save myself with a joke, and then I’m not even talking about my own family, who assume I must be ill, stuff me with aspirins and sedatrives, feel my neck and forehead to see if I have a temperature, ask about my bowel movement and berate me for beign in a bad mood, until I just can’t keep it up any more, because when everybody starst hovering over it, I get cross, then sad, and finally end up turning my heart inside out, the bad part on the outside and the good part on the inside, and keep trying to find a way to become what I’d like to be and what I could be if… if only there were no other people in the world.

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** She sounds like an NF. But maybe that’s jsut me.

**** She also wrote a lot more about her family members, life in hiding and the fear of being discovered than her personal reflections and views. However, I’ve quoted more of her writing about her opinions and character rather than her writing on the happenings in the annexe, since I am focusing on Anne as a person who is extremely brilliant in thought and also with language. I am not saying that the suffering she experienced was over rated, but that is just not my focus, because what I admire about her is more of her having hope and ideals and being able to articulate her feelings so clearly, rather than her surviving in hiding as  Jew in those times. Hope you get what I mean.

Grenzgängerin

Grenzgängerin:
Leben zwischen den Welten.
Roman von Asli Bayram
Gütersloher Verlagshaus

Asli Bayram ist eine Grenzgängerin zwischen verschiedenen Kulturen und Lebensweisen. Beruflich wie privat reist sie um die Welt, lebt abwechselnd in London, Wien und Los Angeles.

In diesem Buch erzählt Asli Bayram, wie sie ihr intensives Leben mit Leidenschaft, Zuversicht und Tatkraft aktiv gestaltet und dabei immer die elementaren Begriffe Toleranz und Respekt im Blick hat.

Ihr Buch ist ein Lebensbericht als Parabel und Motivation für andere. Die Entschlossenheit und Präzision ihrer Film- und Theaterarbeiten spürt man auch bei der Lektüre ihres Buchdebüts.

Man kann alles schaffen, wenn man wirklich will…
… das beeindruckende Buch einer imponierenden Frau: authentisch, ehrlich, direkt
… gedankenfrohe Einblicke in ein Leben geprägt vom Glauben an die Kraft von Wahrheit, Hoffnung, Menschlichkeit und Liebe.
Buchperlen-Bewertung: ****

Asli Bayram, geboren 1981, ist eine deutsche Schauspielerin türkischer Herkunft. Ihr Vater, Ali Bayram, erfolgreicher Geschäftsmann und Unternehmer aus Ankara, wurde 1994 in Darmstadt von einem Neonazi, einem Hausnachbarn der Familie, getötet. Sie selber wurde durch eine Schusswunde verletzt. 2005 wurde sie zur Miss Deutschland gewählt.

Im Oktober 2007 gab Asli Bayram ihr Theaterdebut im Stadttheater Esch-sur-Alzette/Luxemburg als Anne Frank (eine szenische Lesung aus dem Tagebuch der Anne Frank). Seine Deutschlandpremiere hatte die erfolgreiche Aufführung 2008 in der Union-Halle in Anne Franks Geburtsstadt Frankfurt am Main.

Nach Luxembourg, Frankfurt am Main und Prag wurde die gefeierte Theaterproduktion 2009 im „Museum of Tolerance“ in Los Angeles gezeigt. Im selben Jahr präsentierte die Berlinale den Film „Shortcut to Hollywood“. Quelle: z.T. wikipedia

Asli Bayram – Filmografie:
Miss Universe 2005 (Dokumentation, 2005)
Beyza’nin kadinlari (Spielfilm, 2006) – Englischer Titel: Shattered Soul (2006)
Jump! – mit Patrick Swayze, Heinz Hoenig, Anja Kruse (Spielfilm, 2006)
Short Cut to Hollywood – mit Jan Henrik Stahlberg und Marcus Mittermeier (Spielfilm, 2009)
Amok – (Spielfilm, 2010)
Sevdah za Karima (Spielfilm, 2010) – Englischer Titel: Blues for Karim (2010)

The Diary of a Young Girl (1942 – 1944)
Anne Frank
Penguin, 351pp

With a week in Amsterdam it would have been remiss of me not to visit the Anne Frank Huis on Prinsengracht. The building, unassuming, almost invisible in the row that runs from the Westerkerk downward, was the hiding place of the Frank family and others from 1942 until their capture in August 1944 – they almost made it through the war. Their ‘Secret Annexe’ (as Anne called it and was to call her first novel based on their experiences) has been left unfurnished – the Nazi’s ransacked their home, and only by the immediate action of Miep Gies and Bep Voskuijl was Anne’s diary saved. When they returned it to Otto Frank, when it became clear his daughters had died in Bergen-Belsen, he saw the power of his daughter’s words and after a protracted editorial discourse, Anne’s diary was revealed to the world. Not an immediate success in the Netherlands, it sold well enough to warrant an English translation. When the first print run of 5,000 copies were sold in the first afternoon, The Diary of a Young Girl, better known as The Diary of Anne Frank, became a global phenomenon with Anne’s message inspiring people the world over.

That first edition of Anne’s diary was a considered affair: while in the Annexe, Anne heard that a British radio station was looking to collect and collate stories of survival after the war, and she began to turn her diary into a novel called The Secret Annexe – so in truth there are two Anne Frank diaries – known as versions a and b. When Otto Frank came to publish the diaries he censored, understandably, the negative comments Anne had made about her family and other residents and the details of her sexual awakening. The edition that I bought in the Anne Frank Huis, the 60th anniversary edition, is based upon the b edition but also contains diary pages that have become known since the first publication. It is also unexpurgated, so the entries excised by Otto Frank have been reinstated. Nevertheless it is not the complete diary as left by Anne – for that one would need to read both the a and b editions, found in the ‘The Diary of Anne Frank: The Revised Critical Edition’ which also contains the later discovered material and more beside, and is thusly known as the c edition.

My knowledge of Anne Frank and her diary was limited. I had no idea another family resided in the Annexe, nor that she wrote so much or that her thoughts were so developed. I had not seen any of the many versions of her story that have appeared on film or television. To visit the house was a truly moving and humbling experience, and even before reaching the end of the tour I knew I would buy her diary; standing in the room that was her bedroom with its photographs of film stars tacked to the wall, in the unbearable small space that she shared –shared! – I was bought to tears. Her diary is moving, but its power is as much derived from knowledge that she will not survive this, that the dreams she has will lay unrealised, broken in the mud of a German concentration camp, as it is from her words. Anne Frank was a good writer, even at the age of thirteen, and would undoubtedly have become a great writer: but would the words she wrote in the Annexe have had such power had she not died? It is perhaps not a question easily or often asked, and is undoubtedly insensitive to ask, for the Diary is a monument, a worthy memorial, an icon of an age and an experience, a reminder that we, as a species, should never allow ourselves to return to such barbarism, but it is the question that I kept asking whilst reading. There are other such stories out there, dimmed because the victim survived, dimmed because the victim was not a beautiful child, and though Anne could only ever record what she knew and saw and felt, her monument seems to stand and inspire as a solitary beacon, shorn of its contextualisation, of the other stories. Monuments may affect us, but their effect can never be total. To hear the voice they commemorate loosens the monument, makes it tangible – that is where Anne’s Diary works well, for to read it makes it real (especially if you have stood in those rooms) – but what I suppose I am afraid of is this: is one lone voice coming out of the blackness of human history enough to stop it happening again? I read this Diary in the week that a vile human being in British politics expounded his propaganda on national television, a propaganda that could lead all too quickly to another atrocity, could lead to another child living in shadows in an Annexe, fearing the knock on the door, fearing for her life. I suppose what I am saying is this: Anne Frank’s Diary has moved me more than anything I have read in such a long time, but because the tide of history is sweeping back to a nationalist and religious hatred that defined and took her life, it makes me ask: what was it all for?

It’s worthwhile showing the drawings that the class on the Haggadah project have done so far, they are so good. This is pastel and charcoal and a burst of energy. We are talking here of the kind of emotions the family of Anne Frank would be feeling at the moment the hiding place is discovered by the german troops.

By Julie Mokotoff, Book Festival Co-Chair

The name Anne Frank is known throughout the world. We are all familiar with the tragic ending to her life story. A young girl hides in a secret attic to escape persecution from the Nazis. Her life, full of promise and possibly destined for greatness, was cut short at the age of fifteen, simply because she was Jewish. After two years and one month spent in hiding, Hitler’s soldiers knock on their door. They place the Frank family under arrest, and eventually board them on a train to Auschwitz.

Anne’s story, documented in her diary, has become the symbol of Jewish suffering, loss, and death during the Holocaust. She is the most recognized victim of Nazi atrocities committed against the Jews. She is also the most identified victim of any killings against humanity, before or after World
War II.

Francine Prose, New York Times best-selling author and acclaimed literary critic, has written a new book called Anne Frank: The Book, The Life, The Afterlife. In it, Ms. Prose offers readers a different perspective of Anne Frank; whereby the focus is Anne Frank literary genius, not Anne Frank Holocaust victim. The shift may seem small but it’s actually significant. From this frame of reference, Ms. Prose builds a carefully crafted case to prove that Anne Frank’s diary is a literary classic. A memoir of a gifted writer, Anne’s diary captures the Jewish experience during the Nazi occupation of Europe on a noteworthy and literary level.

Ms. Prose, through her extensive research and gift for language, explains why Anne’s diary is so universal, unforgettable, and enduring. As a literary critic, Ms. Prose is the perfect person to explain why Anne’s diary is such an important scholarly and personal piece of writing. The central premise is that Anne’s diary is an extraordinary masterpiece, not only as a work of literary genius but as a record of the times, a piece of evidence against the Nazi regime of prejudice, hatred and mass murder.

Even at thirteen years old, Ms. Prose explains, Anne Frank was able to “glide from meditation to action, from narration to reflection, to dialogue and dramatized scene.” Furthermore, there are “unpredictable shifts between opposites of tone and content – between domesticity and danger, the private and the historic, the extreme and the normal, and the young genius and typical teen.” The reader learns to appreciate how Anne was a natural master of dialogue, character building, narration and scene setting – all the qualities of a novel that every great writer hopes to achieve.

Francine Prose educates us about Anne Frank, the daughter, the sister, the friend and most importantly, the writer. Ms. Prose’s book, aptly titled, Anne Frank: The Book, The Life, The Afterlife, proves that Anne Frank, a mere mortal, made an immortal imprint on humankind. Anne’s words, so eloquent, powerful, and descriptive, will leave a lasting legacy. Her diary, so relevant and touching six decades after her death, will be read for centuries to come. Her contribution to humankind cannot be underestimated.

Please join me in welcoming Francine Prose to the 18th annual Book Festival of the MJCCA. She will be speaking Monday, November 16 at noon. Her book, Anne Frank, The Book, The Life, The Afterlife, will be on sale at the Barnes & Noble bookstore on MainStreet at Zaban Park.

For more information about the 18th Annual Book Festival or to purchase tickets to an event, please visit our website at atlantajcc.org/bookfestival.

Glaubt man verschiedenen Umfragen, so ist der Otto-Normaldeutsche satt und möchte nichts mehr von einer Zeit vor der Bundesrepublik hören. Mahnen und Erinnern geht vielen, gerade jüngeren Menschen, inzwischen einfach nur noch auf die Nerven, immerhin ist es ja auch schon Ewigkeiten her. Diesen Menschen ist der folgende Artikel gewidmet.

Am 4. November berichtete das Hamburger Abendblatt über den Diebstahl der Gedenk-Tafel der Stralsunder Synagoge. Zuvor wurde übrigens im Internet auf einschlägigen Neonazi-Seiten ordentlich gehetzt. Warum? Weil die Gedenk-Tafel an die in der Reichspogromnacht 1938 in Brand gesteckte jüdische Synagoge erinnert. Und das ist in den Augen der Neonazis eben Schuldkult. So ein Diebstahl wird dann auch kommentiert: “Gute Aktion! Davon müsste es mehr geben. Kaum aufwand und der Preis: Werbung und lustige heul Texte.”

Makaber, die ortsansässige “Hatecrew” Stralsund hat die Polizei erst auf den Diebstahl aufmerksam gemacht, da sie ein Bild von der Hauswand eben ohne Gedenk-Tafel veröffentlichte. Natürliche wurde der neonazistischen Hatecrew das Bild nur zugespielt, wie später auch ein Video, ihre menschenverachtende Freude über das Geschehen können und wollen sie aber kaum verbergen. Am Wochenende veröffentlichten sie für ihre Gesinnungsgenossen einen Aufruf: “Wer in der Nacht vom Sonntag zu Montag beabsichtigt aus irgendwelchen Gründen einen Spaziergang durch die Innenstadt zu machen, dem sei geraten daran zu denken, einen Personalausweis mit sich zu führen. Außerdem täte er gut daran sich einmal mehr zu vergegenwärtigen, gegen kein Gesetz zu verstoßen wenn er eine Begegnung mit der dritten Art in Zivil oder möglicherweise auch uniformiert vermeiden möchte. (…) Wer meint sich in Gegenwart bestimmter Reliquien wie Stolpersteine, Judentafeln, Stele etc. nicht zusammenreißen zu können, sollte besser die gesamte Innenstadt meiden.” Da liegen die Karten doch auf dem Tisch, noch offener kann man seinen Antisemitismus nicht zur Schau tragen.

Heute, am 9. November, veröffentlicht die Hatecrew dann das schon genannte Video, welches im Augenblick stetige Verbreitung im Internet findet. Das Video zeigt, wie die Gedenk-Tafel in den Strelasund geworfen wird.

Es sind übrigens Neonazis wie diese, die alljährlich zu Gedenkmärschen aufrufen und ausschließlich an die Deutschen Opfer des 2. Weltkriegs erinnern wollen. Wer vor diesem Hintergrund, es gibt sicherlich noch unzählige andere Beispiele, noch immer von Schuldkult spricht und keine Verpflichtung sieht, auch 2009, an die Verbrechen der Nazizeit zu erinnern, der muss dringend umdenken.

Hier noch der Kommentar der Hatecrew Stralsund zum Video: “Die Suche nach der verschollenen Juden-Tafel hat ein Ende! Auf Youtube ist inzwischen ein Video aufgetaucht, aus dem hervor geht, dass die Tafel offenbar in den unendlichen Weiten und Tiefen des Strelasunds versenkt worden ist. Wir sind darüber selbstverständlich wie immer bestürzt und betroffen. Der Anne-Frank-Spruch, der die Platte zierte, „Geschehene Dinge lassen sich nicht rückgängig machen“ ist damit in diesem Fall wohl Programm. Es sei denn die Stadt gönnt sich den Luxus ein paar Taucher loszuschicken…”

Damit sollte vorerst alles gesagt sein. Einen angenehmen 9. November.

Ergänzung: Eines sollte allerdings doch noch gesagt, bzw. verlinkt werden: NPD-Blog – Angriff auf die Neue Synagoge in Dresden am Vorabend des 9. November 2009

Ergänzung: Eine Aktualisierung (12.11.) gibt es hier, die Gedenkplatte wurde inzwischen gefunden.

I remember reading “The Diary of Anne Frank” in middle school.  It’s a unique book, not only for the obvious reasons, but because it gives the reader an intimate look into the life of someone who never intended to have anyone read her work.  It’s also amazing that as a 12 or 13 y ear old I was reading the work of someone my age, who had a far more mature outlook on life and people.

But I had no idea that her diary was not her complete work.  Makes sense now that I think about it, but her father, upon finding her diary, edited out some entries, ideas and subjects.  Francine Prose has now published Anne Frank: The Book, the Life, the Afterlife, which is a commentary on Anne Frank as an author and the story of how the diary was published.

I read a great review of Prose’s work on the Miami Herald website and am excited to check out this book.  Anne Frank is a fascinating person and I think Prose’s novel will introduce an entirely new side of her.

Talvez eu não tenha gostado muito do livro porque, apesar de ser uma história real, fala sobre pessoas que passam por um momento muito rui em suas vidas.  Anne às vezes escreve coisas que eu nunca pensei que uma filha falasse da mãe, na maneira como ela se refere a ela.

As pessoas que vivem nesse sótão por causa do preconceito contra os judeus começam a ver que deveriam ter dado mais valor às coisas que tinham quando “viviam felizes e não sabiam”.

O final do livro foi o que eu menos gostei porque no final ninguém sobrevive.

Acho que muitos deveriam ler esse livro para ter mais noção do que aquelas pessoas passaram e perceberem que devem dar mais valor ao que têm.

Recomendo o livro para a Juliana porque acho que ela vai se interessar pela história