Finding Words

I love the power of the written word.

Words crafted into sentences. Descriptive paragraphs. 

Interesting blogs. Informative articles. Creative novels. 

I started this blog as a way to share our new life in Europe in a more personal way.  

There's Twitter for more universally connecting observations or thoughts, 

Instagram, my new favorite, for pictures of beautiful or hilarious things I see (but I limit myself to only one a day so I don't break Emma's rules) 

Fancy Stockings

and Facebook for more immediate and personal updates.

Sure, there's overlap.  I try not to say the same thing in all three places every time (one of my pet peeves). This blog is much more personal, a place for me to share more deeply about an experience or what I've been thinking. In some ways it's a place for me to work out what I really think about something.

I've never been much of a journal-er. My grandfather kept a diary, wrote just a couple sentences every day from 1907-1933. This blog is as close as I'm going to get to that. I fully recognize how lousy I am at it, this being my tenth post in almost as many months.

But sometimes I just can't find the words.

Like how can I possibly share with you about our recent visit to Auschwitz? You've seen the movies. Perhaps, like me, you've even become a little annoyed by them; "seriously, another WWII movie?" But people, let me tell you, more movies should be made, more books should be written, more stories should be shared and I must try to find the words to tell you about this place.

Before we went to Poland, we watched Schindler's List with Emma. Do you remember that Oskar Schindler's first factory was in Krakow? The women were accidentally sent to Auschwitz Birkenau for a scary visit before Schindler straightened things out.

I mapped out our journey and was immediately struck by the sheer enormity of the camp. Auschwitz, the first site, was an old prison the Nazis took over. Then they built Birkenau because they needed more room.  Auschwitz-Birkenau is the general term for the network of Nazi concentration and labor camps, established near the Polish city of Oswiecim (Polish name) = Auschwitz (German name).

Those are the outlines of the barracks at Birkenau.  Each one held anywhere from 700-2000 prisoners. 

The pictures I took of the buildings don't help me tell this awful story. They can't capture the suffering. Words fail me.  I find this sign to be the most compelling.

The only way I can even begin to understand how this could happen is that the Nazis did not view the Jews as humans.  I feel so challenged by this thought.  I hope I wouldn't have been a Nazi.  Of course I don't think I would have been an SS Officer inflicting cruelty.  But would I have turned a blind eye to the atrocities going on around me?  Would I have subtly just gone along with a system of injustice because my sense of self-preservation trumped any call to fight for those who were being oppressed?

Do I do that now?

How am I prejudiced?

How am I racist?

How am I standing up for the oppressed?

Sobering thoughts. I am challenged in the wake of the Zimmerman trial. Certainly the issue of racism has not been eradicated from our society. I am challenged when I hear derogatory comments about the Turks in Vienna.  

I am an American. I am white. I am wealthy. I have power. Perhaps that's why I associate myself with the Nazis.

How will I use my power?  How will you use yours?