What A Day

The day began with one goal. Buy a German Hip Hop cd.

We all stumbled in to open forum, while everyone back home slept (except for Ian, who was probably watching info-mercials at the time.) One young Polish woman explain her non-paticipation in the Polish living sculpture from the previous day. Then she asked for any questions directed towards her. I took the bait. I questioned her about the connotation of the term bystander and its meaning in relation to Poland. She was reluctant, but I was patient and the entire group watched our interaction. Then I discussed the issues with the other Poles in the group. Perhaps I became hostile, though never shouted, but there were things that I needed to say. I know that there were good Poles that saved Jews during the Holocaust. I don't need to be reminded of the fact whenever the Poles' relationship to the meaning of bystanders and perpetrators arises.

Finally tough questions were being asked.

After our open foum, a survivor came and spoke. The first ten minutes of her story was fairly uninspiring, filled with awkward pauses and seemingly meaningless detail. Then, her true greatness as a person shined through. She told us things about her life that I could relate to, both though my grandparents and for myself. It provoked me to talk about my dad and his death.

I walked to lunch wondering what I had just said. Would it do any good? After lunch I ran into Sylvia again. Be angry; be comfortable with your anger; embrace it. Anger changes the world. Those were the words from her lips. She kissed me on the cheek and I knew everything would be ok.

In the afternoon, it was the German students' turn to be challenged. It began with a critique of one German student's simple drawing. A three-lined road. What did this road symbolize? A short, straight, narrow view of the Holocaust and its memory? It came up that he, had he known him, would have hated his Nazi grandfather. I asked him, that if you knew your grandfather, what if you loved him? What if there was something in your grandfather's unopened letters that you could connect with? Does that make you a Nazi too?

Of course not. It would make him a person. A person with emotions, one of them love, who feels a connection with his ancestors, no matter its episodes of ugliness. We all have that in our heritage.

Then the conversation shifted to a frustrating discussion about approaches. Methodology?! I din't travel an ocean, disobeying the wishes of my dead family to discuss methodology! Emotional or academic? How can you distinguish between the two? I lost it. The lessons from China became clearer. I knew how to deal with bullshit. Scream your head off. After all, anger changes the world.