There I was in our nation's capital on the eve of Independence Day weekend. I could feel the excitement starting to build with visitors filling the historic setting under the perfect summer weather conditions. America was on the cusp of celebrating its youthful self at 235 years of age.
Focused on how I wanted to make the most of this precious time alone, I pinpointed places I had never before toured. Topping the list was the US Holocaust Memorial Museum. I realize now that the forethought used in every aspect of this museum's design was subtle because its contents were so blatant. For example, while anticipating the timed-ticket entrance to the permanent exhibition, visitors are deliberately bathed in light in an atrium waiting area. In contrast, light is used sparingly throughout the multi-floored exhibits, setting a purposeful tone.
I stood among my fellow tourists in clusters reading explanations and viewing photographs about the Nazi rising and assault. It was somewhat crowded at first. I found myself being concerned about craning to view the abundance before me. It became all too clear that the crowds naturally thinned because everyone moved at their own pace, making the visit more personal than I had expected. From the outset, the tenor was church-like. People spoke in whispers, if at all. The universal reverence surprised me a little. It sustained me throughout.
It was a reassuring result of an unspoken agreement: we walked among the hallowed.
Gerda Weissman Klein (Photo by the US Holocaust Memorial Museum) |
Two final pieces of the exhibition deepened its impact: the Testimony Theater and the Hall of Remembrance. Videos of survivors telling pieces of their stories played continuously in the theater. These first person narratives gripped me, especially the one given by Gerda Weissman Klein. Under Nazi rule in her Polish homeland at age 14, Gerda was sent to a concentration camp at age 17. She was among those on a 350 mile death march at the war's end. While pausing in a bombed out factory, the 68 pound, white haired girl saw a jeep in the distance. She became curious when she noticed it did not brandish the swastika but an unfamiliar white star.
Kurt Klein (photo by the US Holocaust Memorial Museum) |
Gerda and Kurt were married in 1946. The gasp of audience satisfaction was one of the few collective sounds I heard that day in the museum. The couple celebrated 57 wedding anniversaries until Kurt's sudden death in 2004.
I exited the theater and entered the Hall of Remembrance. The light-filled rotunda signaled hope and I found myself crying in quiet gulps as the consummate power of the last three compelling hours was unlocked. I was grateful for the peaceful respite before heading out into the July day. The faces I saw for the remainder of my visit echoed Goethe's optimistic reflection as I chose hope over despair on our nation's birthday.
Here is the link to Gerda and Kurt's videos at the US Holocaust Memorial Museum:Noble be man,
Helpful and good!
For that alone
Sets him apart
From every other creature
On earth.(in The Divine, Goethe, 1783)
http://www.ushmm.org/museum/exhibit/online/phistories/phi_individuals_kurt_gerda_klein_uu.htm
Thank you for sharing your experience at the Holocaust Memorial Museum and the striking experience of Gerda Klein as a young girl. I have heard the story countless times and still am captured by the terror and and strength of will that it tells.
ReplyDeleteSurely she spoke with bitter irony? The words scarcely prove our superiority to the savagery of chimpanzees to their own kind. They murder with their own hands . we use more efficient weapons. I am sorry to be so cynical.
ReplyDeleteYou are not cynical. "Irony" was the term used by the US soldier who married her.
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