My second book, the one on the death train and my journey as a teacher in discovering and retracing the miracles in reuniting Holocaust survivors with their American soldier liberators, has had mostly positive reviews at Amazon. Then recently someone posted how he found himself resenting that I had clumsily inserted my own experiences into an otherwise tremendous story. (Fair enough—but ‘resentment’?) That, coupled with a resurgence of antisemitism and the other stuff that bad dreams are made of sends a certain chill up this writer’s—this historian’s—spine.
Now if one really read, and ‘got’ the point of my second book, it’s about miracles and goodness and common human decency and humanity; about a triumph of the power of good and love over evil, against crazy odds; about the lessons and the values which we should hold firm to in a world filled with pain and destruction, deception and deceit. But some days it is hard to see the good, and the world lately frankly leaves me feeling rather adrift; I wonder if it all is pointless.
And then, out of the blue, comes the quiet reminder…
Later this week I got an email from a new fan in Salt Lake City, Utah. We have never met or heard of each other until he bought my books at Amazon. He loved them, and then felt compelled to reach out to me (which I invite—it’s matthew@teachinghistorymatters.com). He wrote that as he neared the end of the book, he realized that his wife was from the area where I live and write about.
We went back and forth. Later on a whim he reached up on the bookshelf in his basement office and dusted off his wife’s high school yearbook. He opened it up, and sent me this:
IT’S MY MOM.
Vintage 1975, autographing his wife’s graduating yearbook… turns out my mom was the school nurse teacher at his wife’s school, now nearly a continent away. Kim was heading out west after graduation, and my mother was going to head there to visit her brother and his family in California that summer. Neither I nor my siblings have ever seen this photo before; I can tell by her expression that Mom is laughing with the photographer and is insisting that he get the shot over with!
So now, on a dark day, my mother is speaking to me. She was taken from us since just before the Holocaust survivors I write about found me in 2006 and entered my life and the lives of the soldiers who freed them in such a profound way. My mother reaches out to remind me that there is still good in the world.
Maybe that reviewer could care less, but my mom will always be a part of the story—MY story. Thanks, William, for sending it to me. And thanks Ma, for being there for me again.
Teaching History Matters 
As I was wandering around Amazon.com I came across your first book. I purchased it for the simple reason that I am descended from early settlers of Washington County. It seems inappropriate, considering the subject matter, to describe the work as a delight yet that is what it was. I am a recently retired Special Education teacher and was often co-taught American History. Several years ago my district (Aurora, Missouri) opted to spread the one year course over two, allowing greater depth of research into the W.W. II period. The grandfather of a colleague was blown off the Oklahoma and survived that day. Did he know Randy Holmes? We’ll never know but what a link between our students, separated by so many years and miles. We lost 46 (if memory serves) men from this county and were able to locate the stories of 45. These losses became part of our lesson plans, from the sailor on the Juneau who went down with the Sullivan brothers, the Marine on Iwo Jima, the man lost on the Indianapolis, the gunner on a B-24 or the two men killed, practicing for D-Day, when their landing craft was lost yet families were not notified due to security issues ect. The engagement and yes,sadness,when a tombstone application gave an address with which the students were familiar provided some of the high lights of my career. In closing I must point out a very personal note. The B-29 crewman who described his experience on Guam, may well have flown in a plane containing electronics repaired by my 93 year old father-in-law. I will be describing the story to when I see him next week. Looking forward to reading the book discussed on this page and your up coming works. Well done!!
Hi David, what a great commentary. Good to hear it is happening elsewhere too, sounds like a great book! I’ll be penning a book about the early days of this County re: French and Indian War and American Revolution. BTW Mr. Doty, the B-29 tail gunner is 92.