I am in Amsterdam at the moment, a 2-day stop on a short tour of Europe.
Last night I stopped by the Anne Frank House. It was late. My party was viewing it from across the canal. I had to go to the door for myself.
I was moved, deeply, and I had not expected my reaction. I was alone at the point, and sat across from the door. Even at the late hour, tourists posed for photos in front of the door. [That’s something I will never understand, I suppose.] Here is where the Frank family hid, in their own adopted city, Jews hunted down by their own neighbors and the invaders who were in fact their German countrymen.
I’ve been to the door of Anne’s girlhood home in Frankfurt, and I’ve met and listened to her childhood friend in Jerusalem as she related Anne stories and spoke of her last meeting with Anne across the wire fence in February 1945 at Belsen. I’ve walked the grounds where she and his sister died a few months after arriving at Bergen-Belsen, emaciated and racked by disease. She is buried somewhere there, no one truly knows where, one of many thousands in one of many mass graves.
I sat there, thinking, in the semi-darkness. And I was glad for a moment alone with her again.
Sometimes we need our special moments alone to think about these things. What does “Never Again” truly look like? Did anyone really care then? Do they today? What if she was my neighbor? What does my ‘selfie’ at her door really say about me? Have I asked God about the victims? The perpetrators? The bystanders? What have I done during my sojourn on Earth?
My wife came by and we walked away.
[Visit the Anne Frank House website; if you are going, book a time slot/tix well in advance]
Teaching History Matters 
My husband and I were in Amsterdam in June. I tried desperately to get tickets to visit Anne’s home but was unable to do so. Thank you for remembering her. Hoping to go back again some day and I will buy tickets way ahead of time.
Thank you Anne and yes, order ahead. I didn’t get inside but will be back.
I probably never make it here. It grieves me so thinking about all the innocent persons who were slaughtered by the Nazi, Soviet and PRC regimes.
Well Matt, another inside look at how we did (and still are) treating each other. Set aside the horror these poor people suffered for just a moment and what I think of is all that talent the rest of the world were denied; somewhere in your writings, and else where, I’ve read how the “color” and humor was drained out of the Central Europe of the time as the Jews were sent to those “camps”. We may be in the same situation today thanks to the current “leadership” we have in charge of our country short of the gas chambers (for now). The talent that has flowed across our borders in the past is what made America great in the truest sense and I think by blocking those people that want to have (and would create) a better life on this side of our borders is our national loss. The extreme right thinks blocking those borders will keep our society from becoming something other than what “they” think it should be. There is no current wave of Europeans trying to get to our shores as in the past, as we all (should) know. What we could end up being (in the extreme case) is todays Japan that has not reproduced enough native people’s to keep that society as it was in the near past. Our society could end as a foot note in a world history book if we don’t adapt to the current state we’re in – new blood is required or we’ll (in Gen. Macarthur’s words) just FADE AWAY. Please keep up your great work Matt – anybody lucky enough to discover your work is well rewarded with your thoughts past, present, and, hopefully, long into the future! Fred Dumont
On Tue, Aug 27, 2019 at 5:10 AM Teaching History Matters wrote:
> Matthew Rozell posted: “I am in Amsterdam at the moment, a 2-day stop on a > short tour of Europe. Last night I stopped by the Anne Frank House. It was > late. My party was viewing it from across the canal. I had to go to the > door for myself. I was moved, deeply, and I had” >
Thank you Fred.
Matt, such real and profound questions.Years ago I chaperoned the 2 winners of the essay contest from the Neuberger Holocaust Centre to Amsterdam. The topic of their essays was ” what would Anne Frank tell us today if she were alive?”The highlight for me was being in the secret annex, behind the bookcase, seeing the tree outside and the church bell from Otto Frank’s office. But mostly being so conscious of the way sound traveled. I could hear every squeak of a floor board, sounds from below that were magnified. To have survived there for so long and then not is devastating.Did you ever see the Al Waxman Stratford production of Anne Frank? The actors stayed on the set in the attic during the intermissions. Hope you have had a great summer.Be well,JoanSent from my Samsung Galaxy smartphone.
Thank you Joan.
Matt, I had a similar experience visiting Dachau in 1969. Thank you for your site, for documenting all this history. My dad was a medic and he set up the hospital that accommodated the prisoners off the train. He died in 1955 but his notes reflect what he saw. It changed him. Visiting Dachau in “69 as a 21 year old, I will never forget that experience. It changed me. At that time I didn’t know my dad’s participation. His role. But I will never forget my experience of visiting Dachau. Thank you.
Was this your dad?
https://teachinghistorymatters.com/2019/05/11/a-gift-for-mother-i-am-alive/