We Remember

My AP class is studying Hitler's propaganda ministry and the Holocaust in conjunction with a reading of Elie Wiesel's autobiography, Night. It's a heartrending story of this 15 year old Jewish boy's survival of Auschwitz. Wiesel is an incredible man. Since being liberated by American troops in 1945, he has written and published 47 books, holds several degrees (some of which are honorary), has taught at Boston University and Yale, won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1986, and at the age of 82 is still alive today, shouting from the rooftops, doing all he can to ensure that the memories of so many dead will live on.

Tomorrow (assuming that the meteorologists are crazy for predicting that the blizzard of the century will arrive just after midnight) my students will watch Oprah's 2006 interview with Wiesel. This is an incredible viewing. They actually visit Auschwitz (which apparently Wiesel does on a regular basis -- Can you imagine?) over 50 years after the fact, and as if the feeling of the place isn't intense enough, he refuses to speak above a whisper in order to respect the dead.

While doing this study along with my kids, I have been moved to tears several times. This is a tragedy of mammoth proportions that no one should ever have the luxury to forget. Here in the midst of my rambling, I'm reminded of Elie Wiesel's declaration that there simply are no words. No words to describe the horror and anger and grief. No words. So here, at the risk of alluding to Thomas Bowden's "This page is left blank for you" at the end of Beebe High School yearbooks, I'm going to leave the rest of this post blank for the memories of the dead and the grief of the living. May those six million descendants of Abraham never be forgotten.

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