D.C. Unforgettable

I’m in Washington D.C. at my sister’s house. Part of our “pre-trip” preparation was to plan to visit some of our tax-paying dollars in the form of one of the many federal museums. I, being a history buff, (and by “history buff” I mean “someone who likes to see interesting and possibly inspiring artifacts like George Washington’s wooden dentures and Mr. Rogers’ red cardigan sweater”) suggested such classic historic warehouses like the Smithsonian, the National Gallery of Art, and Madame Tussauds Wax Museum.

So it was when someone suggested we visit a stressful and serious depository of historical artifacts like the Holocaust Museum I nearly shot Diet Coke ™ out of my nose with laughter. “How funny!” I told Meghan later. “Ha, ha, ha! They think we’d want to go there.” “But, Mom,” was her response, I do want to go; I think it’ll help us work on ‘Underground.’”

Great. All these years living of with me and my daughter still somehow managed to develop depth and a social conscience. Where did I go wrong? “Um, yeah. We’ll see,” was what I croaked. “There’s not enough Diet Coke ™,” is what I thought.

Well, obviously, there IS enough Diet Coke. On Thursday, Kev, Megh, and I ventured through East Coast traffic and the maze that is D.C. to Raoul Wallenberg Drive where we found…the museum and not a parking place for 12 city blocks. Kevin, the undaunted male-type hunter that he is, circled the area like a hungry barracuda prowling, waiting, and mentally willing a vehicle to leave and make way for him to park near the building. (It should be noted that even a human bladder has limits when it comes to prowling, waiting, and willing metal-based inanimate objects to make way for my own personal inanimate object…) Fortunately, Kev’s mental mojo worked and we parked without incident or accident.

Distressingly, the entrance to the Holocaust museum was blocked by a line of strangers. At first I was hopeful that Kev would get discouraged and offer to buy me a Starbucks instead…but no, it was just the metal detector line; and 7 minutes 45 seconds later I found myself in the middle of a place I swore I’d never go. I’d like it to be known that the reason I didn’t want to go to this particular place was not because I have something against this museum…(I think everyone should witness the historic horror so they don’t)…I traditionally avoided the place because I’m a coward and feared I’d end up carried out on a stretcher curled up in a fetal position, howling and sobbing.

But I walked, on my own power, through all three floors which even included a brief ride in a packed elevator. I watched almost all the media and read most of the signage.

Impressions:

1)The information on Hitler’s rise to power and his philosophy was impressive including the video on anti-Semitism which had a lengthy discussion of Jesus Christ.

2)The tact with which they showed the atrocities was commendable; they offered the most disturbing media positioned so that small children and those who would rather not observe the images safe and sound (I watched all of them, I want you to know).

3)The desire for people to not lose sight that the millions of people who suffered under this atrocity was made up of individuals was remarkable and admirable.
I made it through and avoided very little. To me, it is a sign of my further healing.

We drove home in late afternoon traffic, mostly in the heart heavy silence that accompanies such knowledge and grief. Well, Megh and I were quiet. Kev was irritated by the “too many” others sharing his road and the GPS who didn’t direct him to the empty HOV lane. We must never forget.

And now, I’m watching football and having a glass of wine while Denver is getting trounced. Meghan and Kevin are playing video games. Life is back to normal.

And then I read this: "Dictator Stalin voted third most popular Russian in Recent Poll." See for your yourself.

We MUST. Never. Forget.

(Mostly) Speechless at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com