Tears in My Eyes...

Washington DC, USA

January 10, 2008

N 38°53.375
W 077°02.100

On Ko Phi Phi several months ago we met an Aussie while standing in line for barbecued chicken from a street vendor; we ate dinner and talked with him over a few beers. We explained our plans of visiting Washington DC near the end of our trip and he told us no matter what we did we must visit the Holocaust Memorial Museum. He visited DC two years prior and said it was the most moving of all the museums he visited while in the States.

After traveling through Europe for the past several months, we’ve seen several holocaust museums and memorials; however, none of them compare to the Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington DC. The main exhibit is laid out on three floors, well organized and isn’t repetitive in terms of the information it presents. There are heart wrenching exhibits, survivor accounts, and reproductive artifacts from concentration camps—I had tears in my eyes throughout the exhibit, especially during the survivor accounts.

For example, behind a glass case were three shelves approximately 4’x3’, one shelf had a pile of rusty scissors, another shelf had a large pile hairbrushes, and the final shelf contained a giant stack of toothbrushes. Further down the hall was a large room, the floor was covered with thousands of old worn leather shoes, 2-3 feet deep. All of the items belonged to the victims of concentration camps; it was strange, but the items personalized the tragedy. Actually seeing hair brushes and small shoes that once belonged to people brought tears to my eyes.

It took us over three hours, maybe closer to four, to weave our way through the history of the holocaust from the rise of Hitler, to the onset of WWII, to the appalling acts Hitler and his lackeys authorized, to the transport of Jews from all over Europe to concentration camps, to the death marches, to the liberation of the camps by the Russians, British and Americans. We walked slowly, reflected, paid respect and wished, as Americans, we had done more.

Near the end of the memorial was a large movie screen, with stadium seating. We closely listened to the survivors of the holocaust tell their stories. One lady described being liberated by the Americans. She described walking up to the soldier, who wore dark glasses, and told him she was there because she is a Jew. She continued saying the soldier took several moments to respond, and when he did, he responded with sorrow in his voice, “So am I.” She finally realized behind the dark glasses were tears. My tears really started flowing when she said that the same man, who came to her rescue, is now her husband!

By the time we reached the end of the exhibit we were emotionally drained. We decided we couldn’t possibly run through another museum today; instead we headed back to our room to relax and decompress.

Note: Instead of relaxing, I finally passed two good sized kidney stones that have caused me a good amount of pain since Berlin. Now I know how Marc feels when he has one, an experience I could have lived without.