They shouldn't be used lightly. I see this a lot, and recently on a couple threads on Eden. It makes me sad, and upset. I'm not trying to go on a rampage to edit other people's speech. I'm not wildly rageful. I'm just sad, and I want to tell my side of this story.
Because, you see, when I think about Nazis I think about Chaim. Chaim was a red-haired Jew growing up in Germany in the 40's. He was a good student, and he liked to climb trees. He once hit his little sister and never quite forgave himself. He was a patient teacher. He had a temper. He lived in a small town, and he was friends with many of the German children who would grow up with Hitler's shadow at their back.
In 1941 a group of Nazi soldiers came to that small town. They rounded up the three Jewish families and the young man who talked slowly and thickly, and never grew up. They made the man recite riddles and songs that were hard for him to say or remember. When he stumbled they jeered and threw stones at him. They made the little girls kiss him. Later, drunk, they would rape and beat many of the girls and women. Chaim saw his sister Devorah raped and beaten bloody. She was twelve.
Chaim escaped and ran nearly ten miles to the house of his old teacher. His teacher, a German patriot who hated and actively worked against the Nazis, smuggled him out of the country. None of his sisters or brothers lived. He would eventually find out that his twelve year old sister had been the subject of brutal medical experiments, and had died of post-surgical infection. He never found out where his brothers or remaining sister died.
He was almost fifteen when he arrived at Ellis Island. He had met a girl a year his senior on the crowded boat. Her name was Rose. Chaim and Rose would make it in America. They clawed their way out of grief and poverty into something like comfort. Chaim and Rose had a child named David. David had a child named Devorah, after the lost little girl in Germany.
Devorah had me. And when I hear 'Nazi', I don't think about pictures of Obama with a stupid mustache. I don't think it's just a dramatic flourish. I think about Chaim and Rose and how much I owe them. I think about the young man singing and crying and so close to death. I think about the little girl Devorah, who died in pain. I think about my mother Devorah, who gets to live. And every time I hear about Hitler and Nazi Germany as a metaphor for current American politics, it breaks my heart.
Because, you see, when I think about Nazis I think about Chaim. Chaim was a red-haired Jew growing up in Germany in the 40's. He was a good student, and he liked to climb trees. He once hit his little sister and never quite forgave himself. He was a patient teacher. He had a temper. He lived in a small town, and he was friends with many of the German children who would grow up with Hitler's shadow at their back.
In 1941 a group of Nazi soldiers came to that small town. They rounded up the three Jewish families and the young man who talked slowly and thickly, and never grew up. They made the man recite riddles and songs that were hard for him to say or remember. When he stumbled they jeered and threw stones at him. They made the little girls kiss him. Later, drunk, they would rape and beat many of the girls and women. Chaim saw his sister Devorah raped and beaten bloody. She was twelve.
Chaim escaped and ran nearly ten miles to the house of his old teacher. His teacher, a German patriot who hated and actively worked against the Nazis, smuggled him out of the country. None of his sisters or brothers lived. He would eventually find out that his twelve year old sister had been the subject of brutal medical experiments, and had died of post-surgical infection. He never found out where his brothers or remaining sister died.
He was almost fifteen when he arrived at Ellis Island. He had met a girl a year his senior on the crowded boat. Her name was Rose. Chaim and Rose would make it in America. They clawed their way out of grief and poverty into something like comfort. Chaim and Rose had a child named David. David had a child named Devorah, after the lost little girl in Germany.
Devorah had me. And when I hear 'Nazi', I don't think about pictures of Obama with a stupid mustache. I don't think it's just a dramatic flourish. I think about Chaim and Rose and how much I owe them. I think about the young man singing and crying and so close to death. I think about the little girl Devorah, who died in pain. I think about my mother Devorah, who gets to live. And every time I hear about Hitler and Nazi Germany as a metaphor for current American politics, it breaks my heart.
