No, I don’t have a newsletter. That’s down the road.

I confess that I would love to see what you are seeing right now.

Your bones must have been tingling with the ghost of the past! I can’t help but wonder when I walk a city street or walk into a historic building, if these walls could talk, what would they say?

I try to picture myself in that past era. Envision life as it used to be and sometimes, I am there.

How frightening it would have been to see the tanks rolling down the street, never knowing what your fate my be in the hands of these strangers.

I await your next post. when you are feeling better of course!

Well lady, you have moved me to tears. You already impressed me yesterday when we spoke on the phone, that I completely forgot I was still at work.

About 13 years ago, I went to visit with some friends in Washington, D.C. I was only going to be there for the weekend and so I had a very loooong list of places I wanted to go. Smithsonian was a must of course.

After my best friend (and big brother from another mother) had lunch, we decided that we would forego other museums and instead see the newly opened US Holocaust Museum. The museum was about five years old at this point and I confess,I had put off the visit because I was not sure I could handle what I would see there.

We were there for what seemed like an eternity. I think a part of me died that day walking through the exhibit from floor to floor. Each atrocity tearing my heart out. The room of shoes, discarded clothing. The violent and despicable photos of human torture and violation. There was so much in physical, emotional,and spiritual damage done to these people; our brothers and sisters not by blood but for the mere fact that we all bleed red.

Lastly, we came to the exhibit where an entire town that had existed 800 years before Hitler’s occupation…gone. Completely gone. I still cry when I think about it. I am crying now typing this.

Following the journey of a little boy, who never had a chance to see his life to fruition and learning that all of these people who just existed and lived their lives with love or hate, vigor or general malaise; in the end had no choice in how they would die.

When we left the museum, Cesare, my best friend, and I were speechless. It took several hours for us to come to rights and even then it was as if the ghost of the holocaust followed us. It lives in me today and I will never forget it.

Thank you for sharing a bit of you soul with me. I look forward to reading about the rest of your journey. I am sure your husband is looking down and smiling with happiness.