Berlin, Germany.
I didn’t say anything when the teacher took the picture of a smiling class of children in the Garden of Exile in the Jewish Museum.
I didn’t say anything when the kids were playing hide-and-seek in the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe.
I didn’t say anything when the high school student playfully slapped his friend on the arm and said: “Tag! You’re it!” as they entered the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe.
I didn’t say anything, thinking to myself that kids should be taught respect by their teachers and parents. They should be told where they’re going and the importance the place holds. Even if it is not personally significant, they can still be taught to show respect and reverence in places that require it. I don’t have a personal connection to the Vietnam War, but you sure as hell wouldn’t see me walking along the top of the Memorial wall in D.C.
But the adults. The adults should know better. I stood there in that Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe and watched young adults running along the tops of blank “grave markers”, standing and posing on different grave markers, taking pictures with their heads sticking out from behind the tall cement rectangles, smiling. I didn’t say anything to any of those people. But with each person, each disrespectful person, I could feel my anger growing. It started as a small fire deep in my stomach. And with each person who showed lack of concern for where he or she was, it grew. It burned up through my body and I started shaking. It was something so powerful that I couldn’t contain it any longer. So when I saw the group of six people around my age chasing each other around the columns of that same memorial, I had reached my limit.
One of the men came whipping around the corner where I was standing. I reached out, anger and disgusted disbelief driving my arm towards his. I grabbed him and spun him towards me, knocking him off balance.
“What are you doing? This is a memorial. This is not a playground.” White-hot emotion seared through my body and out of my eyes, directed toward this jerk.
“Wh- what do you mean?” He looked confused and a bit scared. Good. He should be.
“I said: this is not a playground. Show some respect! You and your friends are running around here and it’s not ok. Get it together.” One of his friends ran around the corner and came to a halt. “Yes, like that. Get yourself and your friends under control. SHOW SOME RESPECT!”
He and his friend backed away slowly with their hands out. “Ok, ok, I understand. I’m sorry. We’re sorry.”
“Good,” as I turned around and walked away, shaking with rage, but proud that I had not let one more person act so stupidly, especially when he should have known better.
But he and his friends weren’t the only ones, as I said. There were plenty of kids and adults running through the columns at this memorial, taking smiling pictures as if they’re in front of the Eiffel Tower or some place worth smiling about. Well this isn’t one of those places. What are these people taught at home or in school? Do they understand the atrocities that took place? People were dragged out of their homes and shot in the street or taken to a camp where they were worked to death or gassed. Families were separated; children were killed if they were not fit to work. People lost everyone and everything. I could go on and on, but books have been written hundreds of pages long that don’t even cover the whole of the horrors the Nazis brought upon Europe.
The Holocaust wasn’t that long ago and it took place HERE. How could you live in Berlin or come to Berlin and not know that? And if you do know it (which I assume most people do), then what the hell are you doing laughing, running around, taking smiling pictures, or acting like an idiot? I’m not saying to walk around the city in a constantly somber mood or not to celebrate the parts of the city that have been rebuilt or are unrelated to that violent, awful part of history. All I’m saying is that when you are in those parts of the city or at a memorial, realize where you are and take responsibility for your actions. Stand there and appreciate the reason that the memorial had to be built and show some respect. And if you can’t, if you really, really cannot find it in yourself to act accordingly, escort yourself to the nearest bar where your obnoxious behavior will be tolerated.
Until tomorrow and the –
Oh, there is just one more thing. Fear. When people forget the past or disregard it, there is a fear that they will allow it to happen again. What if the next place it happens is in America? Couldn’t happen, you say? That’s what they said about Berlin.
Until tomorrow and the new adventure…
Rachel
