Letter 81: Traveling in the Historyverse
Letter 81: Traveling in the Historyverse
When we draw unforgettable connections
We’re so happy you’re here! The Learning Curve is a weekly newsletter where women of all ages share their understandings, joys, and learnings through their personal narratives. Our writers span many generations, cultures, identities, and ethnicities.
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Happy day, dear readers!
One of my favorite parts of literature is seeing the world behind someone else’s eyes, imagining for a moment—a brief time—what they feel, how they see the world, and what affects them most. Perhaps this is part of why I was drawn to narrative writing and wanted to share women’s stories through The Learning Curve. I believe our world is better when we share what we believe and love through our own experiences.
We have a new writer for today’s letter, my friend, Tricia Dewey. Tricia’s piece today allows us to experience, through her recent trip to Europe, poignant truths, as well as beauty and honor in Anne Frank’s legacy. What a privilege to see history through Tricia’s eyes, as difficult as the truths are, with the hope that we can learn from the wrongs of the past. —Molly
Click play to hear Tricia read today’s letter.
I first visited Amsterdam as a recent college grad 35 years ago (yes, I am dating myself). Last November I was again crossing the Atlantic, this time with my 13-year-old son, to meet up with my 21-year-old daughter for a weekend, and then going on to Berlin where she was studying. My nervousness about flying over the ocean was heightened by the idea of finally actually visiting the Anne Frank House. Not everyone is “excited” to visit this museum where Anne Frank, her family of four, and four others, hid in the Secret Annex from 1942 to 1944. But, like many others, since first reading her diary in high school, I have been taken with her story. Back in the day though, I somehow missed the Lonely Planet guidebook info that the museum was closed on Mondays, but I hoped to return one day, and amazingly, I was on my way.
About 30 million copies of Anne Frank: Diary of a Young Girl have been sold since it was first published in 1947. It has been translated into 70 different languages. I am one of many who might be described as obsessed with Anne’s story.
Why?
I simply cannot get beyond it. It is both long ago and very present, both in literature and history. Her voice reaches across almost 81 years with the first entry on June 14, 1942, describing receiving the red-checked diary as a thirteenth birthday gift from her parents. The directness, urgency, and incredible horror of the story (how is it possible that people must hide from each other because of their religion?), and Anne’s depiction of teenagehood—how she lives and grows in this space with seven others–connected me to that time and place.
I reread the book in preparation for the trip and her genius was even more noticeable, for example, in the precise character descriptions, in the snippets of humor, in the clarity of the writing style, and in the contextualization of history that make the experience that much more intense. Francine Prose in her book, Anne Frank: The Book, The Life, The Afterlife, noted that after rereading “I understood, as I could not have as a child, how much art is required to give the impression of artlessness, how much control is necessary in order to seem natural, how almost nothing is more difficult for a writer than to find a narrative voice as fresh and unaffected as Anne Frank’s.”
On July 15, 1944, only two weeks before they were discovered and arrested, Anne wrote:
“It’s really a wonder that I haven’t dropped all my ideals, because they seem so absurd and impossible to carry out. Yet I keep them, because in spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart. I see the world gradually being turned into a wilderness, I hear the ever approaching thunder, which will destroy us too, I can feel the sufferings of millions and yet, if I look up into the heavens, I think that it will all come right, that this cruelty too will end, and that peace and tranquility will return again.”
For me, this tragedy, history, and genius were all coming together in the tour of the Anne Frank House. On the day of the visit, my kids indulged my anxious need to leave several hours early for the 2:00 p.m. ticket that I had purchased months earlier. A small statue of Anne greeted us upon exiting the tram at the Westermarkt stop, next to the Westertoren clock tower, the hourly chimes of which Anne found soothing. We explored the canal neighborhood, and after lunch, we queued at 263 Prinsengracht.
The line of visitors was hushed listening to individual audio guides as I stepped through the bookcase opening and then up the steep stairs to Anne’s room, now bare of furnishings, with only her small photos still affixed to the wall. I lingered for a moment in the corner where her desk had been. Then went on to the room where her parents had slept and the kitchen, the small gas stove to the left, connected to the long countertop that extended almost the length of the wall opposite the window, and the sink to the right. I was studying the rough granite countertop when I happened to glance at the man on my right. He paused in front of the sink and was holding his hands, palms up, under the invisible thread of running water.
His action took my breath away, and for a second I couldn't move. The sensation that Anne and the others had stood in that very spot washing dishes, preparing peas for dinner, listening to news of the war on the radio, and worrying, overwhelmed me. I was able (just barely) to hold my emotions in check and keep moving to the next room, which had been the bathroom with stairs to Peter’s room and skylight, and finally to the exhibit that held Anne’s original diaries, stories, and book of written quotations.
Later that day, we strolled the bridges of Amsterdam in the soft winter golden light and took an evening boat ride through the canals. The next day we viewed the colorful brushstrokes of Van Goghs and the darkness and light of Rembrandts. Next, on to Berlin, where I wish I could say that our itinerary lightened. But Berlin is not the south of France, and if you are looking for a sunnier time with your study-abroad college kid, you might encourage a more southerly destination.
Because in Berlin there is no escaping history: the Wall (it’s everywhere); the Bebelplatz Empty Library Memorial to the Nazi Student Union book burning of May 1933; the Memorial to Homosexuals Persecuted Under Nazis (with a fresh bouquet placed after the Club Q shooting in Colorado Springs); the aptly named Museum of the Topography of Terror, the Nazi headquarters of the Secret Police.
Very heavy history. My son may have learned more about World War II and the Cold War than he cared to know.
Making connections, integrating history, and relating to the places and times—it’s all important. We must remember the very real facts and stories of these difficult times and connect them to the present and to ways of stopping the spread of hatred. During our trip, we took boat rides, had great meals, and of course roamed der Weihnachtsmarkts (Christmas markets) filled with revelers, savory food and drink, crafts, and lights.
On the flight home, I searched for an easy movie to watch, maybe a rom-com. I ended up choosing Everything Everywhere All At Once, a kind of sci-fi action, parallel universe film. Not exactly what I was looking for, but it occurred to me that the multiverse is similar to a historyverse: a path across time to the places, the people, and the stories that are all around us.
We are all connected.
Tricia’s Favorite Things
I think it’s safe to assume a large majority of this newsletter’s readers are book lovers. I’m one of you and have the overflowing bookshelves to prove it. I worked as an editor prior to lawyering and I love everything about books, from their smell to covers, to print type, to the places they’re lent and sold. Shout out to our amazing local libraries and local bookstores in Memphis, especially Novel. I usually have three or four books going at a time (a habit borne out of scattered available reading time years ago during early motherhood and maybe a touch of ADHD), a mix of fiction and non-fiction. Currently, I’m reading Either/Or by Elif Batuman; The Good Lord Bird by James McBride; Orwell’s Roses by Rebecca Solnit; and How the South Won the Civil War by Heather Cox Richardson.
I’ve been lucky to hike in many different areas in the United States and internationally. I love that hiker friends, conditions, terrain, views, vegetation, birds, animal life, and microclimate are different on each outing. Some of the best spots have been my everyday go-to local walks/hikes from Amity Pond in East Barnard, Vermont to Shelby Farms in Memphis, a great urban park with bison!
Art with friends on zoom: During the pandemic, my artist and teacher friend, Maria Ojascastro, offered Zoom art–she taught us many different lessons, including Blind Contour Drawing, Plants and Printmaking (my fave), Mandalas and Meditation, and, of course, Paint Like Bob Ross. It’s a great way to stay connected to far-away friends, try out some arty stuff, and compare cocktails.
I usually run with friends, but when I don’t, I need a good podcast. TED Radio Hour has been the one for me. It combines several TED talks into a larger category and explores topics more in-depth with interviews by Manoush Zomorodi about the oceans, how our brains work, reusing stuff, Dolly Parton, and other general interesting issues. It’s about 50 minutes and the perfect length to keep me entertained on my run.
Focus Mid-South: free, bi-monthly magazine distributed in the Mid-South and Memphis area focused on the LGBTQ+ community and their allies. I have been privileged to write for them for the last four years. Here is a link to some, but not all, of my articles and a link to the magazine’s website.
With gratitude,
Tricia Dewey
P.S. Always choose compassion and empathy & shared compassion.
The quote you chose of Anne Frank’s at the beginning of your piece is what we read as a family every Passover. Thanks for sharing your experience - I got the chills visualizing the man with his hands below the sink tap, imaging Anne & her family doing the same. Very moving.The fact that you were able to do this with your kids is so great - a moment the 3 of your will always have to remember together.
Love your writing voice!! Really enjoyed reading it!!