Each Monday, from July 1942 to September 1944, a long and empty train would slowly snake towards the Dutch village of Westerbork and pull into its overcrowded transit camp...
There are times when the inhumanity of humankind just takes my breath away. A dear friend told me that as a young child, growing up in Switzerland, she asked her parents, "Why don't I have any aunts and uncles and cousins like my friends do." They explained her parents had moved to Switzerland just before the war, and that the rest family, on both sides, was killed in the camps. The pain, the grief, the fury at that horrific act just does not dissipate, does it?
There are times when the inhumanity of humankind just takes my breath away. A dear friend told me that as a young child, growing up in Switzerland, she asked her parents, "Why don't I have any aunts and uncles and cousins like my friends do." They explained her parents had moved to Switzerland just before the war, and that the rest family, on both sides, was killed in the camps. The pain, the grief, the fury at that horrific act just does not dissipate, does it?