Holocaust

I never have to doubt the Holocaust because my grandfather fought in World War Two.

My grandfather was a family man by nature and therefore opposed to the reckless killing that goes along naturally with war. He preferred to stay home and work and raise a family than to spend his time fighting a foreign enemy on foreign soil.

But WWII was a paradox for my grandfather. He was drafted by his new country and went to fight from a sense of duty, even though it meant leaving his pregnant wife behind (he would not see my mother until she was 4).

My grandfather was humble and didn't like to talk much about the war. In fact, when he talked with us kids about it he usually focused on the comic times, like the time his unit came across a wine cellar thanks to the keen sense of smell of one of the men (nicknamed "Honk"), or the time he had to steal a horse and it was so old it farted up every hill (as a child I underestimated the danger of a slow getaway and overestimated the comedy of a flatulent horse).

I remember one time I asked him if World War II was worth it. He paused as powerful emotions swept through him, wiped at a tear, and then told me that he once saw a death camp, and that it was depressing to find out people could be so cruel to each other. He said he saw people so scrawny he didn't know how they could stand up, many of them were bleeding from their bottoms, and their faces were "like zombies". He paused to let the picture sink in, then he simply said, "Yes, it was worth it, but I didn't know it up until that moment."

Many of the people who remember WWII have passed away, my grandfather included, and so the designers of a new Holocaust Museum felt a sense of urgency to complete their monument lest future generations forget:

A new memorial

A monument such as this must be powerful and beautiful and horrible all rolled into one, at least if it accurately reflects the human race.