I've been reading
Maus (
Amazon |
Wikipedia) by Art Spiegleman recently. It is a graphic novel about a Jewish survivor of the holocaust. It is told from the point of view of the man's son, who is an artist and wants to make a book about his father's life. This got me thinking about my own family history.
My paternal grandfather, Jaap Overduin, was a survivor of the war. As a small child, he was chased through his native Holland by the invading Germans. He and his family survived by eating tulip bulbs. As I walked home tonight (I had about a 15 minute walk from my car to my apartment today because one of my apartment mates lost the only parking pass) I could smell the scent of flowers around me. It absolutely filled the air. The moon was huge, buoyant and about to burst. As I walked, I couldn't help think about my life. History is an amazing thing. It connects us through strands of humanity. I felt a sudden connection with my past. Granted, I have been reading the book so it has been in the forefront of my mind recently, but I had a moment of clarity. It was like stepping into a clearing, as Heidegger would say (which is ironic because Heidegger was a vocal Nazi).
How different my life is from my ancestors! But! I am the same! Truly, the same blood that gave them life gives me life. The same blood that carried them through the war allows me the pleasure of a kiss from Terezita or the sight of fireworks over Disneyland or the feel of the fresh California breeze on my face. How did this happen? They paid the price so that I may reap the rewards. I most likely will never experience what my grandfather went through. I will likely feel the breeze of a thousand shores and never wonder if I will wake up alive the next morning.
My grandfather is a hero. He survived the war. He flew out to California to live with a cousin of his - to get out of Europe, off the stage this ultimately tragic play. He married my grandmother and they begat my father. He now lives in the motherland again with my grandmother, an aunt and her family and an uncle and his family. My father stayed here, an American. Everyone on that side (to the best of my knowledge) has some sort of American citizenship. I remember my grandfather once saying that his American citizenship was one of the most precious things to him.
We live in a time and place where there is very little for us to fear. We are in a blessed situation. Even I, a poor college student, have a few bucks to blow on Ben & Jerrys when I want some. In this sort of society, where we do not have to focus on our primary needs, isn't it in our ability to help out a little? I am keeping my audience in mind! I am speaking to my friends, mainly. We all come from upper-middle class households. We all are in the process of gaining higher learning. We are all aware of our surroundings. What are we planning for the future? What is all this for? Are we going to use our education, our elevated position, to help ourselves or the world? With a little effort, I believe we can help out those who did not have the same opportunities as we have!
My grandfather lived through fear and accomplished great things. What can we do, without fear?
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As a post script:
This is a true story:
My maternal grandmother was a riveter during the war. Much later in her life, she married a man who fought in the German army during WWII. His home town was bombed during that time, very likely by a plane that my grandmother tightened the bolts on. So it goes.
By the way, his name was Paul and he made very good eclairs. He worked as a baker in East Germany after the war before he came to America.
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What was your family doing during WWII? Discuss!
