My thin facade
Like Drublood, I am waiting for the world to explode. I’ve always been waiting for the tanks to rumble down my street. When Noah was brand new (and even now, late at night), I would try to figure out how I would hide him if modern day Cossacks broke down my door. I pictured myself grabbing him to me and rolling us both down off the bed, onto the floor, shoving him under the bed.
“Don’t make a sound!” I saw myself whispering before I’m snatched away from him.
My father, being a Jew born in 1937, has always had an intense interest in WWII. I grew up on holocaust stories. The holocaust happened to ordinary people. All holocausts happen to ordinary people. I never thought we were immune but I hope that I am proven wrong.
Me too. Some people have told me I’m too much of a pessimist, but I don’t think the world can continue on as it has forever. And there will be more genocide, there will be another holocaust. The next holocaust might not be against the Jews. As I mentioned in my blog the other day, part of why we moved back to Michigan is because I think the day will come when I need to have family around me, and when I need to know how to survive without 24-hour grocery stores and running water. I think the “shit is going to hit the fan” sooner or later, and I’ve always sort of been expecting it. I don’t live my life in fear of it, but it’s always sort of there in the back of my mind, KWIM?
I sure wish that Dubya wasn’t trying to make it happen so soon though.