Diary of A Young Girl by Anne Frank

Caring

*Author's Note- I am a little bit past halfway through the book right now, and it is right around the part where the Van Daans and the Franks are starting to learn how bad things are getting, after being holed up in their little attic, finally discovering what is happening of the outside world, how people are getting beaten and dragged away from their home, separated from their family, and sent to concentration camps.  They are learning about all their family friends, and how most of them are already dead.  This is a crucial part, because it is really where Anne's writing becomes more and more serious, and more mature.

"The prisoners moved like sleepwalkers, protected somehow from seeing anything, from feeling anything.  'But Anne had no such protection in her attic,' another survivor recalled.  'I can still see her standing at the window, head peeping under the blinds, watching the camp as a herd of naked gypsy girls was driven by to the crematory, and Anne watched them go and cried.  And she cried also when she saw the Hungarian children who had already been waiting half a day in the rain in front of the gas chambers* because it wasn't yet their turn.  And Anne nudged me and said, 'Look, look.  Their eyes…' ' "

*Gas chambers were big rooms in concentration camps where they gathered as many Jews as they could fit in it,  and locked them in.  They would then fill the chamber with poisonous gases through the air vents,  until each and every one of the people inside died from the toxins.  Then they would repeat the process with a new group.  Usually they had the next few groups scheduled to 'be gassed' wait outside the gas chambers for their turn, so they could hear the screams coming from inside, then hear them slowly stop as the people dropped to the floor.

Anne Frank's diary is a work of art.  Whenever I read it, not only do I get a better feel of all the horrible and torturous things she and every other Jewish person in that time experienced, but I get to watch her grow from a dawdling schoolgirl fussing over boys and such, into one of the most mature and insightful people in the world before my very eyes.  She was a brilliant writer, and she talked about real world, important things, instead of insufficient, insignificant matters, and she got to the heart of whatever it is she was discussing, no filters, no boundaries.  She had the ability to see beyond what was under the surface, and was always sympathetic and empathetic.  When everyone else set up mental and emotional walls to block out all the pain and suffering of others, she did not, and she cried and prayed for herself, her family, and everyone else being tortured, ridiculed, hunted, and murdered, instead of standing idly by, looking at her feet and not feeling.  She cared, more than any other.

Leaving

Author's Note- I decided for this journal entry, I was going to put myself in Anne Frank's shoes.  I wrote about the morning she is alerted that she and her family are going into hiding in a paragraph, and came up with a few questions to ask myself about this experience.  Comments are appreciated.

Quickly, this morning, my family and I are going into hiding.  I have to leave behind my friends and peers, without telling anyone where I am going.  We will be in a place with simple furniture, a bed, a radio, simple food will be brought to us and our clothes will be washed once a week.  We may not ever leave, and we will be there for a couple of years.  We are allowed to bring one average-sized suitcase.  We have 15 minutes to pack.  We may NOT bring anything electronic; we may NOT bring a pet; we may NOT bring any people other than our immediate family.

• What will you put in your suitcase to bring with you and why?
• What kinds of things would you do during the day?
• What things would you miss most in the outside world?
• What people would you miss most in the outside world?

In my suitcase, I would pack two blank notebooks, a bunch of pens, pencils and erasers, a bible, the travel-sized paperback issues of all the Harry Potter books, and the travel-sized paperbacks of Diary of Anne Frank, Watership Down, Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Last Olympian, The Hunger Games, and Chains. That would leave me room for roughly three or four changes of clothes if I pack everything very tightly.  My reasoning for packing these items:  Notebooks: To draw and write on.  Pencils, pens, erasers:  To draw, write, and erase with.  Bible:  To read and study.  Rest of the books:  To read and to give me things to think about.  (I didn't pick these particular books merely because they are my favorite books, although some of them are.  I picked most of these books either because I feel they could cheer me up in sad times, or they are books that I could reread over and over again.  There are some really great books, favorites of mine even, that are really awesome, but not something that you can keep rereading, but I could read these many times without getting bored of them.)  Clothes:  I think that one is obvious.

During the day, I would write, draw, read, think, and worry about when things would go back to normal and how my family was taking things and how I was taking things.  I would also converse with my family in hushed tones and take lots and lots of naps.

I would miss the light, the fresh air, moving around, the feeling of mud beneath my toes and the warm summer breeze,  but of the outside world, the one thing I would miss the most is my freedom.  My freedom would allow me to go outside, to talk, scream, walk, run, ride bikes, visit my friends, play sports…all the things that I would be banned from doing at the moment.  It would let me converse with new people, because, face it, even if you had the three most interesting people in the world to talk to in your dusty little attic, talking with only those people for years, with no other communication from anyone else, would be horrible.  And my little sister and parents are definitely not the three most interesting people in the world (no offense to them, they are completely and totally interesting, there are just many more people way more interesting than them). 

The people I would miss the most of the outside world would be my grandparents, my cousins, my aunts and uncles, my friends, my teachers, my acquaintances, and my fellow students (even the really annoying ones).  I would miss talking to them and learning about their day, and sharing my experiences.  Everything from the mindless chatter of, "OMG, I got this really cute top at Abercrombie yesterday!" to the deep, meaningful lessons my teachers and friends share with me.  What can I say, I'm a people person.  Okay, actually, usually I'm not a people person, but whatever.  You know what I mean.

Plea for Help

Author's Note- I wrote this poem, because I imagine it might be something Anne Frank would write if she saw one of my friends or me after an argument with our parents, fighting over going to the midnight premiere of a movie, or a sports game, or to the mall with our friends. 

Have you thought of your parents

As mean, or unfair,

When they tell you "No."

Or act as if they don't care?

Life stinks, you think,

As you lay fuming in bed,

Sulking about your problems,

But next time, think instead,

About me, the outcast,

The enemy, the Jew,

Hiding in the attic,

Being told what to do.

Can't run, can't play,

Can't talk, can’t drive,

No bikes, no sports,

Barely staying alive.

We are limited, forbidden,

Disgraced and disowned.

Betrayed, abandoned,

Disloyal, alone.

We are worthless, plagued,

Wrong, and, if caught,

Hanged and beaten,

Lined up and then shot.

They call themselves Christian,

But still I see blood spill,

So what happened to 'Love thy neighbor'

'Thou shalt not steal,' 'Thou shalt not kill'?

Though I am a Jew,

I'm still a person, like you,

We'll work better united,

We are hardworking, too.

So please, help my people,

We trust in you still,

Please, help the outcasts,

Or nobody will.

The Importance of Journaling

Author's Note- As soon as I read the quote below this, I knew that it was exactly what I was going to do my post on for today, because it really spoke to me, and I have been thinking about it ever since.  Comments are appreciated, as always!

"I haven't written for a few days, because I wanted first of all to think about my diary.  It's an odd idea for someone like me to keep a diary; not only because I have never done so before, but because it seems to me that neither I -- nor for that matter anyone else-- will be interested in the unbosomings of a thirteen-year-old schoolgirl.  Still, what does it matter?  I want to write, but more than that, I want to bring out all kinds of things buried deep in my heart."

-Diary of A Young Girl by Anne Frank

This quote really inspired me, and brought back some memories.  See, when I was eight years old, I used to have a diary, just like Anne Frank.  Every single night, no matter how late is was or how tired I had become over the course of the day, I'd write about everything that had happened since my last entry, about what made me feel elated and what terrified me, saddened me, or disappointed me, and I poured my little heart and soul into it.  I would also, as most eight year olds do, exaggerate things in my writing, from how annoying my pesky little sister could be to how unfair parents are, because they won't let you stay up all night watching cartoons or eat sugar before bed.  

One day, as my family and I were leaving from a vacation to Florida, I discovered that the journal wasn't in my rainbow and unicorn covered backpack.  Blubbering and almost incoherent, I begged my mother to call the hotel, the airline company, the rental car place, and pretty much every place I had been to since we last saw it, but she wouldn't.  It was only a diary, after all.  I realize that now, but back then I didn't understand, and thought if only I had my journal, I could write all about how she was the meanest mommy in the entire world.   I even ran over and got the attention of one of the security staff, whose eyes got wide with worry when a sobbing child stumbled up to him.  I could see how concerned he was, until I explained through my tears  what had happened to get me this upset.  As soon as he figured out it was about a diary, he hauled me to my mother and told her to make sure to keep a better eye on me.  Nobody would listen to me, so I cried and cried over my horrible, heart-wrenching loss with my mom whispering in harsh tones for me to be quiet, because, after all, we were still in the airport.

They got me a new diary when we arrived back in snowy Wisconsin, but it just wasn't the same, so after a few entries, I had to stop writing in it, because it felt wrong.  I ended up just shoving it on my bookshelf and forgetting it.  Coincidentally, just last night before I read this quote, I found that diary, the one with only a few half-hearted entries.  I read through it, and just had to laugh out loud at how melodramatic I could be.  I made a mountain out of a molehill in almost every sentence.  It was hilarious.  I almost started to miss writing about all the things going on everyday.

Now, I am starting to think what it would be like to have a journal that I kept on my laptop, for the same reasons that Anne Frank was talking about.  Maybe nobody would really care what a teenage girl had to say about anything, but that doesn't mean I have to stop writing, does it?  Even though others might not care, maybe I do.  Maybe, just maybe, I want to express my opinions, ponder the most basic and complex things of society, question authority, and start writing, with a more meaningful purpose than summarizing my day.  Maybe I want to write about what I think, and start writing my story.  I thought about the importance of journaling, for surely if I didn't find some way to express myself, I'd never make it past age fifteen with my sanity.