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Today is Anne Frank's birthday, and this is her diary.
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I used to contemplate the years missing from AF's life by noting that she was born a mere six weeks before my mother. My mother's been gone only three years, and AF might still be alive.
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I'm not sure that she, too, would have been in the habit of taking two buses from the UES to go to a Wednesday matinee, but it's scarcely out of the question.
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For me, it’s always been that she had a poster of her favorite movie star on her bedroom wall: Robert Stack. Who I watched in “Airplane,” in the theater.
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Also Deanna Durbin, I'm reading. Which is pleasing.
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Ah, it seems that Stack and Durbin appeared together in a movie called First Love. My research skills are a little slow this morning.
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That she had American movie stars' pictures cut from a magazine was the thing that most struck me too. It took her from being a character from the past and reminded just how contemporary she was.
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This is indelible in my memory, too, Peter. Coattails and white tie. With…Ralph Bellamy?
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When I visited the Frank house for the first time, it hit me like a brick that she died just 12 years before I was born. It’s altogether easy to forget just how proximate the Holocaust remains.
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With both Anne Frank and Irene Nemirovsky, both such observant, thoughtful, and talented writers, I think about what works the world missed. And so many others we don’t know….
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My wife’s great aunt, who just moved from independent living to a nursing home, was born 2 years before Anne Frank. I talk to her all the time.
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I recall being shocked that Anne Frank was born the same year as MLK Jr and Barbara Walters. They seem like people from 3 different ages, but we're all contemporaries.
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Coincidence! I was born on May 12, 1959. My Mother in 1925. She has been dead for 7 Years.
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Not to copyedit a copyeditor, but I've always thought of those years as stolen, not merely missing.
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After years and years of the paperback cover, the black & white photo, the white on black (or black on white) author and title text, seeing the actual artifact in shades of actual color is breathtaking.
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A few years ago we put a new cover on our paperback, and I was awed by its immediacy.
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I don't think I'd seen that before. It's ... yeah, it's jarring.
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Seeing the image of her diary, like any candid pictures of her, make it almost impossible to move or to breathe…
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Images with beautiful light, shot by a photographer she was at ease with, and assembled into a well-edited group.
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Seriously. It feels... human instead of historical? I don't quite have the right words.
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That book changed my life.
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I lived across the canal from her house for a time. The Westertoren bells would ring every 15 minutes and at first they made sleeping impossible, but after a few days it is a sound that you miss. I live on the other side of the planet today, but I'm pretty sure I'd recognise their tone anywhere.
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I recall the queue of tourists standing around waiting to go inside. My own family went into hiding during the war, albeit in another city with a different outcome. Living about 100m away with a shared heritage made a big impact that I've not thought about for decades. Thank you!
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Really? It's not what I expected. This will haunt me.