person in the Annex, and one for the temple.
As I carve each one I make a sign, a notch in the wood, a symbol for each person. Anne is an eye because she sees everything. Father is a smile and Mother a hand. They all come easily. Mr. Frank is a book, also easy. Margot is the hardest. She slips in and out of my mind and I have to wait and see what comes. Mrs. Frank is a needle. She's sharp, but she also mends all our things! Pfeffer's easyâa sour lemon! Margot's a wave. I don't know why. And me? In the end I
make a symbol of the kippah. A Jew. If that's what I am in the eyes of the world, well then, that's what I'll be.
The best one I can be.
I will carve the menorah and burn the candles and say the Kaddish for those who are dead. And I'll make prayers of hope for us that remain. I'm praying for a miracle, just like in the temple. I carve the symbols under each candle. I dedicate one to each person. As I work I remember the prayers; I hear them in my head and whisper the words as I workâthe Hanukkah prayers. I never understood why I should learn them by heart, but now I knowâit's so they're always with me. My hands move to the rhythm of the words, carving them into the wood with my thoughts. At last I feel like I'm doing something.
You in your abundant mercy rose up for them in the time of their trouble, pled their cause,
Executed judgment, avenged their wrong, and delivered the strong
Into the hands of the weak,
The many into the hands of the few,
The impure into the hands of the pure,
The wicked into the hands of the righteous, and insolent ones into the hands of those living in the Torah ... And unto your people did you achieve a great deliverance and redemption.
I whisper them again.
And unto your people did you achieve a great deliverance and redemption.
Please, God. Deliver us.
Me and Liese, and all Jews everywhere. All the weak and the lame and everyone they hate so much. Please save us.
The menorah takes me a while to make. By the end of it I'm good friends with Boche. He watches me carefully, and when I stop working he comes closer. He reaches out a paw and touches the wood. Gently.
"Do you want it?" I ask him. "How much for it?" Boche stares at me, lifts his head, and stalks away.
"Ah!" I say. "So you think you're too grand to discuss money." But he just carries on walking. I get back to work. Soon Boche is back. Watching.
Sometimes, when my muscles are tight, I stretch out on the floor and lie very still. Boche walks on me. He starts at my feet and balances, one paw after the other all the way up from my feet to my chin. He touches his whiskers to my face, or lifts a paw and taps my eyes.
I like it best when he curls up and lies on my chest. I like the feel of his warmth and the sound of our hearts beating together in the silent dark room.
Peaceful together.
DECEMBER 3, 1942â THE FIRST NIGHT OF HANUKKAH
The menorah is finished. Tonight is the start of Hanukkah. Mutti is making latkes. I think of our house, empty now, with no one to light the candles. I think of the fact that there was a time when I didn't know I was a Jew. Well, of course I did, but it was just one of the things I was, among many things.
Not the only thing.
I wonder how many of us are left? How many of us are lighting the candles behind dark curtains and dreaming of freedom?
I smuggle the menorah up to my room. After supper when the Franks have gone down, we stand in my doorway with it behind our backs and wait for Mutti to notice.
"What are you two doing?" she asks. We smile.
"Is there anything to smile about?" she snaps. She's sad. Perhaps we haven't got it right. Perhaps the sadness is too much? I take a step back, but Papi just says, "Yes, there is, come here," and makes her stand in front of us. I'm worried though, what if it's not right? I mean, it's not beautiful or silver. I know it can never replace the one that Oma, her mother, gave her. I mean, how could it?
"Peter," says Papi.
Slowly I bring
As I carve each one I make a sign, a notch in the wood, a symbol for each person. Anne is an eye because she sees everything. Father is a smile and Mother a hand. They all come easily. Mr. Frank is a book, also easy. Margot is the hardest. She slips in and out of my mind and I have to wait and see what comes. Mrs. Frank is a needle. She's sharp, but she also mends all our things! Pfeffer's easyâa sour lemon! Margot's a wave. I don't know why. And me? In the end I
make a symbol of the kippah. A Jew. If that's what I am in the eyes of the world, well then, that's what I'll be.
The best one I can be.
I will carve the menorah and burn the candles and say the Kaddish for those who are dead. And I'll make prayers of hope for us that remain. I'm praying for a miracle, just like in the temple. I carve the symbols under each candle. I dedicate one to each person. As I work I remember the prayers; I hear them in my head and whisper the words as I workâthe Hanukkah prayers. I never understood why I should learn them by heart, but now I knowâit's so they're always with me. My hands move to the rhythm of the words, carving them into the wood with my thoughts. At last I feel like I'm doing something.
You in your abundant mercy rose up for them in the time of their trouble, pled their cause,
Executed judgment, avenged their wrong, and delivered the strong
Into the hands of the weak,
The many into the hands of the few,
The impure into the hands of the pure,
The wicked into the hands of the righteous, and insolent ones into the hands of those living in the Torah ... And unto your people did you achieve a great deliverance and redemption.
I whisper them again.
And unto your people did you achieve a great deliverance and redemption.
Please, God. Deliver us.
Me and Liese, and all Jews everywhere. All the weak and the lame and everyone they hate so much. Please save us.
The menorah takes me a while to make. By the end of it I'm good friends with Boche. He watches me carefully, and when I stop working he comes closer. He reaches out a paw and touches the wood. Gently.
"Do you want it?" I ask him. "How much for it?" Boche stares at me, lifts his head, and stalks away.
"Ah!" I say. "So you think you're too grand to discuss money." But he just carries on walking. I get back to work. Soon Boche is back. Watching.
Sometimes, when my muscles are tight, I stretch out on the floor and lie very still. Boche walks on me. He starts at my feet and balances, one paw after the other all the way up from my feet to my chin. He touches his whiskers to my face, or lifts a paw and taps my eyes.
I like it best when he curls up and lies on my chest. I like the feel of his warmth and the sound of our hearts beating together in the silent dark room.
Peaceful together.
DECEMBER 3, 1942â THE FIRST NIGHT OF HANUKKAH
The menorah is finished. Tonight is the start of Hanukkah. Mutti is making latkes. I think of our house, empty now, with no one to light the candles. I think of the fact that there was a time when I didn't know I was a Jew. Well, of course I did, but it was just one of the things I was, among many things.
Not the only thing.
I wonder how many of us are left? How many of us are lighting the candles behind dark curtains and dreaming of freedom?
I smuggle the menorah up to my room. After supper when the Franks have gone down, we stand in my doorway with it behind our backs and wait for Mutti to notice.
"What are you two doing?" she asks. We smile.
"Is there anything to smile about?" she snaps. She's sad. Perhaps we haven't got it right. Perhaps the sadness is too much? I take a step back, but Papi just says, "Yes, there is, come here," and makes her stand in front of us. I'm worried though, what if it's not right? I mean, it's not beautiful or silver. I know it can never replace the one that Oma, her mother, gave her. I mean, how could it?
"Peter," says Papi.
Slowly I bring
Similar Books
