From Life To Me

Another Year and the Same Day

This is an extract from Anne Frank’s diary which I am reading right now. What makes it special is it’s on my birth date, about 52 years before I was born.

Friday 16th October 1942

Dear Kitty

I’m terribly busy. I’ve just translated a chapter out of “La Belle Nivernaise” and made notes of new words. Then a perfectly foul maths problem and three pages of French grammar. I flatly refuse to do these maths problems every day. Daddy agrees that they’re vile. I’m almost better at them than he is, though neither of us are much good and we often have to fetch Margot. I’m the furthest on of the three of us in shorthand.

Yesterday I finished “The Assault”. It’s quite amusing but doesn’t touch “Joop ter Heul”. As a matter of fact, I think Cissy van Marxveldt is a first-rate writer. I shall definitely let my children read her books. Mummy, Margot and I are as thick as thieves again. It’s really much better. Margot and I got in the same bed together last evening; it was a frightful squash but that was the fun of it. She asked if she could read my diary. “Yes at least bits of it.”; and then I asked if I could read hers and she said,  “Yes”. Then we got on the subject of the future. I asked her what she wanted to be. But she wouldn't say and made a great secret out of it. I gathered something about teaching; I’m not sure if I’m right but I think so. Really, I shouldn’t be so curious!

This morning I was lying on Peter’s bed, having chased him off at first. He was furious with me, not that I cared very much. He might be a bit more friendly with me for once; after all I did give him an apple yesterday.

I asked Margot if she thought I was very ugly. She said I was quite attractive and that I had nice eyes. Rather vague don’t you think? Till next time,

Yours, Anne

After reading this extract, what did you feel? I felt odd somehow. Here was a girl, barely 2 years younger than me who had to face World War 2 and coped with segregation and God alone knows what else…..how did she? I know for a fact that I would have been shattered in that situation within 24 hours. Yet Anne wasn’t. She was happy, smiling and kept others that way too……as if nothing had changed. As I read on, my awe of her changed to respect. She showed a deep understanding of what was what and knew EXACTLY why she was hiding. And she hated the Nazis as much as the world does. Yet she didn't let it get to her.

I have issues. A LOT of them. I cant filter out the things I need to hear from the garbage that people decorate it with. The result is I have an extremely short fuse. I see a milder version of me in that diary, and Anne’s teaching me or maybe trying to teach me to NOT LET IT GET TO ME. I never claimed to be a saint or anything. However I know that I have faults, and Anne’s diary could be the sort of outlook on life that I need.

Another book is Harper Lee’s (you guessed it!) “To Kill a Mockingbird”. We have three copies, no four actually if you count my mums battered up version. I’m in awe of Atticus Finch, Scout and Jem’s father. There’s that scene where Ewell spits in his face. All Atticus has to say is “I wish he didn’t chew tobacco”. I would have face planted him.

My father’s like that. He has NEVER lost his cool. He is a giant and has always tried to keep me straight. He puts up with ALL the rubbish I throw at him. Wish I knew how……

I have been ignoring these tomes, though I have read them. I live with a man like my Father, yet I have not put myslef in his shoes ever. How could I be so BLIND?? I guess if I stopped looking at life in the warped way I do, then maybe things will be OK…..and these books will be there to guide me even when he will not, like Paul Simon’s “vision softly creeping”.

Anne and Atticus, I am awed at the way you look at life and I hope I can do even a quarter of the things you did. Wish me luck people!