I read the “The Diary of a Young Girl” also known as “The Diary of Anne Frank” when I was fourteen years old. I was forever changed.

It was the summer before my freshman year of high school. I was getting ready to start my fourth school in four years, and I was not happy about it. I hadn’t wanted to move again. I didn’t want to make new friends. I wanted everything to go back to how it had been before. Before the turmoil, before the moves, before the uncertainty.

I’d been through a lot in the three years prior to reading Anne Frank’s recount of her years hiding in the Annex. I won’t go into specifics other than to say that I was a really confused kid. Although I loved my family and persevered a ton, I still spent a lot of time wishing things were different.

When I finished “The Diary of a Young Girl,” I cried. I’m not just talking tears, but huge, violent sobs. I knew that my problems were nothing near to what she and millions of others endured during the Holocaust, but I still connected to those intense feelings of growing up and feeling powerless, of being heard but also being voiceless.

Her words and subsequent capture and death also helped me to realize that although my problems felt huge to me, they were by all accounts miniscule. I did not have to fear tyranny, hatred, prejudice and persecution. On the other hand, her words also validated my feelings of frustration and allowed me to realize that I wasn’t the only one who vented, outwardly or through writing, when irritated.

I was a young teen when I read “The Diary of a Young Girl” and became determined to one day visit the place where Anne Frank spent over two of her final years in hiding. It was then that I became obsessed with any publication written about her and decided if I could meet anyone living or dead, it would be her.

Last month, my dream came true when my husband and I traveled to Amsterdam and I toured the Secret Annex, hidden behind Otto Frank’s business, Opekta. I walked through the bookcase door leading to their hiding place, stood in the bedroom she shared while writing her diary entries, “Dear Kitty…” which she hoped to one day publish as a memoir of the war titled, “The Secret Annex.” I saw replicas of the pictures that hung on her wall, walked through the kitchen the eight in hiding used, still with the original oven and countertops. I stared up the steps leading to the attic beside the place where her first and only love, Peter, slept while in hiding.

I also saw her original diary and other writing she did while in hiding. I cried as I looked down at her perfect handwriting and the evidence of how she wanted her words to be a voice for people who endured unimaginable suffering under the Nazi Regime.

I live a beautiful life and still wish that circumstances would have allowed her to have done the same.

Although my heart feels heavy today with fear for the future of our county, I know that we will persevere. I know that goodness still exists. I see it in both my own children and the children I teach. I continue to pray that those in power with a moral compass will use their voice to guide those who lack one.

I will never have to endure what she did. I will never be the writer that she was. I will always be inspired by her. I will always wish that she’d survived to see her diary make it to publication. I will always hope that she knows how many millions of people her words inspired, starting with me.

Dear Anne…

Thank you 🤍

“I keep my ideals, because in spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart.” -Anne Frank

Despite the timing of this post, this is not a political blog. I won’t cast blame or call anyone in office out by name. I won’t speculate on the campaign, and I won’t share cable news clips or post information on domestic or foreign policy. Those are subject which I follow, but not which I am anything close to an expert on. I won’t talk about blue states or red states, or any states in between.

What I will admit is that like many Americans, I’m scared. I remain troubled by events that have scarred our nation and democracy. I acknowledge the frustration of many Americans, and I too have been affected by inflation and the cost of living. However, I also fear for marginalized group, including the LGBTQ community and immigrants.

The truth is that a person’s true character means a great deal to me. I don’t like bullies, nor do I like those who fuel hate and resort to name calling to prove a point or create a target. That’s my truth. I value empathy and honesty. If those character traits are not present on a daily basis, I’m wary.

Some might view that perspective as a fault. Others might view it as a gift. At the end of the day, it’s part of my character. A part of me that was solidified long before yesterday’s problems bled into today solutions or lack thereof.

I will say that I also believe in being respectful to others, including those who I don’t necessarily trust or even like. I will never fly a flag of hate geared at another person or group of people. I will never resort to name calling, whether I believe in someone or not.

I want this to be a safe space. I want this to be a place where I can put my anxious thoughts on paper, rather than allowing them to control my emotions. I want to turn my fear into something better…something more powerful than hate. I want to empower others to show compassion and acts of service.

I will always have a worldview. I will always strive to be a better person.

That is my bottom line.

And the only way I know how to make sense of the world as it is right now.