guiltWell, I finally did it. I sent it back at last and I feel so much better because of it. I should explain . . . A while ago, a dear friend of mine visited the Auschwitz-Birneau death camp memorial and museum. As she was taking her photographs, she managed to get hooked by a piece of rusty barbed wire. The original wire which, along with the guards and their dogs kept the death camp prisoners trapped.
I have no relatives who were imprisoned or died there nor am I jewish but I do feel a kind of bond with the place. Perhaps because it was the first thing that ever made me feel ashamed of growing up in Germany. I don't know. I do know that when my friend kept the piece of wire and gave it to me as a gift, I felt awkward. I love her and she's a lovely girl but I didn't want this gift in my house. Knowing where it came from and what it represented gave me a chill.
I had thought that I might frame it and put it up somewhere but where does one hang an item from a death camp? So I decided to send it back! It took a while of procrastination and looking for the address but eventually I was ready and today, I took the package to the post office. That's where the trouble started.
"What's in the package please?"
"um . . . a piece of wire."
"Wire? What kind of wire?"
"um . . . a piece of barbed wire.?"
"Barbed wire? You're sending someone a piece of wire? Why?"
"Well . . . *explains the story*"
"good grief, are you for real? Mk, I'll mark it as a commercial item I guess."
Eventually, it did get posted and hopefully it will be back where it belongs soon.
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