As a nineteen-year-old man who is raised in a caring family in a tiny part of the earth--Hong Kong, a relatively much more peaceful place if compared to some war-worn lands, the word W-A-R sounds so distant for me. I have not heard any gunfire or explosions of bombs before except in the news and movies, especially the Hollywood action blockbusters. People were killed and lost their love ones during wars, but we people go to the theatres, paying money, to watch violent films or what they called "crisis" films like the Die Hard series, Alien series, Starship Troopers and the international acclaimed Jurassic Park. People will even become bored if there are not enough gunfire, blasts and bloodshed scenes. Is that strange or not?
When I finished reading Anne Frank's The Diary of a Young Girl, that is about her life in the secret annexe with her family and four other people hiding from the Germans during World War II, it was like that I had experienced part of her life during the war, a time of brutality, pathos and fear. However, this diary is not merely about horror or frightful experience of a young girl, but also the joyful romantic days, warmth in the family, struggles to acquire recognition by people having different values and characters and, most importantly, the personal views and feelings about the environment, the events happened to her and herself. The extraordinary journey began on Frank's thirteenth birthday and ended abruptly less than two months after her fifteenth birthday.
Though it was a little better than those who were in the concentration camps, living in the secret annexe was by no means an easeful experience. Frank and other members of the house could celebrate festivals and birthdays in the house, but they were not allowed to go out, just like prisoners. What is more, they had to be alert at all the time, to be prepared for sudden raid and lived under tremendous pressure and fear of being discovered. Living under such tense atmosphere, people are inclined to lose their temper and tolerance. There are many pages of the diary describing the argument and quarrels happened in the house, as everybody had his or her opinions and wanted others to support them. The diary was just like a documentary showing us about how difficult to learn cooperating, communicating with others and to be tolerant with others' weaknesses.
Interestingly, my sister and I have been quarrelling a lot since I come to San Francisco in mid-July of 1997. We have so much difference in values and personality. What intrigues me so much is that she can recognize my different point of view, but not vice versa. So many times I have scolded her as if she was my daughter, although I am, in fact, the youngest one in the family. My parents always ask me not to criticize my sister, but to be tolerant, forgiving and to recognize her strengths and weaknesses, since they have been doing the same thing. Well, I hope that I can train my tolerance, communication skills through time and, hopefully, live with my sister in reconciliation eventually. If Anne can have the courage to write and to talk to Margot, her sister, even she thought that her parents loved Margot more, I believe that the problem I mentioned can also be overcome. I hope so. After all, I only have one sister. If I do not love her, there will not be another brother loving her.
Since it usually takes a lifetime for a person to know another person well, it will have to take decades, even centuries, of time for a race to understand more about another race having a different cultural background. Unfortunately, it is easier, in some way, for a race to lose control, but not so easy for an individual relatively. In World War II, the Nazi party lost their self-control. Consequently, most of the Europeans became poor victims under the terror of Hitler. Frank, who was one of them, wrote on May 3rd in 1944, "what is the use of the war... [why] should millions be spent daily on the war... while there are surpluses rotting in other parts of the world... why are people so crazy?" Owing to a ridiculous belief of the Aryan race as the "master race" and Jews as an inferior race, an estimated six million Jews and millions of non-Jews were murdered. At that time, "life" was a mute word, while "death" was crying out loud. The war was like a tornado, sweeping away our homes, our families, our friends, and, eventually, ourselves. What were left behind are millions of broken hearts and wounded souls.
Nevertheless, Frank "[regarded]... hiding as a dangerous adventure, romantic and interesting at the same time... I have to laugh at the humourous side of the most dangerous moments... [why]... should I be in despair?" Hope is undoubtedly the thing keeping people survive and keeping Frank survive for at least two years in the secret annexe. Every time when Frank heard anything about the invasion of the allies, she wrote them in the diary. She also wrote about what the first thing each of the house members wished to do right after the war ended. Though Frank was unhappy about others' criticism and was troubled because of the unknown cause of people killing each other, not one sentence she had written saying that she want to give up her hopes. Even though she mentioned on May 26th in 1944 that she had asked herself again and again whether it "would... have been better for us all... if we were dead now and not going through all this misery," the answer was crystal clear--"we still love life... we still hope... about everything."
Through reading Frank's The Diary of a Young Girl, I see the light of humanity and hear the sound of sympathy from her artless expression and words. If Miss Anne Frank were still alive, she now would be 68 years old. Tragically, she died of typhoid about seven months after the last entry of her diary, which will actually become a long-lived memorandum in human history, always reminding us never set our destination in hatred but love.
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