On a china blue afternoon last autumn, I finally understood my love for World War II. I explained my new knowledge to a friend in the quiet corridors of an art gallery and he nodded, understanding. "I may be oversimplifying things," I whispered, "but to me it's the pull of Black and White. You were in or you were out, fighting for a truth. I want to believe that it was that easy, wearing your colors and taking a stand." He waited a second. "I'd like to believe I'd have chosen the right side." He quoted Churchill and the paintings along the walls were forgotten.
Of course, this is a notion based on books, tales of the most courageous heroines sacrificing everything for country and kinsmen. It's made up of my shelves dedicated to the children's fiction for that era, from The Endless Steppe to Number the Stars. And, having just read Eva Ibbotson's Song for Summer for the umpteenth time, it's a passion reawakened. But today, reevaluating this love, I realise it extends to most every area of my life, not just that part dedicated to the 1940s. As the world becomes more grey to me I find myself holding onto those who took sides. Tom laughed at me last week for my choices to represent Celtic Wales, saying I must have "something of the rebel" in me as I put down my cards for both Caradog and Boudicca. I'm consistently drawn to the people most passionate (burn, burn, burn) who won't back down in their cry for Light. In the Book of Mormon I love the story of Abinadi, and in the Bible, Queen Esther. I am most in awe of my dearest friends who have given two years of their life to take Christ's message to the world. I admire those that live most fervently their beliefs. And aren't afraid to share them.
{And, in a truly cosmically coincidental turn of events, I just chatted with a boy completely excited about the same idea. Busy scanning old plans for Hitler's Volkshalle, he explained to me in every detail the history behind the building, which then led to a discourse on all architecture of the Third Reich, dramatic hand gestures and all.}
17.3.08
standing for something
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I have to say I am so incredibly excited to read this post, because I feel so similarly. As a history student studying Stalin's Russia (and Nazi Germany was next on the list) I feel like what I am doing is so important. People don't seem to see historical study that way but I find myself challenged every day to wonder about myself and to test my own moral strength. Of course I think all historical study is useful and important. But I think those times of crisis or extremity when people in the future will look back and say, "you were in the right and you were in the wrong", whether justified or not, are probably one of the most important things anyone could ever look at. What went wrong? How did (in many cases) good intentions turn bad? What can we do to avoid this happening again? How can we be most fair to people in the past, without letting them off the hook? Anyway, I'll stop now or this comment could get very long but thanks for sharing.
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