Why I Sometimes Wish I Hadn’t Gone to Auschwitz

I sometimes wonder what has happened, over the years and decades and centuries, in the very spot I happen to be. When I’m standing in my kitchen, washing coffee rings out of one of my seemingly endless supply of Doctor Who mugs, am I standing in the same spot where a mother stood 50 years ago, washing the dishes from her child’s breakfast? When I’m standing by the river, looking over at trees in Gatineau, am I standing where an Indigenous man stood to catch fish hundreds of years ago? When I’m stopped at a red light, is my car in the very spot where some prehistoric Mega~bear got into an epic fight with a giant Dino~cat? (My knowledge of prehistoric species isn’t awesome.) I’ll never know, but it’s neat to think about.

I know I’ve definitely stood where people suffered, and where people died.

On November 7th, our Prime Minister apologized for Canada turning away the MS St. Louis in 1939. Over 900 Jewish people from Germany were on the ship, trying to find somewhere where they would be safe. Canada wouldn’t take them. They were sent away. The captain wouldn’t take them back to Germany, because he knew they would die if he did. He took them to other parts of Europe, where he hoped they would be ok. Some of them were. Some of them ended up back in Germany. Some of them were murdered in Auschwitz. Which means I might have stood where they stood when they suffered. Maybe I stood where they fell when they died.

I went to Auschwitz a few years ago. I’d wanted to go for a long time. Since then, there have been times when I have violently wished that I’d never gone. It hurts so much to know that my feet have been in the same spot as someone who was scared in a way that few of us can comprehend. I have walked on pathways that were the last place someone walked. In all likelihood, I have stood where someone took their last breath. Knowing that makes me feel a pain that I cannot describe. 

When I watched video of the apology in the House of Commons, when I watched NDP MP Guy Caron say 254 people could have been saved if Canada had said “yes” in 1939, I cried so hard my chest hurt. And I kept crying, because I know there are people who would want that ship turned away if it showed up on our shores tomorrow.

Some of the people who get turned away now, in Canada and all over the world, will die. A hundred years from now, someone will stand where they died. I think this will probably repeat until the sun explodes and eats the Earth, because very little of what I’ve seen of human behaviour lately has convinced me we’re any better now than we were when we turned that ship away in 1939.

I Give Up HA HA JUST KIDDING NO I DON'T

Well, no. I kind of do give up, but in, like, a totally good way.

First, a little background. The Comedian has a teeny tiny little anger problem. Not the kind where I yell and scream and kick little woodland critters into brick walls. It's the kind where I become insanely angry about something, and then hold that anger in with so much force that if you plugged a toaster into my butt, I could make upwards of 15 pieces of toast before the power supply died. And then I'd get re-angry because you SHOVED A TOASTER PLUG INTO MY BUTT and the whole cycle would begin again. The world would just be full of toast and toaster plugs that smell like ass. No one wins.

The same thing happens when something makes me sad, and these days, lots of things make me sad. The list includes (but is not limited to):

- the engine light in my car
- Orange Politician
- we're killing the planet
- PEOPLE HUNT SCHOOL CHILDREN NOW
- being awful to humans with different melatonin levels is all the rage
- memes about how cool Doug Ford is, but with many of the words spelled wrong
- 'flossing' isn't a dance, guys
- my feet hurt
- everything seems kinda fucked

Several times a day, the words "I give up" fall out of my tooth-cave. I guess I never actually mean it, seeing as how I have yet to just fall over on the ground and wait for flowers to grow out of me, but there have been many times -- many many times -- when I have thought about getting in my car and driving away. However, if you refer to first item on the list above, you will see that is not a great option. No point running away if you'll probably only make it as far as the next area code. Also, I get a girl-salary, which means I can't afford very much gas. (Note to self - add 'girl-salaries' to the sadness list before you publish this blog post.)

So I can't run away. I can't fall over and die. I can't make people stop shooting children, or care that the Earth is being poisoned, or think twice about the poorly-spelled stupid thing their (I did that on purpose) about to share on Facebook, or stop taking giant old-man shits all over the place for the sake of proving he's the most stablest genius that ever done lived. I also can't fix car engines. I can't do shit.

And I can't be sad and angry all the time.

So, I will give up. But, as I said earlier, in a totally good way.

Orange Politican starts a trade war? Race war? Space war?  He might. Totally within the realm of possibility. I'll keep doin' what I do. Buying stuff I need, not hating people who don't look like me, not being in space. Easy enough. Me being sad or angry can't stop bad things from happening. Me buying something from a local store or smiling at someone who wears something different on her head than I do might improve someone's day. Me staying out of space saves me from going all Total Recall bug-eyes because I go outside and forget to bring my helmet.

Planet quickly being poisoned to shit? We can't stop being assholes and try to do something to fix it? Fine. I give up trying to convince you you're wrong and that you suck. I'll continue walking or biking when I can, I'll keep taking my reusable cups to Starbucks and my reusable bags to the grocery store and I'll keep dragging my green bin out to the curb on Tuesdays even though I'm pretty sure a raccoon lives inside it now. I'll do what I do because it makes me feel better, even if it doesn't really help. And hey -- by the time the planet says SCREW YOU HUMANS, HERE'S SOME RAIN MADE OF POISON DARTS, I'll already have died of natural causes or possibly from tripping while holding a pencil. It could easily go either way.

Some people and some things are always going to be terrible, to varying degrees. Maybe you share dumb memes about how Justin Trudeau's hair makes him incapable of doing anything, ever (please tell me you know that's fucking idiotic) or maybe you think it's a GREAT IDEA to arm teachers instead of FUCKING DOING SOMETHING about guns, or maybe you think I should probably have my mechanic check out my car. I don't care what you think, and I'm not fighting with you over it anymore. I'm not getting angry about it anymore. I'm not going to fight back tears anymore while I'm reading a story about the latest horrible thing people did to other people. And I have a CAA membership, so bring it on, car. Bring. It. On.

I think some of those things might be easier typed than done. We shall see. Maybe I'll fail utterly, and the world will be filled with butt-toast. Or maybe I'll give up exactly the way I want to, and I'll spend the rest of what I hope will be a long life enjoying the people around me and the places I go and the things I see and do, unburdened by the worry and the anger and the sadness.

Or maybe tomorrow I'll trip while carrying a pencil. Whatever.