November 99
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Thursday
4 November 99

12 06 am est
My family tree research has been on the back burner for a while, but tonight my thoughts again turn to the Holocaust, and my unknown and unnamed relatives who died in concentration camps.   I cannot explain my curiosity, or why I feel that knowing their names and remembering them will somehow give justice to their deaths.   I'm not saying this right, and this is only because of my difficulty in expressing my views on this subject.   I feel that people live on if they are remembered, and I feel that it is an injustice that I don't have these people to remember as part of my collective family recollections.   And the rumors are like torture.   "His uncle or great uncle was a doctor to one of the Russian tzars."   "He traveled to Jerusalem to die."   "They spoke of Vienna."   I am peaking my curiosity in my research once again...

12 31 pm est
I had a long conversation with a twelve-year-old last week (she is a family friend) and I was struck by how much I understood her feelings and how little I could communicate that to her.   Whenever my mother used to say, "When I was you're age.." I would promptly explain to her that she was never my age -- she never grew up in the 90's.   This girl, Sara, I think felt the same way about me.   Granted, life has sped up even more.   When I was in high school, kids were having sex at 16, now its 14.   But I know how she feels.   We live in a very scary world.   The news is filled with rapes and murders and torture.   Kids can't relate to their parents, and parents can't imagine what life is like for their children.   I try to educate them.   Whenever some parent comments on some "pot user" I try to explain that all teens now use pot, it isn't just the "bad" ones.   I enlighten them as to the fact that when I graduated from high school, I was one of about five kids in our class of 120 that hadn't tried pot.   I don't remember meeting a single person in college who could say the same.   There were a handful of students who don't have sex for religious reasons, because they are saving themselves for marriage, or because they haven't found the right person, but most people do have sex.   I have been happy to find that most everyone I knew was having protected sex.   At least we get one thing right.

I have digressed.   I liked talking to Sara and I hope I can spend more time with her.   I feel really bad for people who only have friends their own age.   It's understandable, especially since it's hard to meet much younger or older poeple, but it is still a loss.   And the internet does allow for meeting people of all ages from all conrers of the world (my favorite aspect of this network for communication).

9 04 pm est
This burn treatment I got is Spenco's 2nd Skin Moist Burn Pads.   I had to tape it on me with cloth adhesive, but it has worked wonderfully -- no blister, and no pain since I put it on.   I'll have to keep some extras on hand!

I walked to 94th Street today to drop off a thank you card I watercolored.   I then walked to the Met* but arrived at only 15 minutes to closing.   I got a floor map and calendar, and I spent a while in the gift shop, picking out a great Christmas present for my mom and seeing a $50 book on Lichtenstein that I would love to get for Matthew.

I am taking a train to Yale tomorrow to spend the weekend with my brother.   We are going to "The Safety Dance" on Friday night (an 80's themed dance, at which i'm sure I will love the music) and then a casino black-tie thing on Saturday.   I'm sure it will be a blast.   He also wants to go shopping; he has always loved shopping with me, and the weather has turned so he needs to procure some winter clothes (come to think of it, so do I!).   We will sample the local cuisine (because I really would be delighted to never eat dorm food again) and if my bro really wants, we will go see a flick.   I am excited about the upcoming End of Days because I find Arnie to be such a riot.   I love him in yellow Spandex in The Running Man (1987) and my brother and I have personal jokes about both Hercules in New York (1970) and the thumbs up at the end of T2 (1991).

* Met = Metropolitan Museum of Art

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