1942 -- when my American grandparents were about Margot's age.
"October 9—I’ve only got dismal and depressing news for you today. Our many Jewish friends are being taken away by the dozens. These people are treated by the Gestapo without a shred of decency, they’re loaded into cattle trucks and sent to Westerbork, the big Jewish camp in Drente. Westerbork sounds terrible: only one washing cubicle for a hundred people and not nearly enough toilets. Men, women, and children all sleep together. One hears of frightful immorality because of this; and a lot of women, and even girls, who stay there any length of time are expecting babies."
"December 12—I’m sitting cosily in the main office, looking outside through a slit in the curtain. It is dusk. It is a very queer sight, as I watch the people walking by, it looks as if they are all in a terrible hurry, and nearly tripping over their own toes. The people in this neighborhood don’t look very attractive. The children especially are so dirty you wouldn’t want to touch them with a barge pole. Real slum kids with running noses. I can hardly understand a word they say. Yesterday afternoon Margot and I were having a bath here and I said, 'Supposing we were to take the children who are walking past, one by one, hoist them up with a fishing rod, give them each a bath, wash and mend their clothes, and then let them go again, then. . . .'
"'And then tomorrow they'd be just as dirty and tattered as they were before,' Margot replied."
https://archive.org/details/AnneFrankTheDiaryOfAYoungGirl_201606
"But I’m just talking nonsense, besides there are other things to see-cars, boats, and rain. I like particularly the screech of the trams as they go by.
There is no more variety in our thoughts than there is for ourselves. They go round and round—from Jews to food and from food to politics. I saw two Jews through the curtain yesterday. I could hardly believe my eyes; it was a horrible feeling, just as if I’d betrayed them and was now watching them in their misery. Ugh! Now it’s started to rain and most of the people are hidden under umbrellas. I see nothing but raincoats and occasionally the back of someone’s hat. I’m gradually getting to know all the women at a glance, blown out with eating potatoes, wearing a red or green coat, trodden-down heels, and with a bag under their arm. Their faces either look grim or kind—depending on their husband’s disposition."
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