As I have said, over and over. I did not want you to be a Jew.
But why? Why should I not be a Jew?
Michal did not immediately reply. The tape continued with its rhythmic thumping, as if the end of the tape, and their conversation, were bearing down upon them.
I wanted you to enjoy the world, Michal said at last, wearily. And by the world, I mean … God … Europe … my long-lost, beloved, still dreamed-of Europe.
If you are not a Jew, she went on after an enormous sigh, you can sit in a bistro in Paris, drink a Kir, smoke a stinking cigarette, and never have to look around and wonder, Are these the people who turned us over for deportation? Climb the Tour Eiffel, walk the Champs-Elysées. And never think: How quickly they all succumbed to save their precious Paris. Even Hitler loved Paris so much he was relieved not to have to destroy it. Ah! Go to the spa at Evian. Enjoy the waters. Eat supper in the elegant dining rooms. Drink the cool, clear, miraculous water and never associate the place with the conference at which the Western powers learned of the fate of the Jews and decided to ignore it. Be massaged by sturdy women, and never once stop to think: These are our murderers.
Travel south to Provence. Walk the foothills of the Pyrenees, and never think of the Jews who walked there to escape France only to arrive in Franco’s Spain. Go! Go in the early summer! Eat mussels by the seashore, watch the local military academies march to honor the local war veterans. See the good burghers expand their breasts laden with medals. All this, and you never have to think: Vichy. This was Vichy. All around me are the people who were only too happy to rid France of Jews.
And … the Netherlands. Lovely Netherlands. See the charming houses of Amsterdam. The canals filled with boats. The sturdy women pedaling bicycles. The placid lives they lead. The happy children playing in the street: Imagine that someday those will be your children, tossing balls in security, skipping rope, if someday you will care to have children. You may dream so! And no need to defend the Dutch for their weakness, for their fears, lacks, collaborations, for being accessories, trembling accessories, to the murder of your people. You can see them as normal people who behaved less than honorably under the pressure of intimidation, flattery, fear of their own deaths.
Now … I cannot even think of it … but Germany. Germany so beautiful I cry when I think of the life I lost. The forests, the bier halls, the new summer wines served at tables set under the trees—terrible, tart, sour wine but everyone happy, drinking, singing. Oh! The hills covered with vines. The tidy, heimlich towns, all tucked in, hiding their garbage where no one can see it. You can gaze upon the Rhine and Danube, upon the breathtaking confluence of the Rhine and Mosel. And think only of the beautiful music they inspired, the waltzes, the ladies swept around the floor by dashing men. And Bavaria at Christmastime: Go to a Christkindlmarkt, the little shacks that appear in every church square selling tree ornaments, Glühwein, Lebkuchen, lights shining in the dark of a winter night. By God! You can enjoy the whole canon: Goethe, Schiller, read all the masterworks without once wondering: How did such a culture, in which we were so intricately woven, how did it cast us out? What am I saying—cast us out? Murdered us! If you are not a Jew, my darling, you are free from all this. You can look at the peasants bringing in the crops and never think, Were they devoted Nazi Party members? Are they living in grandmother’s summer house? Did they take all the old silver?
Europe! It can be yours to love. The cathedrals, the ancient city centers, the twisting streets, so picturesque. Eat a Sacher torte for me when you are in Vienna while you gaze at the great St. Stephen’s. And never imagine Hitler’s exuberant welcome into Austria. Listen to the lovely voices of the Boys’ Choir, high and clear like angels, and never have to think: What joy the Führer took from hearing those tender boys!
And the Italian Riviera. Where Rosensaft and Bimko went to forget their Jewishness. Rent a villa! Swim in the Mediterranean! Rent a car and drive the Amalfi Coast. Go