By: Dr. Edith Eva Eger
with Esme' Schwall Weigand
Hennepin County Library hardcover
Published: 2017
Genre: memoir
This book was amazing! She has such a powerful story to tell. I had sooooo many post-it notes in this book, but I needed to get it back to the library. There was a waiting list and I sent it home from the lake with my son. Here's a look at what I had to remove:
That's a lot of post-it notes. I grabbed a few screen shots to get at some of what stood out to me.
The book had the following parts:
Prison
Escape
Freedom
Healing
Page 19: Maybe every life is a study of the things we don't have but wish we did, and all the things we have but wish we didn't.
It took me many decades to discover that I could come at my life with a different question. Not: Why did I live? But: What is mine to do with the life I've been given?
This makes me think of the famous quotation about life is 5% what happens to you and 95% how you respond. I just looked it up . . . and it's Charles Swindoll who said 10% and 90% . . . but the idea is the same, right? There's only so much we can control. (Her helplessness in the face of Hitler's and Mengele's evil was out of her control.) But we can all look at what we CAN do. Sometimes there aren't many options. Other times, we think ourselves into a box canyon.
Page 34: I lean against my mother for comfort. I wish my parents would reach for each other instead of sitting as strangers. My mother doesn't say much. But she doesn't moan either. She doesn't wish to be dead. She simply goes inside herself.
"Dicuka," she says into the dark one night, "listen. We don't know where we're going. We don't know what's going to happen. Just remember, no one can take away from you what you've put in your mind."
"Dicuka" is the author's nickname. Her mother lived with the grief of having lost her own mother at a fairly young age. She often tells Edith that it's good she's smart, since she's not pretty. Edith's sister Magda is with her throughout their concentration camp experiences. Their other sister Klara is a talented violinist. Her mother's advice - that they can't take away what's in her mind - is something that she remembers along the way. In this scene, they're crammed into a train car with lots of other people and almost no food and water.
Page 38(?): The truth? She looks like a mangy dog. A naked stranger. . . . any lie would hurt too much and so I must find an impossible answer, a truth that doesn't wound. I gaze into the fierce blue of her eyes and think that even for her to ask the question, "How do I look?" is the bravest thing I've ever heard. There aren't mirrors here. She is asking me to help her find and face herself. And so I tell her the one true thing that's mine to say.
"Your eyes," I tell my sister, "they're so beautiful. I never noticed them when they were covered up by all that hair." It's the first time I see that we have a choice: to pay attention to what we've lost or to pay attention to what we still have.
I hate that so many people were treated so poorly during the Holocaust . . . shaving girls bald, having them stand naked in front of leering guards, and so much worse. Reading about this breaks my heart. There are so very many reasons to lose hope, to give up in the face of such a powerful, evil enemy.
Her recovery after liberation was another big part of her saga. Her early years in America sound challenging as well. For her to have gone back to school while raising a family and becoming a psychologist . . . well, she was an amazing woman. And she just died a few months ago! How had I never heard of her before? This book is incredible and I would gladly read it again. Even the difficult parts are a reminder about why we can't be complacent about evil dictators. Her story has power.
