How do you tell the kids?

I'm watching a documentary about a Holocaust survivor, who was a twin and one of the research subjects of Dr. Mengele. She's (obviously) a tough broad type, and very interesting. She's all about forgiving the nazis, and brought a nazi concentration camp doctor to the 50th anniversary ceremony of Auschwitz's liberation to sign a witness document. Holy shit. It's fascinating to me that she wants to purge all of these feelings and forgive, even at the expense of all of the other survivors present who had no interest in such forgiveness.

I'm seeing these terrible images on the screen, images I've seen before. I think we learned about the Holocaust in middle school or junior high, but I didn't see these graphic images until probably high school. And I was devastated. We read Elie Weisel's "Night" and I couldn't comprehend the incredible inhumanity.

I've considered these ideas before, but it wasn't until I started watching this documentary that it occurred to me: if I have children, I have to explain this to them. We have to talk about it. And their sweet trusting minds will have to learn and try to understand that our predecessors let this happen. For some reason, this devastates me even more. How is that possible? I'm ashamed to pass on this history to them. Ashamed of the human race.

And at the same time, this woman in the documentary is incredible. Aside from her survival, her forgiveness, her work to educate today's youth, her full-time work as a real-estate agent . . . they just showed her running on a treadmill.

Unbelievable.

At times we even talk alike

Recent realization. But first, background.

When I drink, I'm more forward, louder, more brazen, more likely to sing, bossier, more honest, and generally more outgoing. I've had more than one friend tell me they love the drunk me, in a way that clearly implies that drunk me is more fun than sober me.

I've learned to live with it.

My brother, on the other hand.... well, I can't speak for his friends, but I don't like seeing him drunk. He gets sloppy, combative, and argumentative. I think these traits recently came out because the drinking happened after a bad day, so this is probably an unfair generalization. But it happened the last two times I saw him in a state. So thumbs down.

Here's the realization: we got our genes mixed up or something. I enjoy drinking now and then, but I don't do it daily, and not even weekly these days. But apparently it makes my personality flourish. He, on the other hand, loves and appreciates drinking in a truly artful way. He brews beer. He analyzes ingredients, savoring what he has. And what happens? He turns into a pumpkin.

It's not fair, man.

New career?

I'm kinda the kid in the family who's all responsible and whatnot. Not that my adult brothers are irresponsible, exactly, but they're more nomadic, have less traditional jobs, no health insurance, etc. So I'm the boring, dependable one. Ok.

Inspired by my recent, construction-affected, commuting time, I've started considering new careers. I was talking to a Swell friend about her counseling work, and she said, "You would be really good at this." I brushed it off, but I think I might really love it. I mean, I could not. I could hate it, be overwhelmed, take it home with me, tire of listening to other people's problems, whatevs. But in a life where my job is sort of my focus right now, I wish it was more interesting. Could this be a new me?

I mentioned it to Dad the other day, joking about a new idea for what I wanna be when I grow up. I wonder if he was thinking, oh no, the one kid we didn't have to worry about financially is going to quit her job and go back to grad school to ultimately make way less money. Great.

I don't know if I'll have the guts to mess with this. But it could be really exciting. Thinking.....