Renninger’s Military Show

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While living and working at the Yalaha Florida Studio, I drove over to Mount Dora for the Renninger’s Military Show. When I was married, I used to go to the Renninger’s Antiques Show once a year and stay at the Mount Dora Lakeside Inn after a long day of seeing hundreds of vendors set up on the rolling hills around Renninger’s. I always lived in the hope of finding a working vintage fountain pen that would change the way I draw, but I never did.

The Military show wasn’t quite as large as the Antiques Show but there was an impressive display of military vehicles and collectables inside the vendors booth areas. The next-door neighbor at the Yalaha studio and I shared an interest in the military. We would stand at the fence and talk about WWII often. I therefore shouldn’t have been surprised when I bumped into him at Renninger’s. He was shocked at how the prices had jumped. He asked what I was looking for, and realistically I was just looking for a sketch but if I found an old WWII era watch, that would have made me happy. I didn’t find the watch but later I ordered a 24-hour watch that resembles the watches issued in WWII. I love being able to glance down and see the day of the week and date along with the time in AM and PM and 24-hour military time. Europeans use the 24-hour clock more often than Americans. Having the watch saves me from having to dig for my iPhone to get the date every time I write the date on my sketch.

Walking the aisles I noticed several boys dressed all in WWII era uniforms. Military reenactments were popular in France and Belgium when I was there. The first one I sought out and I was embraced into the American camp. The second reenactment in Belgium I stumbles across by mistake and once again I was embraced since I was the son or an American WWII Vet and I kept sketching the scenes as they unfolded. In Belgium I wasn’t sure there the battlefield was and I ended up getting a ride in an American Jeep to the front lines. It rained lightly at the battlefield, but I managed to get a sketch.

Fringe: Josephine

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Dynamic Lunchbox Entertainment from Orlando Florida presented Josephine at the Orlando International Fringe Festival. Powerhouse, Tymisha Harris starred as Josephine. This show is celebrating its 10th anniversary.

As a child, Josphine Baker discovered her love of dance when she entered a talent show. Performing in America however had its drawbacks since racism kept her from even entering some venues. These deep rooted American racist setbacks vanished when a talent scout invited Josephine to perform in Paris France. In France she was deeply beloved and became an international star.

Josephine is most famous for her dancing while wearing a banana skirt. Tamisha performed this sensual dance with abandon. She was tough to catch on the sketch page since she was in constant motion, and when she wasn’t she was hidden behind a stage screen doing a costume change.

Josephine lived with passion. Besides her skyrocketing career, she also told us about the many men in her life. Having a live band on stage helped the show feel like it was from the luscious vaudeville era. There was a moment where Josephine posed for artist Frida Kahlo. From the intimacy of the moment I wondered if Frida and Josephine might have been lovers.  Both women were celebrated, openly bisexual icons who fiercely defied the rigid cultural, racial, and sexual boundaries of the early 20th century.

I cursed myself for not choosing that moment to sketch Josephine, There was enough time in that still moment where I could have slowed down enough to produce a well observed sketch. Oh well, life moves on. Keep making bold choices and live without regrets. I am sure that is what Josephine would have told me if we were to meet in Paris before or during WWII.

Crealde Christmas Party

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Returning from Europe, I was hoping to re-establish my courses at Crealde School of Art in Winter Park. The problem is that Crealde published a printed course brochure and submissions for the courses happened while I was away. My Urban Sketching Course was not in the printed brochure, so I would need to wait until the next brochure was printed. I filled out a revised course description last week to try and generate interest in the art of sketching on location. Instead of focusing on Urban Sketching, I decided to re frame the course focus more about Travel Sketching. My course will be offered again in the summer and fall.

At the Crealde Christmas Party, I got to meet the new Crealde Executive Director & CEO Emily Bourmas-Fry. She was wearing an adorable set of deer antlers. She was warm and inviting and made me feel right at home again. Jim Hobart the Crealde Photography Program Manager has been talking to me about mounting an exhibit of my series of WWII sketches that follow my father 1st Lieutenant Arthur Thorspecken through Europe in 1945. It has been 80 years since Germany surrendered to end WWII and I sketched every city where my father’s C-Company was encamped and fought in France, Belgium, Netherlands and Germany.

Towards the end of the series I started adding black and white paintings based on historic photos on top of my location sketches which show what the area looked like in 1945. I now have to go back over all the sketches I posted while I was traveling in Europe to add these black and white historical visual notes. Since history is repeating, I sometimes let modern history morph into the history of the 1945 atrocities. I plan to show the paintings by framing them in white shadow box frames and then having the black and white historical paintings elevated on the glass to show some parallax and separation of past and present.

In sketching the artists mingling, I noticed David Cumbie, the Sculpture Garden Curator & Sculpture Program Manager. I sketched at one of his welding workshops once and when I think of an artist who is completely committed to forwarding the Crealde art cause, I think of him. My course is offered on Sunday mornings and when I used to walk to my classroom, I always noticed David hard at work in the sculpture studio.

For over 3 months I have not interacted with people since I could not understand what they were saying. In some ways that is liberating. I would just assume they were complimenting my sketch, and I would say, Merci, Bedankt, Dank Je or Danke, My American roommate had suggested that I would meet the love of my life in Europe (Eat, Pray, Love style) but that was impossible since I could not understand any thread of conversation. I did not know any French, Flemish or Dutch. I was happy that my limited German was partly understood for the final months of the trip. One German female artist did invite me to her studio, but when we discussed meeting again, I had misunderstood what she said, and I went to the wrong place.

American party small talk therefore was not something I was prepared for at this Christmas party. I talked to a few people about the project I am working on, but when I discussed the German Stalag Forced labor camp that my father’s C-Company helped liberate, I could see people’s eyes glaze over. It seems discussing war atrocities tends to be a party conversation killer. I listened to one conversation, but it was all about commuting times and I lost interest and walked away. I wasn’t interested in loosening my inhibitions with drink, so after I sampled the food and desserts. I drifted off and made my way back to the home studio where I could settle in for a quiet night to write and sketch.

Back to the States

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The temperatures in Paris France were dropping fast. Even with gloves on, my sketches were getting a bit shaky.  I had to leave my hotel near the Eiffel Tower very early to meet my Uber driver for a ride to the airport. I had success navigating Paris with the Metro and considered taking it to the airport, but the maps were not super clear on which stop I needed at the end of the line. I also was concerned about possible wait times as I switched trains at several stations. I’m glad I took Uber because it gave me a chance to look at the landscape as we drove out of the city.

I was rather sad to leave Europe because I knew I would be returning to strip malls and a fascist government. I documented an World War from 80 years ago but war was most certainly likely to break out again. The American president considered himself a war time president during the worst of the pandemic. He will only truly feel masculine when he is using the military against Americans and against nations of his choosing.

I thought I was documenting the worst possible fascist regime by sketching WWII sites my father passed through and liberated in Germany, but Germany learned its lessons from America which has always been racist and had no problem putting Japanese Americans in concentration camps at the start of WWII. Germans put people who were not Aryan enough into concentration camps. America is now following suit by randomly picking up people off the streets who do not look American enough. Children are being used as  bait to seize and imprison parents in the detention centers.

It started to snow as we drove towards the Charles de Gaulle Airport. It was the first now I had seen in my three months sketching the movements through Europe of the 75th Infantry Division. I am sure my father, 1st Lieutenant Arthur Thorspecken had visited Paris on leave from Camp Cleveland which he helped run. My father left Europe on about August 1, 1945, on a boat to America. He had been in Europe for 1 year, 3 months and 18 days. I originally wanted to stay in Europe sketching for the same duration, but the Schengen rule only allowed me 3 months to complete my sketch project. I had to rush through the 70 or so cities in France, Belgium, Netherlands and Germany at a much faster pace with my tiny French rental car.

You can tell a lot about a country by how people drive. Driving in Paris was of course hectic, but country driving was a delight. Belgium and the Netherlands both felt relaxed. Trucks drove below the speed limit, and all the other drivers were very polite. When I drove the speed limit, I would always find myself passing most of the traffic. Germany on the other hand is much like America in that all the drivers seem to be in a furious rush to get to the next stop light. Germans tail gate even closer than Americans do. They would rather drive though you than around. I had no desire to have a German officer stop me for driving too fast so I stuck to the speed limit. I started singing a little jingle every time there was a German on my butt. Every German I met who saw my rental car always commented on the French license plate. It looks just like a German license plate but with a tiny F instead of a tiny G. It might have been a mistake to drive the whole trip in a French car.

I also have a baseball cap that has the American 75th Infantry logo on it. In France people love the Americans for their help liberating their country from German occupation. The cap helped me fit in with WWII reenactors and others who appreciate the accomplishments of the greatest generation during WWII. People in Belgium and the Netherlands also appreciated seeing the emblem from 80 years ago. When I crossed the Rhine River into Germany, I stopped wearing the 75th Infantry Division hat, replacing it with a simple black cap.

At the time of my flight back to America the government had been shut down and air traffic controllers were not being paid. I was almost certain that flight would be delayed. I had no choice, my 3 months in Europe were up. Other than the exhausting wait going through customs the flights ran on schedule. All 6 of the sketchbooks I had filled were in my backpack along with multiple books about Stalag VI-A the POW camp that the 75th Infantry Division helped liberate. I am still translating the German book about Stalag VI-A too learn all about the camp which would have opened my father’s eyes to the horrors of how people are treated as subhuman and starved to death for the sake of a fascist Aryan ideal. I have no doubt that what he witnessed would have molded his world view for the rest of his life. If he were still alive, I would have so many questions.

Paris France: Place des Vosges

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While I was in Paris France, I thought it might be nice to sketch with the Paris Urban Sketchers, so I put out a request to see if they would be sketching the city while I was there. Sure enough they had a sketching event the week I was in the city.

While the surrounding neighborhood was heavily impacted by the persecution of the Jewish community, the square itself stayed largely intact. Place des Vosges is a perfect square, 150 yards by 150 yards. It is modeled on the piazzas that were appearing in Rome and Florence at the end of the 16th century, Place des Vosges itself became a model for the many squares that subsequently appeared in other European cities.

Place des Vosges in Paris did not suffer significant, lasting damage during WWII, as the city was largely spared from widespread destruction. While Adolph Hitler ordered the city to be left as a “field of ruins” in 1944, German General Dietrich von Choltitz disobeyed these orders to demolish key monuments and landmarks. Although explosives were placed under bridges and monuments, they were not detonated. While skirmishes occurred, particularly during the liberation in August 1944, the historic center and structures like those in Place des Vosges remained intact.

French author Victor Hugo, whose house is now a museum, once lived at Place des Vosges. His most famous works are the novels The Hunchback of Notre-Dame (1831) and Les Misérables (1862). Victor’s home is in my sketch in the corner of the square.

The last time I was at Place des Vosges, an immaculately stylish couple was dancing flamenco under the arched colonnade that runs around the square. On this day however there was the constant treat of rain. I arrived a bit early and started sketching before the other Urban Sketchers arrived. About 5 or 6 sketchers gathered as I was working away. Another tourist like myself had decided to take time to sketch. She spoke English so I had someone to chat with when the sketchers gathered afterwards in a café to compare sketches. At one point the rain got heavy enough that I ran for cover under the colonnade. I used that time to put down a few watercolor washes. When the rain let up, I returned to my spot in the park.

I was most fascinated by the heavily manicured trees that surround the square. They are cut into perfect cubes and without their leaves, they were perfectly shapes spiky boxes. I had fun sketching the menacing chaos of the branches. A few children were playing in the square and I got a compliment in French from a group pf boys. I don’t know what they said, but I assume it was a compliment. I responded with a Merci and thumbs up.

In the cafe afterwards, the artists were more intrigued by my tiny sketch stool than the sketch. They opened it up and set it up to sit in the café. There is a real sense of excitement that comes from meeting artists from another part of the world. I need to travel more often.

Mémorial de la Shoah, Paris France

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The Mémorial de la Shoah in Paris France is Europe’s primary Holocaust research and remembrance center, dedicated to the 76,000 French Jewish victims, including 11,000 children, deported to camps like Birkenau, Sobibor and Auschwitz between 1942 and 1944. The memorial was inaugurated in 2005, it features a permanent museum, archives, a wall of names, and a crypt. Many of the rooms were dark showcasing detailed history of the atrocities of the Nazi regime.

Shoah is another name for the Holocaust. During the Shoah (1940–1944), approximately 77,000 of the 350,000 Jews in France were deported and murdered, mostly in Auschwitz. While the French Vichy Regime collaborated with Nazi occupiers in persecuting, registering, and interning Jews. The Vel’ d’Hiv roundup which resulted in the arrest of 13,152 Jews in Paris by French police, including 5,802 women and 4,051 children being sent to Dracy.

About 75% of the Jewish population survived, a high rate for occupied Europe, due to the efforts of local, religious, and underground organizations. Children were hidden in non-Jewish homes. Jewish underground organizations, alongside non-Jewish efforts, played a crucial role in saving lives.

In all, the Shoah in France victimized close to 80,000 Jews. Three thousand Jews died in French-run internment camps like Gurs and Drancy.

I was fascinated by a series of stations where oral histories could be heard from survivors of the Shoah. I listened to several interviews with Larissa Cain. She was born in 1932 in Poland to family with deep rooted Jewish traditions. Her mother and father belonged to a community deep rooted in Zionist ideals. She spent her early childhood in Warsaw, surrounded by books, languages, and a strong sense of community. Her parents ran a candy shop in the Jewish quarter. This small shop helped keep the family from absolute starvation. The family was confined to a small two-room apartment shared with seven other people, they faced extreme conditions: hunger, disease, and relentless oppression.

In July 1942, the first deportations to Treblinka began from the ghetto. The Nazis came to the building and started searching floor to floor. There was not enough time to get dresses so her mom held Larissa and they sat quietly on the bed in the top floor. Though young Larissa knew to stay quiet. Her life depended on it. For some unknown reason the Nazi soldier stopped on the floor below them and went back down the steps without searching the top floor. This arbitrary moment of impatience meant their survival on that day. Her mother was later arrested in her workplace and disappeared. She would never see her mother again.

Larissa is a survivor of the Nazi established Warsaw Ghetto. She is one of the few children to survive the Warsaw Ghetto destruction. She was rescued by the Polish Resistance at the age of 10. She lived hiding until the end of the war. Her father also escaped the ghetto, but their paths diverged. She never saw him again.

I don’t know if this was a purposeful design, but it is very hard to exit the memorial. Iron bars block all the obvious exit and entry points. I finally had to ask a member of the staff where the exit was. It was to the right just past the wall of names of those murdered by the Nazis engraved in granite. But even so I could not figure out which door to use. There was a green security light on one of the doors and I remembered having to wait for a green light to enter. I opened that door and discovered that I was entering a guard booth. The guard was annoyed that I had invaded his space. He angrily pointed to another unmarked door.

Living in German Occupied Paris France

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Les Invalides in Paris France was occupied by German forces during World War II, serving as a site for administrative purposes and military control from 1940 to 1944. Following the 1940 defeat, the Germans took over the complex, which even included a visit from Adolf Hitler to Napoleon’s tomb in June 1940.

When it seemed clear that the city would be captured by the Germans, curators at the Louvre, summoned back from summer vacation, began cataloging and packing the major works of art, which were put into crates and labeled only with numbers to disguise their contents. The Winged Victory of Samothrace statue was carefully wheeled down the long stairway on a wooden ramp to be put on a truck for its departure to the Château de Valençay with the hope that the Germans could not find her.

Iconic hotels and buildings were requisitioned by the Nazis, turning the “City of Light” into a somber, occupied, and often hungry city.  Parisian had to endure the humiliation of being second-class citizens in their own city. Living in German-occupied Paris from June 1940 to August 1944 was characterized by severe food shortages, strict curfews, fear, and a loss of freedom, with the city’s atmosphere defined by the Nazi flag atop the Eiffel Tower. Parisians lived under constant rationing. Food was scarce, leading to long lines and, for many, severe malnutrition. Adults were limited to 2.5 ounces of meat per week. Essential items like coal, soap, and clothes were strictly rationed, leading to a flourishing black market where goods were expensive.

Private cars were reserved for the occupiers, forcing Parisians to rely on crowded buses, the metro, or bicycles. Strict curfews, often starting around 9 p.m., meant being confined to homes, and nightlife ceased to exist as it once did.

The presence of the Gestapo and German soldiers created an atmosphere of fear, with frequent identity checks, searches, and the threat of arrest. The architectural landmarks of the city were protected by sandbags.

The Jewish population suffered immense persecution, including mandatory wearing of the yellow star, and exclusion from public life. On July 16-17 1942, French police, on orders of the Germans  rounded up 13,152 Jews, including 4,115 children, who were sent to the Auschwitz concentration camp where they were murdered on mass.

Thousands of Frenchmen were conscripted for mandatory forced labor in Germany to make munitions for the war effort. Parisian had to endure the humiliation of being second-class citizens in their own city. While many citizens quietly tried to survive, some collaborated with the Germans, while others joined the French Resistance, risking death to fight back. After the city was liberated, the collaborators would be publicly humiliated. Particularly women who dated German officers would be striped and have their hair cut off publicly by the angry mob.

The French Resistance in Paris launched an uprising on August 19, 1944 seizing the police headquarters and other government buildings. Resistance fighters and everyday citizens including children blockaded streets by cutting down trees and removing cobblestones. The week between August 19 and the 25th the city saw the resistance fighters and any citizen with a firearm fighting to free their city from German oppression. The city was liberated by French and American troops on  August 25, 1944, the next day, General De Gaulle led a triumphant parade down the Champs-Élysée and organized a new government.

May 7, 1945, Late Pasta Lunch in Paris

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A block from the hotel I was staying at in Paris was a breakfast place that was really popular. I tried to get in, and the hostess pointed out the door. There was a long line of people hoping to get inside waiting in the street. That was not going to work for me. I walked past the place every morning and there was always a long line. It was too popular for me. I walked a few shops down the street and walked into Ricci which was a pizza and pasta restaurant. I sat at a table towards the back of the restaurant and ordered a plate of pasta.

I sat at this table because there was a group of men eating across from me at a long table. However, they were close to being done. I noticed their cups near empty and there was no food left on the plates. Sure enough as I started laying in my sketch, they got up to leave. I was left with a large empty table and a small family tucked away in the corner. Their, two children were squirming and impatient. The waiter was really good with the kids, entertaining them as their parents also got up to leave.

I was left to sketch the gaudy and tasteless painting of Marilyn Monroe, Audrey Hepburn and I think Leslie Caron as Gigi, hanging on a mirrored wall. Each of the women was blowing a big bubble. The tacky paintings had gold leaf and bright colors. The owners might have thought this is the type of art that tourists wanted to see. Maybe they think that people come to Paris for gaudy pop art rather than to see classical masterpieces in the world class museums.

The German Generals signed the surrender document on May 7, 1945, in a red brick schoolhouse in Reims France in a room whose walls were covered with war maps. This was General Eisenhower’s headquarters. I thought this was too humble a spot for signing such an important document. It really should have been signed in a more opulent setting. The Russians had the same idea, and they insisted that a second document of surrender should  be signed the next day at the former Soviet engineering school in Karlshorst, Berlin Germany. This room felt more like a courtroom with dark wood paneling, dark leather chairs and above was a golden chandelier.

Then I thought to myself it might be more fun to sign the Document of Unconditional Surrender in a gaudy Paris restaurant with Marilyn, Audrey and Gigi blowing bubbles. What the occasion needed was plenty of mirrors, cheep restaurant chairs and pop art. Of course, pop art wasn’t a thing until late in the 1950s and it didn’t become popular until the 1960s, long after the war was over.

My spaghetti Marinara was good and I ordered two Cokes for the caffeine rush. I also ordered a dessert since the sketch was taking some time to create. I nursed my desert taking my time to complete the sketch. The waiter walked over to my table. I was the only person in the place. He informed me that they needed to shut the restaurant down. I did not realize that some restaurants took a break between lunch and dinner. I tended to eat at odd time on my trip since I would only eat between sketch opportunities. I apologized and wolfed my desert down. The sketch was as done as it was going to be. I kept hoping that someone might sit down at the large table I was drawing but that was not going to happen.

I got up to pay my bill. I got some stink eye from a second waiter. He must have been annoyed that the American tourist would take so long to eat a plate of spaghetti. He wanted his afternoon break. I walked back to my hotel and made plans for what I might sketch the next day.

Paris France: Foch’s Tomb

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This Tomb of Marshal Foch is in the Cathedral of Saint-Louis of the Invalids. Also in the cathedral is the Tomb of Napoleon. Adolph Hitler saw himself much like Napoleon conquering all of Europe. The Dome of the Invalids is the tallest church building in Paris France at a height of 351 ft.

Ferdinand Foch’s tomb has a really nice statue of soldiers carrying his body still clutching a sword. Foch was a French General and Marshal of France. He was born in 1851 and died in 1999. He distinguished himself as the Supreme Allied Commander on the Western Front during the First World War. Foch became Supreme Allied Commander in late March of 1918 in the face of the all-out German spring offensive. He successfully coordinated the French, British and American efforts. He stopped the German offensive and launched a war-winning counterattack. In November 1918, Marshal Foch accepted the German cessation of hostilities and was present at the Armistice of November 11, 1918.

Foch was seen as a master of the Napoleonic school of military thought. It seems appropriate therefore that his tomb would be within yards of Napoleon’s tomb.

The Cathedral of Saint-Louis of the Invalids was not significantly damaged during WWII. While many cities in France were heavily bombed, Paris was declared an open city and escaped major strategic bombing during the conflict, preserving its major landmarks.

With Paris under German occupation, there were severe food shortages, strict curfews, constant surveillance, and systematic persecution of Jewish residents. Life was characterized by long lines, a thriving black market, German soldiers occupying luxury hotels, and a tense, silent atmosphere where the swastika flew over major landmarks. The French government moved to Vichy France.

A 9 p.m. curfew was enforced, and only Germans were allowed to drive cars. While many Parisians struggled to survive, some collaborated, while others joined the Resistance. I am left wondering how I might act under such circumstances, and yet the situation isn’t that abstract as history repeats itself. The Gestapo operated with extreme brutality, leading to widespread fear of arrest and torture

The Nazis, supported by French authorities, systematically registered, arrested, and deported Jews to concentration camps, including the 1942 Vélodrome d’Hiver Roundup, which was a mass arrest of over 13,000 Jews in Paris by French police, acting on behalf of German authorities. Victims were held in brutal conditions at the Vélodrome d’Hiver cycling stadium before being deported to Drancy, then Auschwitz.

 

Paris France: The Army Museum

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My last stop before flying back to the States was Paris France. I stayed in a small hotel at the Ecole Militaire metro stop. Returning the rental car was an adventure in itself since the parking garage was unmarked and I ended up driving backwards up some winding exit ramps to finally find the level I was supposed to be on.

My goal in Paris was to explore all the World War II museums and there are many. The hotel was situated walking distance to several of the war museums as well as the Eiffel Tower. My first stop was to the Army Museum at Les Invalides. There are actually several war museums in this complex.

Louis XIV initiated the project by an order dated November 24, 1670 to create a home and hospital for aged and disabled soldiers, the veterans of his many military campaigns. Les Invalides is a complex of buildings containing museums and monuments, all relating to the military history of France, as well as a hospital and an old soldiers’ retirement home. The buildings house The museum of the Army of France, the Museum of Plans-Reliefs, and the Museum of C0ntemporary History. The complex also includes the Cathedral of Saint-Louis-des-Invalides. It is adjacent to the Royal Chapel known as the Dome of the Invalides, the tallest church building in Paris at a height of 351 ft.

The Army Museum (Musée de l’Armée) was created in 1905. On display are all things related to weapons from the late Middle Ages through to World War II. They include weapons, armor, works of arts and technology. I of course spent most of my time on the floors devoted to World War II. The floors were dedicated for uniforms, weapons, and documents. I made my way through the chronological displays several times before settling on this spot to sketch.

One display caught my eye. It displayed all the things an American GI might carry into battle. There were 3 boxes of K Rations, an old can of what might be green beans, a Coke bottle, foot powder, shoe polish, a razor for shaving with Gem double edge blades, a large syringe, a tiny tin can camping stove, mess kit, canteen, several pockets full of shaving cream, tooth paste and a shaving brush, armed services editions of several books including Big Ben and Fireside Book of Verse, Pal Mall Cigarettes, a wrist watch, some Chiclets, dog tags, a lighter, whistle, a small satchel full of bobby pins, tweezers and a nail file, a knife fork and spoon, a small folding shovel, a flashlight and some V Letter envelopes, and a pin up girl photo. I can’t imagine any one soldier would carry all of these items. In the Netherlands I remember being told that the Americans were known for leaving plenty of Coke bottles behind. Some of them were still full. Another item often left behind was foot powder. Cases of this were left behind. So much so that the curator of the military museum offered me a tin of foot powder but I had to refuse. My backpack was already too heavy.

As I sketched there was a WWII video playing in the room to my left. There were the sounds of aircraft hurling towards the earth along with fires and ling lines of displaces persons searching for a place to call home. The video always zoomed on  a young girls face as she boarded a box car. I saw that image repeat over and over. I still haunts me.