How a famous Amsterdam resident influenced my life.

Anne Frank received a diary for her 13th birthday in 1942. A month later, she and her family went into hiding because the Nazis who occupied Amsterdam were capturing Jewish families and transporting them to concentration camps where many died or were murdered.

Years earlier, the Frank family had moved from Frankfurt, Germany to Amsterdam, believing they would be safe. They were until 1940, when the Nazis bullied their way into Holland. Initially the Franks only had to tolerate the restrictions that made for inconveniences. Jews were no longer allowed to own bicycles (still a major form of transportation), ride street cars, or ride in any car. They were forbidden to go to theaters, movies or other forum of entertainment or sports. As Anne wrote in her diary: "You couldn't do this and you couldn't do that, but life went on."

But by the spring of 1942, life stopped going on for many Jewish families. Intolerance had grown to annihilation. Families were forced from their homes and sent to their death in camps by the name of Auschwitz, Bergen-Belsen and Buchenwald. Anne's father, Otto Frank foresaw the finale. He prepared for his family's safety by setting up a hidden living space in the top two floors of the building where his business was located. The building's unique architecture made it possible for the Frank family to occupy their sanctuary for two years without detection.

In addition to detailing the increasing dangers for Jews in the city, the diary details the stresses experienced by eight people--some with domineering and dramatic personalities according to Anne's account--who are forced to live together, quietly, to survive.

While the "Diary of Anne Frank" is hailed for its historical and educational value, it is probably the single most influencial book in promoting journaling. I had forgotten its influence in my life until last week when I was standing inside the Anne Frank House, a popular tourist site in Amsterdam. My husband and I had gone there for vacation.

The House, located at 262 Prinsengratch, is where the Frank family lived before they were taken into custody by the Nazis on August 4, 1944. My husband read the diary for the first time before our trip and finished it a day before we visited the House. I picked it up afterwards, my second reading.

It was Anne's unflattering characterizations of her schoolmates that she wrote about before the family moved into the annex that captured me on this reading. I was transported back to my initial journaling experience that occurred after I read "Diary of Anne Frank" the first time--as a fourth or fifth grader. I think for many children the book was required academic reading. And I, like Anne, received a diary as a gift. It was palm-sized with the words DIARY emblazoned on the front and it came with a tiny gold key so I could keep it locked. Here was a treasure, a place in which I could write anything--any thought, good or bad, wrong or right. I couldn't be scolded or punished for expressing how I felt or for recording what I did or planned to do.

When Anne posted her thoughts, she wrote "Dearest Kitty" as if writing a letter. I remember posting "Dear Someone," initially. Through the years, I kept many diaries. They were records of my unexpressed anger, pain, betrayals and dreams. They were the hiding place for my longings and loves. When I was 18, I tossed my diaries in a trash bin behind the apartment where I had been living. This was symbolic, a cleansing of sorts. But within the year, I purchased a journal (a new name for diary). That was 1980. For years, I used steno pads or legal pads. I have stacks of them, along with many of the bound decorative journals you buy at Borders or Barnes and Noble--gifts from people who love me and know me best.

One night I dreamt that my house caught on fire but I couldn't leave without rescuing the heavy plastic bin filled with my journals. The thought of their destruction caused panic even in the dream. Once, I left one on a plane. It was a great loss and I vowed never to put my journal in the back pocket of the airline seat in front of me. I wondered if anyone picked it up and read it afterwards or simply threw it away, uninterested in a stranger's personal life.

Journaling has helped me sort through confusion, face challenges and has provided a sanctuary for my deepest longings. Acquiring the discipline of journaling is probably in the top three of survival skills I learned out of necessity. From journaling, the desire to write fiction and non-fiction grew and then the exhilaration that comes from writing a story that captures a slice of life that matters.

When Anne started journaling, it was for herself. Then, while the family was in hiding, she heard a radio announcement from a exiled Dutch government representative requesting accounts of how the Dutch people had suffered under Nazi occupation. So, she decided to publish a book based on her journal writings after the war. But Anne died in Bergen Belsen, three months before her 16th birthday. Her father, the only immediate family member who survived the Holocaust, made arrangements to have his daughter's diary published.

How does a person become famous? They do or say memorable things. They live their life in an unforgettable manner, one that has impact on future generations. Although she didn't possess a wide circle of influence while she was living, Anne Frank certainly qualifies for fame for one reason--because she kept a journal and made a decision to publish a book with a story that mattered. And her father honored that decision.

If you want to visit the Anne Frank House, the tourist companies tell you go early in day because there is always a line. There was when we went. Immediately I thought of Anne. Amazing. One teenager started all this. She made 263 Prinsengracht memorable. She made it worth visiting. As I walked through the rooms in the annex where Anne lived her last two years, I mourned the world's loss of the spirited teen who I will always be grateful to for keeping a journal.

Till next time.
Kathy