The youngest of the World War Two vets, if any are still alive, must be at least 85. My father, as a boy in Germany, once spent three days in the farmhouse basement while bombs fell. When I was a kid, there were World War One vets; as a teen I sang and served in a chapel dedicated to some of those who fought and died in that war. We remember the last war fought on this soil, two hundred years ago.
Now, many years later, I’m reading Man’s Search For Meaning by Viktor Frankl, a psychiatrist. Part One recalls his years as a prisoner in Nazi concentration camps. Part Two details his psychiatric theory, called logotherapy, that he based on his concentration camp experiences. He remembered. There’s no bitterness, no regret, just memories. Yes, he remembers sadists, but he also remembers kind, compassionate people too.