Cycling in Amsterdam … Through Hope and Despair

Photo by author

We waited in the crowded line to get into the Anne Frank Museum. As is often the case, all tickets to the museum were sold out today. Luckily, we had our tickets and quietly moved toward the entrance.

I quickly noticed how many people were different from me – different ages, different races, different cultures. Yet, here we all stood in Amsterdam. All different and all the same.

Upon entering, we received audio devices so we could hear the story about Anne and the seven others who hid in the building we were touring. As I listened to the details about what was happening in 1942 in Amsterdam, along with many other cities, my stomach was in knots. As expected, this sickening feeling is something I’ve experienced for decades every time World War II and the Holocaust is discussed.

Similarly, for the past several months, I’ve been nauseated by the open antisemitism that is proudly being exhibited by brainwashed haters around the world. As a matter of fact, before I left for this trip to Europe, I removed my star of David necklace out of concerns for my safety.

It’s hard to believe that I had to do that in 2025. Unfortunately, this is the reality and this is the sadness and fear that has encapsulated many of us.

Heading Toward the Annex

As I walked up the stairs toward the attic, where Anne Frank and seven others hid for two years, I felt a range of emotions. Aside from the obvious sorrow, I started to experience hopefulness. There were classrooms of students on a field trip who listened with an intensity and interest that comforted me.

Based on statistics and my own guess, there were only a handful of Jewish people walking through the exhibit with me. But, I did not feel alone. I felt as if I was surrounded by other compassionate humans who were similarly moved by Anne’s story.

This sympathy is precisely what I think has been lacking, particularly noticeable since October 7 of 2023. Yet here I was blanketed by a rare presence of grace, humanity and cumulative sorrow.

“Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart.” — Anne Frank

I always have been inspired by Anne’s optimism and her ability to see the good in people. While spending two years hiding in a small, dark attic, the words in her diary often were full of gratitude.

She was hopeful. She was grateful to be with her family. She was excited about one day being a writer. Despite not being allowed to breathe fresh air while in hiding, Anne somehow still found beauty. Despite knowing that her peers and neighbors were being senselessly murdered, Anne somehow found strength.

Anne’s resilience is what must capture the minds and hearts of so many visitors and readers. While Anne’s life and those of her family, neighbors and friends were all being threatened because of their religion … while atrocities were occurring every second of the day on the streets below … while living with immeasurable fear and isolation, Anne was still just a 13-year-old girl when she first went into hiding.

In her diary, she shared the struggles and dreams of teenage life, trying to express normalcy even in the darkest times. Her story, translated into more than 70 languages, is one of the most inspiring ones I have ever known. As I mentioned, it brought me so much comfort to be surrounded by so many people who were eager to absorb Anne’s words. For a few moments, I blotted the tears from my eyes and forgot how hated Jewish people are still today.

A Painful Reminder

On this same day I toured the museum, I had read sickening news from back home: A young, altruistic, beautiful Jewish and Israeli couple were murdered in my nation’s capital for no reason other than they were suspected of being Jewish. This happened in May of 2025 — not in 1942.

This was not a war story I read about while at Amsterdam’s museum. No, this was present day in the United States of America.

The murderer knew nothing about the young couple who were about to get engaged, other than the fact that they were at a Jewish event. Somehow this insane, evil murderer thought shooting these innocent people (who coincidentally selflessly devoted their lives to humanitarian efforts) would somehow impact the current situation in Gaza.

The extra terrifying reality was that just like on October 8, 2023, the day after one of the most gruesome attacks on innocent Israelis, many seemingly like-minded evil individuals immediately backed and supported the actions of the sick murderer of this young couple.

The deaths of innocent Jews were once again being openly celebrated as I walked through this annex full of historic grief.

The man who was arrested while he shouted “Free Palestine” is from Chicago, my hometown — thousands of miles away from where the atrocities of Nazi Germany occurred. But, the ocean’s distance felt minuscule to me. I couldn’t stop thinking about that tragic news as I walked through the museum.

From continent to continent, I felt enveloped in blackness. The hate was the same. The fear was the same. The insanity was the same. The lack of humanity was the same. Eighty three years after Anne went into hiding, so much has changed while so much has remained the same.

Leaning Toward the Light

I could not let the fear win. I would not let the sadness overtake me. So there I stood on a pendulum swinging violently and erratically between hope and despair … between feeling safe and feeling afraid … between being proud of being a human and being absolutely ashamed … between wanting to shout about my Judaism from the rooftops and needing to hide my identifying jewelry.

It was time to embrace Anne’s strength and spirit. I needed to focus on what was hopeful. I needed to watch the faces of the young students who seemed to be filled with sensitivity and grace. I needed to believe that people are good.

I repeated Anne’s quote in my head over and over: “I don’t think of all the misery but of the beauty that still remains.”

May we all have Anne’s optimism and strength. She was murdered in 1945 at a concentration camp. She was just 15 years old, full of unrealized dreams. But, her words will live on forever.

Her messages of hope, love and gratitude transcend everything. They traverse the globe. They live on through audio tours and book pages. They remind me to take extra pictures of the flower-lined canals here in Amsterdam. There is beauty still all around me.

I will say Anne’s words again and again: “I don’t think of all of the misery but of the beauty that still remains.”