DEAR READERS:

After Dan and I had decided we were going to Washington, DC for a weekend, I knew that I wanted some unique way to tell the story of being back in one of my favorite cities. So, I came up with this writing assignment to challenge myself to see if I could write the story, fix it up and finish the entire project (writing with photos/video) under a small week long deadline.

Starting out on the trip, I still had no idea how I was going to write the story – let alone, what it was going to be about. I still had no idea what I was going to do until we were at a certain museum on Saturday, then it donned on me.

That moment was a perfect “Ah-hah. I know how I’m going to write this story and display it.” I felt as if it were one of those meant to be, we’re supposed to be here at this exact moment, because, if we weren’t, I wouldn’t have had a story.

This entirety of it - starting with the first blog entry to the very last one, is chocked full of some of the deepest feelings, statements, memories and references to how I think and how you may possibly actually begin to understand me. And, even after reading this, I can guarantee that you still won’t be able to understand me! Ha!

I do hope everyone enjoys reading this as much as I did living it and then documenting it in such a way I’ll never forget. Enjoy the photos and videos, I had fun taking those, as well. This entire project is 100% written with truth – welcome to me.

If you have anything to say, please comment the entries.

Thanks for reading!
Karen-Maeby McCormick 

Dear Anne Frank,

Forty-two years later, on the very same day of which you stopped writing in your diary, was the day that I was born. The last entry of yours, you had discussed being a “bundle of contradictions” and that you were split between two personalities – the one that everyone knows and the one that only you know.

Today? This week? Last week? Perhaps it’s been my entire life so far? I have been fighting the same battle within myself, on different circumstances, ways to explain it and how, when or if one or the other personality shows up.  Or, if I really do have that problem. I am my own contradiction.

Just in the last month,  I was thrown on the path of self discovery… a personal journey to figuring out who I am (in general). And, once again, I am living by the quote of Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken” and the lyrics of Frank Sinatra’s “My Way,” and LeAnn Womack’s “I Hope You Dance.” The words… the words of the poem and two songs, they keep me going; they give the me strength to make decisions and move forward.

You once said that paper is more patient than people. After having read your diary when I was younger, I lived by that quote for the longest time. I didn’t really write to anyone particular, except in middle school when I wrote to “Wolfie.” I tried it, but it was quite awkward for me to write to a girl, considering boys seemed to have the goods of being quiet when you told them something. And, even though it was *JUST* paper, I still felt the comfort of writing to a male much better off for me.

I continued writing in diaries from middle school up until 2006. I had actually found an online journal website where I wrote from 2001 to 2009. That’s when my writing on paper kind of seized down, until I needed to share deeper thoughts that I just couldn’t bring myself to writing online. The online journals gave me a chance to read and share my life with others and get feedback via notes. Last year, I decided it was time to pack it up at that website and I never went back. I casually document entries via Posterous, but that’s about it. I haven’t trusted paper in so long, other than notes for stories and poetry. I need to find that comfort on paper once again.

Like you, while growing up, I had a hard time finding a friend to confide in. If the truth may still be out there, I still have a hard time letting myself go in front of people and letting them see the “true” me because I’m afraid what people would think, say or just in general, do. Basically it’s just a trust issue.

Who can I trust with my inner most feelings? Most people just don’t get me, like you thought they didn’t get you. Sometimes, as like you did, I find myself viewing myself as two people, the more reserved in front of people up against who I really am. Plus, what would people do with that information? Blackmail? Gossip? Ditch me as a friend? Support me? It’s more than likely the first two and then I’d feel really betrayed and I don’t want to walk back into that trap again. I don’t need that going on. At all.

And so, as I conclude this diary entry  I want to say that I have decided to write to you about my Washington, DC trip. I haven’t written much of anything, let alone a ‘real’ diary entry in so long. Granted this ISNT written on paper, but it will now be forever documented. As a friend that shares parallel thoughts, welcome to me, which oddly seems to be you many years ago… enjoy.

Your Friend,
Karen-Maeby

Dear Anne Frank,

At quitting time, I had to rush home from work because, like usual, I had not packed yet and we were leaving before 6pm for DC. I threw in as many different outfits as I could fit in the duffel bag, even though we only needed clothes for three days. If there were ever a need to be exact, I  wouldn’t be exaggerating if I said I had enough clothes packed for two weeks.

The drive wasn’t so bad. On the way there, I was reading an old notebook that I had written all of the news down for media class in 2003. I was puzzled by this note that was left in there “Hey Blueberry: Stay cool & sing loud.” I have no Earthly idea who left it or why I hadn’t seen it before. After I read through that notebook, I got into my Native American Literature notebook and looked around at my notes.

After about two hours, we stopped for dinner and by that time it was dark so I played on my phone, totally consumed in those full-blown Twitter conversations about – oh – the general: #bedclothes.

Your friend,
Karen-Maeby 

Dear Anne Frank ,

People watching on the metro is amazing. Everyone should try it at least once.

There was this younger girl on our first ride that looked like she had walked out of “In the Heights” musical. Out of the corner of my I could see her twirling her hair and lip singing, possibly to something she was looking over in the pamphlet in her hand.

There was this Asian couple that shared ear-buds to an iPod. They reminded me of the Asian couple on Secret Life of the American Teenager. I wondered if they were the clone couple.

When the metro was packed, there was this 40ish year old guy dressed really nice standing up in the center in front of us. He looked important and I wondered if he was. He looked mighty familiar.

On one of the rides, when it was our turn to stand up because it was full, we stood behind this guy that was working on his Mac. He was probably a student. He had closed out of one of his programs and I almost shit seeing his desktop all a mess with icons everywhere, even worse than mine.

We also stood by this African American woman that had a broken arm. She had three kids, two sitting with her and one across the way. The little girl was wanting to sleep and she kept yelling at her, telling her not to sleep on the metro. I can imagine with that small of kids, it’d be nerve wrecking to have on the metro with that many people, let alone by herself.

On the last ride back, there was this mother with three kids and a grandmother. I wondered what their story was because they seemed like odd folks, but generally happy and friendly. I wondered if their dad was in their lives by the way the boy was sort of acting up. They also had disposable cameras. Who uses those anymore? I thought disposable cameras were extinct by now!

On that same ride, there was this white guy with a black girl standing in front of us holding on to the center pole. From the way they were talking and never once took their eyes off each other, you could just tell they were in love. This huge cloud of amazing aura was ringing around them.

There was also this elderly woman who was by herself. It looked like she had a few groceries in the cloth bags that she was carrying. When she got off at one of the stops,  she hopped off the metro like she does it quite often.

I “studied” tons more people but that’s the ones I took mental notes of the most. Just something about each one of them, all of the families or individuals or stories being different.

The whole time I was wondering what each person did and how they play a part in America. At one point, of each ride,  my mind kept going back to this scene in Rent. The one where the group was on the train singing “Santa Fe.” 

Several times throughout our ride today… There were times where the metro was so full that everyone was huddled together. I smiled to myself, thinking, this IS America. There are all kinds of people with all kinds of differences and likes, packed together, not minding and stuck in their own conversations in their own life while around complete strangers.

This is America. And, above all, I simply love the diversity.

Your friend,
Karen-Maeby 

Dear Anne Frank,

After the zoo, we headed to the Postal Museum. It was awesome!! As soon as we opened the doors, got checked in with security, my memory was jogged. I remembered being there in year 2000, when my 8^th grade class went. I even remembered how excited I was then about this experience.

The best part of the Postal Museum was The Pony Express. I knew about the Pony Express from a cassette collection of stories that my aunt had given me many years back. Even though I had already seen that exhibit before, I was more than excited to go back and refresh my memory.

What’s so interesting was that of the photo directly above. “Romance VS Reality.”  I know that they were talking about the Pony Express, but instantly, as soon as I saw this, I thought about daily life. So, what IS romance vs. reality?

But then again, let me ask you what exactly IS “what is”? What is definitely is reality. Reality is what you have your hands on right now, romance the loveliness of dreams, what may come when and if it is supposed to. I could go on forever about this subject, but I think you get the point.

Another part I loved was seeing the hand written letters hanging in picture frames along the wall. O- my heart!!!! I loved seeing the lettering written from a feather pen. I’ve owned quite a few “fake” ones in my life and I would actually love to have a real “feather” pen one day.  And, if I ever did, I would write with that pen in all of the Christmas cards I send out. Sentimental value.

I was actually pretty excited to see some of the stamp collections in there, considering I see some of that at my work place and it means more to me now than it ever did. It’s like, ‘hey – I just got to touch (or see) some of this stuff from ages ago seeing this old stuff is amazing.’ A few weeks prior to this trip, my boss had let me see a Mark Twain fold up letter where you wrote in the middle of it and folded that same paper into an envelope to send it out. I found some samples of that on a wall inside one of the stamp exhibits. I was quite the excited one when I knew what it was!

Your friend,
Karen-Maeby 

Dear Anne Frank,

We just got done walking through the Holocaust Museum – it looked so familiar. And, for the life of me, I cannot remember if we had gone to it or not while touring DC in 8^th grade.

The best part of the Holocaust Museum was the remembrance room with all of the lit candles and quotes. My favorite quote was “Only guard yourself and guard your soul carefully. Lest you forget the things your eyes saw and lest these things depart your heart all the days of your life. And you shall make them known to your children, and to your children’s children.”

Walking through each exhibit at the museum brought me chills. I was reminded of a dream that I had on February 20, 2010. I was either born a Jew in a concentration camp or we Americans had one here. It was really scary and not fun waking up after that. Plus, must I mention, that every time I watch a Holocaust movie with the Germen siren sounds, my heart stops and rush of panic overcomes me. I HATE that sound and would rather not hear it, as did you guys when it came around the area of which you were.

Ever since having read your diary long ago, I felt close to you and I hold what happened in the Holocaust dear to my heart. It was absolutely heart breaking to walk into the Holocaust Museum to physically see more of the proof of what was done to you and others.

As we entered, it actually fell right into a time that we could be behind the group that had a tour guide. There was a movie presentation in the middle of the tour so we stopped to watch. A few minutes into it, some ladies walked passed us saying, as rudely as they could, “We can watch that on the history channel!” It took everything in me not to turn around and slap her.

And, right then and there, it was at that VERY moment that I decided it made perfect sense to write this story to you, my dear parallel-thought friend.

Your friend,
Karen-Maeby

"Sometimes I believe that God wants to try me, both now and later on; I must become good through my own efforts, without examples and without good advice." 
— Anne Frank (Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl)

Dear Anne Frank,

As I’ve said before, after reading your diary years ago, I felt close to you. I could say that you are the reason I began my love for non-fiction books (and writing in diaries). In my opinion, as much as reality hurts sometimes, it is far better than some sugar-coated fiction. I love hearing about real stories – where people have struggled through the pain to get to where they are today, living a much better life than yesterday. Stuff like that.

Regardless of the horror you were going through, you continued to write and document life truthfully how it was and, not only life living in the Holocaust but also feelings of yourself, but those around you and life in general.

You were a writer with [some] thoughts way beyond your years. You wanted to keep on living even after you died, and guess what? You did. These are the things I find myself wanting, too.

Throughout my years, I have always gone on to learn more and more about the Holocaust. I always find myself learning more.

At the museum shop, I bought a post card, a necklace with “O” for circle of love and Jewish symbol glass heart… all in honor of and memory of those who died as well as a backpack bag with this on it:

 “The next time you witness hatred. The next time you see injustice. The next time you hear about genocide. THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU SAW.”

Your friend,
Karen-Maeby

"I want to go on living even after my death! And therefore I am grateful to G-d for this gift, this possibility of developing myself and of writing, of expressing all that is in me. I can shake off everything if I write; my sorrows disappear; my courage is reborn. But, and that is the great question, will I ever be able to write anything great, will I ever become a journalist or a writer?" 
— Anne Frank (The Diary of a Young Girl)

Dear Anne Frank,

Today was the second morning we woke up in DC, this time at 10am so we could be on the shuttle by noon. The metro was so empty that time of the day.

Our first stop was the Chili Bowl, another suggestion from our friend, of where to eat. When we walked into the Chili Bowl, it was absolutely nuts – swarming with people in a line that never seemed to end. I was waiting on one side of the counter when Dan went to the other side to hold seats. Neither one of us knew what was going on but we ended up getting perfect seats RIGHT at the bar so we could see over top of everything.

While waiting for the actual meal, we had chili cheese fries. They were really good but the true test was when the real food came out. I had a turkey burger, Dan had a Chili Half Smoke. My meal was excellent; the turkey burger literally melted inside my mouth, it was that good.

The most amazing thing about eating there was knowing this was one of the places that was featured on Man vs. Food and one of the most favorite-known places to eat in DC. Not only that, but, we were there… right in the middle of it all the madness.

The line never really died down in the time we were there, behind the counter was just as nuts as what was going on behind us with people finding seats to sit down.

Over in the corner, there was a huge photo of Obama on the wall. I took pictures of the main parts where the signs were. I didn’t get to take a picture of who eats there for free – which would be the Obama family and Bill Cosby.

After we finished eating and paid our bill, we walked out the door. I took pictures of the outside of the building and when I turned to the left I saw a building with graffiti on it. The picture drawn in graffiti was awesome. Graffiti and tattoos are about in the same area for me, I don’t draw it, wouldn’t do it and probably wouldn’t ink myself… but love the stories and art that comes out of it afterwards.

Your friend,
Karen-Maeby 

Dear Anne Frank,

We weren’t originally planning on going to the Native American Museum, it was just on the other side of the Air & Space Museum where we were going next.

As soon as I walked in and we started walking thru the exhibits, some things started making more sense. There were more moments of “wow –that is why I have such a connection there.”

Let me back up here, though, I must mention that both sides of my family have Indian ancestors. So, it’s apparent Indian-nature is thickly embedded in my blood.

I had taken a Native American Literature class in fall 2004, my first semester of college. When I was in that class not only did all of the stories, literature, poems and lectures make sense to a point where in connected with my soul *BUT* I also was able to look so deep within myself to create deep soul poetry, writings and thoughts. It did me wonders. But after a while of being out of that class, I stopped having deep-soul conversations with myself that would help my heart heal of whatever was needed.

Now that I’ve gone on forever yapping about how that very class changed my thoughts, it’s time to relate to the museum.

Here are a few quotes (a few in pictures) that struck me and made me think a little.

“Water is life….”

“The beginning of life lies in the south. Yellow is the color of the south, the color of seeds, water, maternity, and birth. Just as air comes from the north, so it blows to the south. The south also symbolizes the beginning of people’s connections to nature and to one another.” – Community Curators

“Our lives revolve around the seasons…”

(The photo directly above) Guess what folks? That’s me!!!! I find comfort in the arms of large bodies of water. I go to the lake to think and write. My thoughts feel free when writing in the sun with water around me.

After seeing majority of those quotes, we walked past this grave picture (above). I sometimes, as creepy as this sounds, find comfort in going to graves  and walking around, taking pictures. The older the graveyard, the better. I even did that sort of thing when I spent Thanksgiving alone when Dan was at work.

I’m beginning to think this is indeed my Indian “journey” to finding me. But, then again, everyone lives life and they have to figure out the same thing. But more so, others than some.

Your friend,
Karen-Maeby

"The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quite alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that God wishes to see people happy, amidst the simple beauty of nature. As longs as this exists, and it certainly always will, I know that then there will always be comfort for every sorrow, whatever the circumstances may be. And I firmly believe that nature brings solace in all troubles." 
— Anne Frank (Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl) 

Dear Anne Frank,

I honestly hadn’t thought of the trip to come out this way. It was supposed to be a getaway, go have fun, relaxing weekend with Dan. However, when I wasn’t looking for answers, there they were.

On this fourth lovely trip to DC, I have figured these things out:

I figured out DC was my New York City. Instead of always looking for the answer, it somehow has a way of finding you. A “one man’s” journey has only yet begun. A reinstated – everything happens for a reason… because, everything does happen for a reason. Fate has a way of delivering the news on its own. Life moves like a metro train – comes and goes the people, stopping at different places in life to let them be dropped off.  Let go, let God and let the stars navigate you.

Not to mention, not planning is DEFINITELY the way to go.

Pretty much everything was new, different experiences, different thoughts came out of it…and some more reinstated ‘life lessons.’

Most newly enjoyed experiences were: Eating at a famous place, finding answers in NA museum, finding my story at Holocaust museum, eating Lobster mac & cheese for the first time, eating amazingly mouth watering pizza while inside a restaurant with a crazy and perfect interior, riding the metro again and spending time with Dan.

Here are some really funny photos that we found along the way. 

Um....? Panda, wtf you doing? 

Does anyone else see anything wrong with how this tree is laying? Or is it just ME? 

I'm not so sure I want to 'join' that gang! 

This quote is just hilarious - right out of the Postal Museum. 

Only thing missing was a trip to the Potomac River, but we only live four hours away from DC so that’s saved for another trip.

All in all, I love the city of DC and had tons of fun. I’m glad I could share with you what all I did.

Your friend,
Karen-Maeby