The Seventy-Seven Year Difference

Cologne Train Station

A few years ago, this time of year, my heart was filled with gratitude as I stood on the platform of Cologne Train station heading to Paris on a business trip; I captured this moment with a photograph to remember it by. My mind was filled with plans and dreams to continue to build a hopeful future. The hospitality I experienced in Cologne, the abundance of food, the luxurious hotel room facing the Cologne Cathedral was all part of a beautiful memory I wanted to cherish.  

What I did not know at that moment, however, was that in the same train station just seventy-seven years earlier, my grandmother's feet also touched the ground that I stood on.

Except she was getting off a filthy cattle train at the age of sixteen along with groups of other people who, like her, were taken from their hometowns as human slaves by the Nazis to feed the German economic growth and political power. Becoming a statistic at an estimated of one of 3 -5.5 million by Wikipedia who were now called "Ostarbeiter" meaning "Eastern Worker" and were required to wear a badge on their uniform that marked them as "OST." 

Every human right she had was stripped away from her in an instant, one day that changed the trajectory of her life. Her youth was stolen from her. Forced to work in a Concentration Camp.

I look at this photograph now with fresh eyes. Acknowledging the drastic difference between my grandma's experience and mine at the exact location only 77 years apart.

What did she do to deserve to be a prisoner? What did I do to deserve to be here today?

I am no better human than she was; she committed no crime to fit the punishment. 

Since I am here now, and she has lived a story worth telling. The least I can do is share her story, which is why I am writing a book about her remarkable life.