Spring of the Surreal

I visited the American Cemetery in Normandy this last weekend, one of the great pilgrimages of modern Americans and Europeans alike. Of the million people who visit every year, I learned, the majority are French.

To read the comments on my vlog (public release in a day or two), or to talk to most people who have visited in the past, you’ll note a distinctly reverent tone. It’s an emotional experience, often an overwhelming one, and this was, at its root, why I took so long to get there. I’ve visited a number of Holocaust museums in different countries, as well as Anne Frank’s house in Amsterdam, and every time I carried the weight of what I saw for weeks.

I think this is important, if not necessary, but also makes it harder to want to see more. It’s easier to skip Omaha Beach and head to somewhere sandy that still has its French name and none of the gravitas. 

What strikes me now in retrospect, after trekking it all the way to the coast and back in a tiny car overfull with friends, is how much less of an impact the experience had on me. How numb I felt for most of it, if not helpless. I think that’s what bothers me most.

France is issuing information on how to be prepared to be fully self-reliant for 72hrs in case of ‘disaster or attack.’ My sister wants to establish some sort of communication protocol in case the Internet goes down across the Atlantic. One of my favorite writers is anxious she could get deported from the US simply for reporting on the truth. And we have les incompetants trashing the alliances that have kept us safe for generations… for what?

France just barred Marine le Pen from running for office as a consequence of breaking the law. A brief breath of fresh air in an otherwise torrent of noxious fumes. Sanity exists in one of my countries, at least in moments. What’s insane to me is that simply wanting convicted criminals not to run the country has become a politicized opinion. That maintaining our oldest alliances is no longer policy.

All of this is on my mind and added to the weight of the monument I visited this weekend, while simultaneously undercutting its message. The whole purpose of memorializing those who died to free France, whether in cemeteries, films, or TV, ideally, is to remind us of the cost of fascism. The price we pay for warring amongst ourselves. The necessity of remaining vigilant.

It isn’t supposed to be for pure entertainment.

Can it all so easily be cast aside? Do I have to worry about traveling to the US simply for asking these questions in a public forum?

And thus the surreal sense of detachment. The overwhelm. But also the need to remain aware, educated, and above all, active. I struggle with the value of what I do for a living in times like this, when the world seems to be crumbling and the certainty of even internet access is questionable. But rather than curl up in a ball and hope to vanish, I’m doing two things.

One is recognizing that we all need an escape, and travel serves that purpose for so many. Helping people make the most of that time abroad still carries value, whether or not it always feels like it, so I’ll keep doing my best to add the most I can.

The other is upskilling - taking leisure time and putting it towards new hobbies that will be beneficial whether or not we need that 72hrs of self-reliance. Learning more about electronics, repair, urban gardening, and solar energy. Sublimation of a different variety.

Either way, if I can have some small, positive impact on the people in my life and the broader community I’m currently able to reach through videos or newsletters like this, then that’s a whole lot better than giving up and rolling over.

Jay