The Holocaust

I received this email today, but didn't pass it on. I try to be selective about forwarding emails; I know folks don't want their in-boxes cluttered up with junk. This doesn't seem to be junk, though, and I feel it's important enough to copy here:

"MEMORIALS It is a matter of history that when Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces, General Dwight Eisenhower, found the victims of the death camps he ordered all possible photographs to be taken, and for the German people from surrounding villages to be ushered through the camps and even made to bury the dead. He did this because he said in words to this effect: 'Get it all on record now - get the films - get the witnesses - because somewhere down the track of history some bastard will get up and say that this never happened' 'All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing'. Edmund Burke This week, the UK removed The Holocaust from its school curriculum because it 'offended' the Muslim population which claims it never occurred. This is a portent of the fear that is gripping the world and how easily each country is giving in to it. It is now more than 60 years after the Second World War in Europe ended. This e-mail is being sent as a memorial chain, in memory of the: 6 million Jews, 20 million Russians, 10 million Christians and 1,900 Catholic priests who were murdered, massacred, raped, burned, starved and humiliated. Now, more than ever, with Iran, among others, claiming the Holocaust to be 'a myth,' it is imperative to make sure the world never forgets. This e-mail is intended to reach 40 million people worldwide! Be a link in the memorial chain and help distribute this around the world. Please don't just delete this. It will only take a minute to pass this along. Thank you"

I'm always amazed when I hear people deny that the Holocaust happened. I was amazed when I visited the memorial in Paris to the 200,000 French men, women and children (mostly Jews) who died in concentration camps; how could anyone think this was a hoax? And I was amazed again when I heard an interview this morning on NPR with a man, Jim Shields, who was a 19-year old Army private in WWII and helped liberate Dachau. How can anyone deny his story of the unspeakable horrors he witnessed there? Yet, as he said, the people living in the town of Dachau denied knowing that the concentration camp even existed, although it was only two miles from town and the stench of the decaying dead and burning bodies permeated the town.

If you want the email to send on to others, please leave your email address, and I'll send it to you.

Pictures: above from the NPR website; to the right is a photo I took in 2005 at the Memorial des Martyrs de la Deportation on the Ile de la Cite in Paris. Each lighted crystal represents one of the 200,000 French citizens who died in concentration camps. An inscription reads: "Dedicated to the living memory of the 200,000 French deportees sleeping in the night and the fog, exterminated in the Nazi concentrations camps."

Update on the Victorian....

If you remember, I made a post a couple of weeks ago about this lovely house in Sherman Hill, a 10-minute walk from work. I wish I could say it's all a done deal, but alas! no. On the buying end of it, all is well. I qualify for a reasonable loan and can certainly make the monthly payments work if the seller accepted my offer. On the selling end....not such good news. While I had some interest last fall by a neighbor about buying my property, he's not looking now. That means I'd have to list with a realtor. The pay-off plus realtor commission of 6% plus the tiny down payment I'd have to make on the new house all add up to a figure that seems unreasonable to me. I'm not sure anyone would even look at that price. Part of this is because of the nation-wide housing downturn....my property hasn't appreciated like Wells Fargo and I thought it would. While it hasn't lost value, that value doesn't seem to be quite enough to swing this deal. The realtor will come on Tuesday to look it over, but this may be only a dream that didn't come true.

Easter Monday

For us, the Monday after Easter is just another work day. In France, Easter Monday is a national holiday. That made finding things to do last year on my trip to France a bit tricky; lots of things were closed. I did my homework, however, and found an event that both Marie and I wanted to attend...the Lalique exhibition at the Musee de Luxembourg. I even bought tickets online before I left for France. The exhibition did not disappoint. From my travel journal...."after a leisurely breakfast, Mickey and I went to the Petit Luxembourg Palace for the Lalique exhibit. It's all his early jewelry which he made before changing to glass. He was very into medieval bestiary & made many pieces that incorporated dragons, butterflies, insects, fish, etc. into the design. His early pieces that had nudes in them were initially shocking, but quickly became accepted. He's considered the originator of modern jewelry. Made many dog collars! and very large pieces favored by eccentric, flamboyant women. Sarah Bernhardt was one of his early clients. Natalie Barney was as well; she bought Lalique's jewlery to give to her women lovers in exchange for their favors." Oh-la-la...tres French!


The next stop on our Easter Monday adventures was L'Orangerie. It was closed the other times I'd been in Paris, but was open this day...with a line to prove it! Very worth the wait, however. Monet's "Waterlilies" paintings are on display upstairs in the marvelous room devoted just to these huge paintings. The Paul Guillaume collection downstairs really captured my interest, even more so than the Monet paintings. It featured many paintings by Picasso, Derain, Renoir, and my personal favorite, Modigliani.

Another event that I had on my to-do list was an evening concert at St. Germain-des-Pres. The church was directly across the boulevard from our hotel; my travel companions, Marie, Susan, and Stephen, all decided that they wanted to attend as well, so I bought tickets for us all. We entered the oldest church in Paris and found seats on the hard wooden chairs set up facing an orchestra and choir risers centered under the almost three-story dome of the church. The orchestra entered, the lights were dimmed, and the music began. As I noted afterward in my journal, it was "wonderful, wonderful! It brought tears to my eyes, and I could see all the angels, saints, and cherubs hovering in the dome above swaying, dancing, and lifting hearts & wings to the music. The sound simply filled the church and rained down on us from Heaven with glorious melody." The orchestra played Bach, Vivaldi and Telemand; after a brief intermission, the choir entered and sang the Mozart Mass, Messe du Couronnement.

What memories we made that night!

Easter in Paris

My plan to write about St. Timothy's Great Easter Vigil service was thwarted by the weather. I drove to Des Moines last night in a driving rain that turned into sleet and snow as I reached the outskirts of the city. I turned around and went back home, unwilling to face icy roads and slush.

So instead I'll tell you about Easter 2007 spent in a Paris resplendent in green and flowering trees. From my travel
journal....


"Easter Sunday, April 8, 2007. Slept very well (always a concern when you visit a time zone halfway around the world). Up at 0715 for breakfast, then Mass at Notre Dame. Incredible! Standing room only. I was totally moved at the Passing of the Peace. If only everyone could have the experience of standing in a holy place passing the peace with people from all over the world , speaking the words in many languages. " As Mass concluded they flung open all the huge wooden doors onto the parvis and thousands of worshippers and tourists streamed out as all the mighty bells of Notre Dame tolled the joyous news...Christ has risen! Alleluia! Wow, what an experience!

"Back briefly to the hotel to change & buy concert tickets for Monday. Then to Paul's for a croissant, cafe creme, and discussion about the day's activities. We decided to each do our own thing. I headed to the Museum of Jewish History and Art to view a collection of Rembrandt drawings, then metro'd to La Jardin des Plantes. The gardens were full of Parisians loving the sun and life in general. Walked to the Arenes de Lutuce; amazing to think it was built by the Romans in 2 BCE....while I was mailing cards later, Boulevard St. Germain was suddenly filled with roller-bladers and skaters. Led by the police they cruised around the corner onto rue de Rennes--must have been at least a thousand...what a sight! Listened to a jazz band play by the church (St. Germain des Pres). I love this city! Parisians just seem to enjoy life and have fun."



Sunday evening..."A great Easter dinner at Christine's. Lamb filet, potatoes with roasted shallots and garlic. The entree was a yummy lentil soup and a tall thin glass filled with cream whipped with tapenade topped with big grains of salt. You eat it with one of those little coffee spoons. Dessert was a baba soaked in limoncello with fresh strawberries, pineapple and whipped cream on top. A perfect light finish to the meal. We drank a robust red wine with dinner."

At the end of each day in my travel journal, I include an entry called "Impressions," the things that after a long, tiring day stick in my mind and make memories. Here are my Impressions from that Easter day in April:
"warmth, sunshine, new life. Pass the Peace and feel the connection. In the Metro....everyone has a story--what is it?
Parisians love life & have a good time. If I lived here, I would learn to skate so I could do the Sunday free skate event!"


Photos: Notre Dame (4/07) from the garden behind the Cathedral; One set of three separate entrances to the Cathedral..a total of 6 doors opened to Easter morning,

A Holy Visit....continued

The sacred ritual held me enthralled. I was convinced that I was watching a holy event, an expression of faith and re-consecration. As a tourist, I was also convinced that I needed to capture this memory on my digital camera.

All around me others took pictures and made video recordings. No one felt the need to be quiet or reverent. While the line before me moved silently, the crowd around me talked, laughed, answered cell phones, and recorded the event. I struggled with myself.

"Go ahead, take the picture," I muttered to myself. "Everyone is taking pictures, you took pictures yourself when you were here last September."

"Yes, but it seems disrespectful....."

"You're a tourist. They expect you to take photos."

"Yes, but it seems intrusive....." I continued to silently argue with myself.

"You spent a lot of money getting over here. They owe you a picture!"

"Yes, but it's Holy Week...."

"Take the picture!!"

I raised the camera and framed the scene. Slowly I pushed the shutter button.

Nothing.

"Change the batteries," it said at the bottom of the view box.

"Message received," I said out loud.

God won that argument.

Above...a picture of Saint-Guillaume Chapel, one of the many chapels ringing the nave.

To the left: the Notre Dame 2/2006

A Holy Visit.....Easter Week 2007

April 2007...


I checked my itinerary against the calendar. Yes, I would be in Paris over Easter weekend. Marie and I made plans to attend Mass on Easter Sunday, but at the top of my to-do list, I wrote: 'visit Notre Dame on Good Friday.' I read somewhere that the cathedral's most sacred relic, the Crown of Thorns, was on display each Friday in Lent, and I was determined to see it. As it turned out, my travel companions did not share my quest; I found myself making the visit alone.


Alone, except for thousands of strangers! I entered a cathedral jammed with tourists. Packed into a herd stampeding in slow motion, the mass of us shuffled around the interior of the church.

The double aisle we moved in was a wide, dimly lit oval centered by the light-drenched nave. Ignoring the necklace of small chapels that adorn the perimeter of the sanctuary, I pushed, wiggled, and wormed my way toward the light. I found place to stand as close as possible to the red velvet restraining rope that defined the worship area.


I stood there mesmerized by the spectacle before me. While cameras flashed and video cams softly whirred, the faithful stood quietly in line, reverently waiting. On the steps to the altar, six priests stood robed in gold and white. The priest in front held a large white satin pillow. On it, gleaming in the light, was the golden Crown of Thorns. He held the pillow in front of him; the next pilgrim in line advanced, genuflected, and kissed the Crown. Crossing herself, she moved to the side and another took her place. My heart melted as a little girl holding her papa's hand approached the priest. While papa whispered in her ear, the priest bent down, bringing the pillow to the child's level. Hesitatingly, she leaned forward and encouraged by both men, kissed the holy relic. She made the Sign of the Cross as papa then paid his respects. Flashes from cameras twinkled across the nave. The man next to me pushed ahead to capture the scene on his video camera. I stood and watched for several minutes. Never were there fewer than fifty people in line. Women in furs were replaced by old men in worn woolen overcoats; a group of Asian nuns in severe black and white were followed by teenagers in tattered jeans with pierced ears and eyebrows.


continued tomorrow.......


Pictured above: the south facade of Notre Dame; the Rose Window taken April 2007

The First Day of Spring

Today is the first day of spring! Even though winter hasn't departed completely, I can tell we're on the downhill slide to nicer weather. It's been a long time coming this year.

Thinking of spring, however, makes me remember spring a year ago. I experienced one of the most beautiful springs ever in France. The pictures I've posted here are from Provence. Isn't the wisteria simply breath-taking? And it was everywhere, hanging in huge purple clusters from long sinewy branches that clung tenaciously to the most hardened surfaces....over doorways, along stone walls, draped over shutters. It was hard to believe the little trees these branches came from could support such luscious beauty.


This is another of my favorite pictures from the trip. I 'doctored' the edges a bit on my computer to make it look more interesting, but the image itself is exactly true to life. The wisteria was so picturesque framing the red screen door! I wish I could remember the name of the little village where I took this shot; all I remember is it was north of Goult. Outside this village there were large fields of rapeseed in bloom, a solid blanket of yellow. Almond and cherry trees were in flower; red poppies dotted every field.

Paris was equally lovely. Watch for tomorrow's blog entry that is illustrated by a photo I took of the south facade of the Notre Dame cathedral set off by flowering trees. Tres jolie!

After a winter of the most miserable weather and a really bad case of cabin fever, can you blame me for agreeing wholeheartedly with Emily Dickinson:"A little Madness in the Spring / Is wholesome even for the King?"

A Dreay Day

It's foggy, misty and 38 degrees this morning...a dreary Iowa day. Spring is on the horizon, but not quite here yet. It's a good day to share a blessing...

On Waking

I give thanks for arriving
Safely in a new dawn,
For the gift of eyes
To see the world,
The gift of mind
To feel at home
In my life.
The waves of possibility
Breaking on the shore of dawn,
The harvest of the past
That awaits my hunger,
And all the furtherings
This new day will bring.


John O'Donohue from " To Bless the Space Between Us"

Palm Sunday

Today is Palm Sunday. One of my favorite celebrations of this beginning event of Holy Week took place a couple of years ago in Boulder, CO. I was there visiting Edith, and we went to her church for services....St. John's Episcopal Church in Boulder. It's become a Boulder traditional for church-goers from several churches to gather along the street outside the church to wave palm branches and scatter them on the street in preparation for for pilgrims leading 'Christ's donkey.' There were a few brief words to the congregants; this Sunday the Episcopal priest offered a blessing. Then the palms began to wave and the children rushed into the street to strew the palms. I could hear the donkey braying at the end of the block. I'm not sure he was as excited as the crowd was to make his journey. But reason prevailed and there he came, solemnly walking the path. He was very little! Was Jesus' ride this tiny? If so, his feet must have been dragging in the dust. Five minutes and it was over. The crowds dispersed to their respective services. The Episcopalians entered their church waving palms and singing. Holy Week had begun.

My Holy Week begins today. I will attend services at St. Timothy's Episcopal Church in Des Moines. My Holy Week will end with the Great Easter Vigil on Saturday night. I'll share that experience with you next Sunday.

Vintage Victorian

It's funny how life is. One minute you're driving to work fretting over how in the world you're ever going to find a job in Montana or Colorado or back in California and the next minute you're enthralled with a vintage Victorian house that's walking distance to the hospital where you work. This is the house; it's for sale, and I might be able to buy it! A lot of things would have to fall into place for this to happen....like I'd have to sell my acreage for the right price, etc....but I believe I could make this little gem my home. It's about the same size as the house I have now, and it's been meticulously restored by the judge and his wife who currently own it. Not that I like Victorian very much, but I could make it work. I could park my car in the detached two-car garage and walk to work...it's only about 4 blocks. At the current price of gas that would be a real blessing. The yard is postage-stamp size (quite a change from 12 acres---would this make me crazy?), but it's been landscaped beautifully with a tiny pond and trickling water spout as well as a little footbridge in back. My favorite thing about this house is the almost brand-new Viking gas stove in the kitchen...a cook's dream!

I'll keep you posted on this adventure. If you'd like to see a slide show of this house, click here.

A Blessing

To Come Home to Yourself

May all that is unforgiven in you

Be released.

May your fears yield

Their deepest tranquilities.

May all that is unlived in you

Blossom into a future

Graced in love.

I've delved into the John O'Donohue book I bought, "To Bless the Space Between Us." It's absolutely lovely. I'll share some of my favorites blessings from it with you periodically.

Extremely Pale Rose

I just finished reading a really fun book and here's my recommendation: Go to Amazon.dot com and find Jamie Ivey's Extremely Pale Rose. Order a copy. While you're at it, see if you can find a French road atlas (I found a AAA one from 2002 for $3.25). Order that as well. When they come, tuck them both away with your summer clothes. The first time your local weatherman forecasts 75+ degree weather, go immediately to your nearby wine shop and buy the best French rose you can find....maybe one from Domaine Tempier Bandol or a Tavel. Put it in the 'frig.

On a warm Saturday afternoon when all your weekend chores are completed, bring your 'sunlounger' (as Jamie calls it) out of storage and open it up on your deck. Pour a glass of chilled rose, grab your book and atlas, pull on some shorts, and begin a 'very French adventure.' Welcome to the world of 'Extremely Pale Rose!' What a delightful book....a real quest through the vineyards of France to find the very palest rose possible. Be prepared to encounter eccentric vignerons, boules tournaments, French drink-driving roadblocks, half-naked women, and the Corsican Mafia. You can use your atlas to trace Jamie, Tanya, and Peter's route through the wine producing regions of France as they search for the very palest rose they can find. And what is the real object of their quest? Is it really rose or is it something else? What did Philippe mean when he said to Tanya and Jamie, "just remember that people on a quest only think they know what they're searching for?"

As you sip your chilled wine, imagine yourself cruising around the French countryside, hood down, living life to its French fullness. Follow the Ivey's route in your atlas and share the vicarious thrill of the hunt....for the very palest rose produced in France!

Red Bell Farm

Perhaps you don't know this about me, but I like to name the places where I live. My home after I was divorced was 30 acres, a house and a barn in rural Lafayette, Colorado. The first morning I lived there I got up and roamed the property. Winding along an old fence was a lovely old-fashioned yellow rose. I named that place "Yellow Rose Ranch."

When I moved up to Nederland and into the cute little A-frame house, I could lie in bed at night and look at the stars through the window in the side roof of the "A." One night I watched the stars of the Big Dipper move across the sky. I named that house "Seven Stars" for those stars that kept me company that night.

I came to my Iowa acreage in June 2003 determined to find a very romantic name for my property. I've always loved the word 'Prairyerth' from a book of that name by William Least Heat-Moon; this name really didn't fit. The creek that forms my western property line is called Haybranch Creek, but that didn't seem just right either. My 12 acres are all that's left of an 80-acre original 1850's homestead. The old farm house was torn down in 1980, and my house was built on its site. The old 'cave' is in my backyard, as is the red bell pictured above. It's mounted on a post and was used to call the hired hands (i.e. the kids working in the field!) in to dinner. It took me a couple of months to come to terms with it, but Red Bell Farm was the winning name. (I really wanted Prairyerth to fit, darn it!) Last year I tied Buddhist prayer flags to my bell. In December Mother Nature decorated it with a glittering display of ice. Red Bell Farm finally seems just right.

Just so you know....the only things I 'farm' here are a few wonderful Iowa sun-ripened tomatoes in the summer and an overwhelming crop of weeds in the pasture that lingers 'way into winter.

Vision Board

If you've read the book or seen the DVD of The Secret, you know what a vision board is. I started my own vision board the first of the year in the hopes of manifesting a life that is more congruent with the longings of my soul.

Well, here is what I've come up with so far....kind of a mess! Every time I see a magazine image, a color, a design or (being a writer!) a word or phrase that speaks to me, I cut it out and tack it on my vision board. It's a bit of a hodge-podge. I have two poems by Mary Oliver. some advice from a guy I know who is a motivational speaker, quotes and phrases, and a birthday greeting from my brother. The images I've selected range from a luscious picture of Penelope Cruz in a sexy red dress (oh, to be beautiful like her!), pictures of Chase and Parker, a stunning photo of Patagonia, and several pictures of beaches around the world and things related to the sea...sand dollars, shells, starfish and boats. There are pictures of lemons, strawberries, pineapples and big red, ripe tomatoes. I love the red circle with the black and white spiral! I long to rest in the vine-covered cottage! I yearn to see the Eiffel Tower again!

What does this all mean? I haven't a clue...except that my soul obviously is not content where it is! Except for the tomatoes, not a single image reflects my life in Iowa or my job. Yes...all of you out there who know me recognize this flaw in my otherwise perfect personality....I get bored and discontent very easily, that I'm always looking for an adventure, and I'll probably never decide what I want to be when I grow up! But, hey, you only live this life once, so let's enjoy all it has to offer. There are some common threads, tho. The sea and warm Nature calls; family and home (wherever that may be) are important; words, bold color, especially red, and graphic design beckon.

It will be interesting to see just where my jumbled visions lead me this year.

Beannacht

I've done it again! I've listened to a fascinating program on Public Radio and bought more books...I'm addicted! This time it was "Speaking of Faith" which is a program about religion, ethics and moral ideas. Hosted by Krista Tippett, it's an interview format with such diverse people as evangelical Christians, Buddhist monks, scientists, and priests. The program this week was an interview with John O'Donohue, poet and philsopher, who delves into Celtic wisdom and beauty. I bought a book of blessings and also one about O'Donohue's philosophy that meditations on beauty are a form of prayer and worship. You can listen to (or read about) the program yourself. What I want to share with you today is part of a beannacht (blessing) that John wrote:



" And when your eyes

freeze behind

the gray window

and the ghost of loss

gets in to you,

may a flock of colors,

indigo, red, green

and azure blue

come to awaken in you

a meadow of delight."



A blessing of beauty to you in a cold, grey world!

Sights and Sounds of Spring?

This has been the most bizarre winter! Yes, I know...once again I'm complaining about the weather, but really, it's been very strange. Rain, snow, sleet, thunderstorms, ice, warm, cold..what happened to the first snow on Halloween, then frozen and cold until April?

Sunday was just such a weird day. The temperatures were in the 50s and low 60s when I opened the sliding glass door onto the deck. What was that noise?? Hundreds of blackbirds chattering in the trees along the creek! The drip, drip, drip of ice melting and falling off the roof of the house! The wind moaning through the bare trees!

These pictures show my yard. What two days ago was solid snow
at least 6 inches deep is now great puddles of icy water! The gravel road that I live on is almost impassable. The channel 5 news anchor on Friday evening reported that county governments were asking people not to travel unnecessarily on country roads as the thawing was making them muddy, slushy, slippery and treacherous. Crews can't get out to re-rock them until it dries up. In the north part of my county, rivers and creeks were out of their banks.

I did my part; I stayed home all weekend and didn't even venture out for church on Sunday morning.



But wait...there's yet another strange sound. It's splashing and roaring, and it's coming from the creek. Sure enough, even from inside the house I could see the creek that defines the western boundary of my acreage. It's roaring almost bank high from the snow melt. And in it I can see giant chunks of ice churning along. They bounce from creek bank to creek bank, first submerged, then bursting out of the water and splashing loudly back down. Great branches of trees and even parts of tree trunks flow by in the swiftly moving water. I can only hope they continue to move downstream and don't jam up at the bridge.

This morning I awoke to 4+ inches of snow on top of a sheet of ice. Winter has returned. Just let me whine a little!

The Winged Victory

My first visit to Paris in the fall of 2005 brought me a stunning revelation....I love sculpture! Seeing some of the world's most famous pieces up close and in three dimension gives such a different impression that seeing photographs of these same pieces. The Winged Victory of Samothrace is my very favorite piece. She's on display in the Louvre much as she was on display when she was created....mounted high on a huge piece of stone seeming to fly in the face of the wind. When I first saw the above picture in Robert Edsel's, "Rescuing da Vinci" I literally gasped! There was this magnificent piece of sculpture dangling from a block and tackle! What if they dropped it? or bumped it against something? What were they doing with it? As the book explains, these art lovers were desperately trying to save the Louvre's treasures from the grasping hands on Hitler's Nazis. And we all know now that they were successful...The Winged Victory currently graces a beautiful two-story alcove at the end of a long Louvre hallway. She is glorious in her triumph not only over the centuries, but also over looting by Nazi invaders. As Edsel's book reveals, many works of art throughout Europe were either destroyed by World War II bombings or remain missing. A famous painting by Raphael, Portrait of a Young Man , was stolen from a Cracow, Poland museum...its whereabouts are unknown. Amber panels from the Amber Room of Peter the Great were looted by the Nazis in 1940 and shipped to Konigsberg Castle. They survived Allied bombings only to disappear when the Soviet troops stormed the Castle. Some think they were destroyed; others believe they were stolen and remain hidden somewhere (see page 288 of "Rescuing da Vinci" to view these magnificent panels in place).

If you are an art lover, a history buff, or just enjoy a good detective story, "Rescuing da Vinci" will keep you engaged in its gripping story. It's well worth the price of purchase!

Rescuing Da Vinci

If I don't stop listening to NPR, I'm going to go broke! Almost every broadcast features a book or a CD that I want to buy. The book at the right is my latest 'find' from National Public Radio. It's the story of how the Nazis during World War II confiscated art from all the countries they invaded, all for the glory of the Reich and for Hitler's and Hermann Goernig's personal art collections. The picture on the book's cover is of Allied officers recovering one of the rescued masterpieces, Lady with an Ermine by Leonardo da Vinci. Not only does the book detail how the Nazis looted art from all over Europe, it also reveals how concerned citizens protected and hid famous artworks, often at their own peril. And most amazingly, it also tells the story of how this marvelous art was recovered through the diligent efforts of a group of Allies called the MFAA ( Monuments, Fine Arts and Archives) or Monuments Men for short.


The book contains a splendid collection of black and white photographs from World War II.
The photos chronicle not only Nazi looting, but also the efforts made to safeguard valuable masterpieces from both destruction and from Nazi hands. This picture was taken in the Louvre and shows the very famous statue Venus de Milo being crated up so it could be moved into safe-keeping outside the city. Parisians were in a race against time to protect as much of the art in the Louvre as possible before the Nazi onslaught reached Paris. When they finished, the Louvre was stipped of its treasures; the Grand Galerie was bare. Some paintings proved especially difficult to move. When possible, canvases were rolled and crated. Some paintings, however, were either too large or too fragile to be stored like this and had to be carefully taken from the walls and loaded individually into special trucks. There is a story in the book about a huge painting (16x23 ft) by Gericault that while being moved through Versailles by truck actually became entangled in trolley line wires.

More tomorrow.....