I’m Jewish. (My grandparents were named Avrum Shevak, Fanny Glembotski, Joe Jacobs and Golde Mintz, so I’m pretty sure.)
Lately, a scenario has been running through my mind. It goes like this:
Suppose the Holocaust had taken place in the United States. Suppose the remains of concentration camps still stood in many places. Suppose once a year, reenactors got dressed up in concentration camp guard uniforms and held, “Good Ole Concentration Camp Days.”
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