How Daddy Got Kicked Out of Anne Frank’s House

Remember that old adage, ‘the road to hell is paved with good intentions’? My brother proved that during his time in the Air Force, stationed in Germany. He’s going to kill me for posting this, but I have been telling him he needs his own blog. If he won’t do it, I will do it for him! Isn’t that what siblings are for after all?

A couple of things you should know before you read this: our family is not descended from quiet people and my brother is about 6′ 5″. Now, you may proceed.

It was a long time ago in the city of Amsterdam where I was on a mini-vacation during my USAF European tour of duty. I was with my good friend Dominic Mascis, a short, scrappy, mouthy character which made good company to keep in such an exotic city. We were part of a tour group that cost a fixed price to visit several attractions around Amsterdam. Some historic, and some less so (it is also the trip in which I may have eaten dog meat, but I’ll save that for a later story).

One of the tour stops was at the world-renown home of Anne Frank. Anne Frank was the young girl who was hidden from the Nazis along with her family and others for an extended period of time in the attic of a house. You can refresh your knowledge of the events elsewhere because I dare not belittle their importance by including them in this terribly embarrassing admission.

Prior to arriving to the house Dominic and I took an alternate route that included many small taverns with the consumption of many adult beverages. Needless to say we were feeling mighty fine by the time we rounded the corner to see the front of the historic landmark.

As we did so we could not help but notice our tour group was not there, yet perhaps four tour buses had just pulled up. At that instant, I saw more Asian people in one place than I had ever seen in my entire life. They poured out of the buses in rivers of racial stereotypes. Dominic could not help his laughter which only grew to uncontrolled bellowing as we were overtaken and I was nipple-deep in black hair. It was like Gulliver’s island.

Our humor having been activated already, we walked in with our new tour group. Going through the house proper, then into the hidden living spaces above the second floors. All the while being propelled by a constant flow of people. I lost Dominic a few times, and I must have seemed like a giant parting Asian people yelling his name like as if he was drowning.

Finally at the climax of the tour, the centerpiece in the large living room on the first floor was a 1/6 scale model of the house with all hidden rooms included. By this time Dominic and I had tried to keep our composure in this solemn place, but I had seen something that sent me into an uncontrollably sarcastic exclamation. Something so tacky, so out-of place…. the museum had a 1/6 scale model of Anne Frank… AND USED A BARBIE DOLL TO REPRESENT ANNE FRANK.

Ken was there too. As a matter of fact, there were several Kens. All dressed to the hilt in Nazi SS uniforms. Normally, I would have sighed and allowed the river of black hair to carry me out the door. But I fought against the tide and screamed “DOMINIC! IT’S ANNE FRANK’S MALIBU DREAM HOUSE!!!!” Dominic instantly erupted in howling laughter. “AND THERE’S LITTLE NAZI KEN! IT’S A LITTLE GIRL’S DREAM!” At that point our gutteral laughter and tomfoolery caught the attention of museum staff.

The Asian folks ignored the ugly, disrespectful Americans. Immediately we were escorted out of the building and to the sidewalk where our legs ceased to cooperate due to the insane cackles that wretched free of our reddened faces. What a humiliating experience.

And that, kids, is how daddy got kicked out of Anne Frank’s house.


It looks as if they have removed the offending dolls now.

I love you my brother!


2 responses to “How Daddy Got Kicked Out of Anne Frank’s House

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