“My great-grandmother was sent to a camp and did not come out.'

K our exchange student said, “Priscilla said you have written a book?”

“I’ve written three,” I said. “They’re all in the computer.”

“You haven’t had them published?”

“No,” I said. “I don’t know how.”

“You send a letter to publishers,” she said.

That part I know. “I guess I could shotgun letters to publishers.”

She said, “You shotgun a letter to publishers.”

She said she did not know anyone who had written a book. “Except for my grandfather’s older brother, and it was a small book.” She held her index finger and thumb half an inch apart.

Her great uncle’s book recounts the journey made by him and his six brothers and sisters during World War II. They walked across Poland and to the country where they and K’s family now live.

“My grandfather was 2 years old and 3 years old, so he does not remember much,” she said. “They had a big house and then many people were sent to live in the house and they had to leave.”

Her great-grandfather “was involved in the war,” she said, but she does not know where or in what capacity.

“My great-grandmother was sent to a camp and did not come out.”

There are many stories like K’s. Thousands, perhaps. Hearing one somewhat near firsthand gives importance.

Some people do not care about what happens. Others intend such things will never happen again.