I totally hear you. My grandparents were in the camps. Though I don't remember their numbers, or even seeing them, the thought of getting a small zachor tattoo on my arm where their numbers were has occurred to me more than once. Not because I want ink, but because as years pass, it becomes more abstract to future generations. I am one, not two, but I am living proof of people who went through hell for just being born who they were. Terrible things happened. Some people say they didn't. The hell they didn't! So, yeah, zachor. Zachor Et Asher Asa Lecha Amalek (that's a little long for my arm). I don't like to sit around thinking about this stuff, but it's part of me. I probably won't get it done so I can have the option of wearing short sleeves in front of my frummie relatives without them bugging out. Some tattoos are already etched indelibly in the heart. Zachor is one of them, for me.

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