Dearest Rachel –
Dave Barry, a man I admire as both a writer and a humorist, wrote a book about his experiences in this country some twenty or thirty years ago entitled, creatively enough, Dave Barry Does Japan. In it, he speaks of his own adventures and misadventures as he bumbles his way through the land of the rising sun, with his usual droll commentary.
However, when he gets to Hiroshima, all the clowning on his part stops. His first attempt is a chapter of blank pages; a literary moment of silence. Then, in a separate chapter, he describes the events commemorating the atom bomb dropped on the city, and he cannot bring himself to be funny about it.
Now, it may be that part of it has to do with the fact that he was there on an August 6th, and the anniversary commemoration activities would be that much more pronounced and somber than everyday life there; it’s been along time since I read the book, and I don’t remember everything about it. But I wonder if it doesn’t do a great disservice to the city to make it all about that one day, and that one event.
Let’s face it; if there is nothing to Hiroshima but the atom bomb, then the city should have remained a glassed-over field. I’ve actually wondered about that myself; having read Barefoot Gen, and seen the dialogue between certain characters saying that things would never grow there for millions of years (due to radiation, etc.), the fact that they rebuilt the city seems to spit in the eye of logic. If this area would never be productive again, why use it? How could they?
And yet, in a certain way, how could they not? The rule with real estate is ‘location, location, location.’ Japan has so little in the way of arable land, and ports and harbors must be built where they can. As a link between the west (Japan Sea) and east (Pacific) sides of Japan, Hiroshima practically had to be rebuilt. Clean up the fallout, and life must go on. That is the way of things.
To those concerned about the loss of life, which I’ll admit was horrific, there are always bigger issues to bring up. we can start with the firebombing of Tokyo, which took more lives than the Little Boy did, but since it was part of what was considered ‘conventional’ warfare at the time, it passes without notice, or with minimal notice. And let’s not forget what might’ve been; Operation Downfall, which would’ve basically turned every single island of Japan into Iwo Jima, but on a grand scale. And even that bad, it was worse than it had to be; throughout Okinawa, the Japanese had convinced the natives at the Americans were like them, that we would neither give nor expect any quarter from them. Death was better than surrender, and as a result, so many Okinawans simply killed themselves rather than be captured. They didn’t realize that wasn’t our way.
Granted, I’m not so sure that’s still true for us. There are those of us of a certain political persuasion who seem convinced that anyone who doesn’t agree with them is a literal fascist (I hesitate to use the actual name of the historic party, but you know I’m referring to), and therefore, only fit for elimination. You might say these people appear to have a ‘Final Solution’ for those of us whose opinions don’t align with theirs.
But for the sake of Japan, that’s neither here nor there. What happened here on August 6, 1945 helped pave the way for the end of the war and the reconstruction of the nation. There were tragic side effects, no doubt, but at least we have a learned to be sparing – to the point of nonexistence – in our use of such ‘gadgets’ since.
Add rather than being a glassed-over plain, the city carries on. As long as Hiroshimans walk the earth, life here goes on; and that’s what ought to be focused on today.
***
On the topic of significant days, today is April the twelfth. One hundred and eleven years ago, a ship considerably bigger than the one we were riding on (though possibly not much more fancy) struck an iceberg in the mid-Atlantic, and went down with more than fifteen hundred people.
But people still ride cruise ships; indeed, now, more than ever (especially now that Covid restrictions have been lifted, for the most part). Humanity learned from that disaster, and made a point to stick every ship with sufficient lifeboats, and drill as passengers as to what to do in the event of a disaster like that. And so, life goes on yet again. Sure, we don’t take these ships to get from point A to point B necessarily (that’s what planes are for), but the touristic opportunities are still there, and even within reach of the average American more so than they were in those days. But it’s been made so much safer since then; we may not get any more romantic movies out of sailings like that one, but we get home in one piece, with our own stories to tell. Life goes on, and we continue to walk the earth.
***
As I watch our ship wind its way through the many islands that surround the city of Hiroshima, I find myself thinking once again about what I’d intended these letters to be, and what they’ve become instead. These were meant to be love letters to you, reminiscing on the days gone by and the things we did together; what they’ve turned out to be are mere missives, updates from me to you about what’s happening on the planet that you left behind.
I think I share a certain kinship with the city. It may be on a ridiculously small and personal level, but I suffered my own bomb strike some eight hundred days ago. but I can’t let that define me (despite the fact that that’s the whole point of this series of letters); I have to carry-on. As long as I walk the Earth, I need to keep growing and surviving. I can remember you as best I can, and record what I can when it comes to me. But I also have to tend to the future, because I still have one here, for now.
With all that in mind, honey, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 