" - Winnie the Pooh
1945.8.9 11:02
I think I'm going to have a hard time forgetting that moment for a bit. It's one thing to sit in history class in an American school and be told about the "Fat Man" and why it was necessary to end the war. It's quite another to see the perspective of those whose lives were turned upside down in an instant. I must confess to wondering if it was truly necessary to cause that much destruction, but still not having enough information to find fault in my country. It certainly brings a new perspective to the cries for elimation of nuclear weapons throughout the world. Even Owl was outraged at the amount of testing that was documented on the timelines.
We were conflicted about this trip. We wanted to see the park and the museum and see the Japenese perspective of the bomb. What had they chosen to remember? What message did they send? We wanted another side of the story. At the same time, I felt almost ill at the prospect of being so close to an area touched by such horror. I was afraid that any Japanese there might be offended by our presence. I didn't want to cause anyone any more pain. We got a few stray glances from members of the tour groups. Surprise? Distaste? I really couldn't tell. We saw a couple of other caucasians there so I knew we weren't alone in our desires. In fact, having completed the biggest part of our tours there, I'm glad we decided to go.
Mostly, it's a wide open park. There is statue of a woman holding a child to one side of the area. It seemed a wonderful place to sit and reflect on just about anything. They have succeeded in building a very peaceful spot that is filled with birds and trees and benches for quiet reflection.
The single black pillar standing in the middle marks the hypocenter of a nuclear blast. Today, and I'm guessing most days, it was covered in flowers and strings of brightly colored origami cranes. There were many other strands of cranes in a covered area nearby. I must guess gifts of days past. I cried standing before it. All of the emotions I thought I might feel...sadness, guilt, wonder, fear...they were there and manifest themselves as tears as I took it all in.
To the right of it stands a remnant of the Urekami cathedral that they've relocated and reinforced to assure it stands the test of time. There is a replica of another portion of the cathedral inside the museum as well as some of the statues that survived the blast. It was a beautiful building.
As we left the park, we read the open apology by the Japanese for the enslavement and deaths of the Koreans that were in Nagasaki at the time of the bomb. Given what we've learned of the culture, I shouldn't be surprised, but I was certainly humbled by a people willing to apologize for something over which they ultimately had little control. From their perspective, though, I guess they wanted the control to not bring those people there. It was not something I expected to read and certainly made me realize the arrogance of the United States. I can't imagine finding an open apology for any of our past transgressions carved in marble in any of our parks.
Inside the museum, we learned that they've chosen to record the horrors of a nuclear blast followed by a plea for peace. It was horrifying to see molten pieces of glass encasing the bones of a human hand, clothes shredded by flying glass and still stained in blood, splinters of glass embedded in wooden stairs, wood petrified instantly by the heat and pressure, pieces of paper and coins melted and burned despite being in a safe at the time.
At the same time, you looked in the next case and saw the cross-section of a tree. In the center were shards of porcelain, but around it had grown new tree, hiding its scars, a testament to the durability of mother nature. It made me think back to the park, an area that was supposed to be barren for 75 years and realize that 75 years haven't passed, yet it's green and lush and beatiful. I have no clue how much of man's intervention was required to help that miracle along, but it gives me hope.
They also discuss the timeline leading up to the blast. I noticed emphasis on the US not warning Japan of their intentions, not giving them any chance to back down prior to the bombs being dropped. Would it have mattered? I don't know, but they felt the need to mention it. Chrys and I observed that the Soviet Union had declared war on Japan the day before the blast, something neither of us recalled having been taught in school. It made us wonder if what the US did was made more or less necessary by that declaration.
The plea for peace is marked by the counts of nuclear tests still taking place. We noted how the US has conducted 5-20 times more tests than any other country in the world. It doesn't shed a particularly good light on our nation, but part of me wouldn't expect it to. There are the voices of survivors, photos of their injuries. Voices and letters of survivors that lost those close to them asking for the nuclear age to end. Voices and images of those whose homes are near nuclear testing sites speaking of the horrors they've experienced. It's quite a message.
As we left, I paused to consider what I wanted to tell Roo about what we'd seen and learned. There was a "children's" book by a Japanese author that discussed the day of the bombing. We decided that it would be too hard on a child to read about the Japanese perspective of the bomb. We want her to have both sides and be able to form her own opinions. I'm not sure I'm done forming mine or if I ever really will be.
We ended up with a small package of postcards. It has images of the clock you see when you first enter the exhibit - amangled wall clock, stopped at 11:02. It has images of the glass with the hand on the same card as the tree with the china. It has the clothes. It has the cathedral replica. This captured most of what really made an impression on me, since I couldn't photograph it myself due to museum rules. Maybe if Roo visits on her own someday she will be struck by other things, but I wanted to have something for her to see should she never come back. Hopefully it will help bring a more global perspective to what she's taught in school someday. That's really all I can ask for her...well, that and peace. That's a strong message that was certainly received today.
We were conflicted about this trip. We wanted to see the park and the museum and see the Japenese perspective of the bomb. What had they chosen to remember? What message did they send? We wanted another side of the story. At the same time, I felt almost ill at the prospect of being so close to an area touched by such horror. I was afraid that any Japanese there might be offended by our presence. I didn't want to cause anyone any more pain. We got a few stray glances from members of the tour groups. Surprise? Distaste? I really couldn't tell. We saw a couple of other caucasians there so I knew we weren't alone in our desires. In fact, having completed the biggest part of our tours there, I'm glad we decided to go.
Mostly, it's a wide open park. There is statue of a woman holding a child to one side of the area. It seemed a wonderful place to sit and reflect on just about anything. They have succeeded in building a very peaceful spot that is filled with birds and trees and benches for quiet reflection.
The single black pillar standing in the middle marks the hypocenter of a nuclear blast. Today, and I'm guessing most days, it was covered in flowers and strings of brightly colored origami cranes. There were many other strands of cranes in a covered area nearby. I must guess gifts of days past. I cried standing before it. All of the emotions I thought I might feel...sadness, guilt, wonder, fear...they were there and manifest themselves as tears as I took it all in.
To the right of it stands a remnant of the Urekami cathedral that they've relocated and reinforced to assure it stands the test of time. There is a replica of another portion of the cathedral inside the museum as well as some of the statues that survived the blast. It was a beautiful building.
As we left the park, we read the open apology by the Japanese for the enslavement and deaths of the Koreans that were in Nagasaki at the time of the bomb. Given what we've learned of the culture, I shouldn't be surprised, but I was certainly humbled by a people willing to apologize for something over which they ultimately had little control. From their perspective, though, I guess they wanted the control to not bring those people there. It was not something I expected to read and certainly made me realize the arrogance of the United States. I can't imagine finding an open apology for any of our past transgressions carved in marble in any of our parks.
Inside the museum, we learned that they've chosen to record the horrors of a nuclear blast followed by a plea for peace. It was horrifying to see molten pieces of glass encasing the bones of a human hand, clothes shredded by flying glass and still stained in blood, splinters of glass embedded in wooden stairs, wood petrified instantly by the heat and pressure, pieces of paper and coins melted and burned despite being in a safe at the time.
At the same time, you looked in the next case and saw the cross-section of a tree. In the center were shards of porcelain, but around it had grown new tree, hiding its scars, a testament to the durability of mother nature. It made me think back to the park, an area that was supposed to be barren for 75 years and realize that 75 years haven't passed, yet it's green and lush and beatiful. I have no clue how much of man's intervention was required to help that miracle along, but it gives me hope.
They also discuss the timeline leading up to the blast. I noticed emphasis on the US not warning Japan of their intentions, not giving them any chance to back down prior to the bombs being dropped. Would it have mattered? I don't know, but they felt the need to mention it. Chrys and I observed that the Soviet Union had declared war on Japan the day before the blast, something neither of us recalled having been taught in school. It made us wonder if what the US did was made more or less necessary by that declaration.
The plea for peace is marked by the counts of nuclear tests still taking place. We noted how the US has conducted 5-20 times more tests than any other country in the world. It doesn't shed a particularly good light on our nation, but part of me wouldn't expect it to. There are the voices of survivors, photos of their injuries. Voices and letters of survivors that lost those close to them asking for the nuclear age to end. Voices and images of those whose homes are near nuclear testing sites speaking of the horrors they've experienced. It's quite a message.
As we left, I paused to consider what I wanted to tell Roo about what we'd seen and learned. There was a "children's" book by a Japanese author that discussed the day of the bombing. We decided that it would be too hard on a child to read about the Japanese perspective of the bomb. We want her to have both sides and be able to form her own opinions. I'm not sure I'm done forming mine or if I ever really will be.
We ended up with a small package of postcards. It has images of the clock you see when you first enter the exhibit - amangled wall clock, stopped at 11:02. It has images of the glass with the hand on the same card as the tree with the china. It has the clothes. It has the cathedral replica. This captured most of what really made an impression on me, since I couldn't photograph it myself due to museum rules. Maybe if Roo visits on her own someday she will be struck by other things, but I wanted to have something for her to see should she never come back. Hopefully it will help bring a more global perspective to what she's taught in school someday. That's really all I can ask for her...well, that and peace. That's a strong message that was certainly received today.
posted by Wynnie | 02:55
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