It could not be more ironic, and perhaps fitting, that the book I am reading this week is titled "Hiroshima in the Morning." It is about a writer's journey to Japan to research the hibakusha, the survivors of Hiroshima, for a novel she is planning. Back in early 2001, Japanese-American author Rahna Reiko Rizzuto applied for and received a fellowship to research and study in Japan for six months and prepare to write her book.
The only problem was that her husband and two young sons would be left behind in New York. Although initially her husband supported her in her venture, things changed dramatically along the way. I haven't finished reading the book, but I know the ending, as does anyone who watched the clip several weeks ago on the Today Show. Rizzuto realizes, while on her research junket, that not only is her marriage not going to survive this separation, she no longer really wants to be a mother to her children. At least not an everyday, 24-7, live-in, there-if-you-need-her kind of mother. Ultimately, the trip allows her to redefine motherhood for herself and her family.
So a nuclear blast of a smaller kind dropped into that family's heart. And it all happened in the dueling shadows of a post-apocalyptic, 9/11 New York and the unnerving and terrifying legacy left by the atomic blast in Hiroshima more than 50 years earlier.
I am trying to weave the threads of this story together in this terrible week, the week in which we are watching contemporary Japan contend with disaster perhaps as destructive and dreadful, in the long run, as the WW II bombs.
I am feeling very small in the world today. My problems seem insignificant. But I do have problems, as do we all, and sometimes, during my normal daily routine, I stop to think about them and wonder whether I have the right to be worried or upset when the world seems to be spinning off its axis.
But still, I worry. My fears roam and ramble from the sane and normal middle class worries to the ridiculous and outlandish. I worry about having enough work during this unending recession, which is raining down particularly hard on my family right now. I worry about my family's health. I worry about my friends, a surprising number of whom are in the midst of terrible crises of their own. I worry about my aging parents, paying for college for my kids, and whether I am doing the best I can for my children.
And then there are the crazy, nightmare worries. Food shortages. Natural disasters. Political upheaval. The literal loss of the world as we know it. Dystopian, Mad Max-style apocalypse.
I'm well aware of how protected we are living in the United States, but there has been a deep well of fear bubbling up in me for the past 10 years, ever since I watched the Twin Towers and the Pentagon crash and burn. I still have my emergency supply box put together upstairs, although I never updated the clothing, which still represents our family in 2001: two adults, an infant, a 2-year-old girl and a 6-year-old boy. On the top of the emergency stockpile is a pair of white toddler shoes that I stowed away for my daughter, who is now almost 12, and they cause a small shiver when I look at them.
What if I can't protect my children when the time comes? What if we someday do need an evacuation route out of Washington, DC, a ground zero location if there ever was one? What if an earthquake or a tsunami of a different stripe strikes us – can I take care of my family?
The more I ruminate on the potential for disaster, the more I am having difficulty parsing and making sense of Rizzuto's story, despite my empathy for her.
In preparation for her book tour, Rizzuto wrote a provocative follow up essay in Salon, in which she claimed that that her time away from her family made her a better parent. Actually, as someone needs and craves solitiude, I can relate to that – a week doesn't go by where I don’t fantasize about having a room of my own somewhere to write and be by myself for long stretches of time.
But there is something in my own history that will always stop me from ever acting on this impulse.
My mother left my sister and me – I was 16, she was 11 – for her own version of a fellowship. She needed to live alone, on the other side of the park, in a studio apartment that only had enough room for one person to inhabit. She needed that room of her own. She needed to detach herself from her crumbling marriage and 24-7 parenting duties, indeed, any parenting duties at all, for about six years.
Eventually, my mother, like Rizzuto, found her way back. She laid claim to motherhood once again when I was in my early 20s and my sister was a teenager. We were older than Rizzuto's boys, which gave us more of a conscious choice about accepting her in her new mothering role, but ultimately, we let her in.
But the damage was done. The scars have closed up over time, and healed to some degree, but much like the burned, keloid skin of the hibakusha that Rizzuto describes, the marking never really goes away. I am the child of a mother who left.
This is what keeps me from ever seriously considering acting on id-driven impulses to find a quiet place for an extended period of time. This is what keeps me up at night, worrying about being able to take care of my family. This is what makes me plot out evacuation routes, think about fire escape ladders, keep my emergency supplies at the ready.
I am in deep mourning for the people of Japan this week and all those around the world who have been facing the fallout of natural disasters, potential nuclear catastrophe, political turmoil, food shortages and economic hardships. But I am also keenly aware of my own small plot on this earth, and the responsibility I have to protect and care for it and the people who inhabit it.
"Hiroshima in the Morning" – a poetic and beautifully written ode to distance, destruction, identity loss, and utter devastation, both inside a nuclear family and in the shadow of nuclear explosion.
May we all find the gift of time and place to contemplate our place in the world.
Thank you for taking the time to write about the book and your experience. I am the stepmom of a 16 year old girl and 14 year old boy whose mom left in the night with only a note stating she wanted to be on her own and proceeded to move 2 blocks away. She took the kids and while it destroyed by now husband-he found his way back to build a "new normal". In this case, the soul search did not yield what I suppose she was looking for as once we met, dated for 3 years and announced getting married she struck out on a journey to relocate to Argentina. A city she feels a soulful connection but has no contacts which offers the opportunity to fulfill some personal dream. We have been in the early stages of a court battle for her not to be able to take the children. All is difficult. I see the strain on the hearts of the children. I am a mother with a style like yours. I have two kids of my own the same ages who have a meal every night, clean rooms, clothes and rides to sports while working as a realtor to support them. She is artist and her proposed business in argentina is tango clothes. I spent the weekend with her daughter who for the first time has decided she will need to go. "The world has so much culture to offer. I want to see and do it all". I dont aspire for a nice house and cars-I want to travel. It kills me to see family redefined in this manner. Watching the author speak on the book made me sick. i would love to read it but I would not give her royalties. When did it become ok to denounce responsability as the one who made the decision to have children to then abort the life and responsability that role demands. I see it as nothing but pure selfishness and now it is being openly discussed as ok in society? My children are my reason for getting up and doing all that I do. I had a different before them and will have a completely new life afterthem but for now-they are my life as minors need Moms to be. I hope and wish young professional women accept that they will never find real contentment by selling the souls of their children for a little space to breath.
Posted by: amy | Sunday, March 20, 2011 at 11:23 PM
This is a truly wonderful post. You have woven your personal story with the unsettling and sad events in Japan together in a way that truly moved me. Thank you.
Posted by: Stacy | Thursday, March 24, 2011 at 07:00 PM
I'm sorry, but i find your attempts to parallel the suffering of the people aat Hiroshima with the suffering of a woman going through a mid-life crisis to be in very poor taste, and awfully ham-fisted from a writing perspective.
"So a nuclear blast of a smaller kind dropped into that family's heart" and "The scars have closed up over time, and healed to some degree, but much like the burned, keloid skin of the hibakusha that Rizzuto describes." all very sensationalist, with a high degree of self-entitlement as well. Rather ridiculous.
Posted by: Shiro K. | Sunday, May 22, 2011 at 02:54 PM
Wow I find so much about this situation close to home as I am the Step Mother to two children who did exactly the same thing! She travels freely for months at a time to various countries and has now decided she should relocate to Buenos Aires as she enjoys art and tango dancing. She has held us hostage quite literally for the last year for us to continue to pay her child support so she can relocate and they come visit. What I will offer is this--I have two biological children the exact same ages. Her children love me but ALSO love their Mom. Their feelings of abandonment ARE REAL PERIOD-I watch them daily. Kids have natural coping skills but nothing about this is right. When you arent there when they graduate even if its the 8th grade, that matters because those are big deals in their minds and hearts. The tear on their souls is stressfull and they feel there is some reason they arent good enough. The 16 year old girl has had her run ins with multiple drugs and I believe it has effected her self worth, She is much better now but her main concern is simple-is her mother happy?! Why is this role reversal being considered acceptable for mainstream mentality? If you have children, they come first or dont have them, My Mother had 10 children, I told this story at her funeral. We went shopping for school clothes in the 7th grade. Everything was perfect that I tried on that day. She made me feel special. I asked her driving home why she didnt buy anything for herself. She simply stated that she didnt so that I could and one day she hoped I would make the same choices. Not all Mothers put their children first Amy. I do so that you will. She was married to a Doctor. She was also an only child. She was SO BLESSED later in life with 34 grandchildren, an outstanding family and so much love!!! She had tons of time to travel and went to Europe 48 times in her life but not while she was raising us! There is a time and place for everything and if you dont put your kids first you are teaching them to do the same. I dont know many fulfilled people who got there without sacrifice and being selfish. I would like to read her book but refuse to pay royalties to this mindset because I believe it hurts childrens hearts. If her children turn out well and I hope and very much believe they may it will not be because of her choices. If her children put kids first, it will be because she didnt but all kids need and should love their mother. Thats why putting them in a position of being behind your own needs is so wrong. My advice, be happy where you are when you are in that space and time in life. There is plenty of time to write books, travel etc. but when your kids need a mom please be there. I hope for my step children they get a chance to see a different way of approaching things and a person who doesnt speak negatively about their mom. They call me the woman in the Blindside Movie. I think its because I meet their needs, clothes, homework daily not when it fits my schedule and I hold high standards. No messy rooms, work hard, achieve and love your family!
Posted by: [email protected] | Tuesday, May 31, 2011 at 08:54 PM