The Exodus

Today marks the end of the second post-earthquake week. That's what my calendar tells me but how can this possibly be true? Was it really only a week ago that my American friends started leaving Japan?

Daffy was the first to go. She handed me the keys to her "throwaway BMW" and we laughed all the way to Haneda Airport because the BMW's controls are different from the controls in my Japanese car. When I meant to indicate a lane change, the windshield wipers would spring into action. When I needed to roll down my window to pay a toll, I invariably readjusted my sideview mirror instead. I have known Daffy for six months. She makes me laugh. I miss her.

Then Fearless and the twins left, and my neighbor Hoorah, and countless others who booked their own flights when the schools closed. They left the day after the high school vice-principal fled Japan, ignoring the terms of her contract.  I miss Fearless and Hoorah.  I'd like to assume the vice-principal is now unemployed.

Erin tried to hold out for a government-funded departure but by Saturday morning, between the schools closing and the base announcing the cancellation of all child-friendly activities, she was at the end of her rope.  She booked a Sunday flight out of Narita Airport. The base runs three free bus shuttles to Narita Airport every day but none early enough to get Erin and her boys to the airport in time for their flight. So they took a Saturday afternoon shuttle and camped out at the airport with other Navy families overnight.  One of Erin's fellow campers was a young lady from my hometown who was traveling with an infant. I shudder at the thought.

The Navy employs thousands of men and women whose primary task is planning. They would be well served to consult with a few young military spouses like Erin who could remind them that the "devil is in the detail".  Erin called a cab to transport four suitcases and three children from her apartment to the bus shuttle.  The cab did not arrive.  Erin loaded everything into her van, drove to the bus depot, unloaded her van, left her oldest son in charge of her youngest, tracked me down, and drove back to the bus depot where we loaded four very heavy suitcases into the bowels of the bus while several able-bodied sailors looked on, apparently admiring our biceps. 

I returned Erin's van to her designated parking space and strolled home after imparting some unsolicited advice.  Erin is about the same age as my nieces Amy, Jennifer, Ann, and Jessica so I tend to be a bit free with my unsolicited advice.  To her credit, she takes it in good humor and probably a grain or two of salt.  I suspect I will miss Erin a tiny bit more than she will miss me.

We were standing in the bus depot when I advised her to take a mental snapshot of her three boys, four large suitcases, and four incredibly heavy backpacks.  "Be sure you remember this moment, Erin, when they start begging you for a dog."

That was Saturday. Sunday the mass exodus commenced. That's when the Department of Defense started executing the order authorizing the voluntary departure of military dependents. Thousands of young military families, primarily young women with infants and small children and whose husbands are currently at sea providing humanitarian relief, might have been spared much pain and confusion if our government had only communicated clearly rather than indulging in hair-splitting bureaucratic-speak. How can we expect young military spouses to comprehend the difference between "authorized", "ordered", and "executed" when graduates of college journalism schools do not?

On Tuesday Artistic, her three teenagers, and their very large dog left Japan.  Two vehicles were required so Weather and I escorted them to Narita Airport.  I fastened my seatbelt and adjusted the mirrors before confessing that I had never actually driven to Narita before.  Desperate times call for desperate measures.  As for missing Artistic, I think longtime readers know that goes without saying.