The Diaspora

Tomorrow I'll be sorting through scores of cherry blossom pictures, trying to find the one that will capture the essence of a Tokyo spring. But tonight I'm thinking about all the temporarily displaced temporary single-parent families that left mainland Japan two or three weeks ago and are now wandering around the United States lugging two suitcases each and perhaps a pet carrier.  Two-thirds of our schoolchildren left Japan shortly after the March 11 earthquake; most of them are now adjusting to new schools and some are experiencing home-schooling for the first time.  My heart goes out to those kids, especially the adolescents.

Most of my friends left Japan at their own expense.  The wheels of bureaucracy did not move smoothly between the announcement of a possible evacuation and the execution of same.  We were told one thing and then another.  The vacillation was excruciating at first and that's when the first wave threw up their hands, made their own plane reservations, and left town.  The vacillation did not abate during the execution phase - military flights were cancelled at the last minute, suitcase weight limits changed hourly at times, and at one point we were notified that commercial flights were no longer an option followed 90 seconds later by a message that that decision had been rescinded.  That's when things started striking us as hysterically funny, emphasis on hysterical, and a few more of my friends opted to make their own plane reservations.

Now they are wondering when they can come back.  They miss their beds, they miss their kitchens, they miss their friends.  Everything is up in the air.  The wheels of bureaucracy could use a shot of WD-40.  Input from the displaced families would be a novel approach.