My annual visit, on the 19th of February, to the monument of Japanese Internment in Santa Fe. I am reminded that once again we are vilifying immigrants today.
My bad – I didn’t realize there was a Day of remembrance on Feb 19 to commemorate Japanese American internment; I’m proud there is a monument here in Santa Fe. I saw the memorial sculpture in Washington DC and wept. “The [DC] memorial’s central sculpture evokes a powerful image. Japanese cranes, symbolizing the body and spirit of Japanese Americans, are entangled in barbed wire. The powerful symbolism and subject matter make this memorial unique and unforgettable.”
My very most beloved friend when I was 9-12 years old was a wonderful boy named Ronald Watanabe. We played together after school every single day. He was a cute, chubby fellow with soft, gracefully pointed hands and a smiling face. We went crawdad and tadpole hunting after a big rain. I don’t remember what all we did, but I remember his sweet face. We found things to endlessly talk about. Strangely, my best friends have usually been from foreign lands. I ache for all we have done and ARE DOING to our immigrants – as if we think we own this country and have forgotten we all came here from “somewhere else.” Yet so many want to come to the U.S. Is that changing?
Thank you for remembering them.
My bad – I didn’t realize there was a Day of remembrance on Feb 19 to commemorate Japanese American internment; I’m proud there is a monument here in Santa Fe. I saw the memorial sculpture in Washington DC and wept. “The [DC] memorial’s central sculpture evokes a powerful image. Japanese cranes, symbolizing the body and spirit of Japanese Americans, are entangled in barbed wire. The powerful symbolism and subject matter make this memorial unique and unforgettable.”
My very most beloved friend when I was 9-12 years old was a wonderful boy named Ronald Watanabe. We played together after school every single day. He was a cute, chubby fellow with soft, gracefully pointed hands and a smiling face. We went crawdad and tadpole hunting after a big rain. I don’t remember what all we did, but I remember his sweet face. We found things to endlessly talk about. Strangely, my best friends have usually been from foreign lands. I ache for all we have done and ARE DOING to our immigrants – as if we think we own this country and have forgotten we all came here from “somewhere else.” Yet so many want to come to the U.S. Is that changing?