Memories of being different – NaPoWriMo Day16

I finished Nina Revoyr’s new book, Wingshooters, and have recovered now. It’s a gripping and sad story of a young half-Japanese girl left with her bigoted grandfather and quiet, dutiful grandmother in rural Wisconsin. The grandfather is a complex character who tries to protect Michelle from the racial prejudices of the townsfolk yet joins them in despising and trying to run off the new black couple. Revoyr paints a great picture of the wild Wisconsin countryside of the 70s, the hunting and beer-drinking men who inhabit it, and the insular small attitudes of people who have never left their own town. Overall a thoughtful read with a good dose of excitement. Made me feel lucky.

The 1960s

In a house on the edge of cornfields,
Lived two little girls who turned brown as acorns
In the summer sun.

Hidden behind the plain ranch house
Was a garden of cool water and mystery
From the Orient.

Inside were big silver trunks
That held silken treasure and wooden clogs
That no one wore.

The girls pretended they were regular people,
Even though everyone knew they were not.
But they were lucky.

They only cried a few times,
When other children called them names
That rang in their ears
Like temple bells clanging.

Linda Austin
“Cherry Blossoms in Twilight”
http://www.moonbridgebooks.com

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Memories of Japan Town – NaPoWriMo Day14 and Day15

Okay, I skipped a post. I’ve had some full days and needed to finish getting info together for a presentation on Japan and the triple disasters for a series of 6th grade classes. That went really well and I was able to cover a lot of ground in each 30-minute session – and no one was bored. The last couple days I’ve been thinking a lot about my Japanese heritage.

About every month or so
Daddy took us all to Japan Town,
Past Big John and Navy Pier
To a small piece of Chicago
Where another country lay.

We walked the concrete floors
Of the Star Market Grocery,
Looking at tubs, ice-packed
With slowly waving crabs,
Quiet clams and mussels.

We examined rows of dead fish
Sleeping in their crushed ice beds.
We looked at undecipherable markings
On packages of unidentifiable foods:
Dried black squiggles, grainy pink powder.

My mother was in her own little heaven,
My dad dreamed of meals to come.
But beyond the Field Museum goods,
My sister and I
Could only think of candy.

Child’s Lunch in Japan Town (tanka)

Oh, McDonalds,
How I long for your French fries
I don’t like sushi
It taste like fish and mushy.
Mom ignores my deep loud sighs

Linda Austin
“Cherry Blossoms in Twilight”
http://www.moonbridgebooks.com

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The scent of memories – NaPoWriMo Day13

My favorite perfume is in the air! The ‘Miss Kim’ lilac is blooming. When I was a kid, our backyard was lined with the old-fashioned lilacs, Syringa vulgaris – an ugly name for a tall scrubby shrub whose sturdy purple flowers are much more impressive than the tiny, floppy ones of the French lilacs in today’s gardens. The scent of lilacs in the breeze brings me back to warm sunny days of childhood. What scent brings out memories for you?

I stood among the crooked trunks
Of old lilacs, and disappeared
In blue-green teardrop leaves
Shining cool in the warm sun.
All was silent except for bees
dressing themselves in purple,
While humming happy work songs.
A thick, sweet perfume,
Like heaven’s breath,
Floated in the soft breeze.

I was a brown doe
Hiding from the hunter, my mother,
Who, if she found me,
Would undoubtedly wonder
Why I was standing there
Like an idiot,
And call me in for chores
Or something else mundane.
I was sure she could not see
the wild woods
Of my imagination.

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