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Ground Zero - Hiroshima 60 Years Later
By Ginger Warder
A slightly faded red tricycle stands alone in a black exhibit case. 60 years ago, it stood at ground zero, occupied by a dark-haired toddler of whom no trace was ever found.
Hiroshima’s Peace Park is a travelogue of human frailty. The now familiar image of the partially destroyed dome of an exhibit hall stands as a reminder to the world of the horrific consequences of failed diplomacy. The Japanese insisted on that. They blame their own leaders, as well as ours, for that day.
Touring the museum exhibits is not fun. It is an intensely painful and emotional journey. There are no “oohs and aahs” as men and women from countries around the world study the devastation wrought in just a few minutes on that morning so long ago. Instead, the silence is punctuated by an occasional sob or a softly-spoken “Oh, my God….”
At first, you hang your head, avoiding eye contact with other visitors, especially Japanese visitors. A kaleidoscope of thoughts create a running dialogue in your head.
“How could my country have done this? It’s not my fault….I wasn’t even born yet. What did those pilots and bombardiers think as they were circling the verdant islands, beginning their descent on the bombing run? Where was God that day? Did the scientists at Oak Ridge have any idea what their research would be used for? If they did, how could they justify this kind of wholesale slaughter? “
At some point, you finally get the courage to look around at the other visitors, and you realize that here , in the most unlikely of places, cultural differences are dismissed for the trivial things they are, as strangers from across the globe reach out to comfort one another.
Which story will haunt you? Perhaps this one :
The single mother of five who got up that morning, and took the train from her village into the city to go to work. It was a little after 8 when the train pulled into the station., and she gathered up her things preparing to disembark and walk to her office. And then, there was no train station…there was no office. Miraculously, the mother survived the blast, and in a daze, walked the ten miles back to her village, not knowing that her radiation poisoning would kill two of her daughters, and condemn her future grandchildren to life-altering deformities. This is but one of the thousands of poignant stories told by the museum’s exhibits, films and storyboards.
Exiting the museum into the grounds of the beautifully landscaped Peace Park is to go from the darkness into the light. Our Japanese friend, Abe , explained that the entire exhibit and park were designed not only to remind the world of the horror of the atomic bomb, but also to offer hope to humanity for a peaceful future.
Ground Zero lies along the banks of the river that dissects the city center of Hiroshima. The heart of the business district, it was a calculated target to stun the Japanese into surrender. The timing of the attack, during morning rush hour, was chosen for maximum destruction.
Upon entering the grounds of Peace Park, the first memorial one encounters is the eternal flame. In the midst of colorful flowers are monuments to the lost children, decorated with paper chains and letters from schoolchildren around the globe. One can walk down to the banks of the river where thousands of Japanese people hurled themselves in a desperate effort to avoid their destiny. The park is dotted with benches for quiet contemplation, and the shrines overflow with floral tributes and messages left by visitors.
A cadre of old Japanese women in long black robes and wide-brimmed, flat straw hats maintain constant vigilance with their brooms and dustpans around each memorial site. Hand-drawn carts of landscaping equipment are pulled along by gardeners who rake, mulch, weed and water the beautiful flowers, lawns and trees.
My first visit to the museum and park also marked many firsts for me in a personal sense. It was the first time I was ashamed to be an American. It was the first time I fully realized that innocence is no protection against atrocity. It was the first time I understood that as a citizen of the world, I needed to take an active part in the political process.
If travel is education, then visiting Ground Zero should be required Travel 101. Every politician, world leader, and General , and every citizen of every country in the universe needs to experience first-hand the horror of what we human beings are capable of doing to one another. Nothing in all of my travels has touched me so profoundly, or made me question my beliefs so thoroughly as seeing the results of that mushroom cloud.
Before leaving Peace Park, I return once again to that burned-out fragment of the dome that still stands. The picture-postcard blueness of the sky throws the building’s outline into stark relief, and sunshine peeks through its ragged walls. It is indeed a reminder of what happened so long ago , but it is also a memorial in its own right, a beacon of hope for future generations and a testimonial to the resiliency of the human spirit.
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