We've been here before.....

  

                  guard tower at manzanar internment camp, california                                 

   We've been here before. It is in our story.

     It was this week in 1942 an offense against Asian people  began and it betrayed American principle and idealism.

 

    Immigration is a recurrent political thorn and people suffer. There are seasons of hate and victimhood changes by ethnicity, heritage, and nationality. As violence and animosity toward AAPI peoples accelerate, we recall how the American federal government crossed a line of ignominy. 

     Manzanar is emblematic of the mistreatment of people of Asian ancestry, and their resilient grace in sustaining.  

 MANZANAR

        The National Historic Site is history as a window to our national soul. It's also evidence of a test of civility and a benchmark on doing what we say we believe.

        In this instance it was people of Japanese heritage. We know however, our villainy has been felt by Native citizens, Africans, Jews, Irish, Germans, Italians, Mexicans, and others despite we are a nation of immigrants. Immigration makes us better, and more culturally rich, but our history condemns us.

       The Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, followed days later by submarine attacks on central California marine targets unleashed a public mania that empowered a low in American history, the internment of nearly 120 thousand Japanese Americans during WWII.

      The Manzanar Site, ironically near Independence California, tells the history and testifies as to how fragile our civil liberties are.

      Operated by the National Parks Service, the Manzanar Historic Site, 200 miles north of LA, provides an intelligent  account of the life that began there in March of 1942. It conveys emotion.

     10 thousand people lived in 504 barracks the internees built. Tar paper shacks, windy, cold and snowy in winter, blown by sand and sweltering in the 110 degree summers.

   Surrounded by barbed wire, armed guards, and watch towers, entire families tried to make the best of life in a kind of prison camp. 
   They had been uprooted and forced to live in a cramped adversity with communal latrines and showers without stalls. Personal space and privacy taken from them.

    They worked, digging irrigation canals, raising fruit, vegetables and livestock. They made clothing and furniture, camouflage netting and rubber products for the military. They were paid between $12 and $19 a month. With their limited funds they published a newspaper, operated a general store, bank and barbershop. 

   Without due process, the Federal government gave Japanese Americans only days to decide what to do with homes, farms, businesses, cars and all property. Most sold their possessions at a significant loss. They took only what they could carry.

      Not one Japanese American was ever charged with espionage. 
    Nearly 26 thousand Japanese Americans served in the US Military during WWII, many serving with distinction and  decoration.  
    In the frame below is Teru Arikawa the mother of PFC Frank Arikawa, the first soldier from Manzanar who was killed in the line of duty.

        Most of the Japanese American soldiers served in the 442nd Regimental Combat Team in North Africa, France and Italy. The unit had the highest casualty rate and was the most highly decorated Army unit of its size and length of service.
    The quote below is from President Harry Truman at a White House ceremony honoring the 442nd and 100th Infantry Battalion of the Hawaiian Territorial Guard.

         President Roosevelt's Executive Order 9066 on February 19,1942 authorized relocation and/or internment of "anyone who might threaten the US war effort."  
       With that simple order American civil liberties and justice were savaged.  
        Processing and reporting centers were opened and Japanese Americans were forced to depart.

     Ten relocation camps were built. Without the rights due them, American citizens were forced into internment, with no idea of how long they would be held. No charges were brought against them.

    21st century Americans can visit Manzanar and see the vestige of a time when emotion, paranoia, awful political judgment and prejudice combined to create a despicable shadow on the life of this nation. It was a time that revealed our promise of freedom, liberty, and justice to be hollow and hypocritical. 

    It is both moving and frightening to see the names of those American citizens, who, because of heritage, were, without any legal recourse, treated like criminals and put into internment camps. Their freedoms were denied by an executive order, as a nation stood by.

    A driving and walking tour also covers the memorial ground, where those who died are remembered and where ashes were spread. 

 

       

     Post Trump America holds new paranoias and hatreds with new generations who are the target of zealots, racists, ideologues and politicians seeking favor.  

     

     I asked once if Manzanar could happen again? Could we again suspend due process and trample civil liberties because of fear and a perceived threat? With the Trump-McConnell appointees on the federal bench, and all the believers of the big lie, it's a valid question still.

                    

      Manzanar can be explained, but not excused, by the fear stemming from war. Now it is another affliction that stalks us. Ignorance, brutality, political expediency and radicalized hate have aggregated to threaten our way of life, our beliefs and our future.

     

       We have soul searching and soul work to do.

       See you down the trail. 

SANCTUARY

     The underground railroad is revered history in the mid-west. As school kids we learned the effort to help slaves to freedom was not without risk, or cost, but was the right thing to do. It was right to break a law. 

      The Fugitive Slave Law required free states to assist slave catchers, so those who were part of the underground railroad's network of secret routes, passages and safe houses violated a federal law. A rotten federal law passed by Congress.

       We admire the freedom riders who a century later risked life and well being to help end the vestiges of slavery. We admire those who sat in at lunch counters to protest overt segregation and racism. They too were beaten and arrested.  We admire freedom marchers who put their bodies on the line. 
       Civil disobedience, the willing violation of law to make a point about rotten laws, regulations or custom is a revered  and necessary tradition of a free people. Breaking a law, a bad law, is American.

        Blacks would still be property, denied rights or without a vote, women would be chattel and without a vote, children might still be indentured to work houses and sweat shops if Americans did not violate laws or ordinances to fix bad law. Presently millions of Americans, hundreds of churches and many cities connect with the ethic, principal and values of the Underground Railroad.

     Current immigration policy is predatory. We understand the need to locate and process violent offenders, gangsters, and those who threaten people and property. But the present enforcement push harms good people, business owners, parents, exemplary residents, some who have been good neighbors for decades.

     It is an irony to hear Trump supporters say while this is what he said he would do, they don't like that friends, employers or employees are being targeted. It is sad when American school children are terrorized by US Agents who are either threatening or are sending their fathers or mothers away. It is tragic when some are deported after making successful lives, paying taxes and  being responsible contributors. It is bad policy, bad law, too inflexible and the Sanctuary movement is thus an historic American response. 

     The Underground Railroad, the Suffragettes, the Civil Rights Movement, the Sanctuary Movement have at their nexus a spiritual and faith driven motivation. Principles of equality, fairness and compassion put into practice even against bad law. Some will argue we are a nation of law and laws are to be enforced. But thank God people of conviction and courage have broken laws and taken action to eliminate bad law. 

the eagle under attack

     With apology for the blurred images, we submit a few frames of a combat we watched from the tennis court.

            On changing service sides Mike pointed to the grazing slope below Scott Rock outside Cambria and noted what he referred to as a "golf ball like" white object.  He surmised it was a bald eagle. We watched as red tailed hawks dove at and menaced the eagle.

    Mike, Gail, Roy and I watched with amazement. Following our match play I attempted to grab a few photos. Distance plus the pace and furry of the fighting conspired against a good shot.

    One needs a good view of such intrigues.

same goes for the state department

    I don't know what it is-arrogance, stupidity, intended obfuscation or some other combination, but Secretary of State Tillerson needs his ears boxed. His actions of ignoring or isolating the US media is doing no one any good.  He pulled the stunt again on this middle east trip, giving a briefing but excluding his own nation's media. 

      Tillerson could get away with that as a private CEO, but as an employee of the American public he needs to be watched, studied, monitored and reported on. Importantly, a strong media presence has given previous Secretaries of State more than an equal voice or power in administrations. Tillerson is weakening his own heft. Someone needs to knock sense into him.

     See you down the trail.

FRAMES

FRAMES

BOND

   There was a time when I thought he could become the first black President.  It was the late 60's and his articulate and cool response to issues of race, even platform and credential matters in the Democratic party demonstrated intelligence, class and true leadership. I interviewed Julian Bond several times over the years I covered civil rights, race issues and politics. He was a key source in KLAN the documentary I wrote and directed that won the Emmy.
    Bond had charisma, a great sense of humor and was an eloquent leader. His passing serves as a reminder of the fragility and temporal nature of life, especially poignant to me since he was once "a rising star" and a generational peer. It is also a reminder of the power of intellect and temperance even in the face of mindless bigotry and hatred. One person, acting with dignity, conviction and reason can make a difference.

   Julian Bond was a light in the struggle for equality.

LIGHT OF ANOTHER SORT

   David Simon, who has won awards and fans for WIRE and TREME has started his new HBO series SHOW ME A HERO by pealing the layers of racism and anti Semitism in historic Yonkers.

    The mini series is based on New York Times reporter Lisa Belkin's book and details the late 80's and early 90's struggle to build federally mandated public housing in Yonkers.

    Paul Haggis directs the series starting Oscar Issac. The first two episodes feature terrific acting including a knock out job by Jim Belushi as an embattled Mayor. 
    It promises to be a brilliant series. It is also a case in point of how difficult it has become in this republic-layers of competing governmental interests, individual attitudes both good and bad, partisan politics and plenty of unbridled short sightedness and personal interests above common good. It is a lot of human grist for the nuanced script written by veteran journalists. Art imitating life.

FRAMES II

  

   See you down the trail.

SEEKING MEANING AND PURPOSE

IMPORTANT TO REMEMBER

THE BUTLER-AS HISTORY

    As we walked to our car, our eyes still moist and emotions thoroughly wrung out, Lana said "That is the way history should be taught.  Everyone should see it."

    The "it" is THE BUTLER, the Lee Daniels film that should win Forest Whitaker another Oscar nomination, if not an award. But this is so much more important than a masterful job of acting, script writing, directing and production.  The film is a searing course in American civil rights history. It's the truth and therefore the record is not good, but is one we need to own, address and learn from.  

    I was a young reporter in the time of the "civil rights movement" and came on the scene only a year after the seminal events of '63.  I remember seeing NAACP protesters being beaten as they were forcibly removed from a restaurant bar where their crime was to enter and wait to be served. It was of my first big stories. I covered marches, protests and other demonstrations that focused attention on discrimination and other manifestations of racism. 
    I worry that my daughters and their generation did not see or experience that time of American life and thus cannot fully embrace the precarious nature of our freedoms. THE BUTLER can emblazon the struggle, courage and history of that time in the heart and mind of those who see it.

     We must not forget the fire hoses, dogs, marches, beatings, bombings and those who stood up to them and who endured. Nor must we forget how long it was before the government finally did what it should have long before.  THE BUTLER is an extraordinary treatment of that arc of American history and is told with a moving personal view by an extraordinary cast.

WHEN IT WAS CELEBRATED

     You felt lucky if your picnic was in one of the shelter houses, those open sided rooms on cement pads under a roof.  The parks were full.  All of the picnic tables taken early, leaving late comers to find patches of green, preferably under a tree where they could encamp with blankets, lawn chairs and card tables.  That was back in the day, back when Labor Day was the day everyone went to a reunion, family picnic or party to celebrate a day off, the benefit of gainful employment. 

      In the industrial mid west those tables full of fried chicken, pies, potato salad kept in bowls or trays of ice, water melon, several kinds of baked beans or bean salad, chips and cheese puffs, cakes and more pies and cookies and jello creations and more were usually faced after people had been to a Labor Day parade.  

    Some of the really big bashes were staged by unions, at parks with pools, or beaches and featured family games-egg tosses, three legged races, water balloon catch, soft ball. The parents sat around munching, drinking lemonade, ice tea, soda pop or beer fished from ice water. The kids snacked and ran and played and drank more soda and ate more sweets than was probably good for us.  

     It was the end of summer, but the vibe was good.  Dad and in some homes dad and mom had jobs, we had cars that we kept clean, television sets, maybe a couple of phones in the house, and some of the people even had lake cottages.  Milk men delivered product to little metal boxes on the front or side stoop. You could even stop a bread truck in your neighborhood and buy a loaf from the driver. Policemen were your friends and near the school or boys club there was a blue uniformed policeman made from aluminum or tin with a big smile, a hand out warning to you to watch for kids- and he was somehow attached to either a sign or huge bottle of Coke. Innocent days. Good days. Days of full employment.

      The auto industry drove the mid-west cities and towns. If the factories didn't make the cars, they made the parts that made the cars.  Men who had come home from the war were making lives for their families.  You watched your pennies, kids had to do "chores" to earn an allowance, coupons were still important but there was a sense of hope.The century was moving toward progress. Labor Day counted for something. The middle class thrived. People counted on a future for themselves and their kids. A job meant steady pay and benefits.

      But that was then.  Wonder how many of those old parks were used today, how many have been kept up, or how many of them are safe?  Wonder how many folks celebrate their job, or how many companies celebrate their workers? Wonder how many people count on the future?

THEY HAD BETTER DAYS    

   See you down the trail.