In the early 1910s my great-grandparents fled their homeland of Russia/Poland and made the challenging ocean voyage to Canada and the United States where they were free to live according to their political convictions and worship according to their faith.
They kept in touch with their family back home by writing letters and sending photos when they could. My mother's aunt was born in Montreal and my grandmother was born in San Francisco. Not long after the family headed south to Los Angeles, putting down roots and staying there.
The family didn't prosper wildly but they worked hard and stayed safe and well. World War II broke out in Europe the year that my mother was born. As a young child she played with toys on the floor beneath the radio where her parents listened to reports about bombings in Europe. She learned to take cover in rooms darkened by blackout curtains during air raid drills in her elementary school classroom.
Sadly, most of the family 'left behind' in Europe did not survive the war. My mother describes how after receiving the news of their demise, her great-grandmother refused to speak of her family again for the rest of her life - it being too painful for her to discuss.
This story was recounted to me many time during my childhood, likely as a way of reminding me to be grateful for the blessings of health and life that we were lucky to have... not to get wrapped up in trivialities or material belongings.
Still, one of the key messages that I internalized as a kid from our family history is that it is sometimes prudent to leave a place when you can foresee dark days ahead... and that leaving can actually give you a whole new lease on life; while staying can prove fatal. Sometimes you have to take a risk and make a change to give yourself a future.
When we lived in our last few homes in the island-like area, which was a bit of paradise in itself - I worried (as previously described) about earthquakes and tsunamis and how they might affect us. We didn't move to higher ground simply to escape the heightened risk - we moved for a better education for our kids and the chance to buy our own home. Still, I haven't wept for a moment about the significant increase in our elevation; in fact, since the Japanese disaster a few days ago I've wondered mildly if 100 feet above sea level is even high enough.
This new nuclear threat though, has me a bit flustered. It seems quite insidious - you can't see the radiation, you can't smell or taste it, and yet it may be infiltrating the air you breathe, the water you drink, the food you eat. It can harm your children without you ever knowing. Such a silent enemy is quite dangerous because, from my view, you don't really know what you are up against.
Is it a phantom worry - a paper tiger? Or will we awaken in Southern California one day to discover that the hypothetical threat is real?
The question then springs to mind, how does a person know the moment when it is actually wise to leave a place... even when their friends or family aren't interested in leaving. How did my great grandparents know that they needed to leave Russia, leaving all of their family behind? How can one make a high quality intuitive decision when the facts aren't yet clear?
From what I've read, tons of folks around the country have stocked up on potassium iodide pills to protect themselves from radiation uptake... and sold out all the pharmacies in my city alone. I hadn't even heard of potassium iodide before today - and certainly didn't run out to buy any. Will this prove to be a poor choice? Were those anxious neighbors (the ones pounding down the doors of CVS and Rite Aid) right in jumping for the drug? Or were they just paranoid? How can one really know, when hindsight is 20/20 but foresight is more of a guessing game?
I am a mother and my first allegiance - as demonstrated in just about every single page of this blog - is to my three children. I will put them first in any situation no matter the cost to my own health or welfare. It horrifies me to read that the harmful effects of radiation are most likely to sicken children first because of their rapidly dividing cells. I am devastated for the Japanese children (and their parents!) living close to those nuclear reactors. I am also thinking about my own children. If I thought I could save them from all harm by doing so, I would bundle them up and pop them in the car and head off with my husband for some plume-free state.
Our government currently insists that even if there is ultimately a major meltdown in Japan at one or more nuclear reactors...and even if the plume heads straight for the West Coast of California... that we will be safe, that the radiation will be negligible. I don't have a whole lot of faith in those statements which may well be coming from the desire to avoid a mass panic. There is so much lying that goes on in politics, no matter which party is running the country. However, what solid choice do we have right now other than to believe?
I wish I could speak with my great-grandmother today and ask her, "How did you know? Why did you leave your home, when so many stayed? Did you have a gut feeling? Was it just a lucky guess?"
I pray that my ancestors who survived their own dark night of the soul are watching over their great-great-grandchildren right now and in the weeks to come.
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