Rebel Girl is on the road, hiking the canyons of New Mexico and eating her weight in green chile and sopapillas. It's been pretty damn idyllic for her and the little family except for the moment at the end of every long desert day when they return to their small hotel room and tune into the latest grim update from Japan.
It reminded her of the short essay she'd written over a decade ago. The essay was inspired by the accidental activation of the official warning from the San Onofre plant (
Stand by for evacuation information) — instead of the reassuring warning:
"this is just a test."
In the original draft, there was extended reference to a recent nuclear accident at Japan's Tokaimura plant. Rebel Girl had been disturbed to hear reports of parents being directed to wipe the rain off their children's faces and arms.
The editor at the
Times excised the references to Japan, claiming that readers just wanted to read about local issues. She recalls him saying quite explicitly, "Orange County doesn't care about Japan."
She argued that O.C. readers
needed to care about Japan and that nuclear energy wasn't just one country's problem — its very nature made it everyone's concern.
She lost. What ran was a pleasant enough meditation about nuclear energy amidst bird watching on the beach.
from the
Los Angeles Times:
ORANGE COUNTY VOICES:
Nuclear power: Stark contrasts between nature's beauty and human hubris spoil the view at San Onofre ~ October 10, 1999
It was an accident. That's what south Orange County cable viewers who called about a civil emergency announcement on Sept. 29 were told. Southern California Edison was conducting its annual test of San Onofre warning sirens, but this year activated the wrong message. It was not an accident, it was an accident.
In the late 1970s, nuclear power politicized me, a suburban high school student. The Three Mile Island accident occurred two days before my 18th birthday. A friend, a foreign exchange student from West Germany, invited me to my first anti-nuke demonstration.
Scared, I didn't go. Later, I got scared of what would happen if I didn't get involved. So, years before I moved to Orange County, I joined protesters at the gates of San Onofre. My brother-in-law worked there. He'd kid me. "What do you want to do," he'd say, "put me out of work?"
Later, after I moved here, I accompanied my husband and a friend to Trestles, the surfing spot. They surfed while I stalked a great blue heron picking its way along the shore. My binoculars forced me to focus on the bird's lean silhouette. Finally, when the heron ascended, folding its neck and head together, spreading its broad wings, I followed its flight, pointing my sights inland. The twin gray domes of San Onofre filled the binoculars.
I was genuinely startled to find where I'd wandered. I'd never seen it from this perspective, nestled between bluffs, snug against the beach, sipping the ocean waters. I snapped a photo: heron, nuke, both reflected in the glossy mirror of sea. I turned and left, unsettled at where my walk had led me....
To read the piece in its entirety, click
here.
In today's
New York Times, novelist and Sendai local
Kazumi Saeki recounts his earthquake experience and reflects on the ongoing nuclear crisis in his essay,
"In Japan, No Time Yet for Grief" -
excerpt:
Reports of a catastrophe at the nuclear power plant in neighboring Fukushima Prefecture, involving hydrogen explosions and radiation leaks, have come in. Now an invisible pollution is beginning to spread. People have acquired a desire for technology that surpasses human comprehension. Yet the bill that has come due for that desire is all too dear.
Even as I write, strong aftershocks continue. As he left, Ben spoke of a “calm chaos.” It is true that faced with this calamity, the people of Sendai have maintained a sense of calm. This is perhaps due less to the emotional restraint that is particular to the people of the northern countryside, and more to the hollowing out of their emotions. In the vortex of an unimaginable disaster, they have not yet had the time to feel grief, sadness and anger.
To read the piece in its entirety, click
here.
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