Ship of Dolls
Page 15
A shocked silence settled over the table. No one had expected to hear Grandma lash out like that. Mama giggled, then held a menu in front of her face, her eyes laughing above it.
Mr. Clayton turned his hands palms up. “Of course you have. Of course you have. But an active ten-year-old must keep you on your toes.”
“Don’t you worry about my toes,” Grandma snapped.
At the same time, Lexie said, insulted, “I’m eleven, almost twelve!” Her thoughts whirled. This was what she’d wanted — to be with Mama. It didn’t matter where. So why did she feel all mixed up? Mama means to go, whether I go or not.
“She doesn’t have clothes with her for such a trip,” Grandma said, as if that settled the matter and Lexie wouldn’t be going.
The suitcase Lexie had packed so full leaped into her mind. She had come prepared to stay with Mama. But somehow the first rush of excitement was fading.
In her breezy way, Mama said, “When we get to Japan, we’ll find a seamstress to sew you some glad rags, kiddo. Maybe a kimono! You’ll be cute as a button!”
“You need to think about this, Electra,” Grandma warned, the pain easy to see on her face.
Lexie felt hot and cold by turns. She had aimed her whole life — well, the past several months — toward getting back to Mama. But she wished the surprise had been a kitten after all.
It wasn’t a kitten. And she had to make a decision that felt too big for her. “I’ve already thought about it.”
“Swell!” Mama exclaimed. “You and me in Japan, kiddo. We’re going to be the bee’s knees!”
“No,” Lexie said, feeling bad about disappointing Mama. But her decision felt more and more like the right one. She wondered if that decision had been growing since she’d learned it wasn’t Toby who had kept Mama from meeting the ship, even though she hadn’t known about the trip and the decision until just now.
Everyone was looking at her. She had to tell them all. “I’m going to Portland with Grandma.” Tears threatened, and she swallowed hard. “When you come back, you can stay with us for a while. Can’t she, Grandma?”
“Of course.” Grandma looked like someone who had won a big prize and was trying not to cheer in front of the losers. “You’re always welcome, Thea.”
“But sweetie,” Mama protested, “this chance won’t come again. Take time to think about it. You have to be sure.”
Lexie thought of the way Captain Richards had looked at Mama, a look Lexie had seen before. That look meant dancing all night while Lexie waited alone in a cabin.
Japan would be exciting while Mama was with her, full of energy and excitement and laughter. But Lexie knew she’d be spending a lot of time alone in Japan, where people talked in a language she didn’t know and wouldn’t understand. She had spent a lot of time alone in Seattle but hadn’t let herself think about that. She had to think about it now. “I am sure.”
“Why?” Grandma sounded as if she didn’t want to risk changing Lexie’s mind but felt she had to give her that chance.
Lexie looked from one to the other around the table. She searched for a reason to turn down the trip that wouldn’t hurt Mama. And found one. “Grandpa says Japan might go to war with China. He said we might get into it, too.”
“If we see a hint of war coming,” Mr. Clayton assured her, “we’ll skedaddle home.”
“There won’t be a war,” Mama said. “When did you become such a worrier? We could have a hoot over there!” Beneath the sparkle in her eyes, sadness glimmered.
“It’s more than maybe a war,” Lexie said, trying to explain. “I need to be here. I need to be with Grandma and Grandpa and Jack and my friends at school and . . . and come summer, I have a cherry pit–spitting contest to win.”
Grandma sucked in a startled breath, but Mama nodded. “That’s my kid!” Quietly she added, “You know I love you?”
“Yes,” She did know that. She had never doubted Mama’s love. And never would. “I love you, too. I’ll be waiting when you come back.”
In the morning Lexie stood with Grandma, watching Mama wave from the big ship’s rail. Mama had glowed the way she always did when she hugged good-bye, but some of the shine in her eyes came from tears.
“You’ll be back,” Lexie told her, holding tightly and wondering how to let go or if she could.
“Of course I’ll be back!” Mama kissed the top of her head, then gently held her away to look at her, as if memorizing her face. “Next time, kiddo, you and me, we’ll go together.”
Then, while Lexie clung to Grandma’s hand, fighting the urge to break away, to run after Mama and drag her from the ship, her mama walked up the gangplank. She turned with almost every step to wave again.
When the gangplank was drawn in and the anchor pulled up and all the chains released, two tugboats nudged the big ship away from the dock. Lexie jumped up and down beside Grandma, waving until she couldn’t make out Mama among the other people crowding the rail.
The tugs guided the ship up the bay. All too soon, it was lost to sight among others lining the piers. She didn’t have to see it to picture the tugs returning while the ship churned through the channel into the Pacific Ocean to begin the journey to Japan.
She swallowed hard, wondering if it was all right to cry now that Mama couldn’t see her. But she had held the tears back for so long, they felt locked inside.
“You made the right choice,” Grandma said. “And I’m as thankful as it’s possible to be that I’m not watching you sailing away to a foreign country.” She hesitated. “But, honey, I’m sorry your grandpa scared you with all his grumblings. Like as not, your mama’s right. There won’t be any war.”
“I had another reason.” Lexie put her hand on Grandma’s comfortable, familiar arm. “It’s that . . . you would have met my ship that day, no matter who else wanted you with them.”
“You know I would.” Grandma caught her into a tighter hug than any she’d given Lexie before. When she let her go, her eyes looked shiny, and she said again softly, “You know I would.”
Lexie felt right with Grandma holding her. They’d had some awful arguments not so long ago, and she knew they might have more ahead. But she was glad to be here on the dock with Grandma. The tears came loose after all and streaked down her face. Blinking, she looked toward the ship, although she could no longer see it. “Will she be safe?”
“Your mama always finds her way. She’ll come back before you know it.”
Lexie hoped Grandma was right. It was hard not to think about Grandpa’s predictions when he read the paper or listened to news on the radio. If Mama and the dolls were sailing into a country about to start a war, she hoped Mama would give up her adventure and sail straight back across the ocean.
But Mama had to make her own choices. Lexie had made hers. She looked at Grandma and smiled, the mist gone from her eyes. “Let’s go home and see if Louise tells the truth at school.”
Lexie’s story is fiction based on a little-known event in American-Japanese history, the exchange of Friendship Dolls between children of both countries. The dolls were meant to help American and Japanese children understand and love one another so they would grow up to wish for peace with their friends across the Pacific.
The project was begun by Dr. Sidney Gulick, who retired to America after years of teaching in Japan. In 1924, out of fear of losing American jobs to immigrants, American lawmakers passed an act barring new Japanese immigration to the United States — a law that was not rescinded until 1954. Sensing the danger of a coming war, Dr. Gulick urged American children to join his project.
In nearly every one of the then forty-eight American states, children collected pennies to buy, dress, and transport dolls for Japan. Records usually give the number of dolls sent as 12,739. (A listing of dolls received by each Japanese prefecture totals 12,294.) Whatever the correct total may be, more than twelve thousand dolls made the journey.
They traveled by steamship to Yokohama, arriving in time for
the annual Girls’ Day festival called Hinamatsuri, which features ceremonial dolls kept by families.
The American dolls were welcomed with parades and parties. Several young Japanese princesses attended the biggest celebration of all. A Japanese newspaper wrote, “The exchange of dolls is the exchange of hearts.”
In response, the Japanese government commissioned its finest doll makers to create fifty-eight elegant Japanese dolls, each thirty-three inches tall, to travel to America. These dolls represented each of the forty-seven prefectures, the four territories, and the six major cities of Japan. The fifty-eighth, an especially elegant and expensive doll named Miss Dai Nippon (Miss Japan), was given by the imperial household.
As with the American dolls, each carried a letter from a Japanese child, along with traveling clothes, a steamship ticket, and a passport. Unlike the American dolls, these traveled in first-class cabins. Each doll came with accessories to illustrate Japanese life, including tea sets for daily and ceremonial use, lacquered chests and tiered tables, silk-shaded lamps, and even tiny toys and dolls of their own. The dolls’ faces were made of a composite using crushed oyster shell. They were dressed in elegant kimonos made of handprinted or delicately painted silk.
Called the Dolls of Gratitude, the Japanese dolls arrived in America in November 1927, in time for Christmas. Some toured America while others waited in New York City. The dolls were warmly welcomed with parties and celebrations, then displayed in museums throughout America.
Sadly, the Friendship Dolls could not prevent war between the two countries. In 1941, after Japanese planes bombed American navy ships at Pearl Harbor, America joined World War II.
What of the dolls? In America, the lovely kimonoed Miss Japan and her sisters were stored away and forgotten. The dolls in Japan suffered a harder fate. In 1943, they were declared “symbols of the enemy.” The government ordered them destroyed, often in front of the children who had come to love them.
However, friendship had already blossomed between American and Japanese girls, many of whom exchanged letters before the war. Adults by the time the dolls were ordered destroyed, a few brave young women secretly defied their government by hiding dolls throughout those devastating years.
World War II ended in 1945. Reconstruction began in Japan. Cities rose. Trade flourished, and the two countries became friends.
Beginning around 1973, the remaining American Friendship Dolls (often called the Blue-Eyed Dolls) were remembered and gradually recovered from their hiding places. Nearly three hundred were eventually rescued and placed on display.
In America, the Japanese Dolls of Gratitude were also rediscovered and rescued from storage areas and dusty basements. At this writing, forty-six of the original fifty-eight dolls have been restored and placed on display in museums across the country.
More information, along with both historic and contemporary photographs, can be found at http://www.bill-gordon.net/dolls/.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either
products of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2014 by Shirley Parenteau
Cover illustration copyright © 2014 by Kelly Murphy
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First electronic edition 2014
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 2014931695
ISBN 978-0-7636-7003-0 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-0-7636-7415-1 (electronic)
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