I wrote War Baby for my children, grandchildren, and for anyone else curious about a time not to be forgotten. I wrote it to give them some sense of what it was like growing up in a particular place at a particular time, and how those events shaped me as a person. But, the past is a moving target. Someone with firsthand experience of an event who tells a second person about it no longer controls the narrative. That second person may, then, retell the story adding to it her own information based on reflection, opinion or hearsay. Even two people present at the very same event will often view it differently. So, how do you tease out the truth, which can mean different things to different people?” —Leah Napolin
NOTE: Leah’s original print version of War Baby was a series of brief narratives or descriptions arranged alone on a single page and accompanied, at times, with related drawings she created during this time period, family photos, or WWII propaganda posters. Quiddity space doesn’t really allow for the images to be presented in a large format, but if you wish to enlarge an image, click on it, and an enhanced image will appear on the screen. Also, the language/idiom in this text is what this young girl would hear and use 1935-1950.
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THE BOMB, Pt. 1
Printed in the biggest, blackest font I’ve ever seen, the headline on the front page of the newspaper reads, “ATOM BOMB!” Underneath is a picture of the boiling white cloud shaped like a mushroom and looking almost celestial that ends the war. This is followed by columns and columns on something called nuclear fission. Or fusion. It’s scientists who figured it out, for the Greater Good; scientists who saved us. The Japs surrender, which is the very best of a good thing.
I read further. We dropped this super bomb on the city of Hiroshima and 130 thousand people died in a flash. A few days later another atom bomb is dropped on Nagasaki and 75 thousand more die. I try to imagine these numbers of dead people but can’t. For Statues it would be too big a challenge. More surprising still, even though the dead are Japs I start to feel the stirrings of pity. Like me, they’re warm-blooded creatures. Families, grownups and kids together. Newspaper pictures of Japs with what appear to be clothes melting off their bodies leave me shaken when I look closer and see that it’s not their clothes melting, it’s their skin.
Around the same time, I hear Mother and Daddy discussing with others something that happened during the war in Europe to Jewish people, like us. Whole families, grownups and kids together. We were the hated enemy. This is news to me but not to my parents; it’s something they’ve picked up little by little through the fog of war, and now know about in all its enormity. Something that darkens their faces and takes the air out of the room. They wipe tears from their eyes. Their whispers are like black smoke coming out of their mouths. It’s something so awful that when I enter the room they stop talking. Much of what they say not only sounds ghastly it is ghastly. Words I’ve never heard before like Auschwitz, Buchenwald. And I’m hearing numbers again, this time in the millions. I try to imagine these numbers of dead people, like a dull smudge of stars in the dizzying expanse of a night sky, but can’t.
A disturbing question comes to mind: so many people are dead but I’m alive—why? Only one answer makes sense: I am a random accident of geography such as you might find in the World Almanac and Book of Facts, a child born of the blind causality of choices made by grandparents and great-grandparents who left the Old World to come to the New one where war is merely words on paper—some good, some bad—or images on a screen, two- dimensional like Popeye and Olive Oyl, but real. Good timing. Good luck. If bad things like this are allowed to happen, though, how can the world possibly be thought good? (to be continued…)
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MEANDERINGS: “In Passing”
It was an ordinary day, but one that already had had two “stop-and-consider” moments. I saw a rabbit this morning: Standing on the porch after collecting the morning papers and checking the mail, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a gray shadow against the curve of the yard’s green. It did not move as I tried to figure out what it was-- this quiet image. A slight twitch let me know that it was a rabbit, the first I’d seen on the property in over thirty years of living here. It was a momentary tableau—each of us an unmoving shadow. And, without cause, it hopped into the bushes leaving the green of the yard’s curve unoccupied but with my imagination crowded with possibilities.
The second: While reading a New York Times article I came across a word I don’t recall having ever seen before – COPINE. Each day I become more and more aware of my knowledge and experience shortcomings. And, not knowing the meaning of copine is one of them. (Thank you, Cambridge Online Dictionary) Given all the French-centered novels I’ve read, how could I not know, or remember, that copine (co-peen) is a French word for girlfriend, whether a pal or la cherie. A personal time line swiftly passes by as I ask myself, “How many opportunities to use this term have I missed?”. But mostly, I grieve that I will never be able to turn to Leah and say, “Good morning, ma copine.” &
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HYPATHIA’S BOOKROOM
A New Kind of Library
“I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of a Library.” –Jorge Luis Borges
QUIDDITY, is building its own library of books that are of importance to us--intellectually, emotionally, spiritually, ethically, etc.-- books that we would definitely rescue from a trash pile. We’re calling it Hypathia's Bookroom after the chief librarian of the ancient library of Alexandria. Tell us the title, author, category, and why this book is important to you. Questions you might consider include: Would you read this book again? Would you gift it to someone (who, why)? What note would you write on the cover page?
On the shelves so far: The rescued books selected by readers has grown and takes up too much space to list them all here. You can peruse the entire listing by going to the blog section of my website at blmurphy.com.
"There are so very many books, and we have forgotten almost all of them." (Lit.Hub) May we save all we can.
Kafka’s ideal of what a book should be: “An ax for the frozen sea within us.” (Sigrid Nuez interview in “By the Book,” NYT Book Review, 12/10/23)
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A New Hypathia Hero
Girl Scout Faces Censorship after Fighting Book Bans
Hanover, Virginia, Girl Scout Kate Lindley decided to take a stand against book banning after her School Board passed such a policy. She began working with fellow students, Girl Scout troop leaders, local librarians, and teachers to develop her Free to Read idea. Free to Read is an initiative that creates banned book nooks inside Hanover businesses. The nooks contain books from the long list of titles banned by the Hanover School Board. This allows students in the area to access these books for free. Kate established her nooks in two Hanover businesses: a donut shop and a printing service company. The local bookstore BBGB Books also opened a nook to support her cause.
In addition to her nooks, Lindley coded the “Free to Read” app, which was filled with information on book bans and their negative impact. Her Free to Read initiative also qualified as her Gold Award project, which is the highest honor a Girl Scout can obtain. On April 10, the Hanover Board of Supervisors was to honor Lindley and several other Girl Scouts for achieving the prestigious Gold Awards. However, the Board then decided to censor her project.
Essentially, the proclamation censored Lindley’s project, erasing information that was vital to establishing context and the project’s significance. The irony wasn’t lost on Lindley, who told the Richmond Times-Dispatch, “It’s kind of hilarious. For me, it’s very ironic that they decided to censor my project that’s meant to fight censorship.” &