Sakura Children Redux

A woman in Miyagi Prefecture washes a shoe found in the wreckage of her house.

About nine months ago, I asked you for postcards for the children of Miyagi Prefecture–a part of Japan leveled, first by an earthquake, and then by a tsunami–a tidal wave that washed so far inland that factories, houses, schools, stores collapsed under water and vanished, along with thousands of children, parents, workers, and teachers.  The devastation hit at the time of the cherry blossom (Sakura) festival, delicate blossoms blooming over devastation.

The postcards were a simple way to let the children know they were not forgotten, that someone cared about them, thought about them, wished them well.

You sent postcards–some of you asked your quilt clubs and Sunday School groups to make them, some of you got your classes and your children to make cards. The first week, I sent thank-you cards for each card that arrived, and then, as cards arrived without names, I thanked you from here. I thought I’d get a few. You sent me hundreds.

With help (many people helped forge the connections), I found a contact in Japan, and sent off the postcards. Some of you sent money to help cover the postage. I never knew if the postcards arrived, or what happened to them.

The postcards in display for the town of Ibaraki, Japan

Until today. I got a package from Japan–a book filled with images of the damage and destruction of Miyagi prefecture. (The picture at the top of the post is from that book.) There was a letter and photos tucked into the book.

The letter said, in part:

Thank you very much for your kindness.
I saw all of the cards.
I’m very impression.
Kitaiharaki City people saw those cards.
I’m thinking bring those cards for elementary school of another city.
I wanted show children worried about Japanese earthquake.
Umehana teacher is thanks to you and children!
She appreciation about that! SO MUCH!

I didn’t “fix” the words because I appreciate the struggle that went into answering me in English–I don’t speak, read or write Japanese, so who am I not to appreciate any effort to write me in English so I can understand the thoughts?

Your postcards in Japan.

What a gift–to know that the postcards were received and appreciated–put on display for all the people in one city to see, and then moved to another city for display.

I recognized some of the cards, I love the idea that they made it and someone hung each one of them.

To all of you who made and sent cards–you helped heal a pain, comforted a loss, sent strength and understanding. Art heals. It doesn’t get better than that. Thank you for helping, thank you for making art. Thank you for taking your time and making the effort to heal through art.

—Quinn McDonald is grateful.

Sakura Postcards: Off to Japan

Today was the day–after many posts, and many trips to the post office, the Sakura children are just a week away from getting their postcards. Today they went in the mail. Postponing seemed reasonable as long as the cards kept arriving.  No card-maker should feel left out. Finally the cards slowed down. I had three pounds of post cards. That’s a lot.

The first cards got a card and a hand-written thank you note. When I couldn’t keep up, I sent emails when I knew who sent them. I piled all the envelopes and cards into a box, and one day, I dropped the box, and the slip that kept the thanked cards from the unthanked cards floated across the room.

To all of you who remain unthanked, please accept my gratitude now. Your cards are amazing works of art, of kindness, of generosity, of giving.

To those of you who sent money, thank you so much. After three trips to the post office, and three different suggestions of how to send them, with three different prices, they fit, so they shipped. It cost just under $45 in postage, and I’m grateful for the help.

While I am sorry I did not send individual thank you cards, I’m hoping that seeing a display here (and many more here, and many more on my Flickr site, here) will convey some idea of how grateful I am.

Thank you for sharing your art for no more than a request. It will be a story the children long remember, and I hope someday an adult in Japan, who still has her postcard, will do what I did–and repeat the cycle.

–Quinn McDonald still has the postcard sent to her to make her feel welcome.

Sakura Postcard Update

Note: I’ve received more poscards than these from Angie and Bo. I’m learning how to make videos, and wanted to post this now. There will be another video with more cards later this week. Thanks for all who are sending cards.

This weekend, two more people gave me postcards for the Sakura children.

I’m gathering postcards for the children who went through the earthquake and tsunami in Japan. These children had every right to expect a normal life, and now their lives will be forever changed. You can read a previous part here. And see more postcards for the kids here. I called them the Sakura children, because Sakura means cherry blossom in Japanese. One of the heartbreaking facts was that the Cherry Blossom Festival, culturally important in Japan for parents and children, was cancelled this year because the terrible destruction made it impossible.

Cherry blossoms had been ripped from the trees by wind and water, and many parents and children weren’t alive to celebrate. Others were separated, lost, or injured.

You’ll love these postcards. The first set were made by artist Angie Platten, with the help of the children she teaches in her art classes. The second set are photographs from Bo Mackison at Seeded Earth studio.

You can still send make and send postcards to:

Sakura Children
P.O. Box 12183
Glendale, AZ 85318
“Sakura” means Cherry Blossom in Japanese.

–Quinn McDonald is an artist and creativity coach.

Thanks for the Sakura Postcards

When I wrote about the Sakura children–the kids left homeless by the earthquake and tsunami in Japan, I had no idea what would happen. Asking people to make postcards doesn’t seem like much, but it’s easy to forget. You didn’t forget. It would have been easy to just let it go–after all, what good would it do? But those who sent postcard know that art heals.

When I went to the post office today, I opened the box and found it empty. Well,  I thought, it was an experiment. Then I noticed the thin slip of paper on the bottom of the box. I slipped it out and found the note, “See a postal worker at the front desk.” I wondered why–I had just renewed the box and paid the fee.

When I got to the front, the postal employee asked me if I was “Sakura.” Uh-oh. Not wanting to explain, I said “Yes.” I’m not Asian, but then again, we don’t all look like our stereotypes. She brought me a dozen fat envelopes filled with postcards. My eyes filled up. It’s wonderful to know that people care enough to make art and share it.

Thanks to Marva in Colorado, Erica in New Jersey, and a group of anonymous card-makers with big hearts.

The photos here are just a quick collage of some of the cards. I’ve thanked some people before, but it’s time to thank all of you again. Cards came in singles, some came in envelopes. The youngest person to send a card was 6 years old. The oldest was well into her 80s. Some were anonymous. One package had the note, “We made a group of cards and added some money for postage.”

Thanks to Karen in Oregon, Lynn in Arizona and Priscilla in Massachusettes.

In the last months, I’ve had some low times. Wondering about war, the world, the people in it. To all of you who have sent a card, thank you so much. For your time. For your messages. For caring. I’ve shown the cards to friends and the reaction is universal: immediate soul-lifting. The joy in these small pieces of paper doesn’t wear out–they made me happy and they make everyone who sees them happy. That’s pretty amazing. Joy doesn’t get used up, it increases.

If you haven’t sent in your cards, you can read more about them here. Or, just make a card with a loving message for a child and send it to:

Sakura Children
P.O.Box 12183
Glendale, AZ 85318

Postcards for Japan–Add Yours, Too

My parents were refugees when they arrived here. Four wooden crates, combined to a size of a medium refrigerator and a small top-loading washer,  spoke for the first four decades of the lives of my parents and my two brothers. Those boxes contained everything–bedding, towels, clothing, shoes, books, kitchenware, toys (I remember only one), and what was left of their life. No furniture, no appliances, and certainly no TV, car, lawnmower, ladder, buckets or all the other items a family of four would accumulate to make up a life.

Tonia from Phoenix made these bright watercolor cards with rounded corners.

I was born the next year, so I don’t remember the first desperate weeks. What I do remember is that I never knew we were poor. We played tag and ball outside, climbed trees, and used our imaginations. At night, we would lie outside and my Father would tell us about the stars or tell stories. My oldest brother would read stories and poems he was learning in school. We didn’t have a TV till I was 16 years old. One of my most precious possessions from that time, so important that I have it still, was a postcard sent by a family friend. On one side was an image of an exotic place, on the other side was. . .a message just for me. “Wish you were here.” I has been in every room, apartment, condo, and house I’ve owned. It was in the studio when the house burned in 2003, and I have what is left of it still.

Anne from Australia made these mixed media postcards. Some have Japanese handwriting on the back!

Postcards are small art works, sent from the heart. They confirm affection, being missed, being included, being thought of. How could they not be wonderful?

When the earthquake collapsed Fukushima, Japan, and washed away homes, towns, cars, boats, and thousands of lives, my heart clenched. I saw children homeless, having lost everything, standing in refugee centers. I sent money, but I wanted to

Bo from Wisconsin sent in these bright one-stroke watercolor postcards.

do more. I remembered that precious postcard and decided that  a small piece of handmade art could still be precious. Could let a child know they were remembered, thought of, prayed for, cherished, even in such bleak circumstances. I cannot send enough money, I can’t go there and work or comfort people, but I can send a piece of handmade art, because art speaks directly to the heart, no translators needed.

Bea from Redondo Beach, CA sent in these mixed media postcards. The backs all have stories about Abraham Lincoln, and the front have colorful images.

When I asked people to send postcards to me so I could forward them to the children, I had no idea how many would come. I thought people might send me a postcard or two. But the postcards have started to come in. In envelopes. In bunches. I smiled with the first ones, and cried when I pulled more envelopes out of the post office box. I thought I’d share the first ones with you here, and encourage you to make yours, too, and send them in. They don’t have to be perfect, or wonderful. Just made with love.

Thank you so much Tonia in Phoenix, Bo in Tucson (on her way back to Madison!), Anne in Australia and Bea in Redondo Beach, California. Thanks for taking the time and spending money on postage.  You remind me of the truth of what Mother Theresa said:  “We can do no great things, only small things with great love.”

If you haven’t made a postcard yet, I am happy to get more.  Send them to: Sakura Children c/o
P.O. Box 12183
Glendale, AZ 85318 PLEASE DO NOT SEND POSTCARDS–ALL HAVE BEEN MAILED.

You can see larger versions of the postcards on my Flickr site.
–-Quinn McDonald is a creativity coach and writer who is thrilled to know that friends and strangers alike care for others.