As the strawberry season nears in Michigan, my mind goes back to a story my late father told me long ago.
My parents were of the generation of Japanese men and women who went into the workforce as Japan’s post-war economy was starting to take off.
My father was 14 when the Pacific War ended. The war triggered food shortages that were widespread across the country. The scarcity of essentials persisted through the early post-war period, and he and his fellows had to continue foraging (literally, as he was living in a very rural environment) for food well into his college years.
After his graduation, he went to work for a motorcycle manufacturer, where my mother had also gained employment. This was in the 1950s when American movies flooded the Japanese entertainment market. Soon, American musicals and cowboy action films came to fill everyone’s pastimes, and he became quite fond of them.
A few years later, after my parents had married and I had come along, my father went on his first international travel. It was a business trip to the U.S.A. connected to his work. He visited American manufacturers of assembly equipment that he might potentially procure for his company.
One of his first destinations was a rural area outside Syracuse.
After a long flight, followed by a drive in a rental car, he decided to take a leisurely walk after checking in at his hotel. As he strolled, the surroundings became more agricultural. Soon he found himself overlooking a huge tract of land filled with some type of crop that he did not at first recognize.
Curious, he took a closer look. He gasped when he realized what it was:
Strawberries filled the entire landscape.
An explanation is warranted here to understand why this was significant. To the Japanese in the early 60s, strawberries were considered a luxury. It was something “extra” served in very small quantities as a garnish or a special treat. A Japanese-style “strawberry shortcake” in those days had no resemblance to its American counterparts as a special treat.
My husband was a U.S. Army brat living in Japan around that time and can attest to this. He still remembers his first night in Japan, which was inaugurated with a nice dinner followed by a special dessert: a single large strawberry ostensibly served in a pretty Oriental goblet.
Simply put, strawberries to my father’s generation at that time were a symbol of extravagance — nice to have, but not essential for day-to-day sustenance.
Yet, here in front of his eyes, “these non-essential” items were being grown on an enormous scale. That's when it dawned on him what they represented.
In his words, “I had known intellectually that America was a powerful and richly endowed country. After all, it had won a major world war not long ago. But it hadn’t occurred to me until that ‘strawberry moment’ how incredible a feat that was! Think of it. How many other countries can fight on two major fronts while making those spectacular movies and growing non-essential crops in abundance? It’s no wonder no one had a chance against the United States of America.”
As I watch skyrocketing prices and emptier shelves in grocery stores, I can’t help but think about what it would be like to tell future generations how affluent and strong America once was. Imagine saying to your grandchildren, “I used to be able to eat fresh strawberries to my heart’s content, but now...”
This is what’s at stake. This is why I support Convention of States.
