Misuji Ono is an aging man, and as he tells this story and reflects back on before the war and his actions during the war, and some things he has forgotten, or tried to forget. Because of this, his memory is sometimes foggy. “Of course, this is all a matter of many years ago now and I cannot vouch that those were my exact words that morning” (69), Ono said as he reminisced about his past life. This selective memory helps him to remember the positive parts of his life before the war, and makes him happy in his current state of loss. When asked about his art, he skims over why he stopped, only focusing on pre-war art and how good the days before the war were.
“They’re tidied away for the moment. Now, Ichiro, let’s get back to important things. What will you draw for me? What do you remember from yesterday? What’s the matter, Ichiro? Suddenly so quiet.”
“I want to see Oji’s pictures” (32).
He doesn’t want this new generation to know what he did
After a tragedy, a community comes together. I wasn’t attending SPU when the shooting occurred, but my junior year of high school, my friend Hannah died in a car accident. Hannah was a light in all of our lives, and with her gone, not only our school, but my entire town came together to support each other and her family. The image I chose was two days after she passed, and at a basketball game that she should’ve cheered at, we all wore purple in honor of her, even the opposing team, which was a rival high school. She brought ALL of us together. We raised money for her scholarship, and made magnets in memoriam, and would get together just to talk about her and how much we loved her and how she impacted each of our lives. The junior and senior classes became so close because of our loss, and it felt different the next year. There was a lack of community among students, and a disconnect with the new students. Tragedy strikes and we only do the best we can.