Why I Made 1,000 Paper Cranes For A Friend

And why I shouldn&#;t have

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There&#;s many legends about wishes.

And with that, there&#;s a lot things you could wish on. You could wish on shooting stars, four leaf clovers, wishing wells, birthday cakes, and turkey bones.

And if you&#;ve heard of a certain Japanese legend, you might also choose to wish on 1,000 paper cranes.

2 years ago, that&#;s what I did.

There was 2 weeks until Steph&#;s birthday, and I was determined to give the best birthday present for my best friend.

I&#;ve always believed that a gift should either be of use or of meaning to the recipient. That&#;s why I rarely give cards, especially store bought cards, because it&#;s just lazy and meaningless. Anything special about the card is gone when you realize that hundreds of people get the exact same card with the same-ish scribbled in message.

It&#;s probably also why every time I need to gift someone, I have a mental breakdown trying to think of something plausible, but meaningful.

This time, I had 2 weeks to create something.

There&#;s a lot of presents you can make in 2 weeks.

You could write a mediocre book for your friend, make a chair out of plastic tomatoes, or of course, you could always wait until the last minute and buy a birthday card (personally, I think I would rather receive the plastic tomato chair).

In a surprising moment of brilliance, I thought of making 1,000 cranes.

It&#;s from a Japanese legend, saying that whoever folds 1,000 cranes would be granted a wish. I don&#;t think I ever believed it, but part of me still wanted to take on this challenge. It&#;s perfect: Me and Steph both love origami, and 1,000 cranes sounded like an interesting and meaningful gift, doable in 2 weeks.

Folding hundreds of origami cranes on the floor of your living room isn&#;t exactly something that goes unnoticed by your parents.

So when my dad asked, I told him about the plan.

And guess what?

He laughed and said, &#;It&#;s not possible.&#;

Great.

No, seriously, that was non-sarcastically great. Sure, I was pissed off in the moment, but later on, it became some great motivation.

Because now, I wasn&#;t doing this just for my friend, but also to prove my dad wrong.

As the days passed, pieces of paper passed through my hands into cranes, until it was the night before Steph&#;s birthday.

And thank god, I had finished in time.

After double counting the cranes one last time, it felt like all that work was worth it. I was tired, but satisfied. I couldn&#;t wait to give it all to Steph tomorrow.

The next day, I put all the cranes inside 2 paper bags, and brought them to school.

As we were lining out to go home, I gave Steph the two bags of cranes.

&#;Happy birthday.&#; I say.

She peeks into the bags, and looks surprised.

&#;Yup, there&#;s exactly 1,000 cranes.&#; I smile.

&#;Wow&#;thanks, Rachell.&#; she says, &#;I&#;ve heard of the Japanese legend about making a wish on 1,000 origami cranes, but&#;doesn&#;t the maker get the wish?&#;

Ohnononononono.

Nope. Nada. Not cool.

Don&#;t tell me 2 weeks of blood, sweat and tears is going to be wasted because I didn&#;t read the god damn legend properly.

Under pressure, some people find that they think more clearer, while some find that their brains pretty much turn to mush. And then there are some who find that both could happen, depending on their situation.

Luckily for me, I actually managed to think of a comeback.

I said, &#;I could wish for you to have the wish, so you&#;ll still get the wish.&#;

If you want to learn more, please visit our website Bespoke Cranes.

And that was the end of that.

Or so I thought.

A few months later, when I was talking to Steph, I found out that she didn&#;t have the cranes anymore. I don&#;t know what happened to them.

Maybe it rained, and they became a soaking pile of paper pulp. Maybe they were mistaken for a pile of surprisingly-crane-shaped trash. Maybe her cats ate them. I don&#;t know, and it doesn&#;t matter.

Because when I reflect on this event now, I realize that I was wrong to give her those cranes.

There&#;s a reason that the legend says that it&#;s the maker who gets the wish.

Because in the end, only the maker can truly appreciate and understand the effort they put into their work.

Only the maker truly sees the imperfections and perfections on every crane, and the beautiful art they are when together. Only the maker can care enough to remember to store them in a dust-free box, away from water and grime, and remember to check on them every once it a while. Only the maker knows the memories and thoughts those cranes hold.

When I gave the cranes to Steph, I thought it would be meaningful because I gave her a wish, because I gave her a symbol of friendship and loyalty through the work I put into the cranes. But in reality, she just couldn&#;t appreciate it as much as I could.

It&#;s not her fault any more than it&#;s mine.

Every day school children visit the monument for the child victims of Hiroshima adorned with a statue of Sadako Sasaki holding up an origami crane. The museum receives millions of paper cranes from around the world. Photograph By Ari Beser.

Hiroshima, JAPAN&#;Origami, the Japanese art of folding paper, often conjures images of paper cranes, or orizuru in Japanese. I began to wonder, where does this fabled art form originate, and why are paper cranes regarded as a symbol of peace?

After some digging, I discovered that paper folding was reserved for ceremonies around the 6th century A.D., since the paper came from China and was expensive for commoners. Folded paper butterfly figures were first used in Japan to decorate sake cups at weddings, and paper was folded in Shinto shrines for good luck. Decorative figures of paper cranes began showing up on ceremonial kimonos as far back as the 16th century.

The use of paper became widespread worldwide by the 20th century. Origami as we know it was popularized and taught in Japanese schools in art class, and has since evolved as a childhood pastime.

In Japanese lore, the crane&#;a type of large, migratory bird&#;was thought to live for 1,000 years, and the animals are held in the highest regard.

The book Sen Bazuru Orikake, which translates to "how to fold 1,000 paper cranes," contains instructions for how to make these special objects.

But it doesn't talk about the legends. In every resource I found, the story of Sadako Sasaki was the reason why it became popular to fold them and make a wish.

Sadako pictured with her father on July 18, , shortly before she died of leukemia, a result of exposure to the atomic bomb's ionizing radiation on August 6, . Photograph courtesy of Yuji Sasaki.

Sadako survived the Hiroshima bomb when she was only two years old, but by she had swollen glands. Officials at the Atomic Bomb Causality Commission, set up by the U.S. government in post-war Japan to examine Hiroshima&#;s citizens for health effects of the atomic bomb, recommended that she go to the hospital. She was diagnosed with leukemia, a cancer of the bone marrow, and died in .

&#;How did Sadako become the girl who folded 1,000 paper cranes?&#; I recently asked her brother, Masahiro Sasaki, who lives in Fukuoka and is co-founder of the NPO Sadako Legacy, the organization that carries on the message of Sadako Sasaki.

&#;She let out both the pain of our parents and her own suffering with each crane. She hid her suffering and was very tolerant of the pain. She didn&#;t want anyone to worry. She didn&#;t complain to her friends or to us. Her spirit encouraged others around her to speak of her bravery," Sasaki told me.

&#;If it were me, I wouldn&#;t have been able to stand the pain, but I&#;m not Sadako.&#;

Cranes that Sadako made rest in the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum. Her family donated over a hundred of them to the museum, which has agreed to give them back to her family one crane at a time. Photograph by Ari Beser

In , Sadako Legacy began donating Sadako's paper cranes around the world to places in need of healing.

They started with the National September 11 Memorial and Museum in New York City. Twenty-four Japanese citizens were killed in the attack on the World Trade Center, and it got back to Sadako&#;s family that people were leaving paper cranes at the fence near Ground Zero.

Museum staff added the cranes to the memorial, including thousands donated by Japanese students. Moved by this, Sasaki decided to donate one of Sadako's cranes, which was unveiled at the museum in .

In attendance was Clifton Truman Daniel, the grandson of U.S. President Harry S. Truman, who ordered the atomic bombings. Sasaki, carrying the last crane Sadako ever folded in a box, placed it in Daniel's hand and asked him if he would help them send a message of peace.

In addition to the September 11 memorial, Sadako Legacy has donated a crane to Pearl Harbor&#;s USS Arizona Memorial with the help of Daniel, The Peace Library at the Austrian Study Center for Peace, and the city of Okinawa.

This fall Sadako's brother Masahiro and his son Yuji Sasaki will donate a crane to the city of São Paolo, Brazil, which has a community of more than a hundred atomic bomb survivors, and one to the Harry S. Truman Library and Museum in Independence, Missouri.

This origami crane, Located in Kaisezen Park, Koriyama, Fukushima was melded from steel recovered at the World Trade Center site in New York City. It was gifted to Koriyama City by the September 11th Families' Association and the 9/11 Tribute Center. Photograph by Ari Beser

In , tragedy hit Japan again: A devastating earthquake triggered an even more devastating tsunami, which caused a core meltdown at Fukushima Dai Ichi Nuclear Power Plant.

In , the 9/11 family association donated to Japan a paper crane welded from World Trade Center debris as a symbol of hope and resilience in the face of disaster. Consoled by Sadako's crane, they dedicated their own crane, which now rests in the city of Koriyama, Fukushima, a town less than 50 miles (80 kilometers) away from the crippled nuclear power plant.

Sadako's nephew, Yuji Sasaki, holds the paper crane his aunt folded in Koriyama City, in Fukushima Prefecture, before donating it to the mayor. Photograph by Ari Beser

On August 21, , Sadako's nephew Yuji Sasaki brought the story full circle: He brought one of her cranes to Koriyama.

&#;Hiroshima and Fukushima have both had nuclear disasters, but at different speeds. In a way they are the same kind of disaster, and people of both city are affected by radiation," he said at the ceremony.

"I hope that even [in] this hopeless situation, we never give up, together."

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