By Robin Kostrikin
As our nation approaches its 250th anniversary, it is striking how little attention this historic milestone has received in our county. While preparations are underway to celebrate the 20th anniversary of the Tillamook main library this September, not a single event has been proposed to honor our nation’s founding. Many neighboring cities and counties have been planning special events for months. Instead, our library director plans to promote George Takei’s graphic novel about Japanese internment camps, describing it as a way to “show our imperfections,” echoing a trend among West Coast libraries. Apparently, this is how our library intends to commemorate America’s 250th anniversary.
When we homeschooled our younger son, we spent considerable time exploring American history—a passion he retains to this day. We studied civics and geography, read primary sources, and delved into classic American, British, and Russian literature, all woven into the historical periods we explored. Our experience highlights the opportunity this anniversary presents: to inspire a community-wide exploration of our shared history, especially through programs like the summer reading program.
George Takei’s 2019 book has been chosen for promotion in libraries across the West Coast. While acknowledging our nation’s mistakes is important, focusing exclusively on them risks overshadowing the broader and more inspiring story of America—the enduring spirit we should celebrate.
The internment of Japanese Americans during World War II was a grave injustice—one our nation has recognized and sought to redress. Yet, it is essential to remember the historical context: after Pearl Harbor, fear and uncertainty gripped the country. Concerns about loyalty—while never justifying internment—help explain the climate of the time.
Remarkably, many Japanese Americans chose to remain in the United States after the war, despite the injustices they endured. Many even served heroically in our armed forces. Their resilience and patriotism speak to the opportunities and freedoms that America, for all its flaws, has always offered—a testament to our nation’s fundamental values.
The timing of the library’s focus—amid current debates over immigration and national security—risks reinforcing the idea that America is defined solely by its mistakes, or as the library director refers to it, our “imperfections.” Emphasizing only our failings, without acknowledging our progress and the values that have drawn generations to our shores, presents an incomplete and unfair picture.
During my travels in Europe, I visited Dachau as a Jewish American. There, a German man apologized for his country’s past, insisting those atrocities did not represent the German people as a whole. Should we not remember that America, too, is more than its darkest chapters? Ours is a story of resilience, redemption, and the ongoing pursuit of justice.
Commissioner Bell, your recent comments about Japanese internment were historically inaccurate and serve as a reminder that silence is preferable to misinformation. There were genuine fears at the time, just as today we face complex questions around immigration, dual citizenship, and cultural integration. My own life—living in Tokyo as a child, my family hosting Japanese university students, my husband’s work with a Japanese sister city, marrying into a Russian/international family, and our experiences living in international housing at U of O—has given me a nuanced perspective on cultural identity, exclusion, and assimilation. Every nation has its barriers and blind spots.
My husband, a first-generation Russian American, faced suspicion and ridicule growing up during the Cold War. He and his family were called communists and lived in fear. Despite experiencing extreme hardship and tragedy before coming to the US, they retained hope for a better life and built a close-knit community anchored by strong Christian faith. When my husband studied in the former Soviet Union, he visited relatives and met Russian Orthodox believers whose pure faith deeply moved him.
Old stereotypes about the “evil Russian empire” still linger. Recent political rhetoric—including “Russian collusion”—shows how quickly we revert to scapegoating. Similar patterns emerged during COVID, when dissenting voices were marginalized. History shows how easily fear can override reason, common sense, and compassion.
Like many others, my husband’s family came here legally and worked hard to become citizens. They learned English, obeyed the law, contributed to society, and never expected the government to take care of them. They didn’t hate America—and they still don’t. Those who followed the rules are discouraged when legal pathways seem disregarded today.
Expecting Americans to accommodate every religious or cultural difference—especially for those here illegally—is unreasonable. Why do we go to such lengths to accommodate some groups while criticizing others, such as Christians? Why prioritize the rights of those who break the law over victims? The choice to promote George Takei’s book now—given his celebrity and personal story—appears calculated and politically motivated.
Before having children, my husband and I traveled across America and Canada, visiting nearly every state and many historical sites, while exploring our incredible national parks. Inspired by the film “Koyaanisqatsi” (“Life out of Balance”), we spent a year living in a VW van we made our home. We learned from small towns and big cities, and from immigrants like Nonna, a Russian émigré whose life reflected both hardship and resilience. We met her on Park Avenue in New York City, where she was distributing her underground newspaper (Samizdat). She welcomed us into her Harlem home and showed us remarkable Russian hospitality despite having very little. Encounters like these deepened our appreciation for America as a land of opportunity, diversity, and perseverance.
So I ask: Why aren’t we discussing how to celebrate our 250th anniversary? What is the Pioneer Museum doing? Why isn’t our library highlighting the richness of American literature, history, and culture? This should have been the focus for our children’s and teen summer reading programs, rather than simply choosing the theme of farming. There is so much to be proud of—from fiction and poetry to nonfiction like “Profiles in Courage,” our founding documents, and accounts from foreign visitors inspired by the American experience.
Of course, we must remember and learn from our mistakes, but let us not define ourselves solely by them. Japanese Americans who remained after internment did so because America, despite its flaws, offered hope. That is the story to tell: a nation that acknowledges its wrongs, strives to do better, and welcomes those seeking freedom and opportunity—who come here legally and abide by our laws.
Let us use this anniversary to celebrate all facets of our history—the struggles and the triumphs, the lessons learned and the progress made. Let us come together to honor what unites us, not what divides us.
It is disappointing that those entrusted to serve our community have failed to recognize the significance of this anniversary. I have offered ideas for adult and children’s programs; there is still time for these to be included through the end of this year. This should have taken precedence. Instead, it seems deliberately overlooked in favor of political agendas.
Our library has become irrelevant to many in our community, especially our children, as standards are continually lowered and books replaced with those deemed “culturally appropriate”—1984, indeed. The dismissal of dissenting views is disturbing—the very foundation upon which our country was built. The issue regarding inappropriate books that groom and sexualize children is a prime example where parents’ concerns are ignored and dismissed.
My husband suggests the library could feature what families were reading 250 years ago. What books did Benjamin Franklin—the father of the public library—enjoy? He also advocated for subscription libraries, not the coercion we see today. Our educational system is suffering from lowered standards and politicized agendas, which is why so many students leave public schools ill-prepared and lacking literacy skills. What is our library doing to raise the bar?
On the “Qatsi” Trilogy:
- Koyaanisqatsi (1982): “Life out of balance”—contrasts modern technology and urbanization with the natural world.
- Powaqqatsi (1988): “Life in transition”—focuses on developing nations and globalization’s effects on tradition.
- Naqoyqatsi (2002): “Life as war”—examines technology’s adverse effects on humanity.
“Together, the trilogy forms a non-narrative visual essay on the state of global civilization, tracing a journey from imbalance to transition, and finally to conflict, set to the music of Philip Glass.”
