Amy Imai
Born and raised in what was once the lush, orchard farmlands peppered across the Silicon Valley, Amy Imai grew up in a working class, blue collar environment to two Kibei parents who were born in Hawaii but raised primarily in Japan. With her three siblings and Amy being one of the eldest, the family worked primarily in fruit growing prunes and raspberries. Remarkably, her father was a veteran of WWI and yet this absolute display of patriotism could not protect the family from being forced into camp. From their modest life in Mountain View, the Imai family was taken to Southern California to the Santa Anita assembly center after Pearl Harbor, then taken inland and north to the harsh landscape of Heart Mountain. In camp, Amy attended school like any young teenager and kept up a relatively normal array of activities. In their last year, she was eventually hired to work as cook and food server in the camp’s hospital in 1945 when most Japanese Americans were leaving.
Tragically, Amy lost her father when she was still a young adult: he was killed in a car accident shortly after camp in the early 1950s as they were resettling back in the Bay Area. While her mother lived a much longer life, Amy reflects on a common regret of not being patient enough with her parents while they were still alive. “You know, you scold them about things. But now, you realize that they were what they were because of circumstances, you know. And that they did the best they can.” Amy herself lived a long, productive life giving back to her community through education. Most notably she was heavily involved with the Mountain View Buddhist Church as a Dharma School teacher for 45 years. On New Year’s Eve in 2013, Amy Imai passed away peacefully at the age of 83.
Well, today’s April 16th and we are here at the Mountain View Buddhist Church. And I’m here with Amy Imai. Can you tell me your birthday?
June 23rd, 1930, and my maiden name was Kunimoto.
So you were born right after the stock market crashed.
Yes, then yea, I was a Depression baby. (laughs)
Yeah. And are you the oldest? Youngest?
I am the second. I have a brother that is three years older than I am. And then I have a brother that is seven years younger. And then I have a sister that is seven years younger than him that was born in camp. So there’s fourteen years between my sister and I.
Okay. And uh, maybe we’ll just start off with your parents. You were saying something about your parents coming from Wakayama?
No, that’s my husband’s side. But my parents, I guess their folks came from Yamaguchi-ken. And both my parents were actually born in Hawaii. So they were one of the early Niseis, you know. But, Hawaii at that time was just like Japan. I think they were more trained in Japanese than, you know, in English. My father, the only training he got in English—and my mother I think—must have been missionary schools. And my father went back to Japan, I think when he was really young. And he grew up with grandmother.
So he’s a Kibei?
Yes, more or less. And then he came back when he was probably...in his late teens.
So he went when he was how old?
Probably about three or something.
Oh, very young.
Three, four. So he must have been trained at this school after he got back from here. So he can read and write English.
He learned English as a teenager in Hawaii.
M-hmm. But he said he was on his own in Japan from when he was about twelve years old, you know.
On his own?
Yes, I guess, I don’t know. Maybe his grandparents passed away. I don’t know what happened, but he—that was his story. I don’t know, he never really talked about his—you know, that’s really sad—and my mother too, never talked too much about how they grew up, the family and whatever. I couldn’t understand it, it’s just like my mother had lost contact with her family. Just, about a little bit before the war started.
Really?
Uh-huh. And she had not seen them until probably, oh, it would be like in 19—we sent her—we found her brother in Hawaii and she hadn’t seen [him] or her sisters. She had two sisters and her brother over there, and we kind of got interested in our family, so we wanted to look. So, you know, we found them. And so my father had died in 1963, so we sent her back maybe about four years or so after that. So it’s been a long time since she saw her, her siblings. And in the meantime, her mother died. She had never really had that much thing to go back, I don’t know why.
And her mother was—
Her mother was already, probably if we had looked for her, her family earlier, maybe she would’ve seen her. But her mother had passed away. In Japan, they had sent her back to Japan because I guess my mother had a couple brothers that she had never met, you know, that they left in Japan. And so I think that’s where the mother went back, you know.
So that would be your maternal grandmother.
M-hmm. My father also had two sisters, but I had never met them. And my aunt, I guess I—my uh, his sister when we were in camp, passed away. And they found him and she had left him half of a very small insurance, you know. So this was our first amount of money that we had to put in the bank I guess, you know. But half of it went to his sister and half of it went to him. So my sister was born at that time and that’s why my sister was—her name is Kathleen and they gave her a Japanese name, Mikio, because of my aunt.
So, I mean, part of what you’re saying is this immigration from Japan to Hawaii is disrupted enough, but then later on came the war coming to mainland.
And my aunt was saying that they had heard my mother died in camp so that’s why they didn’t even look for her.
Oh! Misinformation.
Yeah, the rumor came that my mother went berserk in camp because of the, you know, whatever (laughing). That’s the kind of story they had gotten. And my mother, if you even when she was very young, my aunt says my mother was so, she was a very particular, meticulous person. And I guess, so they’d heard she just couldn’t stand the changes over there and so that’s what they had, they had heard. But that’s why they didn’t even look for us either. You know, and through my aunt, which would be my brother’s wife, we had kind of learned about some of the things that happened. But other than that, my mother was sent out to do...housework. At that time, I guess they used to send the kids out to do schoolgirl. But you know–
When are you talking about now?
You know, my mother when she was young. So this is why she wasn’t close with her siblings.
Right, she lived in somebody else’s house.
Somebody else’s house from 12, you know. You know, so this is why–you think—people think, “gee, how come you’re not interested?” But see, it’s the circumstances.
Right, it’s only the rich that can afford to have time to write letters, keep in touch, to sit around and talk and have a family, a cohesive family.
Right, m-hmm. And it was kind of, I think her father had before...well, before she came out to, you know, meet my father over here, her father died from...I guess he had a burst appendix. In those days, they didn’t know what to do with it.
Even now, it’s pretty complicated.
Yeah. And so then...then she had a brother that came over here and I guess had given her so much trouble that she decided that she wasn’t gonna really keep in touch with her family (laughs) anymore. But, but it was kind of, you know, that’s why I kinda thought my mother was in very many ways, harsh, but she grew up very hard life. And was really not nurtured that much.
Can you tell me what your mother and your father’s names are?
Oh, okay. My mother’s name was Kinuyo. And my father’s name was John Nobuichi. My father was born in 1893. My mother was born in 1907.
And, you sort of filled in their childhood times. When did they come to the mainland?
Okay, apparently, I don’t know. The only story I got from my mother that she thought was really—I guess it was funny to her at that time. She said my father was working here in the valley already. He was here–
In the Santa Clara Valley?
His uncle was here and my aunt, his uncle had taught him to do orchard work. You know, so he learned how to prune. He had to learn all these things about farming and whatever from him. But, my mother said that here my father goes back over there to get her---brought a trunk—heavy. You know, they thought, “What’s in there?” Heavy trunk, just full of dried prunes (laughing). My mother thought it was so funny. You know, but then what was he gonna bring back? Because this was, the valley was uh, this Santa Clara Valley was prunes. I mean this—they were known for their prunes, you know.
What else is he gonna bring back?
It was the, they used to call it the “Valley of Heart’s Delight.” You know, Silicon Valley now, that’s what it was. And springtime, this whole valley was in, you know, really in blossoms. Because I don’t know if you ever notice the prune blossoms are the most—the whole tree is white, you know, because a lot of little…
Lots.
Lots. Yea. But that’s what he brought back, and my mother says, “yea,” she was laughing about it. She says, “So heavy. What’s in there?” Prunes.
That’s a lot of prunes.
That’s a lot of prunes (laughing). But uh, so I guess he met her and she came back you know, by herself to get married.
Did he go back specifically to find a wife?
I think so. It must have been his, his—you know. But it was just recently we found the marriage license. They got married here, you know in the—my brother was looking through some things and found it. You know, that they were married here in Santa Clara Valley at the courthouse, yeah.
Do you know which year they were married?
They were married in 1926. But when you think about uh—although we grew up kinda poor. You know, we didn’t have a lot. Maybe the only time I used to go to San Jose is to go buy clothes. That’s once a year. You know, in September, my father would drive all the way to San Jose from Mountain View and that was our big outing, you know. But it was, you really didn’t think about it. I didn’t really think we were that poor. We didn’t have anything, but nobody else did either, you know.
And we never had to worry about food and this and that because my father always had vegetables and chickens and you know. But that was, that was what it was, you know.
So, they married ‘26, and you say your father, what kind of farming did he do? Orchard or diary?
He was doing orchard, and we—I remember having raspberries. You know, and after the war, we came back and we were raising strawberries and blackberries. And raspberries, you know things like that. I don’t know if you know Cupertino, there’s what they call Monte Vista. You know there’s a golf course there, they call it Deep Cliff. That’s where we were farming. But at that time, it was way in the boonies. There’s no houses there. We cleared the land there. There were snakes and all kinds of stuff there. But now it’s a beautiful place, you know. So we farmed both sides of it.
So you had water?
Yeah, we had water from the creek. And so it was—people that used to come visit us would say, “Oh, it’s such a beautiful place.” And yet, it was, to me it was probably the hardest ten years of my life there because of the work. Yea, the work. It was a lot of work.
Well, maybe we can back up and tell me. What do you remember when Pearl Harbor was bombed?
Yes, well...we were living—we had moved from Sylvan to a place called Eunice Avenue, which would be the street by the El Camino Hospital now. But, I had grown up, probably from the time I went to school, we were there already.
From first grade?
First grade, yeah. And uh, my father had gotten a job over there at a distillery. There used to be a place there that they...they were still distilling liquor—hard liquor. And because what it was was that place was a uh...I didn’t know about it at that time, but it was the aftermath of the bootleg liquor.
And so I remember these big vats that smell like these water tanks just gnashing and leaning. And I don’t know, my folks were very, I guess lax but here I wouldn’t let my kids walk in there. We’re walking these you know, planks like between those vats that are—
You could have fallen in.
(Laughing) Yeah. We could’ve been lost in there! But I remember walking, you know, because my father was working there. But it was like, I thought, “oh gosh, they were sure confident, they were sure footed (laughing).”
And where did you live?
We had a little cottage on the side. It was just a small place. But just before the war, it for whatever reason sold again. We had moved further down the street there to a very old house that was almost falling into the creek. But it was very...short time there. But it was from that house that I remember that we were...went to camp.
And the time where it was Pearl Harbor, we all knew about it. It was Sunday, and it was—we had a radio, so we knew what was going on.
So you heard it on the radio in your house?
Yeah, yeah. So the next day we had to go to school, and you know for some reason or another, kind of felt guilty about it. You know, that we like, “oh, you know they...what they did, we’re still kind of Japanese...” you know, you still—we had nothing to do with it, but we felt kind of bad because something like that happened. And even at that young age, I knew that there were going to be repercussions from it.
Now, I want to understand the atmosphere back then. I’ve read that people didn’t delineate between Japanese Americans and the Japanese. I mean, this is thousands of miles away—
Oh yeah. But still, they’re already, they look at you as the enemy. You know, and it was...and basically too because I didn’t really have that many...I didn’t you know the hakujin people were like—I didn’t have friends that come over, or whatever that was hakujin you know. And basically the relationship with my folks was like, employer. It wasn’t like your friends or anything.
So it was kind of a...a thing where you knew you were American but you felt like you were Japanese. You know, in a way. So, I felt really kind of bad about it, you know, what had happened. And uh, because we were...we...even shopping, you know, there was a Japanese town in Mountain View, and it had two grocery stores. It had, you know, everything you wanted was right there. And so you didn’t really venture too far from there.
I see. Do you remember listening to the radio? How it sounded to you, the announcement?
Well, not in that sense. It’s just that the radio used to be...it...we had this little, I don’t know half acre or whatever. But we used to have raspberries. My...and so it was like our—my brother and my...we were supposed to take care of it and we had to pick so much, or whatever, you know. But a lot of times, we’d sit, would listen to the radio. You know, they used to have these Ma Perkins, and you know, different serials—
Programs.
Yeah, programs. And so we’d listen to it, and then we’d have to run out and try to catch up with our work. But see, we were very much radio. We had one of those radios that was like, you know, this... should’ve kept it I guess. But it was our thing to the outside world, and it was like you can get...so we knew. And that radio too, had...different like, shortwave bands and whatever. And it was one of those—I don’t ever remember listening to anything, you know that we got some things from Japan. Well, but it had—it must have been confiscated. Radio. Yeah.
Now the only thing I remember was that I felt really kind of...was apprehensive about getting on the bus. You know, to go to school. And other than that, you know, people were...there was...I didn’t hear any comments and things like that. And the only time I guess was very sad was when we...you...that you figured you had to leave.
A few months after.
And so that was, we left probably about May or something, April, May, the following year. And it was not that traumatic for me because my whole family was going. And you know, I still remember that from that time after we had the notice, having to start eating the chickens and we were so tired of chickens because we were trying to—
Not wasting things.
Yeah. So my brother had to kill the chickens. And he was so...he didn’t want to do with any chickens any more. But that’s one of the things we had to do. And my mother was trying to make some food that we can take on the train and stuff. And then I think my father had decided, “No, you can’t take those,” you know because no refrigeration or thing. I remember us leaving it in one of those...it was like a cooler. We really didn’t have a...it was ice box. So yeah, so we were. But I remember my mother thinking that because we were kids, you know, we needed to have some snacks or some food. So she was trying to make stuff, you know.
Around Pearl Harbor, I talked to people who said that they remember things happening at school. For example, the principal called in the students who were Japanese Americans to have a talk with them, or in high school in San Mateo, apparently they listened to “Day of Infamy” speech by President Roosevelt. Did you listen to that?
See, I didn’t remember that until, so famous how, but at that time it was not. But we were, you know, actually the feeling of we knew there was gonna be some changes, and I think we were all afraid. Yeah, it was kind of a...and once the order came out, you know, like my father knew. You know, it’s like the impact for me at that age would be not, because I was not even twelve yet, you know. And it was like...uh...I really wouldn’t, because they wouldn’t discuss it with me. My father was trained to work as much as he could, you know...we still had to eat and whatever, you know. And luckily we were not farming any more, we didn’t—
Have things to sell.
Yeah. But he sold his truck. And then he packed all our stuff into—my uncle’s working for a family. They were doing gardening, and they were kind of being, kind of working—
Caretakers.
Yeah, caretakers. And so they had agreed to store some of our furniture in their chicken coop or whatever. But those things were still there when we got back, which was nice, yeah. And so I have with me, still, a couple round tables that came from that bordello that was given to my folks. And so it was kind of a history right there, you know. But it was—those things were still there.
Do you remember having to sell anything?
Well, it was the...it was mostly...the only thing of value my father had was his truck. You know, because he was doing gardening. And probably some of his tools went with it and whatever ‘cause I don’t remember seeing any of those things. We really didn’t have a lot, you know. It was just what we needed, and things were not new so didn’t see much value to them. But, you know, it was...you had to buy them—
Yeah, it cost money. Well, do you remember seeing the orders on the telephone poles?
Well, you know, I had never seen those either until later. Yeah.
But I’m sure the word got around.
Yeah.
Quickly. That’s a traumatic thing.
Well, what was really a problem for my father was that he was not to travel more than five miles out of the...where you live, the area. And I guess a lot of his people that he gardened for were beyond five miles, you know. But being that he had to work...but those people, I had never asked about it, but they used him until we were ready to go.
The government couldn’t enforce all those rules that they had made.
Like I said, my father, he schooled himself to be naturalized because they had lost his birth records and everything, so he had to be naturalized. And he wanted to be, you know. And I think the only reason maybe they let him do that was because he was a veteran of World War One. Because the people were telling me, “Hey, that was really rare.” I mean, they would not naturalize anybody—
Unless they were a veteran.
And so he was, from that day on, though he was...I remember how my brother and, they would read everything about candidates he had never missed a presidential, you know…
Election.
Yeah, because he felt that he had the right to vote, you know, he was very proud of that. And he was a member of the American Legion and things like that. Which, ironic that they did not come to his aid when we had to leave, but I had never heard my father be bitter about it. He was always very proud of, you know, that he had these rights here, you know. And I think it’s…’cause I know of other people that were very angry that he…”I fought for the war, and then they did this to me…” but, I had never heard my father really say anything. And he even, in camp, he didn’t stay there that long. He went out to work.
For furlough?
Yeah. And it was…
I’ve only seen one photo of a World War I veteran who wore his uniform on the so-called “day of evacuation.” You know, sort of an eloquent protest. I mean, here he is, he served his country.
Well, that was...it...yeah...so when you look at it, you wonder...I really...I thought, “Gee, it would have been good to have talked to him about what he felt about that.” But he never—
Talking about feelings wasn’t the most common thing in Japanese families.
No. In fact, they don’t even tell you about things growing up, unless it was convenient to teach you a lesson or something, you know. (laughs)
Yeah, so… but it was funny that uh...well my father had always...he was a very hard worker and everything, very talented person, very good worker. But he had this thing where I guess all, all men of that time they didn’t…[they] used to like to drink. And so, my mother would tell me... this was already after the war. He would be driving, my mother never learned to drive. And so, they’re going to some place and waited until, you know, there’s not too many cars. And so then they were looking for ice in Sunnyvale. I guess because we still had the icebox.
This was after the war?
After the war. Yeah, my folks really had this thing about, passion about iceboxes (laughs), rather than a regular refrigerator. We’re looking for ice in Sunnyvale, but they couldn’t find the ice thing, so they’re going around and around. And then, he was not drunk, but he was a little…
Inebriated.
Yeah. And then so he had [been] stopped by the police. And then my father says, “But oh, I’m a veteran!” And he brings out all these things, and my mother’s sitting there. And then he says, “Oh.” You know, and they said, “Well, you were going a little bit fast.” And then, “Ah!,” my mother says, “this car doesn’t go that fast!” But every time he’s in trouble, he brings out all this, “I’m a veteran of World War One,” this kind of stuff. But I kind of found it a little amusing, you know.
Well, sure! So was this in the ‘50’s?
Yeah, it was like in the ‘40’s, after, yeah. My father, what happened is that... when he came out of camp, he was already 52. He came out with nothing. You know, because there wasn’t anything. But, you know, I never really heard him complain about it...working was not a big deal for him. He was basically very healthy. And he did not die of, you know, where...ailments or anything. In 1963, he was hit by a fire truck over there in Cupertino.
Oh my gosh…
He was going to work in the morning and it was cold. It was Halloween...it was Halloween, and it was kind of cold. And I guess two fire trucks had gone already and the light had turned green, so he thought that was it.
Was he walking? Or was he driving?
No, no, with his car. And that third one just hit him. But he died. Yeah, right there at that Cupertino corner, by Stevens Creek and Highway Nine. And ironically, it was like a false alarm. Three trucks. And at that time, what happened was that they said it was my father’s fault, see. And now, they—after oh, quite a few years later—my folks were...my mother was so afraid they were gonna have to pay for damages. But the time had lapsed so it was okay. But after that, now, the law is that they cannot go through a red light without seeing that it’s clear.
Yeah, sure.
And at that time, my father was—they felt that my father was at fault because he did not let the...you know, right of way. But it was very—
Sudden, and…
Yeah. Very sudden. And what happened was my mother now...see my father in the morning had dropped my mother off to do housework some place. We didn’t know where she was. And so here we thought, oh we had no idea where she was. And so we knew that she was gonna call. ‘Cause—
Pick him up…
Yeah. So, it ended...uh, real tragically for him. But then, see, my mother lived ‘til 93 and uh, my father died at 70. But she spent about ten years in a convalescent home because of—she couldn’t walk. And many times after that, she said she thought my father was the more fortunate one, you know. That he was gone…
Instantly. Well, thank you for telling me about your parents. Seems like people I would like to have known.
Well, it’s...I think now that they’re both gone, I look at it. You look at things more forgiving you know. ‘Cause...a lot of times, when they’re still here, you still have—
You’re still irritated with them.
Yeah. You know, you scold them about things. But now, you realize that they were what they were because of circumstances, you know. And that they did the best they can.
Right. Well, would you mind telling me about camp? How’d you get there? Did they pick you up?
No, I don’t remember how we got to the railroad station, but I remember the train. Because I had never ridden on a train before that time, you know. I had never been on a train. I swear, I think they had gotten these trains on a mothball some place they didn’t use for years.
I’ve heard that.
What you do, you’re sitting there, and you put your hand on that it was kind of like velour type of thing. I mean, your hands are all black. So everybody’s all...and your clothes…
Oh, it’s a steam engine right?
It’s one of those coal things. Yeah, it was. And so you know, it was...everything’s...sooty. And I remember that and then your hands are all black already.
And that’s the first minute you’re on the train.
Yeah. And you look around and everything’s...it was a...in some sense it was a little exciting because it’s the first time you’ve been on a train. All these people, never seen so many people in my life. We were always pretty isolated from all these big gatherings. It was...it was kind of like...and so then we go down to Santa Anita, the race track there. And it’s hot.
You went to Southern California? Oh my gosh.
The cut off here was Palo Alto, Tanforan, you know right there at that race track. From Mountain View, San Jose we went to Santa Anita. And so we go over there, and it’s hot. And we happen to hit the barracks, which were made on top of the asphalt. And you think, “Oh gee, at least it was better than the stables. But it was hot. Really hot. And I had never really experienced that hot, you know, because Northern California never got that hot. And plus, we have all these trees and everything else. And then you’re in a parking lot, so hot.
It gets so hot. Did your cot sink in?
Well see, what they did was...these...it was not on top of the—we had a floor. You know, we had a floor.
I’ve heard about cots sinking into the asphalt.
That must be the stables. Because that already happened.
At the center.
Asphalt was probably good because the other parts would be dirt. But it’s uh...we go over there and I see these, this hay kind of like straw. And I thought, “Oh, I wonder what those straw things…” And they give us these bags. And we’re supposed to go over there and put that in for our mattress. You know, that was our mattress to put into our cots. So that was an experience. And then there was your immediate experiences going to the bathroom there, and it’s latrines with no doors on the...And then when you, you walk—if you walked out and you turned a different way, you’re lost. Because everything looks alike, you know. And uh, but uh, we stayed there for about...from uh...to about September or October. And then we went to Heart Mountain.
But during that time they had already quickly settled some schools up there on the bleachers, on the grandstand.
At Santa Anita?
At Santa Anita. And so it was kind of a voluntary thing, whether you wanted to go or not. But, I remember going to school there, sitting on those bleachers, you know.
Those teachers must have had a lot of energy and enthusiasm.
Well, you know the teachers were college kids, you know. But they were...see immediately I was surprised how organized they were that they had gotten these people so they can do something for us. And then, every so often, they would show movies...that we’d go over there to the grandstand to see movies. And that’s also the place where they had these people were doing the camouflage nets, you know?
Oh, they were already doing that at Santa Anita?
At the grandstand. And I remember, uh, the terrible smell it had because of the dye.
And it’s supposed to be...
Very toxic. And after reading about it later, I heard that the prisoners did not want to do it because they felt it was too toxic. But so, they let people there, they were weaving those, you know, kind of burlap into these nets.
You’re talking about prisoners, you mean criminal prisoners?
Criminal prisoners, POW’s...They refused to do that because they felt it was that toxic. But it…but a job, you know. But I’m surprised how quickly everybody—Japanese people, I think that they fared well in a circumstance like this because they would jump in and do whatever they had to do for work. Because they’re so...work...their life is work. So quickly my father got a job in doing in mess...he was a cook. That’s what he did in the Army.
Oh, when he was a veteran!
Yeah. Yea, so he was a cook.
Oh, okay. I was wondering. Do you know where he was? When he was in World War I?
I guess he was at the Schofield Barracks out there.
Where is that?
But he went never went anywhere. You know, in Hawaii. He just joined up there, and the war was over before he had to go anywhere. So consequently, again, we go on these—on the train, and I heard...I don’t remember how long it took. It just seemed…
To Heart Mountain?
People said it was three days. I don’t know.
Well, it had enough distance. Trains didn’t move that fast.
And I remember stopping at one of these places, and they—every time you go through towns or something they put these, the shades down, you know because they didn’t us to look, or they don’t want people looking, or I don’t know what it was. But I was watching these people loading these uh, they had water tanks inside where you drink the water. And they were putting some ice in there. And these workers had like, these dirty gloves—leather gloves—and they were putting them in there and they would drop it, and then they still stick in there. And I thought, “Oh.” And I remember, people were very sick, they got very sick.
Well, between the stress of having to move and all this uncertainty about the future and unsanitary conditions…
Well, they treated us like non-humans, I think. You know, people thought...didn't really look at us...they could care less you know.
You were criminals.
That’s right.
Enemy aliens.
And they...you’re okay. Because I remember that. Where they said that, [General] DeWitt said, “A good Jap is a dead Jap,” you know. But, you know, it's like...you’re people. And yet, at that time because...and basically I think it would have been dangerous if we were left here, you know.
Yeah, that’s an interesting debate.
Yeah, people are saying. But, you know, the way the climate of the people didn’t even think we had any rights, you know. Now, you know, they say because of how the government has really recognized after the ‘60’s, you know that there is—that we all have rights, you know. But it was only after the 60’s. And I figured that before, they didn’t think any minority people had rights. We didn’t have rights.
It didn’t matter what it said in the Constitution.
Yeah, it didn’t. Because it was to their adaptation of it, you know. And it wasn’t until—that’s why I kind of figure that...it was really important after getting out of the camp, going through the high school, and the Japanese have to be involved in government, you know. People had to know you. And you had to know them and how the system works. We cannot be in our pockets and think that you would be protected. We still needed the majority to be able to uh, say function like everyone else. And we had to...so, that’s one thing I’m...In 19—let’s see when was it—oh, I ran for uh, school board. But I didn’t make it. But it was just too stressful. I mean, you know, because of so much...I was not that confident about things. I’m sure I could’ve done okay if I made it, but it was like—it was a lot of—politics is you have to compromise a lot, you know. And I do support anybody who goes into it because, uh...it’s important. But it takes a special kind of person to do this. It’s because, uh, you may have certain thoughts, and yet, if you differ with other people, you know, you don’t get their support.
You have to realize what your ethics are, but at the same time, know that you might not be able to fully practice what you believe.
But I do support any, especially any Japanese, that you know...And I do support people from the consul here too, because I know that it’s good, you know, this is the level where you can be involved in your government here.
What year—about when do you think you ran?
Let’s see, it was...must have been...it was like nineteen eighty...one or two. So, I was over about fifty about that time. But it was uh, I learned a lot. And I learned—through that experience I know a lot of people that are very involved politically in the city here. But it was...an interesting experience.
Well I think you said some very important things about rights.
Well, it’s...you know it’s like...now you would talk to, let’s say my kids, or the grandkids especially. They feel...okay, like the time with the evacuation. You know, “Why did you go? You had rights.” But we didn’t. You know, I think people had to know that we didn’t have rights. They made laws in California so you can’t own land. You’re not supposed to intermarr[y]. All these laws just for non-white people. So, your rights were not recognized at all until, I would say, the sixties. You kind of figure okay, America is not just one kind of people that have rights. And I think it’s the legacy that we have given, say your generation and whatever, that through a lot of these hardships and going through it, that certainly was not the same.
Well, this is just your opinion of course, but do you think all Amercians now have rights?
I would say that you have a better chance of having your rights because the government can back you up. Before, the reason why we did not have any rights, or other, like Black people or even Hispanics or whatever didn’t have rights because the government didn’t recognize that you have rights. But through...I think...now, the government is looking at the Constitution, that, okay, we have...this is for everybody. Not just for...you know. And I think you can fight it. But before, I don’t think there was...there was no way that you were gonna, you know, it took a long time…
Win in court.
Yeah, you wouldn’t because everybody...you notice that everybody up in the courts were white. You know, and, in a way, I think that a lot of us just accepted that as that’s the way it was. And it wasn’t until people started thinking, okay, people are more educated, they look at the education, they know they have a different adaptation of what the Constitution said.
So, you’re pointing out two things. All right. One is education: knowing your rights as stated in the Constitution, being educated. But the other road is actually having representatives of your ethnic minority in the government.
In the government, yes.
Because I have read essays...taking sides with the government decision back then saying, “Look, all these lawmakers had no idea who the Japanese and the Japanese Americans were. They didn’t have friends, they didn’t have employees, especially in Washington. DeWitt didn’t know any Japanese.” All these people…
See, it’s just like if you talk to people even...when I gave the talk at the ladies club the people that were saying Midwest, even East, they didn’t even know that this happened. Even at this day, they didn’t know that it happened. And it was not something that was, unless you’re interested in it, you know, you don’t know. And uh, it was...so this is why I don’t really mind talking about it. And I feel really...that maybe, uh, I could’ve been more involved in other things, but you know, I have this thing that...because myself did not have more than a high school education. It’s not that I’m bitter about it either, but it’s...I had graduated just after the time of—after we came back from camp. You know, my folks were waiting for me to get out of school so I could help them. And it was...I was...at that time I know my good friend’s father came to talk to my father and said that potentially, I should be going to school and everything, but my father says, “Oh, no. Girls don’t have to go.”
So, but what you’re saying about education, I hope we talk about when we start the next tape because it’s a common experience and especially for addressing school age audiences.
Well, it’s something that I am very grateful for my folks that they at least let me have high school. They expected me to get good grades even if I don’t have time to study or do things like that. But that was just a given in a Japanese family, and I think that we’re...fortunate we have that kind of background where education was very important. And they expected you to do good.
And I would love to hear more about your experiences about...around camp and if you wanted to go lightly on that and go on to more into resettlement, that’s great too. Because you did already mention that coming out of camp and resettling here was the hardest ten years of your life. And I suppose that’s ‘45-’55, those ten years. So, if you wanted to skip the camp…
Well, I’d like to kind of, uh, talk about camp a little bit ‘cause, uh...once we were going to like Santa Anita to Heart Mountain, we have these horror stories about...because it was cold.
Very cold. And none of us prepared for the cold, you know. And we said, they were saying, “Yeah, when you touch the doorknobs, you get stuck on them,” and things like that. So here we... quickly, I think that year, that year that we went from Santa Anita to—which is ‘42—supposed to have been the most severe winter that they had in the history of whatever. It was really cold. But...you could just see us with these summer-type clothes, and I had one coat that was—it was kind of a blue-green coat—and it was getting so worn, that the buttons and stuff were kind of like...just hanging out. But that’s the only thing I had, you know, when I went there.
Right. Around here you don’t really need an overcoat.
Right. We...I had no need for an overcoat. And at that time, the girls didn’t even wear pants.
Right, right.
So we had these bare legs, and whatever, and we had this coat. And I remember, uh, this neighbor of mine, I guess thought I was older. All my life, I guess, my mother made me work, we had to do things. That was her thing, to keep you busy. So she invited me to some sort of fellowship or something. And so she said, “Oh, why don’t you take your coat off?” And then I kind of took it off, and then she noticed that I had this real thin, cotton dress on so...“oh, leave your coat on.”
Where is this?
In camp. Yeah ,and so I remember that incident where I guess she kind of looked at me and she says, “oh…” she’s just worriedness. And I what really made us that...all of us survived that camp was these peacoats that they gave us. But it was like, uh, so...I look at the people now, and I thought, “gee that looks short.” But that was like a coat for us, we used to wear it like a coat. And it was…
It was about a little bit above the knee, but you know, we used to wear our dresses about there anyway, so it was...so...once we went to camp, it was like I started seventh grade, and they had these classes in barracks. And this was the first time that I had met people from other places, you know, from LA and this and that, and they looked at us like country people, you know. And their lot, they thought they were a lot more sophisticated, I guess. I was pretty quiet, kind of...always been kind of studious almost. But I learned how to...you have to take certain things instead of crying every time they hurt your feelings, you know.
(Laughing) Yeah. But, uh...so, by the time I think we were eighth grade, they had built this high school. You know, and so it was like a regular...where we had a classroom, a gymnasium, and you know...so things were a little more like regular school…
Right, real classrooms.
And the teachers were hakujin, you know, most of them were from outside that they came in. And basically, I was quite surprised that how...maybe that we were in par with other... outside schools.
Oh, educationally.
Education-wise. Because I came out of camp and had lost maybe about half a year of school because of the transition. But I did graduate on time…
When you came out.
Yeah. And I took things that were, you know, because it was a half year thing, but it was not hard. But uh, what we did was, which was kind of interesting, we were left...I was...everybody was going out already in ‘45, out of the camps. And so we were just like barely had gotten, we were fourteen, fifteen, and they hired us at the hospital because they didn’t have any workers any more.
So they hired a lot us. A lot of us that were a little bit young to work, but they hired us. And it was quite an experience, you know, because we were...I had never known how to cook or anything—we never had to—and so learned a lot. And we were the dietitians, that were kind of like...that learned how to make the trays, and make things like jell-o, squeeze orange juice and then we would take the trays to the patients there. But I guess they had a lot of...after...just recently I heard it was a lot of politics about the hospital, but it was kind of fun for us. It was different, you know, us young people. And I think they had excess, and one thing they had was ice cream. And so here, not enough patients, but we still get this five gallons of ice cream, but it’s cold! It’s cold and eating ice cream…
In winter.
In winter! But, it was kind of a period of different, a whole different experience of working a kind of a job, but not that serious about it and met a lot of good friends there. And at that time, we used to be friends with the...the people in the lab that...the young...they were kind of like college-aged kids. They were the lab techs, and at that time, one guy says, “Hey, why don’t you come in the lab, I’ll teach you how to do those things.” But now...at that time, I was having so much fun in the other place, I said, “Oh, no. I think I’ll just stay here. “ And I thought, “Oh, I could’ve had some sort of training...”
Scientific procedure.
But, it was the first time that I had encountered different quarantine boards and people that were dying. It was...and on top of that going on, people were constantly leaving camps. And what happened was that I was just left with my sister, at that time was just about a year old, a little over a year old. She was walking, and my brother was like seven, and my mother...just us were left. My brother had gone out to Chicago, you know, because then he got drafted. My father was already over here looking for a place for us. So I had to negotiate all these things, going out, getting all our things packed, going...these guys it was already starting to be about October, winter was already starting to set in.
This was October ‘45?
‘45. You know, we were about the next to the last ones out of that camp. And they had hired these people, I guess that...from the ranches to pick up our belongings and take it to the train. And so I got stuck between two guys from out there. And boy, I had never encountered two Caucasian people who didn’t take baths, or whatever, and I was just dying (laughs). I just remembered that they had the... you know those sherpa...you know, the leather jackets with the…
And it’s just oil stained from sweat…
And uh, I thought, “Oh my gosh.” But see, this is...everything is new, things I had not really even encountered people that close that were not Japanese, and then basically Japanese...because they always bathed that was one of the rituals. But that was really an experience. And another thing that happened to me, we had gone out, they had a lot of people that would go out to shop, so being that I was the oldest one, I took my brother and my friend, we went to buy some stuff in Cody. And I don’t know how much money I had, but we’d buy some things that we needed and some things we didn’t need.
But my mother had given me some money. So what happened was, we were shopping—and I don’t think I even had a watch—but by the time we got to the place where the bus took off, it was already gone. And so we were stuck over there, and I went over to this hotel, and I said, “Oh my gosh. Just so you know, I was the oldest among the people, my friend was younger than I am and we missed the bus.” And then this guy comes out, “I saw you guys, you missed the bus on purpose. You, you Japs cannot be sitting in here! You just wait outside for the next bus!” And the next bus was like, seven, or really late. And, but luckily between the two of us we had enough money to take the cab. And we took the cab, I never even told my mother what happened. And we took the cab, and we got there the same time the bus would have and just acted like we got off the bus. But I was so frightened. That uh…
You didn’t even know if the taxi would take you to the right place.
And that’s why I thought, yeah, we didn’t know what to do. And we weren’t going to stay in that town after that man threatening us. But that was probably one of the most, I would say...encounters where I was really scared.
Yes. You were just kids!
Yeah. We were just kind of kids, and I had my brother that was still...and my friend was a little bit younger, but I thought, “Gosh!” And then that guy just kind of saying that, that harbored...one of these days going back there, and I’m blowing up that place or whatever. And I was thinking...oh, maybe so many years ago we had gone through to Cody and the place has all changed. I mean, I can’t recognize anything. But what was really nice was that we had taken this tour that was from Utah, to Wyoming, to Mount Rushmore, you know, it was that...and I had requested with the tour guide that...says, “I would like to see Heart Mountain since we’re that close.” And he said, “Oh, you know,” I said, “Could you get us a cab or something?” I said, “You know, we’ll take the ride out there,” we had a little stop, half a day in Cody. He said, “You can do the museum tour, and you can go at that time.” You know, he said, “We’ll take you on the bus.” So there was about eight of us that went that were Japanese. He said he had not ever seen the place either, they pass through. So, you know, it was really nice of him to do that.
So you went to where the camp used to be?
Yeah. And they have a marker. And when you look back on it, and I was reading the people that died, the service, I didn’t really think it was that emotional. But you kind of have tears in your eyes thinking about what happened there. But I thought that was really nice of that person to really…
Stop.
Stop and say, “We’ll take you on the bus.” But, there were some really caring people there, the Caucasian...the teachers. I had this one lady that was, her name was Sensenbacher, and I don’t know…she was our girl reserve...I was in what they called girl’s reserve. It was some sort of club. And she was the advisor, and she had invited us, the group of us, to her home in Cody. And this was the first...it was so...kind of exciting call to me because I was going to be able to go out, go outside. She had made something or us to eat and she had taken us over there. And this was the first time I had something in jell-o other than fruit. She put some sort of vegetables in it…
You know, it was like...cucumbers, or celery or whatever, and I had never tasted the vegetables in jell-o. Jell-O always used to be...had to be fruit. And so it was hard for me to eat this. That’s how sheltered we are, we just eat things that my mother and them knew how to make, which was not many things other than Japanese stuff. But you know, ironically, they had Heart Mountain reunion, this lady, this teacher had died. But she had saved all these things that the kids had made, the letters and things. And I remember making her a card to thank her, and she had that.
After all these years?
After all those years, she had saved all those things, so I thought, with all this thing, you realize there’s some really good people. And I was really surprised at how she had saved letters. People had gone back and they wrote to her, and she saved all those letters too.
So girl’s reserve was like girl scouts? Or like ROTC?
Well, it was kind of like girl scouts except maybe with a religious focus. Because it was supposed to be something, there was some meaning to it. I was really touched where I saw that she had kept all those things that people had written back. And I remember writing a letter from camp to a teacher here, and I kind of told her I longed to be back. And she told me, “Don’t come back.”
(Gasps) Oh my God!
Yeah.
That must have been so shocking to you! I mean you trusted her enough to write her a letter.
And so, you know, you encounter say—in your young life—some goodness, some not so good.
Oh my gosh.
And it was like... and this is what I used to do to pass my time away, write a lot of letters. You pick up pen pals, you know. And so I had picked up pen pals in the United States, in England, this and that, but what I used to like to do is get mail. And you’d send in for anything for free samples, and whatever in the magazines. And I guess in those days, stamps were pretty cheap, so my folks used to let me write letters all over. But one of the things that’s really vivid in my mind was...it was the first Christmas we had in camp over there. And my brother was about five years old at that time. And he had wanted all these different things. And I said, “You know you can’t have them. We can’t buy anything.” And he says, “Well, no, Santa Claus will bring them.” So here it was up to me to tell him there was no Santa Claus. I think he got jaded all his life after that because he said, “It’s true! It’s true! I’ve seen the pictures. Why wouldn’t it be true?”
That’s hard.
Yeah, well, he was kind of warukuzo [bad] but I remember he was so devastated. And I remember taking him to one of the mess halls—one block had two mess halls, an upper and a lower block—and they had this Christmas party. And it was up to me to take—I don’t know why it was always up to me to take him to the party. And so we went, and we had to sit through all this preaching in Japanese…
This was a party?
It was a Christmas party.
Then why was there preaching?
Because it’s...I guess it…
Was it a Christian thing?
It was a Christian thing, and it was like, these gifts were sent to us by the Quakers. They were from…you know, I guess because they learned about us…
Well, they helped all throughout, including placing the college kids…
And, so...but because here...we...well...our only gifts so we had to sit through all this thing. And I thought...and from that time on, I was not very...I could hear just exactly how the Indians and the Hawaiians felt. They want something, they have to endure all this, you know, all this thing. So we sat through there for this gift, and he got something, and I got something. I don’t even know what it was. But we had gone outside in the cold, the snow just drifted, and it was just kind of glistening, and we were crunching to go home. But I—we had spent all this time, to get these little gifts, to listen to all this stuff. And I thought it was all so unfair.
Did you get something pretty insignificant? Or…
Well, it was like...I don’t even remember what it was. You get a puzzle or you’d get something, but it was not like...they had some good stuff, some not-so-good stuff, but because we were not really the people that were doing the things, we just got whatever. But I thought, for...it was so unfair to the children to this...just because they thought, “Okay, we have to be grateful,” because it was a Christian thing. I kind of...so we’re patiently...for me, twelve or thirteen…
It wasn’t geared towards your age group.
But for my brother, it was so important. And yet, they should have...they just made a party for them rather than trying to get over these...to listen to these things about Christ, you know. And so...it probably sounds a little [vain?] but I just kind of felt…
Taken advantage…
...under the circumstances, and it was given in the spirit of...because to give to kids. That adults shouldn’t manipulate it. But it was one of the saddest, probably Christmas we had. We never celebrated Christmas back home either. We had a tree, but no gifts. So that was not the thing. It was just the idea that...there was nothing we could do for them even...because of the circumstances.
Before camp, you put up a tree and you decorated it?
We decorated. We had these—my father always bought a tree. We always had one of those, it’s Douglas Fir. And we’d have lights and these little—I think they’re collectors items now—but these little cheap ornaments. And I remember he would always buy us Christmas candy. There’s the square ones where you have all the different colors that don’t taste good.
And even that, see you get to celebrate in your own home and here, you’re in camp.
Well, there’s no tree, there’s no thing. And here there’s...my brother had this...he really still believed in Santa Claus. “Oh yeah, Santa Claus is gonna bring it.” And I don’t even think that Santa Claus had even come before the war because I never really remember having any…
Where did he get this idea?
But because you read about it in the schools, about Santa Claus. “Oh it has to be real, they write about it!” You know, this and that. And I said, “No, parents just give it to you. And they don’t have any money to buy you anything.” But I think that really jaded him.
Aw, poor guy. Poor you, for having to break that news.
Well, it was…
That had to be hard.
Yeah, it was hard. But it’s...but I still kind of remember the setting, and I thought it was...in a way, it was kind of pretty. With the snow and thing…
Just like in the books.
Yeah, like in the books. And that’s probably...because I had never seen snow before. This was the way you see it in the Christmas cards, and even how desolate it was, it was kind of pretty.
What kind of shoes did you have to walk through snow?
Well, we didn’t...we had regular shoes. Yeah, yeah. It was kind of like…
...kind of freezing (laughs)
Yeah, kind of freezing. You know you crunch through it because you could hear it...you know you go through it the thing, you just crunch. And I remember holding both of us walking. But I think [for] most of the kids, it was fun. Because they had people to play with. It was kind of fun. It was...I remember my brother and it’s the same one that had a rash. They thought he had measles. And so, they said that...so my mother calls the doctor to see, and he says, “Oh, he maybe has measles.”
This was your brother, or your brother’s friend?
No, my brother. And I remember that here he didn’t want to go to the hospital because they said he had to be quarantined because otherwise, it would spread. And so my mother, after thinking about it, she felt that, oh, maybe she shouldn’t have said anything because now he has to go into this quarantine ward, which was like TB ward, and whatever. And so she was a little concerned. And then when the ambulance came after him, he was...like trying to catch a dog. He was just running out…
Not very sick!
(Laughing) No! And then the next day or so, then the rash goes away. And then they look at him, but they still kept him there for about a week or so. And by that time, I guess it was more...he made friends with the nurses and he got thing...he was not that unhappy. But it was really traumatic to see that he didn’t want to go. And he was just jumping from bed to bed. We had these cots. And they were trying to catch him. But it was...I could just see where my mother at that point, felt that it was a mistake. She thought, “Uh, oh. He might catch something,” going into the quarantine.
But they don’t do that now if you have measles.
Well, I guess because at that time, there was just so many people living so close. You know they thought that it may...I don’t know. But they stuck him in the hospital. But the experience we had when I was working at the hospital was kind of interesting because by that time, there weren’t too many people left…it was .just about maybe six months or something that we were there. ‘Cause they already didn’t have any school or anything, everything was closed down. And it...but because there’s not that many people, we got friends with the ambulance drivers…
And so they used to pick us up, drop us off, you know like that bus service…
Just to wherever you want to go…
To work…coming to you from work. And so it was kind of a fun time for me you know. But then the harsh reality is that okay, we had to go out, and my mother was very concerned because now the uncertainty. And my sister was just a year old, you know. And so…but they said you have to go.
And so I went to negotiate the twenty-five dollars you know that we got. And so we got on the train, and oh it was it was a nightmare because we had too many hand carries.
Oh, luggage.
And it just…well…my sister was, you know, little. My brother is only about seven, or whatever you know. And my mother and I, and I think we had thirteen pieces of stuff that we had to carry, and so we had to keep track of it. You know we didn't have it…we couldn't put it into bigger things because we didn’t have one.
And it was just a nightmare. You know, and then we got separated from our luggage and everything and had to look for those things. And then my sister [and] my mother [are] very prone to motion sickness.
Your mother is?
So, all the way back, she's in the pullman, just out of it you know. So I had to take care of myself, and my sister wants to walk. You know, she wants to walk because she's just starting out.
And I had made the…so you know, since I was working at the hospital, I made a lot of hard toast for her. You know, like (Zoey back? 2:04) so she’d have something to eat. And so here we put those in a kind of tea, and then I had to carry that. But that's what I was giving to her, you know, for a snack. But it was...my brother’s…
…making trouble. You're having to babysit.
Yeah.
Two very difficult children.
Yeah. And my mother's out of it you know. Yeah. Oh gosh. But it was…and so we come back into…
You’re completely exhausted…
And so we come to Santa Clara and we get situated in this, what they call a camp, you know, where a lot of bachelors that was working for this orchard here in Santa Clara. Bracher Ranch…
House for temporary workers…
And so they needed people to prune. And so there's quite a few Japanese people there. Which was…I was really grateful. You know, I'm grateful for those people that took us in. You know, I had someplace to go. We didn't have to go to a hostel or anything.
But what it is, it was just kind of this barrack, open barrack…
Same thing! The same thing as before.
And then we put our luggage up to kind of…because we were the only family that was in this, you know…
And your father was waiting there?
My father was there. So we stayed there from something like November to February until they fixed up this…some houses over here at this Deep Cliff in Mar Vista. And so we did the planting. We cleared it, you know.
Did you buy it.
No, no. We were sharecropping.
Now see, most people that came out, they sharecropped at that time.
And what did you make there?
So, we had berries. You know, the raspberries, strawberries, and blackberries. But what…with sharecropping, what happens is that you know you…you worked in the summer, but you barely make enough to…you have to sustain yourself over the winter. That's farming, you know, until the next cash crop comes in. So my father, during the winter, when he could he would go [inaudible], you know bring extra money…
But that didn't take the whole winter.
No. Then you should have to start preparing for your own crop. You know so…so it was like, things were kind of tight you know. But it was it was someplace to live.
You know, and it was hard work. It was just hard work. Kind of sunup to sundown. And then some is because my father used to irrigate at night. And then I would take the berries into the…you know…. to the packing place. But I had…
You mean you drove?
Well after…see, after I graduated. Just at that time I graduated, they had driver's ed at school. That was the first year they had it. So I was able to, you know, get my license.
So how old were you when you graduated?
So, I was seventeen.
So did you graduate in June? Or did you graduate early?
I guess I was…I graduated in June. Yeah. Because I was just… yeah almost 18. And then I had gotten my license so then I was able to drive, you know. And it was like, the only thing, that good thing, I remember about high school is that I was able to go to Yosemite with the seniors. First time. Yeah. First time that I was ever there, and it was it was really a fun kind of experience. But other than that, high school was like: go to school, come home, and work.
Work until you were completely exhausted and then wake up before you want to.
It's like, oh you do… what you do is,...and then when crop comes in, you know winter was pretty easy. You know it's because there's…But I used to, after I graduated,
during the winter I used to come and work at the nursery over here in Mountain View.
Oh, which nursery is that?
Oku nursery. And I would work until we were ready to harvest, you know, start working out the farm again. And so for nine years I worked for them. So that gave us…you know, I would give my father the paycheck for, you know, to buy groceries and things and every other…and saved a little bit, but not much. But it was…but it's like my brother had gone through with G.I [Bill]., he went to school.
So he was able to go to school, and then my other brother also, you know, graduated out of San Jose State. But for…my folks, if you owe them, the boys had to you know…they should have an education so that was good. And then we had the bath, ofuruo and we have the outhouse thing, and people would come and they want to know what we're doing, what we're cooking in the, you know, the furo because we have all the wood. And they said, “What is it, a smokehouse?” or whatever, you know, they're so curious what's inside, but we wouldn't let them see it because you know it's not…embarrassed about it.
If there's nobody in there though they can see the tub.
Yeah, but you know this is kind of like how they’re guessing…you know, what we do in there. But that's…that's my…you know, after the camp thing and it was really…it was really kind of…thing because during when I was in camp they used to show these movies about it, you know, it was Donner, Connor, you know Donald O'Connor and this and that, and the dance scene, and the juke box,, and the soda fountains and things. And I thought, you know, that was the teenage growing up thing, and I thought…oh, I was just looking forward to going out and you know being part of that scene. And you know, that was not my life.
That was a movie life.
It was a movie life. It was like you really look forward to…you want to go. You know, when you're in camp you can…you were just wanting to be free. You know, and have your house and you wanted to be like other people.
White picket fence.
Yeah that's right! You know, the house with the white picket fence…But yeah, that was that was not my growing up.
I've read about the Issei women who would, you know, after dark, they would then have to do the mending and they could fall asleep from exhaustion with the needle in their hands. You know, they have to get up before everybody else to start breakfast.
Well see, what it is…I don't know, but you know, it's like my mother at that time was either in denial or whatever and…but this was not her life. You know, this farming thing.
Oh, well what was her life?
Well, I don't know. It just wasn't…she wasn't cut out for this kind of, you know, and so that’s why. She was very contrary in those days, you know. And like, she didn't really take it with stride. Because we grew up, like it was…and then once…see, I got married, and then they decided they weren't going to farm anymore.
When did you get married?
In ’57. And what they did was, they decided my father was going to have gotten to be 65. You know, and so they said, oh they're going to retire. They're not gonna do this anymore. And then, so my mother still being pretty young, she went housework and that was her thing.
That’s what she did before she got married.
Because she loves to clean things. She’s that kind of person. You know she likes things neat. No she doesn't…
Endorse.
Yeah, yeah. Because I guess it was, it was not…and so…you know that's why my sister and I used to laugh and says “you should gotten out of it long time ago,” because it was just not my mother's thing to be farming like that, you know, working out in the fields and the uh…but it, because she took on a real thing where she had you know different places where she went, and she had these people that depended on her. And she was a completely different person. Yeah. It was, it was kind of funny. You know how…
…in hindsight
And so, my father was a very good gardener. So, you know, maybe that's what they should have done, but I guess at that time they thought, well you know with us…with the kids, and we all had work and all this kind of stuff. But see it was never something that you could make money at and you know it was…but they had saved enough to buy a house. So that was good.
And so they had a modest, you know…so once he retired, they bought a place over there in uh, in Cupertino by Homestead Road. So it was nice. My father wanted a place with a yard because he didn't want to be that close to people, you know. But he fixed, he fixed the garden and everything. But it was like, oh they should have really quit a lot earlier.
It was hard. Farming’s hard.
Yeah, well it's because it's…you can't go all these…a long winter that maybe you can relax and everything. But you know the summer, the six months of work is really hard. It's always…
And you’re worried about the crops. You know the birds get it.
Yeah. And so we endured that for about 10 years. You know, but I guess it was character building.
You don't have to do it again though right?
Well, and it's really funny, you were… so then, I married somebody in nursery business, you know. My husband was carnation nursery. So we did that you know, and that was hard work too. At that time there, flower growing was you know it was good business. But I think one of the things that I really am grateful for is that at least we own the land, you know. And that's why it's made it comfortable for you know…
See, you don't get anywhere if you don’t own the land. And I remember telling my father I said, I said let's just buy our own place. I said, “I'll help you,” you know. And he was not sure because he was already older. But I said you know you look at all this thing, and now in hindsight, you think yea, it was cheap. But at that time…
When you say your mother changed, was she much, much happier?
Oh, yeah. Yeah. She was happier and in the setting of, I think you know…
…responsibility.
And then she was, she was kind of her own person. You know, because people trusted her, you know, going to…and that's why for me…I have never really…I have always thought that I would never do housework because I didn't want that. I didn't want to be somebody’s maid.
Well, yeah. It's for certain people. I know people who like it too.
And she really liked the people she worked for. Yeah. And she was very concerned about them, and you know she's…and I thought, well that was not for me. You know, I’d rather be farming. And now I laugh about it and I said, you know maybe I should have. Because see, now those people that do housework gets all kinds of money.
They do.
Yeah. And my son hires the housekeeper. And that’s why I thought, “Oh, it went full circle.” (Laughs) You know, and it just… it's, we just kind of evolve full circle, you know. And I used to work with the kids and stuff, you know when I used to volunteer at the schools, and right where our school is there's a lot of people that used to come from Moffett Field when…
…they're employees.
Yeah. And so this, this lady was asking me…we were doing, like I used to do hot dogs every Thursday and such. So she asked me. She said, “You know where I could get a housekeeper?” You know, because already they kind of looking at me thinking that you…
Well that I…I myself may be a house[keeper], you know do housework. And I said, “No, I really don't know anybody,” I said, you know. And then I told my husband about it and I said why didn't…he says, “Why didn’t you tell them that you were looking for somebody yourself?” But I thought, “Things have come full circle for the Japanese,” you know. It's, it's like, you know, these things that you used to think used to be out of reach for, you know, for your families and stuff and now the families are right on…
Financially.
Actually, you know. But it, it has…I think, you know, I don't know what…because it was being that we’re Japanese that we endured it and sailed through this okay. But I think it was hard times for, you know, people that have gone through all this.
Well, you know what I usually tell my audience is that—and I bring former internees for, question and answer panel—I tell everybody please take this privilege. It's time to ask questions because these are very special people who are courageous enough to answer questions. There are plenty of people who never tell even their own family let alone a stranger.
Yeah, a lot of them never…well, I think even you know that's why… even my folks I don't…they have never even really talked too much about camp at all, and it's like, when I really think about it now and I think, “Gee, what was, what were they thinking when they had to just leave?” You know, it was…and that maybe they would never come back. And then they have all these young kids they're taking, you know, they don't know what's going to happen. So I think, “Oh yeah, that they must, must've felt you know…
…rather terrifying.
See, my husband on the other hand, see, his experiences were very different. You know it's because like I said, that he was the youngest. They were established, they had their own place, you know. And so basically, he was a lot more relaxed about image and this and that.
Well, he didn't have to look after two younger kids with thirteen pieces of luggage and the mom out. The pullman, I mean you know that's just one incident, but he didn't have to look after anybody.
They, they looked after him. Yeah, and it was like…and so he would talk about…if he talked about camp, it would be the fun he had.
The sports.
And like, he was scouts, you know in the scouts, and he was saying that, you know those army blankets; that would be the tent, his bed roll, you know and they're out there camping out in the snow. Yeah. You know, so its…and also in camp… there was some tragic things. You know, they used to have this thing where they had…they had dug out this place and flooded it for swimming. And one, one of the—my friends brother—had, I don't know if it was through the swimming in the mud hole or whatever, but he had gotten…he must've gotten meningitis or something, but he died. Yeah. But it…so there were tragedies there. As far as…and, and my husband too, he said that they were out swimming on this thing, and I guess they had some sort of a platform in the middle, and this one guy I guess couldn't really swim. And so then the other guys trying to go get him and they almost pulled, he almost pulled two other people down with him you know, but could have been tragic you know. So the time we were over there looking at the place and we're looking at it [and] said, “Oh, this was the swimming hole.”
And that's what he was…he remembered of it, you know that…but it was…
Well, when I think of this, especially when the audience has people who are pretty poor, it's not, “Oh, we only had so many square feet for a family of four, five, six,” or the fact that they had to walk to the mess hall, walk to the toilet. I mean, all of that was humiliating to be treated like criminals.
Yeah. Well it was like…and yet, it was like, I think because we were Japanese that we did the best we can there. And then a lot of the, the older people, they learned their crafts. They did their singing, their writing, and you know…
The recreation.
Maybe the things that they never had time for. But it was like, I had never would have never known that. You know we used to hang up our clothes outside in the snow and it’d freeze. They'd be like stiff, stiff as a board. And that…and yet, that it eventually, it starts drying but it gets limp then you know that it’s dry, and things like that. You know, like that I thought, oh yeah because you're cold and stiff as a board and pretty soon it starts flapping in the wind, you know.
So, I mean, you can focus on that. The bad thing about materially, or but I don't think that's the message when I do these presentations.
Well, it's the…I think what it is, is it shows that maybe if you look back at this time, I mean…you know like when I went back and you would say, I think you cry enough for yourself that you pray for the people that like, my folks or the people that really had to suffer, you know. ‘Cause it…at my age, there was more like an adventure you know, but it was…but I think of my folks thinking about having to care for family and not knowing what, if they could or not.
You know, and trying to do the best they can and still maintain their dignity. And I think because we were Japanese, that my folks it never really made you feel like you were below anybody, you know. And I think that's a Japanese trait. You know they feel that you're still, you're still…a proud person. That's what they are. You know it's…and I think…and you make the best of it.
In my performances, I teach the audience two words. One is [ganbaru? 24:36], and one is shikata ga nai. And shikata ga nai is not the fatalistic, loser attitude, but more of not wasting your energy.
Well, it's a thing of acceptance. You know it's not like…it's not like, okay you know that it's a…I think it's, it's a thing where, okay…it's, it's a bad thing. But let it go, and then go on. And I think it…with that spirit, I think, you know, I think that's why we all survived. Because we were…we even, you know a person like, like myself that had gotten it, not by that spirit, not because you came from Japan, but because it was handed to us. And I used to, my mother used to say, “In Japan…” this and that all the time, and then pretty soon, you know, you get older, teenagers you say, “What do you mean, ‘in Japan?’ You’ve never even been in Japan!”
Right, your mother had never been in Japan.
Yeah. And yet you know all these, these wise sayings are coming up. What do you mean, “in Japan?” This is America, you know, very much all these things. You know how you…because pretty soon. Yeah. Well, I think too, see…it wasn't until during the time, let’ say, at this time like right after camp and stuff. I mean, you wish you weren’t Japanese because being Japanese was…was…but…was not the same. You know you were not equal. You kind of long for doing what other people that you felt Americans were doing, you know. But you were different. Being Japanese you…made you different and you had to…you had to act differently. You know it was, it was almost like that. And it's not until probably once you really grow up and that you figure, well maybe it wasn't until really I had my children and then I make them feel proud, you know, who they are. But you know there were times when you think you wish you weren’t Japanese, that you had Caucasian parents or something, you know like other people do.
And you're looking at somebody that probably never had a hamburger sandwich until after you know, after the war. I never even…you know we used to eat hamburger, but it was with gohan, you know, with rice, you know the father would put mixed onions and green peppers, this and that, and that was part of it, but never in a sandwich. So I had never eaten artichokes or…those are not…they’re foreign.
But it, so you think maybe these people that you kind of wondered what these people, these Caucasians in their houses did inside. You know, you see this ideal family like you watch in the movies or whatever, but see, that was not us. And yet, I guess they were probably looking into our lives wondering what we're doing.
Interview conducted by Grace Megumi Fleming. JAMsj thanks Grace for allowing the museum to archive and share these oral histories