At 18
Mom was born Anna Mae Asako Fujino in 1923 in Salinas, California. Salinas is the same town where author John Steinbeck was born and many of his great American novels - East of Eden, Of Mice and Men, and his masterpiece The Grapes of Wrath - were set amongst the life and lush environment of the Salinas Valley and the coastlines of Monterey. Although Mom was born decades after Steinbeck, she grew up surrounded by the same rich farmlands, lush forests, and the wild Pacific coastlines that inspired the visual landscapes of his novels. They even attended the same high school, Salinas High. Steinbeck graduated in 1919, an historic year in U.S. history marking the end of World War I, and he went on to study English at Stanford University. Mom attended Salinas High during World War II, and would have graduated in 1942 but never had the chance because the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor.
Mom was popular in high school. She was the middle child of 10 kids, so she was doted on by her older siblings and looked up to by her younger ones. This put her in a position of being cared for and catered to, contributing to her independence and poise, and natural confidence that people gravitated to.
Mom was also blessed with beauty and talent. She was a blues singer who loved Bing Crosby and Doris Day. Her signature song of the time was Sleepy Lagoon by Harry James, which she sang in a deep, sultry voice that evoked raw emotions of love and loss that reached lifetimes beyond her teenage years. By 18, she already developed a mature and confident stage presence, so was called on by the community to perform whenever they needed a crowd pleasing singer at birthday parties, anniversaries, community events.
Mom was also a passionate dancer, which her mother and older sisters indulged. She studied ballet, tap, Japanese classical, and for fun she and her brother John were competitive jitterbug dancers. This was a popular swing style dance where couples seemed to dance out of control with jumping, spinning and just letting loose. Competitive jitterbug was all about the fast-paced swinging, spinning and flipping, a highly physical and athletic dance form that Mom and John were especially good at.
It was a late afternoon Sunday, when she and John returned home from the Salinas County Jitterbug competition with their first place prize in hand, excited with pride and joy to share their victory with the family. This is when she first learned the news, the moment her life shifted from promise to absolute chaos and confusion. She knew the minute they walked in the door that something tragic had happened. Her mother, my Obāchan, was usually always moving, on the go, cooking, straightening, scolding one of her kids to pick up after themselves or to hurry them in or out to some event or activity. But at that moment, Obāchan was sitting quietly at the large dining table, head bowed as if in prayer. Her Father, my Ojīchan, who always perked up when his favorite daughter walked in the room, was now leaning against a chair, head turned, not wanting to look at the joyful teenagers as they bounced into the room. Her big sister Laurie was sitting on the living room couch, clutching a cushion crying. Her brother Bill paced intensely between the dining room and living room, spouting fierce obscenities like nothing she’d ever heard from him before. It startled her. No one would look at her.
“What is it, what’s going on?” She couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t look at her, or answer her. Was it another death, like when Happo died in that football accident? “What happened?,” she screamed and fell to the floor. Seeing her always dependable, steadfast mother and father in a moment of despair, seared that fateful moment on her heart before she even understood the cause of their anguish. No, it wasn’t a death, this is a different kind of tragedy.
It was February 1942, just months after the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor when President Roosevelt signed Executive Order 9066. This authorized military commanders to forcibly remove all Americans of Japanese ancestry from their homes and relocate them into detention centers because they were feared to be threats to national security. The official post sitting on the dining table left little room for interpretation. They had 48-hours to pack whatever precious belongings they could each fit into a single bag and leave all other possessions behind.
This makes absolutely no sense, right? We’re not the enemy, we’re Americans. They have us confused with another family. Right? Father is just a produce guy. Mother helps at the boarding house. We are not threats! Maybe this was meant for the Aratani’s across the street. You know, they all still only speak Japanese. Maybe the Nakano’s, I heard the FBI was looking into their father because he writes for the Daichi Shimbu. This was meant for him. Right?
The next couple of days went by in a blur. Obāchan wasted no time taking stock of her precious things, her hand crafted dolls, crystal vases, her beautifully painted porcelain platters. Each possessed cherished memories of people, celebrations, and stories. She wrapped the items in linen, T-shirts, towels, whatever she could find to pack them carefully into boxes. She knew once word got out the neighbors would drop by. Some would come to support and comfort, like the women from the boarding house who offered to help Obāchan pack. Others came to pilfer, knowing there would be little consequence for their actions.
On Tuesday morning, they closed up their empty house. Obāchan, Ojīchan, Mom’s big sister Laurie, brothers John and Bill, her two baby sisters Molly and Betty, each dressed in multiple layers of clothes with all other necessary possessions in whatever bags they could carry. Mom carried a small suitcase with toiletries, an extra pair of shoes, a few hats, and her favorite dresses. She left behind her dancing shoes, photo albums, trophies and awards.
They were then loaded on to buses and were transported to an “assembly center”, a place they would be held until their permanent new living facilities could be built. Even though there was no evidence of threats to national security, and no reason for suspicion or mistrust, the anti-Japanese sentiment rose to such a fevered pitch, the government felt they needed to round up the entire community immediately, force them to leave their homes, their lives, their livelihoods, and relocate them into temporary living arrangements. In their effort to keep them safe from harm, they forced them from their homes and relocated them into converted horse stables at a nearby racetrack.
