When World War II broke out, mom was a young 32-year-old with four young children. Dad was 43—a nurseryman and gardener. I, their eldest child, was to become 12 in five days after December 7, 1941 when Japan bombed Pearl Harbor.
Next in line was my sister, Aki, 22 months younger than me. Seiji, my only brother, was five years old. The baby of the family was Michi, who would be two in January 1942.
Mom, what crossed your mind when Japan bombed Pearl Harbor? After all, your parents and four sisters were living in Japan. Since I never knew them—they didn’t visit us, and we never traveled to Japan—out of sight, out of mind, especially for a 12 year old. In pre-war days, most of us children never knew our relatives in Japan, only heard about them. You must have been worried about them, but you certainly didn’t show it. Did you worry about us as much as your family in Japan? After all, you couldn’t see them and we were at your side.
When government orders came that we, along with others of Japanese ancestry, would be forced to move to an unknown place, were you scared?
Being a mother, myself, if I was in your shoes, I would’ve been terrified. Your baby was only two years old, still in diapers and drinking out of a bottle, if I remember correctly. I’m thinking she must’ve been weaned from the bottle rather quickly, for how could you carry baby bottles on such a journey? And how many diapers to take?
With four children, how did you and dad decide what to store, sell, give away—and what to take? Dad, I know, helped in making the major decisions. But a mother is different when thinking of the basic needs of her children. What about things dear to a child—to take or not to take? How could you know anything when your destination was unknown? And orders were to take only what you could carry! How was Michi, a toddler, to carry her things, and how much more could five-year-old Seiji carry?