So I grabbed the tree by the trunk and started dragging. It was a long walk even without a tree, but with one, it felt like a hundred miles. I passed apartment after apartment, barrack after barrack, block after block, and the wide open spaces between. It was probably over half a mile.
When I got to our barrack, I stood the tree up. It was lopsided–flattened out on the side that had been dragged along the ground. We had no decorations to put on it. I had never worked so hard to put up a Christmas tree, before or since–but I was determined, in the midst of that long haul toward an uncertain future, to have SOMETHING to remind us of happier times.
About the contributor: Jun Nakahara Dairiki was born in San Francisco in 1934. She was seven years old when the Nakahara family was incarcerated in Tanforan. While her two elder sisters resettled in Chicago, Jun and her parents were in Topaz for the duration of the War and farmed in Idaho when the camp closed. After graduating from high school, Jun worked in Chicago, then spent two years in Japan with the civil service. She met her husband Jack after returning from Japan and settling in San Francisco.
Copyright Jun Nakahara Dairiki, 2022. All rights reserved.
Jun, Thanks for sharing great story of determination and persistence! Having these stories told, shared, and saved is so important for all to hear.
Joan – Thank you for your kind remarks. I totally agree with you that we must continue to perpetuate these oral histories.
Happy Holidays to you and yours; let’s hope that 2023 will be better than 2022.
Jun Dairiki
Thanks for sharing your story! We all try to forget the “unpleasant” aspects of our history, but we should not and dare not!