like that, a fairground. There wasn’t any hospital.”
“I’m sorry. That must be hard.”
“I hate America,” Helen said.
Tomi glanced down at Carl. “You mean it’s just you and your brothers? You’re taking care of them all by yourself?”
Helen nodded.
“How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
“Don’t you have any relatives who can help?”
Helen shook her head. “They’re all in Japan. I wish I was there, too.”
Tomi’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “But Japan’s our enemy. We’re at war with Japan. We’re Americans.”
“I used to think that, too. I’m Nisei . That means I was born here. But look at the way this country treats us. If the government hadn’t rounded us up and sent us to the fairground, my mother wouldn’t have gotten sick. I’d be back in San Francisco going to school. Now I have to sit in this dirty room and take care of my brothers.”
“I’m sorry,” Tomi said, thinking “I’m sorry” didn’t solve anything.
1943 | CHAPTER TEN
BUYING a TANK
RUTH was slumped in the doorway of her barracks when Tomi stopped on the way to the dining hall.
“I heard there’s a cook on the other side of the camp who makes Japanese food for breakfast. We ought to go there sometime,” Ruth said. “I’d give a quarter for just one bite of real Japanese food—that is, if I had a quarter.”
“You know what I miss?” Tomi asked. “Strawberry ice cream. We used to make our own with fresh strawberries and cream from Mr. Lawrence’s cows. We’d take turns turning the crank on the freezer. In the summer, we’d sit in the dark watching fireflies and eating ice cream.”
“There’s an ice cream parlor in Ellis. One of the Boy Scouts told me. Maybe in the summer, we can get passes to go there every day.”
“That would be wonderful.” Then Tomi remembered she had to hurry and grabbed Ruth’s hand. “Come on. I promised Mom I’d come back and take her to that class. If I don’t go with her, she might stay home. Mom doesn’t like standing up in front of people. At home, she never spoke out when she was with white ladies. But I told her that here, everybody’s Japanese.”
Ruth nodded. “Ditto. My mom’s shy, too. But she needs to get out. All she does is sit in the room and hold Ben’s toys. Do you think this will work?”
“We have to try.”
A couple of weeks before, when one of the women who taught at the camp saw the quilt Mrs. Hayashi was making with Mom’s help, she’d asked Mom if she would teach a class in quilting. Mom said no, thank you, she wasn’t good enough. That wasn’t the real reason, however. Mom could sew anything. She turned down the request because she didn’t want to get up in front of a group of women.
“You should, Mom. It’s so cold in the winter at Tallgrass that people need quilts. And you can teach them just the way you did Mrs. Hayashi,” Tomi told her.
“I couldn’t,” Mom said.
“That’s selfish,” Roy spoke up. He had been listeningin. “What if we needed warm quilts and somebody refused to teach you how to make them?”
Mom frowned. She said she wouldn’t know any of the women in the class.
“You’ll know Mrs. Hayashi,” Tomi told her. “And me.”
“You would go?”
Tomi thought that over. She’d spoken too quickly. She didn’t want to sew with a bunch of women, but she’d go if it were necessary. She could always sneak out after Mom got started.
Now, the two girls ran down the street to the dining hall and joined the line waiting to get in. A girl from school motioned for the two girls to join her at the head of the line—“spacing” it was called. But Tomi knew that crowding in line was rude, so she shook her head, and she and Ruth waited their turn. It wasn’t long, and they gobbled their lunch of canned spaghetti and raced back to the barracks.
When Tomi reached the room, she found Mom sitting on one of the rough chairs that Roy had made, her back very straight. Her hands were at the
“I’m sorry. That must be hard.”
“I hate America,” Helen said.
Tomi glanced down at Carl. “You mean it’s just you and your brothers? You’re taking care of them all by yourself?”
Helen nodded.
“How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
“Don’t you have any relatives who can help?”
Helen shook her head. “They’re all in Japan. I wish I was there, too.”
Tomi’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “But Japan’s our enemy. We’re at war with Japan. We’re Americans.”
“I used to think that, too. I’m Nisei . That means I was born here. But look at the way this country treats us. If the government hadn’t rounded us up and sent us to the fairground, my mother wouldn’t have gotten sick. I’d be back in San Francisco going to school. Now I have to sit in this dirty room and take care of my brothers.”
“I’m sorry,” Tomi said, thinking “I’m sorry” didn’t solve anything.
1943 | CHAPTER TEN
BUYING a TANK
RUTH was slumped in the doorway of her barracks when Tomi stopped on the way to the dining hall.
“I heard there’s a cook on the other side of the camp who makes Japanese food for breakfast. We ought to go there sometime,” Ruth said. “I’d give a quarter for just one bite of real Japanese food—that is, if I had a quarter.”
“You know what I miss?” Tomi asked. “Strawberry ice cream. We used to make our own with fresh strawberries and cream from Mr. Lawrence’s cows. We’d take turns turning the crank on the freezer. In the summer, we’d sit in the dark watching fireflies and eating ice cream.”
“There’s an ice cream parlor in Ellis. One of the Boy Scouts told me. Maybe in the summer, we can get passes to go there every day.”
“That would be wonderful.” Then Tomi remembered she had to hurry and grabbed Ruth’s hand. “Come on. I promised Mom I’d come back and take her to that class. If I don’t go with her, she might stay home. Mom doesn’t like standing up in front of people. At home, she never spoke out when she was with white ladies. But I told her that here, everybody’s Japanese.”
Ruth nodded. “Ditto. My mom’s shy, too. But she needs to get out. All she does is sit in the room and hold Ben’s toys. Do you think this will work?”
“We have to try.”
A couple of weeks before, when one of the women who taught at the camp saw the quilt Mrs. Hayashi was making with Mom’s help, she’d asked Mom if she would teach a class in quilting. Mom said no, thank you, she wasn’t good enough. That wasn’t the real reason, however. Mom could sew anything. She turned down the request because she didn’t want to get up in front of a group of women.
“You should, Mom. It’s so cold in the winter at Tallgrass that people need quilts. And you can teach them just the way you did Mrs. Hayashi,” Tomi told her.
“I couldn’t,” Mom said.
“That’s selfish,” Roy spoke up. He had been listeningin. “What if we needed warm quilts and somebody refused to teach you how to make them?”
Mom frowned. She said she wouldn’t know any of the women in the class.
“You’ll know Mrs. Hayashi,” Tomi told her. “And me.”
“You would go?”
Tomi thought that over. She’d spoken too quickly. She didn’t want to sew with a bunch of women, but she’d go if it were necessary. She could always sneak out after Mom got started.
Now, the two girls ran down the street to the dining hall and joined the line waiting to get in. A girl from school motioned for the two girls to join her at the head of the line—“spacing” it was called. But Tomi knew that crowding in line was rude, so she shook her head, and she and Ruth waited their turn. It wasn’t long, and they gobbled their lunch of canned spaghetti and raced back to the barracks.
When Tomi reached the room, she found Mom sitting on one of the rough chairs that Roy had made, her back very straight. Her hands were at the
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