by Kirby Larson
Monday, November 2, 1942
DeeDee —
Mr. Crofton knocked on our front door this morning, waving a piece of paper at Pop. It turns out, he’s bought this house! Pop called the landlord and he said it was true. Said Mr. Crofton had made an offer that was too good to pass up.
Mr. Crofton’s first action as our new landlord was to evict us. He said we have one week to find someplace new to live.
He was practically cackling with glee when he told us.
I was hoping Pop would say we might as well go back to Seattle.
Instead, he went looking for another place for us to live here.
Tuesday, November 3, 1942
DeeDee —
For the first time since Hank enlisted, I wished I hadn’t gotten a letter from him. Then I could hope that the Enterprise was still in dock, being repaired.
But the letter that came yesterday—which was mailed a while back — said repairs had been finished and they were underway.
If I hadn’t gotten that letter, then I wouldn’t be worried about Hank being in the battle that was reported in today’s paper. It was near the Santa Cruz Islands, east of the Stewarts in the Pacific. The first couple of paragraphs of the article talked about how “American forces inflicted severe damage on the Japanese fleet.”
But farther down were words that made me want to curl up in a ball and hide under my bed: “The loss of an unnamed United States aircraft carrier and the destroyer Porter occurred in this engagement.”
An unnamed aircraft carrier. A bird boat.
Like the Enterprise.
Please, God, don’t let it be Hank’s ship.
Wednesday, November 4, 1942
DeeDee —
Pop read that the Navy wasn’t releasing the name of the destroyed aircraft carrier until relatives had been contacted.
We haven’t been contacted yet so he says it’s a good sign.
I want Pop to be right about this. I really do.
Thursday, November 5, 1942
DeeDee —
They finished building the watchtowers at the camp today. There are eight of them standing like unfriendly giants. Jim says with hundreds of miles of desert all around us, there’s no need for them. Or for all the barbed wire fences.
But they’re there.
Friday, November 6, 1942
DeeDee —
Mrs. Sato and Mrs. Tokita and a bunch of the other mothers met with the camp manager today to ask him to do something about the coal situation before their kids all get pneumonia. Betty and Mikey have rotten colds. It makes me sad to see them shivering and miserable without a stove, on top of everything else. I feel guilty, sitting here, writing this, snug and warm in my room.
We’ve bought up all the blankets in town we could. Miss McCullough is supposed to be arriving tomorrow. Pop’s hoping her trunk will be full of blankets.
Saturday, November 7, 1942
DeeDee —
Pop found us another house. No window seat or yellow wallpaper but it’s bigger. Last week, we had two college students sleeping in our front room. They’d gotten camp releases so they could start college in Ohio but needed a place to stay until their train left. None of the hotels in town would rent them rooms. Our new house has five bedrooms so Pop says we can run a regular hotel.
And here’s the funniest thing: We only have to move kitty-corner across the street. Pop said that made Mr. Crofton spitting mad.
Good!
Sunday, November 8, 1942
DeeDee —
No word from Hank. Pop says “no news is good news.”
I pray that’s true.
Monday, November 9, 1942
DeeDee —
We got a short letter from John today. He says that girl in his history lecture is Donna Brown and she takes very good notes that he is making a habit of borrowing. Not that he needs to; it’s only an excuse to talk to her.
At least someone is having fun somewhere.
Tuesday, November 10, 1942
DeeDee —
Heard from Margie. After so many short, quick notes, this was a real letter.
Everything’s fine at home. One of the bathroom pipes started leaking but Pastor Thomson helped her fix it. “I’m starting to know my way around the business end of a wrench these days,” she wrote. “I did go to the church as you asked, Pop, and found the box Mrs. Harada wanted. I’ve brought it home and added it to the pile of other boxes you’ve mentioned. Pastor Thomson plans to drive over your way in the next week or so. If that doesn’t work out, he’ll look into shipping the boxes by train.”
Next she wrote out her recipe for meat loaf. “Please give this to Miss McCullough as she specifically asked for it.” I couldn’t imagine why—maybe Miss McCullough wanted to poison somebody!
The end of her letter was all about Stan. He’s still training in England. From there, he doesn’t know for sure where he’ll be sent. “He did say the scuttlebutt among the GIs was that they’d be headed to North Africa to take on the German troops there,” she wrote. “But his higher-ups are tight-lipped about plans. It’s all hearsay, really. At least with Hank, we have a general idea of where he is. Of course, I fret every time I read the news about the fighting in the Pacific because they give so few details. We never know if Hank’s in that battle or not. So maybe it will be easier, in a strange way, not to know exactly where Stan is. It really doesn’t matter. I’ll worry no matter what.” I hadn’t stopped to think how tough it must be for Margie. She’s got a brother and a husband in the war. She’s a tough cookie, but that’s a lot for anyone to handle.
Wednesday, November 11, 1942 — Armistice Day
DeeDee —
We celebrated the holiday by registering for school. It’s kind of funny to even use the word “school.” We’ll be meeting in one of the barracks in Block 23. Right now, there aren’t any desks, just long tables and benches like the ones we sit on in the dining hall. The books haven’t arrived and there aren’t any blackboards but our teachers say we’ll make do.
Even though we’re a grade apart, Betty and I have Core class together. After we got signed up, a bunch of the high school kids were goofing around, teasing us junior high “babies.” This one kid snatched my binder from me and started to play “keep away.” One look from Jim and the kid gave it right back.
It’s kind of funny. At Washington Junior, I saw mostly white faces. Here, at the camp school, there are only three of us — me and the principal’s sons. It made me feel kind of itchy in my own skin. I wished I could be like a snake and shed it, to look more like everyone else. I wonder if that’s what Betty felt like sometimes, back in Seattle.
It’s the strangest thing. Back home, I blended in with the crowd. Here, I stand out like a piece of lint on a black dress. Nobody treats me bad or anything but it is a funny feeling.
After getting registered, I walked over to the Matsuis’ apartment. Mrs. Matsui was sitting up, having some broth. Mr. Matsui handed me a small package, wrapped in a piece of the funny papers. Inside was a delicate carved wooden bird. “Sandpiper,” he said. “For Piper.” The legs were as delicate as lace and its head was cocked slightly as if searching for something tasty on the beach. That beautiful thing erased all the strangeness of my day.
It’s on my dresser right now, watching over me as I write.
Thursday, November 12, 1942
DeeDee —
We’re getting into a routine. This is what a normal day looks like: Pop and I have oatmeal or flapjacks— the two things he can cook—for breakfast. Then we hop in the Blue Box for the drive to Minidoka. Even though we’ve been doing this for over a month now, the guard asks for Pop’s identification every time we come to the gate. After he looks it over and waves us through, we park by the administration building.
Pop goes to the waiting room to see if there’s anyone there who needs his help. Then he does visitations, meets with the camp manager, and works on his sermon.
Meanwhile, I head down t
he road, past the MPs and the hospital to Block 5, to meet up with Betty and Jim to walk to school. I probably walk just as far to Hunt — that’s what they’ve named the school—as I did to Washington from home. Things are spread out here in camp.
Some days, after school, Betty and I go to the canteen for a Coke. She’ll walk home with Jim and Yosh, and I stop in to see the Matsuis. Once in a while, I’ll walk the other way and stop in to see Mrs. Tokita and Kenji. She’s teaching in the nursery school now and usually has some project for her class that I can help her with. Then I meet up with Pop at the administration building around four and we head home for supper with Miss McCullough — who is a much better cook than Margie! I read the paper, do homework, listen to the radio, write letters, and go to bed.
An ordinary day in the ordinary life of the ordinary Piper Davis.
Friday, November 13, 1942
DeeDee —
I went along with Pop tonight when he spoke to the Ladies’ Aid Society at the Twin Falls Christian Church. They think, just like Debbie Sue’s dad, that the Japanese are getting all sorts of special treatment while the rest of the country has to scrounge to get sugar or coffee.
Pop invited them out to Minidoka, to see for themselves the kind of luxurious life the Japanese are living.
Sunday, November 15, 1942
DeeDee —
I went home with Betty after church. We were setting up the board to play Monopoly when Jim asked if he could play, too.
Betty asked if it was okay. I said sure.
“We’ll play by Sato rules,” Jim said. I looked at Betty and she looked at me.
“We have special rules?” she asked.
“We do now!” he said.
We picked our pieces. Betty was the top hat and Jim and I squabbled over the race car. Then he gave in and took the purse. He thought that was hysterical.
We rolled to go first. Jim lucked out. “Okay. Rule Number One. You have to sing a song while you count out your move.”
“Oh, come on.” Betty rolled her eyes.
I turned my finger in a circle next to my head. “He’s mad, I tell you,” I said to Betty in a fake whisper. “We’d best humor the fellow.”
Every few minutes, Jim piped up with a new rule. If you drew a Chance card, you had to create a new dance step. He got Mikey and Tommy in the act, too. Mikey squeaked on his harmonica and Tommy pounded on an empty oatmeal container with a wooden spoon anytime someone passed Go.
By the time he came up with the rule that we had to crow like a rooster if someone landed on one of our properties, Betty and I were laughing so hard, we fell right out of our chairs.
And that made us laugh even harder.
Later, riding home in the Blue Box with Pop, I broke out laughing every few minutes just thinking about the game. It felt like I’d spent the afternoon with Hank.
There’s nothing like a big brother.
Monday, November 16, 1942
DeeDee —
Cold and rainy. I shared my umbrella with Betty and Jim as we walked home from school.
Tuesday, November 17, 1942
DeeDee —
Rain! Rain! Rain! Maybe we should build an ark. Mikey made a little boat out of two pieces of wax paper and a stick and was floating it in a puddle by their stoop this morning. At least he was having fun.
None of the rest of us are, trying to get around. The rain has turned the dust to mud. It’s like trying to walk in peanut butter. And with the rubber rationing, lots of people don’t have boots or galoshes.
Silly me — I didn’t think anything could be worse than the dust.
Thursday, November 19, 1942
DeeDee —
I stopped off at the Satos’ after leaving Mr. Matsui today. I wanted to show them the squirrel he’d carved. He’s already made me a robin and a fox but my favorite piece is still that tiny sandpiper. Betty and her mom were off doing laundry; Jim was there, in charge of the little boys.
“Speaking of your menagerie,” he said, as I showed them the squirrel, “I have something for you.”
“I helped,” said Mikey.
“Me, too,” Tommy chimed in.
“But it’s not my birthday. Or anything.” I couldn’t imagine what was up.
“This is a just-because present,” said Mikey.
“Just because,” Tommy repeated.
The three of them lifted a blanket-wrapped object out from behind one of the beds. Jim carefully pulled the blanket off a small, delicate shelf. It was about one foot long with ends that looked like little scrolls.
I told him it was beautiful.
“It’s for your collection,” Jim said. “I nailed that branch there on the front edge to keep the carvings from falling off.”
“I love it. But how on earth did you make it?” I held the shelf out, admiring it.
He shrugged. “I used to help Dad in his workshop. Don’t get too carried away. A shelf is not that hard to make,” he said.
“Thank you. Thank you so much.” I carefully set the shelf down and gave Mikey and Tommy a hug. “I’ll think of you boys every time I look at this.”
I gave Jim a quick hug, too. Then I picked the shelf up again and held it in front of me, admiring it. “Jim, this is the nicest thing anyone’s done for me.”
“I’m glad you like it.” Jim scratched his head. “Really glad.”
I hung it up in my room as soon as I got home. It’s perfect.
Friday, November 20, 1942
DeeDee —
Jim didn’t walk with us this morning. He had to get to school early for something. That was fine with me. It was easier to chitchat with Betty when he wasn’t around.
We talked about Thanksgiving coming up, and the letter they’d gotten from their dad. He had written that some of the other men in the camp had been able to leave, to join their families. So he was looking into what he would need to do.
I crossed my fingers and said I hoped it would all work out.
We talked about a few other things and then Betty said, out of the blue, “You know you have a secret admirer, don’t you?”
“I do?” My mind went over the boys in my classes. “Well, he’s doing a good job of keeping it a secret.”
Betty shook her head. “Not that good a job. Not when he makes you a whatnot shelf.”
I stopped right there in front of Block 21. “Jim?”
She nodded.
“But he’s my friend. My substitute big brother.” I thought of the hug I’d given him yesterday. I’d meant it in a friendly way. Nothing like the ones I’d given Bud. What must Jim have thought?
She shrugged. “I guess that’s not how he sees it.” The rain started up again. “Come on, let’s hurry or we’ll get soaked.”
It’s no wonder I flunked the pop quiz in Social Studies. How could I be expected to name all 48 state capitals after news like that?
I mean, I like Jim. Like him.
What a pickle!
Saturday, November 21, 1942
DeeDee —
Mikey’s been going over to Mr. Matsui’s after school to learn how to carve, too. Today, he gave Mrs. Harada a flower he’d made. It was pretty good for an eight-year-old. She put it in an empty hair tonic bottle and now Mikey says he’s going to carve her a whole bouquet.
Sunday, November 22, 1942
DeeDee —
I saw Jim in church today for the first time since Betty’s announcement. I felt so awkward around him. Did he know that Betty had told me? Did he think I felt the same way? I was so discombobulated that I spilled a cup of tea on myself after services.
Jim handed me a towel to clean up. “You look a little peaked,” he said. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I said out loud. Inside, I said, No, no, no.
Monday, November 23, 1942
DeeDee —
A coal shipment finally arrived! And, even better, when I stopped off at the Satos’ this morning, their apartment was warm.
“Isn’t it the most beaut
iful thing you’ve ever seen?” Mrs. Sato showed off the squat black potbelly stove. I nodded, doing my best to avoid eye contact with Jim. I was so confused about how to act around him. I wished Betty had never said anything.
“I bet you got to scoop in some of the coal,” I said to Mikey. He nodded.
“Me, too,” said Tommy.
“How’d you guess?” Mikey asked.
“I’m a mind reader,” I said. Then I laughed and pointed at their dirty hands.
“Let’s get you guys washed up before school.” Jim hustled his little brothers out the door.
“School!” Betty said. “I don’t even want to go today. This is the first time my innards have been thawed out in two months.”