Red Berries, White Clouds, Blue Sky

by Sandra Dallas

  “And me?” Tomi wondered.

  “And you, too,” Mom admitted. “I worry about you.”

  “Am I as unhappy as Pop?” Tomi asked.

  Mom shook her head. “‘No, but I am afraid you will be one day. You are so young. I did not want you to spoil your life with hatred.”

  Tomi handed the letter to Mom, who read it to herself, then folded it and put it back inside the envelope, telling Tomi to keep it in a safe place. They wouldn’t want Pop to read it.

  “What do I do, Mom?” Tomi asked. “I can’t change Pop.”

  “Maybe you can. I hope you will think of a way.”

  1945 | CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  THE CONTEST

  “COME on, Pop. Come build a snowman with Hiro and me,” Tomi pleaded.

  Pop sat in his chair in the apartment, a blanket around his shoulders. “Bah! I don’t like this snow. It makes me ache all over. We never had snow in California. Why would I go outside and make a man out of snow?” He pulled the blanket closer.

  “It’s fun,” Hiro told him. “And after a while, you won’t feel the cold.”

  Pop waved them away, and Tomi and Hiro went outdoors by themselves.

  “He isn’t any fun anymore, is he, Tomi?” Hiro asked. “He never jokes or plays with us. Remember when it was hot outside on the farm in California? Pop would turn on the hose and let us run through the water to cool off?”

  “We wouldn’t want to run through it today,” Tomi told him.

  “I like the cold. After we build the snowman, Wilson and I are going ice skating.” The fire hydrant had been opened to flood the ball field, turning it into a skating rink. Last year, before he left for the army, Roy had made ice skates for the two boys. He made them out of pieces of metal, with straps they could use to tie the skates to their shoes. Hiro added, “I like Tallgrass. We couldn’t go ice skating in California. This is a good place.”

  Tomi studied her brother for a moment. Tallgrass was a real home for Hiro and Wilson. They had a baseball field and an ice rink. They explored the prairie around Tallgrass for snakeskins and arrowheads. And they made kites to fly in the brisk Colorado wind. The children had adjusted to the barracks and harsh land and to the change of seasons. It was the older people such as Pop who still resented the camp.

  Tomi wished she could find a way to help Pop. Mom and Roy were counting on her, but nothing had worked. She’d tried to get Pop to play with Hiro and her, but Pop wouldn’t do it. She’d invited him to school programs and plays and concerts, but he wouldn’t go. He sat in the apartment all day, grumbling. Tomi had just about given up.

  Wilson joined them, and Tomi helped the two boys make two snowballs for the snowman. Then she stacked one on top of the other. “Let’s make him a soldier,” Hiro suggested. “Come on. I bet Helen would make a cap for him. And we can find a piece of wood for his gun.”

  The two boys saluted the snowman, and Hiro said, “Whatcha know, Joe?” Then they took off, leaving Tomi alone.

  Mom was teaching her quilt class, and Tomi didn’t want to return to the apartment. Pop was there, and she didn’t care to listen to him complain. She thought she might go to the library, but just then, Mrs. Glessner came up to her. Since it was the weekend, Tomi was surprised to see her teacher in the camp.

  “The classroom is such a mess. It needs to be cleaned up. Saturday seems like a good day for it,” said Mrs. Glessner.

  “I can help you,” Tomi said.

  “I would be grateful for that,” her teacher replied. The two walked together to the school building and went into the classroom. “Let’s take down the books and dust the shelves first. Then we can put the books back in order. I never seem to find the book I’m looking for,” Mrs. Glessner said. She stood on a chair and handed down the books to Tomi. Then she found a rag and wiped the dust from the shelves. “I don’t know why I do this. The dust just keeps coming back.”

  When the shelves were clean, Mrs. Glessner stood on the chair again, and Tomi handed her the books. Mrs. Glessner stopped and studied one of them. “So that’s where this book was hiding. It’s about citizenship. I promised to loan it to my friend who teaches at the Ellis school. I think you understand what citizenship is, Tomi. It’s about being loyal and working for your country, like your brother’s doing by serving in the army.” Mrs. Glessner paused. “And you. I know you have had a difficult time here, but you’re a good citizen.”

  “I was when I lived in California. I was a Girl Scout. We flew the flag, and I said the Pledge of Allegiance every day. But I don’t know how to be one here. I live in a camp. There’s nothing I can do.”

  Mrs. Glessner got down from the chair and set the book on the desk. “Of course there is, and you’re doing it. You’re working for the war effort, collecting newspapers and scrap iron. You sold raffle tickets to raise money for the 442nd. You’re loyal and patriotic, too.” She set the book on her desk and dusted off her hands. “The children in my friend’s class are writing essays on why they’re Americans. All the ninth graders in Colorado have been asked to write them. There’s a contest to pick the best one, with a one-hundred dollar prize for the best essay. The winner goes to Denver to receive it from the governor.”

  Tomi thought about it. Then she asked, “If I’m so loyal and patriotic, why can’t I write an essay? Why can’t all the kids in my class write them?”

  Mrs. Glessner put the dust rag down. “Why indeed? Why didn’t I think of that? Of course you must write an essay, and so should everyone in your class. After all, you’re ninth-grade Colorado school children.” She laughed. “Even if you don’t want to be.”

  “What are we supposed to write about?” Tomi asked.

  “Whatever you like. The subject is ‘Why I Am an American,’ but that could include almost anything. Think it over. I’m sure you’ll come up with something. You have a week to turn it in.” She picked up the citizenship book and looked at it. “I’ll give this to my friend. Your class won’t need it. With the paper and scrap metal drives, the Fourth of July celebration and the raffle ticket sales, you already know what citizenship is all about.”

  Tomi thought about the essay on the way back to her apartment, and all that evening. She was an American because she’d been born in America. But she knew there was more to it. Being an American wasn’t just an accident. You chose to be a good American. Maybe she would write about that.

  1945 | CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  WHY POP CAME to AMERICA

  ON MONDAY, Mrs. Glessner told the class about the essay contest. “This is not an assignment. You can skip it if you want to. But being an American is something I want you to think about,” Mrs. Glessner continued. “What does it mean?”

  “Being able to listen to a radio and not being cooped up in a relocation camp,” one boy blurted out.

  Mrs. Glessner considered what he said. Then she asked, “Does that mean that none of you are Americans?”

  “No,” several students answered.

  “Then you can be an American and still be an internee?” she asked.

  “I think it means you can be one even if you aren’t treated very well,” Ruth said.

  Tomi grinned at her. Ruth was smart—smart enough to write a prize-winning essay. “Even if you don’t agree with what your country does, it’s still your country,” Tomi added.

  “I’m an American because my brother’s in the army,” a boy said.

  “I’m an American because I salute the flag and say the Pledge of Allegiance every morning,” a girl added.

  “I like to play baseball. Does that make me an American?” another boy asked.

  His friend leaned over and poked him in the ribs. “It makes you a crummy second baseman.”

  That evening, Tomi asked Pop, “Why did you come to America?”

  Pop frowned at her. “Why do you ask such a question?”

  Tomi shrugged. “I just wondered. If you’re so unhappy living in America, why did you come here in the first place?”

  When
Pop didn’t answer, Mom looked up from her sewing and said, “Tell her, Sam.”

  Pop thought that over, and finally he nodded. “All right. You know I wasn’t always unhappy with this country, Tomi. I came here because I thought I would have opportunities I didn’t have in Japan. There, my father was a poor man, and so was my jiji, my grandfather. They worked all day on a farm for a big landowner. They never had a chance to have their own farm. If I stayed, I would always be a poor man, too. I didn’t want to work for someone else all day and bow to him and thank him for the little bit he paid me. I wanted something better.”

  “He worked very hard,” Mom said. “Your baba told me he was the hardest-working boy in the family. And he learned English before he came here.”

  “But I did not speak it as well as your mother did. She studied it with a tutor. Your mother was born into a wealthy family. I was lucky to marry her.”

  Tomi knew the story. Mom’s older sisters had married rich men. Then Tomi’s grandfather lost his money gambling, and he couldn’t find a husband for Mom. He decided then that Mom should marry a well-to-do American. Mom smiled at Pop. “My mother and father thought all Americans were rich. So that is why I became a picture bride. Your father looked at all the pictures of girls who wanted to marry a Japanese man in America and picked me.”

  “And you found out I wasn’t rich,” Pop said. “All I had was a silver dollar.”

  “I am rich in family,” she told him. “I don’t want anything else.”

  “I was very lucky when I chose your mother’s picture. I did not know she could speak English. It was a nice surprise. She taught me much.” Pop smiled at Mom. He didn’t do that often anymore.

  “I was very happy he picked me. I thought he was so handsome he could have married a movie star.” She smiled back at Pop. “I still think he is handsome.”

  Pop patted Mom’s hand. “I made a good choice. You are a good wife, even though you don’t stay home anymore.”

  “I am an American wife,” Mom said. “My husband doesn’t tell me what to do.”

  Tomi grinned at her parents. They hadn’t joked with each other much lately. She was glad she had questioned them about coming to America. She asked what it was like when Pop first arrived.

  “Very confusing,” Pop replied. “In the beginning, I thought I would get a job in the city. No more farming for me. No getting my hands dirty. But I didn’t like so many people crowded together. I didn’t like the tall buildings either. I went to work for Mr. Lawrence. He is a good man. He taught me how to farm in California.” Pop frowned. “That is, he was a good man. I think he has forgotten about me now.”

  Mom shook her head. “No, no. He doesn’t know where you are. That’s all. We will go back when the war is over.”

  “Bah!” Pop said.

  “Was America what you expected it to be, Mom?” Tomi asked.

  “It was pretty good, but maybe not as good as I had expected,” Mom replied. “Your pop wrote me that he lived in a big house with a servant.”

  “I didn’t want you to get discouraged and marry somebody else,” Pop said. “That’s why I wrote that.”

  Mom laughed. “But you were right when you said America was better than Japan.”

  Pop nodded. “That’s what I thought then. I believed that in America, I could be anything I wanted. I didn’t have to be a farmer unless I chose to be. I knew if I worked hard, I could make a good living, and I was right. After all, we had a house with running water and electricity and three bedrooms. In Japan, we would have lived in one room with maybe an oil lamp, and your mother would have had to carry water from a well. Women did the hard work there.”

  “Women do the hard work here, too,” Mom said and glanced toward Pop. “One thing I like about America is women don’t have to obey the men,” she said with a smile.

  “I don’t like that so much,” Pop laughed and gave Mom a little poke, and she laughed too. “I thought America would be a better place to raise children. I chose America for you and Roy and Hiro,” Pop said.

  “We both chose it,” Mom added. The two of them looked at each other for a long time.

  Tomi couldn’t remember the last time she had seen her parents enjoy themselves so much. It was almost as if they were back on the farm in California.

  But then Pop frowned. “I thought it was a pretty good country, too, until the war came along. Then I learned America isn’t for a Japanese man or a Japanese woman. It isn’t for Japanese children who are born in America either. Even in Japan, I never saw so much hate. In America, they lock you up just because you look different. They blame you for the war because you came from Japan. The government can take everything you worked for and throw you in jail. Bah!”

  “Are you sorry you came here then?” This time Mom asked the question.

  Pop didn’t answer, only shrugged as if he couldn’t make up his mind.

  “I’m not sorry,” Mom said. “Even in this camp, I’m not sorry. This is a better life for me than what I had. Women can do more here than in Japan.”

  “In an internment camp?” Pop had turned glum again. “I came to America because I believed in it. Now I don’t believe anymore.”

  Tomi thought that over. “Then do you believe you would be better off if you never came here?”

  Pop didn’t say anything for a long time. Tomi thought he wouldn’t answer her. Finally he said, “Who can tell? Maybe if I had stayed in Japan, I would be fighting against America. I wouldn’t like that.”

  “If you refused to fight in the Japanese army, maybe you would get sent to a camp worse than this one,” Mom told him. “What about that?”

  Pop didn’t have an answer. He left then to join the old men who sat in the sun and complained. Mom sat down by the window and began stitching. Tomi pulled a chair to the table and jotted down a few notes for her essay.

  “What are you writing?” Mom asked as she looked up from her sewing.

  “Just homework,” Tomi replied.

  1945 | CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  ROY’S LETTER

  TOMI was still thinking about what to write in her essay when Roy’s weekly letter to the family arrived. He had finished basic training and had been shipped overseas to fight in Europe with the 442nd Infantry. The family was proud of him, even Pop, Tomi thought, although Pop didn’t say so. There was a picture of Roy in his uniform on the table, beside a jar of paper flowers. Roy’s letters were kept in a wooden box next to the vase. And in the window was a banner with a blue star to show that a member of the Itano family was fighting in the war.

  Pop had been against Roy’s joining the army, of course, although he admitted, “It is a good thing to be a warrior. It brings honor to the family.” Once, Tomi had heard her father brag to the old men that his son would kill many enemy soldiers. “A good, brave boy,” he’d said. Still, he made it clear he didn’t approve of his son fighting for his country.

  Roy wrote every week, addressing his letters to the entire family. Pop was the only one who was allowed to open them, however. He read them to himself. Then if he was in a good mood, he read them to the rest of the family. Sometimes, he handed a letter to Mom, who read it to Tomi and Hiro. Later, Mom read the letters over and over to herself when she was alone. More than once, Tomi came into the apartment and found Mom crying over one of Roy’s letters. “I don’t care if he is a good warrior,” she admitted to Tomi once. “I just want him to come home.”

  “I know you’re worried he’ll get hurt,” Tomi told her. She’d almost said “die” instead of “hurt,” but she knew Mom didn’t want to think about that possibility. Neither did Tomi.

  “Of course I worry. I worry about all of my children. But I worry most about Roy. The men in the 442nd Infantry do such dangerous fighting. They have received many medals for their bravery. They also receive many Purple Heart medals because they are wounded in battle. Maybe your pop was right. Maybe Roy should have refused to enlist in the army.”

  “You know he would have joined no
matter what Pop said.”

  “Maybe he wouldn’t if he’d known how much his father worries about him.”

  “I thought you and I were the only ones who worried. Pop says if something happens to Roy, it’s his own fault. He even says it would serve Roy right for disobeying his father.”

  Mom nodded. “Your pop is angry, all right. Still, I know that he is afraid something will happen to Roy. There are so many things that upset him these days. Pop resents that there is no work for him, while I have a job and bring in money to pay for what we need. That makes him feel useless. He believes he can no longer protect his family. After all, he couldn’t keep the government from sending us to Tallgrass. He feels he is not head of our family any longer. But he worries most, I think, because he cannot keep Roy safe.”

  Tomi stared at the vase of paper flowers and thought about what to write in her essay. Mrs. Hayashi had made the flowers for Mom the day Roy left. Tomi removed one of the flowers and studied the way the paper was folded into a shape. Then she glanced down at the wooden box where Roy’s letters were kept. She returned the flower to the vase and asked, “What happened to the letter from Roy that came yesterday? It’s not in the box. You never read it to us.”

  Mom had stopped sewing and was staring out the window. She shook her head. “I never read it either. Pop wouldn’t show it to me.”

  Tomi frowned. “Did he open it?”

  “Oh, yes. He read it and didn’t say a word. He just put it into his coat pocket.”

  Both Mom and Tomi turned their heads to stare at Pop’s coat, which was hanging on a nail on the wall. The day was warm, and Pop had left the apartment wearing his sweater.

  “Where is Pop?” Tomi asked.

  “He went to the canteen to drink tea with the men.”

  Tomi frowned. Then she asked, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  Mom shook her head. “Oh, Tomi, your father would be so angry if he found out I read Roy’s letter without his permission.”