Red Berries, White Clouds, Blue Sky

by Sandra Dallas

  “Oh, I guess I still do,” Tomi replied.

  “You don’t have to read it in class,” Mrs. Glessner said, and Tomi breathed a sigh of relief. “Instead, you can read it at the VE celebration in the camp this afternoon.”

  Tomi slunk back in her chair. That was terrible. She’d have to stand up before the whole camp. But that wasn’t what frightened her most. She’d have to read it in front of Pop.

  1945 | CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  WHY I AM an AMERICAN

  “WE’RE wearing our best clothes to the VE Day celebration,” Mom said when Tomi went back to the apartment. Mom had put on a white kimono with big pink flowers on it. “Hurry, Tomi. We don’t want to be late.”

  “Is Pop going?” Tomi asked. Pop didn’t attend many camp events, and Tomi hoped he would stay home.

  “Of course, he is. This is a big day.”

  Tomi glanced at her father, who was wearing his suit and a tie. He stood looking out the window, holding his hat. “I don’t know why I should go. I’d rather stay here,” he said.

  “It’s not a big deal,” Tomi said, hoping she could talk her father out of it.

  “It’s a very big deal,” Mom told her. “We won the war in Europe.”

  Hiro burst into the room then and yelled, “Tomi won some essay contest about being an American. She beat everybody in the state! The whole school’s talking about it.”

  Mom turned to Tomi in surprise. “Oh, that’s wonderful! Why didn’t you tell us?”

  Tomi shrugged.

  “She’s going to read it at the celebration,” Hiro continued. Tomi sent him a fierce look to shut him up, but he only grinned at her.

  “Then we will be very happy,” Mom told her. “Now, Sam, that is a good reason to go to the celebration. You would shame your daughter if you stayed home. I won’t let you.”

  “Won’t let me? You sound like an American woman telling her husband what to do.”

  “I am an American woman,” Mom told him.

  “Bah,” Pop said.

  Tomi sat down on her bed, thinking she might say she had a stomach ache and had to stay in the apartment, but she knew Mom wouldn’t let her get away with that.

  “Hurry up. Put on your red dress,” Mom said, removing the dress from a nail on the wall. Tomi went behind the curtain that divided the room and changed into the dress as slowly as she could. “It’s too small. I look awful. Everybody will laugh at me,” she said. Indeed, the dress came above her knees, and it pulled across her waist. “I’ve had this since we lived in California.”

  “Then we will buy you a new one when we go back there,” Mom said. “Other girls are wearing tight dresses, too. Come along.”

  Tomi dragged her feet as the four of them walked to the big open space in camp where meetings were held. Mom took Tomi’s arm to pull her along and whispered, “Don’t be nervous. Remember what a hard time I had standing in front of the quilt class the first time? Now I don’t mind it at all.”

  But Tomi wasn’t worried about getting up in front of people. She was worried about what Pop would say when he heard her essay. She glanced up at one of the towers and realized there were no longer any guards. Was that because of VE Day or had they disappeared a long time ago? She was so used to the towers that she hadn’t noticed.

  As soon as they reached the crowd, Tomi went off in search of Ruth. Maybe it would start raining or the stage would cave in before it was her turn to speak. Then she wouldn’t have to read her essay. The essay had been a bad idea, a terrible idea. Pop would be furious.

  The victory ceremony started only minutes after the Itanos arrived, and Tomi knew nothing could stop her now from having to read the essay. There were prayers and speeches. A band played “God Bless America” and “America the Beautiful” and then the national anthem, as people sang. The ceremony lasted a long time, and Tomi hoped she’d been forgotten. But then a man announced, “We have a special surprise. Just this week, one of our students, Tomi Itano, won a state contest with her essay, ‘Why I Am an American.’ Now Tomi’s going to read it to us.”

  People clapped as Tomi slowly made her way to the stage. Her hands were sweaty, and her knees shook. As she climbed the steps, she looked around for Mom and Pop. At first she couldn’t find them, but then she saw them right in the front! Now there was no way Pop wouldn’t hear her words. Tomi took a deep breath. There was nothing she could do about it. Shikata ga nai, she thought; it can’t be helped. So she might as well get it over with. She unfolded the essay she had kept in her book and began in a small voice, “ ‘Why I Am an American’ …”

  “Louder,” someone called.

  Tomi raised her voice and repeated, “ ‘Why I Am an American,’ by Tomi Itano.”

  Her hand shook as she raised the paper. Then, slowly, she began to read. “The day my father arrived on America’s shore, he found a silver dollar lying in the street.” Tomi looked down at Pop feeling even more nervous.

  “He kept that silver dollar. There were times during his first days in this country that he could have spent it to buy food or a place to sleep. But he wouldn’t part with it, because it was his lucky dollar. He told me that every time he looked at it, he remembered the luckiest day of his life, the day he came to America.”

  Tomi stopped and glanced again at Pop. He had removed his hat and was turning it around and around in his hands.

  Tomi gulped and went on. “The first sound I remember hearing when I was a little girl was my father jingling that coin against pennies and nickels in his pocket. Not long ago, however, I stopped hearing it. That’s because my father no longer has the silver dollar. He sent it to my brother Roy, who is serving in the U.S. Army in Europe. The dollar was such powerful good luck that he gave it to Roy to keep him safe. And it has.”

  Tomi looked at Pop. To her surprise, Pop was standing up straight, his head held high. Mom reached over and took his hand.

  Swallowing again, Tomi continued her essay. “In the old country, Pop knew he couldn’t go far. By law, everything in the family was inherited by the first son. Pop was the third son. But in America, everyone had an equal chance. If he worked hard, he could have his own home, with running water and a bedroom for each of his children. He could build his own business. His children would be free to choose their future, too. He came to America not just for himself but for his children.

  “Pop’s business was a strawberry farm, and one day, he pointed to the red berries, white clouds, and blue sky. He told me those were the colors of the American flag, the flag we raised in our front yard every morning. It was the flag of his country—and mine.

  “My father is an American because he chose to be one.” Tomi looked up at the crowd and concluded, “And I am an American because he chose America for me.”

  As Tomi finished, people clapped. A few cheered and whistled. Pop clapped the loudest. Then, before Tomi could leave the platform, he jumped up beside her. He bowed to the audience, then held up his hand, and people grew quiet. “I am Tomi Itano’s father,” he announced. “And I am the proudest man at Tallgrass.” Then he took Tomi’s hand, and the two walked off the stage.

  Tomi was so shocked that at first, she couldn’t speak. Then she said, “I thought you wouldn’t like my essay, Pop. I thought you’d be mad that Mom and I found out about your silver dollar.”

  “Oh, I knew you would. I know Mom reads all of Roy’s letters. American women do that, and she’s an American woman.”

  “And you’re an American man,” Tomi said.

  Pop looked at Tomi a long time. “I had almost forgotten that,” Pop said softly. And then he added, “You reminded me, Tomi. Thank you.”

  1945 | CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  TOMI MEETS the GOVERNOR

  AT THE end of the VE Day celebration, Mrs. Glessner came up to Mom and Pop and Tomi. “I have your tickets. “You take the train first thing Monday morning.”

  Pop looked confused. “What train?”

  Mrs. Glessner frowned. “Didn’t Tomi tell you? T
he governor himself is presenting Tomi with her award. The whole family, even Hiro, has been invited to the ceremony.”

  “We’re going to Denver, on the train?” Pop asked.

  “Yes, the judges are paying for the train tickets,” Mrs. Glessner said.

  Mom smoothed her kimono and asked, “Does the governor know we’re Japanese?”

  Mrs. Glessner laughed. “He will soon enough. But don’t worry. Governor Carr has a Japanese housekeeper.”

  “Do the judges know?” Tomi asked.

  “I didn’t tell them,” Mrs. Glessner said. “But then, nobody asked. The contest was open to all American ninth-graders in Colorado, and Tomi’s an American.”

  Pop grinned. “So am I.”

  Two women stood on the platform at Union Station, the train depot in Denver, looking around. One of them held a sign that said: “Tomi Itano.” When Tomi approached them, they ignored her.

  “Excuse me,” Tomi said.

  One of the women glanced at Tomi, then looked past her to watch the people getting off the train. “Yes,” she said.

  “I’m Tomi Itano.”

  At first, the woman didn’t seem to hear her. She craned her neck to look down the track. Then she turned back and stared at Tomi. “What?” she said.

  “I’m Tomi Itano.”

  “We’re looking for a boy who won an essay contest,” the second woman said. She had stopped watching the passengers and was staring at Tomi.

  “I’m Tomi Itano. I’m a girl, not a boy. I won the contest. I go to school at Tallgrass in Ellis.”

  The woman frowned. “You wrote an essay on ‘Why I Am an American’ ”?

  Oh, no, Tomi thought, as she nodded. What if the women refused to let her win? What if they told her to get back on the train to Ellis?

  The two women looked at each other. “We chose an essay by a Japanese girl from an internment camp?” one of them said.

  The other nodded. “Can you beat that!”

  “Well, good for us.” She held out her hand. “Tomi Itano, I’m glad to meet you. I’m Mrs. Bennett, and this is Mrs. Knowles.”

  Tomi grinned. Then she introduced Mom and Pop and Hiro, and Pop shook the two women’s hands.

  “So you’re the man with the silver dollar?” Mrs. Knowles said.

  “I’m the American with the silver dollar,” Pop told her.

  “Yes, you are. You are a surprise,” Mrs. Bennett said.

  “Didn’t you know Tomi was a Japanese girl?” Hiro asked.

  “I thought maybe she was an Italian boy,” Mrs. Bennett replied. “But it doesn’t matter what you are, does it? Come along. The governor is waiting for us.” The two women led them to a big black car and told the driver to take them to the state capitol.

  Tomi had never been to Denver before, and she stared at the capitol building with its gold dome. But not for long, because the women hurried them up the steps, and they walked down a long marble hallway to the governor’s office.

  “This is Tomi Itano, the girl who won the state essay contest,” Mrs. Bennett told the receptionist.

  At that, a man with a big camera came up to them and said, “I’m from the Denver Post. What a great story this will make. We’ll put it on the front page.”

  The receptionist went into an office, then came back and motioned for everyone to enter. A man behind a desk stood up and said, “So you’re the little girl who wrote about her father’s silver dollar. What a nice surprise this is. I’m Governor Carr.” He held out his hand. Then he shook hands with Mom and Pop and even Hiro. He turned to the photographer. “Bill, you better get a picture of this. It’s a mighty good story. People ought to know about the kind of Americans we put into those relocation camps. Maybe one day we’ll ask them to forgive us for what we did to them.”

  The governor came around his desk to stand beside Tomi and her family. He presented Tomi with a certificate and a check for a hundred dollars. The photographer lifted his camera, and a flashbulb went off.

  “By the way,” the governor asked when they were finished. “Did your son Roy come through the war okay?”

  “You bet,” Pop grinned. “He’ll be coming home any day now.”

  The receptionist came into the room then and said, “Sir, your next appointment is waiting.”

  “Well, let him wait,” Governor Carr said. Then he turned to Pop. “My housekeeper is Japanese. She was at the internment camp in Wyoming. I don’t know what I’d do without her. What say you come home with me for lunch? She sure would like to meet all of you.”

  Pop grinned. “Ah, she is an American, too.”

  “You bet,” the governor said. “By the way, Mr. Itano, I have something for you to jingle until Roy comes home.” He reached into his pocket, then handed Pop a silver dollar.

  Two weeks later, Pop received a letter. “It’s from Mr. Lawrence,” he announced. “I’ll read it to you so you don’t have to sneak a look at it when I’m out.” Pop grinned at Mom. He chuckled a little as he took his time opening the envelope, but at last, he removed a note and began to read.

  “Out loud,” Mom said.

  Pop laughed. “It starts ‘Dear Sam.’ ”

  Mom waved her hand. “I know that.”

  “He says,

  We didn’t know where you were until we saw an article in the newspaper here in California about Tomi receiving an award. The story must have been published in papers all across the country. You sure looked proud in the picture.

  We want you to know that your house and farm are waiting for you whenever you want to come back. We rented it to a young couple, but we told them they could stay only until you returned. They are nice people, but they can’t grow strawberries like you do, Sam. Nobody can.

  It won’t always be easy for you here, because there are still people in California who do not like the Japanese. But I think you can deal with them. You’ve been through a lot, and it hasn’t broken your spirit.

  Let me know when you will arrive. I’ll meet your train. I’ll bring Martha with me. She can hardly wait to see Tomi again. She told me to send you this photograph with the picture of Tomi’s doll in it. There’s a note from Martha, too.”

  Pop fished in the envelope and took out a picture of Martha, who had been Tomi’s best friend in California.

  Tomi studied the photograph. There was Martha holding Janice, the Japanese doll Tomi’s grandparents had sent her. Janice had been Tomi’s favorite possession, and she’d asked Martha to take care of the doll for her. She smiled, remembering how carefully she had played with Janice, because the doll was fragile. Then she frowned. Janice had once worn a beautiful kimono. Now she was dressed in a brown suit. Why had Martha changed the doll’s clothes? Had Martha been ashamed that Janice was Japanese? Had the other girls teased Martha because she had a Japanese doll?

  “See what she wrote,” Pop said, handing Tomi the note.

  Tomi sighed and opened the folded paper. Then she read out loud.

  Hi, Tomi.

  I kept Janice safe on a shelf in my room. Can you see that I made new clothes for her? I’m not very good at sewing, so you probably can’t tell she’s wearing an army uniform.

  Tomi read the rest to herself, then she looked up with a smile. “Listen to this,” she told Mom and Pop. And then she read Martha’s last sentence.

  I thought Janice should wear the uniform because she’s a one-hundred-percent American, just like the rest of the Itanos.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  In February 1942, just two months after America went to war with Japan, President Franklin Roosevelt signed executive order 9066. It allowed the government to force more than 100,000 Japanese men, women, and children living on the West Coast to leave their homes and relocate to camps in the interior of the United States. Many of these people had been born in America and were U.S. citizens. Some couldn’t speak Japanese and had never even been outside the U.S. Nonetheless, the government feared they would aid the enemy in Japan and should be moved away from the Pacific Ocean. Alt
hough the U.S. was also at war with Germany and Italy, it did not round up Germans and Italians and send them inland.

  The camps were not prisons. They were relocation camps. The idea was the Japanese would live there only until they found employment. They were expected to work for the war effort or to replace men who had been drafted into the U.S. Army. Many did indeed find jobs and leave. Some, however, spent the duration of the war in the camps.

  The government built ten relocation camps, all of them located in remote, inhospitable areas from California to Arkansas. One of those camps was Amache, near Granada in southeast Colorado. Some 10,000 Japanese spent part or all of the war at Amache.

  I renamed Amache Tallgrass, and Red Berries, White Clouds, Blue Sky is the second novel I’ve set in that camp. The first, an adult novel titled Tallgrass, is about a farm family living adjacent to the camp, and it’s told from the standpoint of a young Caucasian girl. Red Berries, White Clouds, Blue Sky is from the opposite viewpoint. It is a fictional story of twelve-year-old Tomi Itano, a Japanese girl from California. It tells of one girl’s struggle to understand discrimination and help her family cope with the effects of the uprooting of their lives.

  Incidentally, not one single Japanese person in America was ever found guilty of World War II espionage. And the 442nd Infantry, made up of Japanese soldiers, was the most decorated army unit in U.S. history.

  I learned about the relocation camps in the early 1960s, about fifteen years after Amache was closed. I’d gone pheasant hunting in southeastern Colorado with a rancher friend, who took me to see the Amache site. All that was left were dirt roads and cement slabs where buildings once stood. Since I’d never heard of World War II relocation camps, I went to the library to find out about them. In researching Amache, I discovered that after the camp was abandoned, some of its barracks were sold to the University of Denver for use as classrooms. My journalism classes at DU in the 1950s were held in one of them.

  In my early years as a reporter for Business Week magazine in Denver, I met a number of Japanese journalists who had been interned at Amache and at Heart Mountain in Wyoming, another relocation camp. They had come to Denver at the war’s end. Among them was Carl Iwasaki, a freelance photographer for Time, Life, Sports Illustrated, and Business Week. Carl, a lifelong friend, is the subject of an acclaimed book, Japanese American Resettlement through the Lens: Hikaru Carl Iwasaki and the WRA’s Photographic Section, 1943–1945. I’ve fictionalized one of his poignant stories in Red Berries, White Clouds, Blue Sky.