I do not have any of the letters that my mother wrote from camp. They were dispersed, to Nisei friends scattered all over the country by the “relocation,” to relatives in Hawaii, to non-Japanese friends still in California, to friends serving in Europe. Some may still exist in a dusty basement somewhere. What I do […]
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Category: San Francisco Stories
Oshogatsu recipe (for non-cooks)
It’s that time of year – oshogatsu (New Year’s) – for Japanese-Americans, a much bigger deal than Christmas. My grandmother hosted the New Year’s open house on Pine Street before the war, and every year after it until my mother took over the tradition and it moved to the Richmond District. Through the years, traditional Japanese New […]
Oregon or bust
In the summer of 1959 my mother heard about the Oregon Centennial and was determined that we would go to Portland to see the exposition. She had her own memories of the 1939 World’s Fair at Treasure Island, and she wanted us to have a similar experience. So the six of us set off in […]
The Summer of Sandals
A young relative recently graduated from middle school, and I was stumped as to what kind of gift might be suitable. I am not great at gift-giving, being borderline phobic about shopping and not being a craft-advantaged person who can whip up quirky home-made items that people would not immediately regift or donate to a […]
For my dad on Fathers’ Day
We will not say “sayonara” to you; we will not let go of the small, good things you taught us to love, like the sound of the river, the buzz of a fishline spinning out after a fat, freckled trout. Or cold, dark mornings when you lured us from sleep with a single, whispered word: […]
My mother’s kimono
This week my place is a kimono museum. For the past five years, since we started clearing out my mom’s house, a pile of Japanese kimono* that belonged to my mom and aunt have been sitting on my childhood bed, neatly folded and wrapped in a cotton sheet, while I tried to figure out what […]
Working at Christmas
When I was a child, I was eager to work. It seemed like a “grown-up” thing to do. I helped at my dad’s wholesale business, first on Columbus Avenue, and later, on Bryant Street. I put stamps on envelopes and got rides on the handtruck when my sisters were around. (In reality, my dad was […]
Chinatown
It was a gorgeous April day in San Francisco, so I took BART into the city and walked all the way up Grant Avenue, through Chinatown, to Live Worms Gallery in North Beach, where my brother-in-law Paul was having a show. Although I’ve spent most of my life in San Francisco and the East Bay, […]
To Dorothy
I wrote this around 2005 for my long-time friend, Dorothy Stroup, when, in her 70s, she began suffering from Alzheimer’s. After not seeing her for a few years, an unexpected encounter with her (at Trader Joe’s) made me realize that something was amiss. She was friendly and warm as always, but I had the distinct […]
Religion
I discovered religion at the age of six, when my best friend Joanne’s parents asked me if I would like to go to Sunday school with her. I would have done anything to be with Joanne. After spending the first five years of my life being the youngest and smallest in the family, always tagging […]