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Link to a short story contributed to an online project by Matthew Hashiguchi called Good Luck Soup. He describes it as "An interactive, participatory documentary on the lives of Japanese Americans and Japanese Canadians after they left WWII internment camps." My story was on an experience my father had upon returning to the US after fighting in Europe: My Father in the 442nd: http://goodlucksoup.com/story.html?id=87
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Link to my short story The Wound (2013) published on the online site Collecting Nisei Stories https://niseistories.wordpress.com/2014/09/13/the-wound/
Bachan’s Gifts
Bachan was born at the end of a century in the city of a thousand generations. Sailing far from her homeland across the sea she brought with her stories, smuggled silks and hope. A lucky picture bride with a kind husband she cautiously thrived in the brave new land. By her third spring when the apricots were full of blossoms their shining American daughter was born. Work hard, work harder, save money they had great dreams and gold wishes for their child. Laws and exclusion would not hold them back in their decade long struggle for success. But bombs fell. America attacked. Enemy aliens. 9066. What to take, what to leave, what must be burnt, kind neighbors would hide her smuggled silks. Bachan held tighter her stories and their daughter though broken-hearted for their future and lost hope. Horse stalls, subjugation, degradation everything earned now seemed lost. The scorching sun over the barracks at Gila burned the incarceration deep into their skin. Would they die in the desert or be summarily shot she wondered from time to time. Days became months, then months became years until Fat Man and Little Boy were dropped. Westward bound Twenty-five dollars. In the land of the Free. Again. Back to the orchards in search of any job its already been taken--- move on. Handyman, field hand, but never a broken man, shikata ga nai, gaman, and hope. One gray winter’s day after the summer of love Jichan dies holding his picture bride’s hand. Bachan’s tears fall like rain on his still silent chest another story for their daughter to hold. Many years on in early July granddaughters twirl about in smuggled silk kimonos. Eager to odori dance at the Obon honoring ancestors they hold in their hearts past memories ---and tell stories. Remember past struggles. Embrace their hope. In Our land of the Free. Densho. __________________ Sendai is sometimes called the City of a thousand generations. A temple at Aobayama in Sendai houses statues of one thousand Buddhas. Early Chinese characters for the city name translated literally as “a thousand generations.” bachan: sometimes spelled baachan, means grandmother jichan: sometimes spelled jiichan, means grandfather 9066: referencing Executive Order 9066 shikata ga nai: Japanese saying meaning “it cannot be helped” gaman: perseverance, patience, tolerance densho: to pass on to future generations by B. Horiuchi (2015) |
AuthorThis page will be devoted to my short stories and poems as I continue to write and still create art. ArchivesCategories |
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