My Grandma’s Leaking Memories About the Japanese WWII Internment Camps

As a fourth generation Japanese-American Yonsei, I have always considered the  internment camps from World War II part of my family’s history. I know that my great-grandparents and grandparents were forced to leave their homes to live in Camp.

I’ve read many books about Camp, watched documentaries about Camp, and yet in stereotypical Asian fashion, I’ve never heard much about my particular family’s experiences.

Enter Alzheimer’s. I consider myself pretty lucky that well into my thirties, I still have both of my grandmas; one just turned eighty-nine and the other will follow suit soon. In recent years, both of them have had their series of bouts from hip replacement and gall bladder removal to mini strokes and more. While some of their ailments differ, the thing they share in common is the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s.

It can be pretty creepy to discover what my grandmas will forget. One of them was caught trying to use a TV remote control as a telephone. The other couldn’t remember who my mother-in-law was even though she’s known her for years.

But at the same time that they are starting to forget, they are also giving birth to old memories that they’ve kept distant or at least unexpressed to us before.

During the past couple of weeks, one grandma has started sharing memories from the internment camps that I have not been privy to hearing before.

In the first story, she told about how her mom—my great-grandma—worked hard to teach all of the kids about how to run the family farm. When my great-grandma had first learned that she may get sent away, she was sure that her own children would certainly not have to go since they were American-born citizens.

She believed in her children’s rights and invested in their ability to take on adult responsibilities—I think it’s why my grandma is such a tough little lady to this day. And, it breaks my heart to imagine my great-grandma’s disappointment when her hopes were dashed and she along with her children were forced to abandon the farm together. 

The second story in two weeks came just a couple of days ago when I watched the movie War Horse with my grandma. Throughout the movie, I kept peeking over at her and was amazed to find her actually awake the whole time. Since she is a total animal lover, I knew that she would be be touched by the love between the boy and his horse, but after the movie, she shared a Camp story that explained why the movie struck such a particular chord.

It turns out that my grandma’s family had two mules on their farm named Jackie and Mary. When the family knew that they would have to relinquish their farm, her father had to give away the mules and transported them to someone off a far distance.

The next morning, the two mules were back in their stalls. They had somehow found their way back home all on their own. I think it made my grandma a little sad to think about this, but then she laughed because as much as people love to tease “dumb as a mule,” Jackie and Mary proved that stereotype wrong. They were her War Mules.

Learning about these family stories recently made all the more touching.

I’m proud that one of our local schools made the effort to honor this family. In doing so, I feel they are reaching out to all World War II internees and also taking a stand that we should not support discrimination toward anyone now and in the future.

The next time I see my grandma, I’m going to share the news about Grace (my grandparents were actually friends with the Kaminakas in the past!) and perhaps it’ll prompt her to spill some more memories my way. She may not be able to remember what day it is today, but I treasure the gift of her remembering days long gone.