Not long after my grandmother Kurasawa passed away, my mother and I were going through her things. She had been living in a nursing home since her most recent illness, so there wasn't really a lot to sift through, mostly boxes of old letters and photo graphs—or so we believed. There were many things that my grandmother avoided discussing—mostly about what happened to our family during the war—so I was taking this opportunity to learn more about her and my family's history. My grandfather was more willing to talk about the what happened during the war, but he died many years ago and I was too young at the time to take much interest in what he had to say. Now that I had a grown family of my own and watched my parents grow visably older, my interest in family history was becoming increasingly important to me.

The first thing that caught my eye in first box we opened was an old photograph of my grandfather sitting on a horse drawn wagon in front of his nursery in Pasadena, California. "This must have been taken before the war". "Oh yes" my mother said, "this was long before the war. I think this picture was taken shortly after your grandmother came to America to marry your grandfather. Grandfather came to the United States in 1910 to join his brother Hiro who had been living in Los Angeles since 1905. Your Great Uncle Hiro is the one who helped your grandfather start the nursery in Pasadena."

"Once grandfather's business was going well he wrote his family in Japan to help him find a wife. As you know, in those days anti-Asian sentiments ran high up and down the west coast. There were even laws restricting the number of Asian immigrants all owed in to the United States—it was especially difficult for the Japanese."

"One way to get around the restrictions was for Japanese men to send home for Japanese wives. These women were known as picture brides because they came to the United States to marry husbands they only knew from photographs. Your Grandmother wa s one of these picture brides. She was matched to grandfather with help from a go-between who knew both families. She was very lucky because they were a good match. Grandfather was young and healthy and had a successful business—and very handsome! Many women were not so lucky. Their prospective husbands often exaggerated their successes, claiming to be hotel owners when they were really only busboys. The men were often much older than the women too and some would even send them photos that were touched up to make them appear younger."

"Oh look!" Mother said as she lifted a woven basket from another of the boxes. "It's the kori mother brought with her from Japan". Among the things we found inside the basket were a kimono, geta (wooden clogs), some kosen (Japanese coins), and grandmother's ryoken (passport). There were also two old and yellowing photographs.

"I remember seeing these photos once before—these are the photographs that grandmother and grandfather exchanged before they were married".

"Grandmother looks so young!" I exclaimed. "She couldn't have been much older 18".

My mother continued, "life was very good for them in the beginning. Business was good at the nursery and they had many friends. Their neighborhood was full of newly arrived immigrants from all over the world—Japan, China, Russia, Mexico and Greece. Mother was very comfortable here because she didn't feel like an outsider and they were both very outgoing and had many friends despite the differences in culture and language. I know its hard to imagine your grandmother as outgoing—the war changed all that."

"Their best friends were the Gimovskys. The Gimovskys were Russian Jewish immigrants who had a dairy cart in the neighborhood. They had five children, same as our family. Their daughter Alice was my age and sometimes we used to accompany her father on the cart when he was making deliveries".

"The Gimovskys were very important to our family during the war. After the attack on Pearl Harbor, the Gimovskys were so frightened for us. My parents didn't think anything bad would happen to us—we were Americans after all! Even though mot her and father were prevented by law from becoming United States citizens, they had lived most of their lives in California, had five American born children, a successful business, and were well respected among the Nikkei and Caucasian communities. As far as they were concerned, they were as much American as anyone else. You can't imagine their shock when all persons of Japanese ancestry were ordered to leave their homes and businesses to report to one of the government's assembly centers."

"My older brother James was lucky. He had finished medical school at Berkeley and was in the second year of his residency in Chicago when the war broke out. Fortunately, he was able to keep his job at the hospital in spite of the fact there were some who believed he should be let go. Look there, mother must of kept his old medical bag from when he was a resident—they were both so proud of his accomplishments!"

"The day we left for Santa Anita, Mr. Gimovsky came to our door to say good-bye and to say how bad and wrong he though the situation was. He also surprised my parents by telling them that he and his sons would do their best to look after our home an d the nursery for however long we needed them to. This was a huge sacrifice for the Gimovskys who already had a business to run and a family to raise. We were always indebted to the Gimovskys after that."

"Our family had to report to the Santa Anita Assembly Center where we were forced to live in converted horse stalls—I can still remember the stench! It was especially hard for mother who had worked so hard to make a nice home and raise her childr en in a proper environment. From Santa Anita we were sent by train to Arkansas where we spent the remainder of the war at Rohwer concentration camp. The camp was built on wooded swamp land so it was always hot and humid and the mosquitoes were terrible! The environment was hard for mother but she managed to keep us all going. Mary was still a teenager then, so mother focused most of her energy on her. Your Uncles Robert and Bill were inducted in to the Army from camp and went to Europe to fight with the all Nisei 442nd Regimental Combat Team. They were both determined to show their loyalty to the United States and vowed to do whatever they could to see an early end to the war and the family's expedient return to California."

"Here's a picture father took of Robert and Bill with mother, Mary and me. This must have been taken when they were on leave from Camp Shelby, Mississippi. This was the last time that we saw Robert alive—he was killed in France while trying to rescue members of the 141st Regiment's 1st Battalion, which was caught behind enemy lines. I don't think mother ever recovered from that loss, it was as if a part of her died too. She feared that she would loose Bill as well, but he came home in one piece and a war hero."

"After the war we were allowed to come back to Los Angeles where we were greeted by the Gimovsky's at our door with keys in hand. It was like walking back in to time! Of course nothing was the same. Most of our friends and relatives had a harder time returning to California and ended up in places like Chicago, Detroit, and New Jersey first. We even knew people who were sent to Tule Lake that were forced to repatriate to Japan! Most who were able to come back to California no longer had homes or jobs. The government set up trailer camps in Burbank for many of the resettlers."

"Mother carried so much bitterness and sadness with her after coming home. She was happy to be among her friends again, but many of them had moved away and some of the new neighbors viewed us with suspicion and distrust. Father was able to resume bu siness, but it was difficult starting over again at 55. He had hoped to turn the business over to Robert and Bill, but Robert was gone and Bill chose to pursue other interests. Business was never as good as it was before the war, so he sold the nursery in 1955 to his nephew Charlie, Hiro's oldest son. Nothing turned out the way they had dreamed they would."

"Of course, things got better over time. James set up his medical practice in Gardena and kept an eye on mother and dad. I met your father and we had our own family—same with your Aunt Mary and Uncle Bill. Mother just chose not to dwell on the past even though it always haunted her. Even after mother and dad were allowed to become United States citizens and the government apologized for the camps, she just refused to ever talk about it again."