MEMORIAL DAY - 1943
BY
Lynn Ruth Miller

Those who plant together, grow together.
Lynn Ruth

When I was nine years old, Masako Nakano came to our house to take care of my sister and me. Masako was a Nisei who had been sent to the Heart Mountain Internment Camp from Fresno where her family had prospered until the outbreak of the Second World War. She had just earned her master’s degree in education and because of the relocation of Japanese Americans, she was unable to begin her teaching career. When my parents opened our home to her, I became her first class and I have never had a teacher more dedicated or more beloved.

Memorial Day of that year, my mother and her sisters decided to plant a community victory garden in my Aunt Tick’s backyard, because it was the biggest one in the family. Masako said she would help us make a vegetable patch guaranteed to grow. “At home, we always had a celebration after we finished our spring planting,” she said. “Wouldn’t it be fun for us to do that, too?”

“Did you have a feast with drums and circle dancing?” I asked

“Not exactly,” said Masako. “We just shared a meal and then all the children put on a variety show.”

“I really love to sing and dance.” I said. “But I don’t always carry a tune.”

“Just listen to your heart, Lynnie Ruth,” said Masako. ”That’s how the most beautiful music happens.”

We called our production “A Celebration of America” and invited my cousins to take part. “Sing something from your heart,” I explained. “Masako will do the rest.”

“My favorite song is “The Strip Polka,” I told Masako. “I know all the words to it.”

Masako hesitated. “Do you know what the singer is doing while she sings?” she asked.

I nodded. “She’s taking off her clothes,” I said. “Obviously she is performing in a very hot room.”

Another pause. “Right,” said Masako.

For the next week, Masako was so busy she didn’t have time to miss her family. My mother had saved lots of ration coupons and she and Masako planned a menu filled with all the things our family loved to eat. The day before the picnic they frosted my mother’s five egg chocolate cake with red, white and blue frosting and I helped decorate it with American flags. When Masako wasn’t chopping up potatoes for the salad or searching for recipes that didn’t use too many ration points, she helped me rehearse my song. “It’s going to be very hard to shake my shoulders and swivel my hips if I have to wear a lot of clothes,” I said.

“Why not wear your bathing suit draped with lots of pretty scarves?” said Masako. “I’ll play the um pah pahs on the piano and yell, ‘Here comes Queenie’. That will be your cue to start singing.”

Memorial Day dawned wet and gloomy as it always does in my hometown. “We won’t be able to do our planting!” I wailed.

“Nothing important is ever easy,” said Masako. “Close your eyes and will the sun to shine for us. You have three hours.”

At noon, the sun peeped through the clouds. ”It worked!” I exclaimed.

Masako smiled at me. “Thanks to you.”

“Glad to do it,” I said.

A few minutes later, everyone followed Masako out to the backyard. She handed my aunts spades and shovels and my cousins packets of seed. “Try to make the earth very soft,” she said. “Be sure the seeds are well covered or the wind will blow them away.”

“I don’t want to plant green peppers,” said Leonard. “I want to do radishes.”

“Here, Leonard,“ I said and I handed him my packet of seeds. “I’ll do green peppers instead.”

We all started digging and planting while Aunt Tick’s dog Pee Wee galloped through the mud. “Can’t someone tie up that dog?” asked Leonard.

Masako shook her head. “This is a project for the entire family,” She said. “He’s helping us more than you think. These lumps of clay are very dense.”

When the seeds were planted, Masako gave each of us bright colored markers for each vegetable. Then we strung crepe paper across the patio and put out little flags for my baby cousins to wave during the Big Show. By that time it was five o’clock. We put out the food and everyone ate like there wasn’t a war going on. When we had all gorged ourselves on cake and ice cream, the grown ups sat down to watch the entertainment. My cousins and I lined up at the kitchen door. “I want to go first,” said Leonard. “I am going to sing ‘Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition.’ I brought my be-be gun so I could shoot it to make the song more convincing.”

Masako shook her head. “That’s a lovely idea, Leonard, but shooting guns is too dangerous. You might hurt someone. “

Leonard’s eyes filled with tears. “We can all shout ‘Bang Bang’ when you come out, Leonard,” I said.

“It won’t be the same,” said Leonard.

Masako patted his hand. “You picked such a good song, we’d like you to finish the program. We need something really rousing for our finale. Lynnie and I have planned a lovely number to open the festivities and you can clap and dance with us.”

Leonard’ s face turned purple and he ran to his Mother. “I don’t have to listen to you,” he shouted. “You’re a Jap.”

The silence was so heavy it felt like someone had dropped a blanket over our heads. Masako’s eyes filled with tears and her head was bowed over the piano. I ran to her and threw my arms around her. “She’s Masako!” I said and I too was crying. “And she’s part of our family. You could never have had this picnic if she hadn’t done all the work.”

That was when my father decided to take over. “Memorial Day is the time that we honor our heroes,” he said. “ And Masako’s whole family are our heroes today. Her brother is fighting in Europe to defeat the enemy and she taught us how to plant a garden so our farmers can send more food to the boys overseas.”

”And she showed us how to find the music in our hearts,” I said.
Masako played some chords on the piano. “It’s time to begin the show!” she announced. “Here comes Queenie!”


Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere
Martin Luther King