“Camp Leftovers Part 1: Artifacts Tell The Story”
“Camp” artifacts saved by my family. Each one tells a story, not to mention the “unseen” impact of their 3 ½ year incarceration at Poston, AZ.
Eighty years ago in September 1945, my family returned from Poston, AZ to their Orange County farm to start their lives over. The WWII incarceration camp was finally closed and they were released from the 3 ½ years of incarceration.
In the research for my book, I began to explore the “leftovers” that shaped my family lifestyle, habits, emotions, and underlying trauma as a result of the World War II incarceration and postwar resettlement years. I’m talking about these “leftovers” not just as souvenirs from an unjust incarceration. There is a great ripple effect from the camp experience in my generation and for future generations. It's my hope that this conversation will promote understanding, and help offset the residual trauma with healthier compassion for the survivors of the camps.
My mom, Yone, was 18 years old, forced to leave her home and Santa Ana High School in 1942 for Poston, AZ. After she passed to heaven in 2010, some of the things I found in an old suitcase gave me a glimpse into her life in Poston. Most of these she never talked about, but the artifacts tell a bit of her story.
Yone Sasaki, Poston AZ barracks and some of the artifacts from the years in Poston, AZ
Thread wound around cardboard and sewing needles attached to the cardboard were a makeshift sewing kit. She even made a little fabric blue/white pouch for them. A Santa Ana High School metal button from her alma mater and letters from classmates kept her in touch with life back in Santa Ana. I wonder how she felt reading about the Senior class activities and fun she was missing. There were also letters talking about engagements, marriages, and classmates enlisting in the service for WWII. It must have been a really confusing time. To be a citizen incarcerated in Arizona, with some friends starting their married lives, and others going off to war. I imagine some of those young men did not return and gave their lives for our country and freedom.
Her orange pouch “purse” is hand-stitched and probably made of some kind of remnant fabric she or her mother took with them. Interestingly, it is Japanese silk - not something available in the incarceration camp. Her dark maroon purse with wooden handles was partly machine-stitched and hand stitched. As the months went on, there was actually a sewing school set up, so somehow they procured a few sewing machines. But the wood handles were definitely made in the camp - same wood as many of the other artifacts we have, and crafted them into handles. My mom wrote her name “Yone” on each handle in white paint.
These items remind me of how much I take for granted and how little she had. What she had was time and she tried to be productive in the long days, weekends, months and years of incarceration. Growing up as farmers, we did save a lot of things that could be re-used quite innovatively for our home, gardens or the farm. I now realize that habit came not only from being thrifty, but it was a habit further cemented into my parents in camp.
My aunt Rakumi and my mom Yone at Poston. Notice the flag pole and American flag in the background. Frogs, cardboard, and the US flag also tell a story.
Frogs, cardboard and the American flag…yes, they tell a story too. I once asked my mom why she liked little keepsake frogs so much. She saved many in the curio cabinet and also as decor in her garden. She said, “Frog is kaeru in Japanese, it means to return or go home.” Those frogs were the hope and dream that one day, she could return home from the camp. Kaeru - to go HOME! Sadly, her mother, my grandmother died in the camp in January 1943, so while my mother, her sister, and father returned home in Fall 1945, they didn’t return as the family of four that left the farm.
After my mom’s death, I was cleaning out her desk and neatly stacked in a drawer was all this cardboard - from the back of notepads, cut from boxes, or from mailers. I had to laugh at this one. Cardboard was a very precious resource in camp. They would fold it up in the crevasses and gaps of the wood barracks to keep the dust, heat, and cold chill out. My mom talked about this a lot, and I found she still saved cardboard, now for other uses. I admit, so do I. A few years back, I had termites enter my house through very thin gaps in one of my window sills. I got out the cardboard and shoved it in the thin gaps to stop new intruders from entering. When the termite man came to my house, he thought I was a genius! He’d never seen anyone do that before. Thanks to this camp “leftover” I temporarily solved my termite invasion and I have maintained our family’s camp tradition of saving cardboard to this day!
And finally, the American flag. Along with the frog trinkets my mom had. I did notice that all the US flag pins, small cloth flags, and the US flag in front of our house had meaning beyond normal citizenship. While I was cleaning out her desk, I also found that she had cut out US flags of all sizes out of magazines and newspapers and neatly kept them in a stationery box. The US flag flew over Poston and was a symbol of the hope that she would get her freedom back one day. It was also a symbol of what it means to be American even behind barbed wire in a Japanese American incarceration camp.
Eighty years ago, when the camps closed, she got to come home (“kaeru”) and even though she still saved cardboard, some of the freedom she lost was given back. More importantly, as a native Californian, she could still say the pledge of allegiance, proudly as a US citizen. Thank You, Mom, for how you lived your life and all you taught me about patriotism in the midst of war. You are my American hero!
The US Pledge of Allegiance
"I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."
(1954 - Current version. “Under God” was added in 1954.)
In the Press
Follow us on Facebook, Instagram & LinkedIn as we cultivate kindness together