"As those trucks rolled by, the soldiers waved and whistled and I waved back. It was as if Pearl Harbor was just up the highway and they were going to protect me from the Japanese.
"I had never seen a Japanese person. I don't remember hating them, but just being afraid that somehow they would cause me some kind of pain. It was several days before I was able to go home and look at a map and find out where all this carnage was taking place.
"I certainly did not dream at that time that on December 24th, 1949 I would be on a train in Kentucky, headed for New York City, to board a ship through the Panama Canal on my way to Yokohama, Japan. A lot had happened to me since I sat on that porch and waved at the soldiers as they passed by.
"It was soon after the attack on Pearl Harbor that I convinced my father that I should leave the farm near Cave City and seek my fortune. On March 27th, 1942 I took a Greyhound to Louisville. I did not have a place to stay and did not know what I was going to do. Much to my relief, my aunt Virginia and her husband were in the bus station. I don't know where they had been, they had just gotten off another bus. I looked for a job for a day or so, but did not find anything for a little girl just off a tobacco farm. So I enrolled in the Spencerian Business College determined I would learn to be a secretary.
"After the first day or so I got a sandwich at a snack bar close to the school and sat down by a young girl whom I had seen in my classes. She asked me if I was sure I wanted to sit by her. When I asked why, she said, "I am Jewish." That didn't mean anything to me, so I said, "I don't mind if you don't," and we became very good friends. I visited in Minerva's home many times, and because they were Orthodox Jews I never met her grandfather. He was good enough to let me come to the house as long as he knew that I was coming. He would always go into his room and close the door while I was there. At least one time he had his supper served there because Minerva wanted me to stay for supper. We had borscht and some kind of liver and onion paste sandwiches. I couldn't take the soup but the sandwich was good.
"I still exchange greetings with Minerva at Christmas time. She sends me a generic "seasons greetings" card and this year for the first time I sent her a computer generated Hanuka card. She is the friend who gave us the apple cookie jar.
"In April 1942 a friend convinced me that I should go to a revival meeting with her. We sat somewhere near the front row at the Walnut Street Baptist Church. During the service, she told me to look back at those soldiers standing there because one of them wanted to see me. I didn't know they had planned this meeting.
"When the service was over Daddy and one of his buddies were waiting for us and we went for a ride around town and a hamburger and a milk shake. Our lives almost ended that night when we crossed a railroad track in front of a freight train. We waited for one train and while the signal light was still blinking the driver started across the track only to find another train was on a second track. I don't know how close we were to being hit, but I do know I was hysterical. For a long time I could see that bright light charging down on us in my mind and hear Daddy yelling at the other guy to “get the hell across the track.” I had nightmares many times after that.
"For the rest of that summer and fall we dated. I got a job and went to school at night. Hugh was a buck sergeant stationed at Fort Knox, promoted to staff sergeant later. During that summer he got hepatitis from a yellow fever vaccine. Several people in his company died from the shot and he spent a lot of time in the hospital. He turned very yellow and very sick. I seem to remember that part of the remedy was lots and lots of log cabin syrup. That was the last time he was in the hospital until he had his first bypass in 1984.
"We were married on December 21st, 1942 in the
living room of the minister from the
Ninth & O Baptist Church. None of my
family were present."
My mother immersed herself into Japan as much as she could. She attempted to cross the language barrier. She hired a driver to take her into forbidden zones. She pointed her camera at the land and the people and made a record of those strange, difficult times. When I was growing up it seemed that our family pictures were of people in a land far away that I would never know. The experience of travelling to the other side of the world geographically and culturally thrilled her to the core, and years later I could feel my hair stand on end viewing her pictures or hearing her stories of that time.