August 6, 2020, marks the 75th anniversary of a terrible event.
On August 6, 1945, an Atomic Bomb was dropped on the city of Hiroshima in Japan. It was devastating and in the aftermath, it was learned that hundreds, if not thousands, of American-born Nisei adults and children, were killed in the attack.
These were, for the most part, families who returned to Japan for visits, education, and reunions. I just learned a new word; the Japanese describe people who survived as: hibakusha — Japanese for “atomic bomb survivors.”
Prior to this, in February of 1942 (the year I was born), FDR signed into law Executive Order 9066. At the time, the war was raging and many were concerned people from Japanese and Japanese-American families were potential enemy aliens.
In San Francisco, and on the West Coast, where I was born and raised, this was a particularly sensitive issue; it affected hundreds of Nisei (US-born) sons and daughters of Japanese immigrants who were living and working on the West Coast. Never mind, they were American citizens, born in the United States, just like me.
Entire families were moved, against their will, to “relocation centers” like Manzanar, which is probably the best-known site today. Their properties were seized by the US Government, and the families moved, for the most part, with few personal possessions. Only in 1988 was a fund established by Congress to pay damages to these families. The fund totaled $1.6 billion. Some received nothing.
How does a Nisei like Tyler Tanaka, born in San Diego, and I fit into this?
Tyler and his family were relocated to Manzanar, losing all of the farmland they owned near La Jolla, California. Tyler was about 7 years old at this time. While Tyler was “relocated,” he was befriended by an American Army officer who was stationed at the same camp. As the years went on, this same officer became Tyler’s foster father, bringing Tyler into his own family and seeing that he went on to graduate college.
Tyler ultimately became a very, very successful tour operator, based in Southern California. He specialized in group tours to Asia (including Japan), and he became a client of mine. Tyler was a wonderful guy, and I enjoyed being with him in many professional and personal settings. Through our friendship, he never mentioned Manzanar to me.
One day I was in Alexandria, Virginia, for a travel industry event that involved both Tyler and myself. Before the meeting, we were having a drink together, and he asked me if I’d like to meet his brother, who happened to also be in town. Shortly after that, a man who was as Caucasian as I am walked in; Tyler introduced him as his brother.
The brother was, of course, a son of the very same Army Officer who looked after Tyler when he was “relocated.” This was a pretty incredible event for me; I’ve subsequently read a lot about the Executive Order, the aftermath, and the pain thousands of people were subjected to.
However, I never, ever, expected to meet two brothers from different mothers who came from this “relocation” into my life. Sometimes amazing and beautiful things happen when you least expect them to.
Are we there yet? 