Apology to My Japanese Readers

My article “Introducing Henry Fukuhara, the annual pilgrimage artist” (Painted My Way, Riosloggers, Dec 2013) was published in “Gunjo” magazine, a literary coterie magazine in Munakata, Fukuoka. Shortly afterwards, I was bombarded with questions asking me, "Where on earth is Manzanar?"

Among post-war Japanese, I thought “Manzanar” was a very well-known concentration camp for Japanese Americans during World War II. I've come to learn that with the exception of a few people, the majority of Japanese do not know where Manzanar is. None of the maps published in Japan show the name Manzanar in California. I wrote my article with the understanding that Japanese people knew about Manzanar. Wrong! I made a serious mistake. I was very careless not to have shown the geographic location of Manzanar. Here is my answer to those who inquired about its location. “Draw a triangle connecting San Francisco, Los Angeles and Las Vegas, and try to find the center of the triangle. That is roughly where Manzanar is located."

I detailed the route I took in 2008 to Manzanar in my blog in English. I wrote that I rented a car at the Los Angeles International Airport and headed north on 805 and swung east a bit to Route 14 toward Mojave. I stopped at Ridgecrest, population 50,000, where the Naval Air Weapon Center employs many people. I refueled and rested, then took Route 395 North to Lone Pine. It's a well known state highway that Americans take to go to the Mammoth Lake Ski Resort. Manzanar is located just before reaching Lone Pine. There’s nothing in Manzanar but the old high school auditorium that was turned into a memorial hall and a mess hall constructed a few years ago.

There’s no public transportation to go to Manzanar. The U.S. Government picked the site because of its remote location. They transported the evacuated Japanese-Americans by bus to live in the shabby barracks constructed in a hurry. The easiest way to visit Manzanar is to join the annual Fukuhara pilgrimage tour in the spring. Otherwise, you can ask a Japanese tourist agency to organize a special group caravan, but I would advise not during summer. If you think you can drive yourself and manage the language barrier, you can follow the way I traveled from LA. The total mileage is 500 kilometers. You could start either from San Francisco or Las Vegas, but you have to be careful where to refuel. You may be driving close to the Death Valley and there are no gas stations nearby.

A few days ago, I read a Los Angeles Times article entitled “Backtrack to a sad past for former internees” wherein a group of elderly Japanese Americans recalled the time 72 years ago when they lived in horse stalls at Santa Anita Park in Arcadia, California. Two photos were shown - one with the reunion team taking a tram tour, circling the track with cameras; the other, an old photo of two men stuffing hay into bags. I found a familiar name George “Horse” Yoshinaga, who was my favorite Rafu-Shimpo columnist. I see now why he used the strange “Horse” nickname. He wrote in the article, “I got my name here. They say it’s because I smelled like a horse.”

Peacock Garden in Pasadena, California (In memory of Adele and Guy Stone, our family guardians)

”Ah my heart dances like a peacock,
the rain patters on the new leaves of summer,
the tremor of the crickets' chirp troubles
the shade of the tree,
the river overflows its bank
washing the village meadows.
My heart dances.”
- by Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941)

For over 30 years of residing in the U.S. (which ended in 1994), we were annually at the Thanksgiving Dinner table in Pasadena of the Stones family of Dutch descent born in Pennsylvania. We loved their Dutch oven dishes from yellow split pea soup, potato stuffing, yams, red cabbage, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, etc. I met Guy while doing business when I was still single in Japan. Adele took me to a dentist when I had a sudden toothache during my trip from Japan.

They changed houses a number of times from La Canada, San Marino, etc. but they were all in the vicinity of Pasadena, settling finally in an Arcadia senior apartment near Santa Anita Park.

They took me to Caltech, Huntington Library Park, Descanso Garden (the biggest camellia garden in the U.S.), Santa Anita Park, the Rose Bowl, Los Angeles County Arboretum and Botanical Garden. We brought our children and became good playmates with their grandsons. My son was taken to Mt. Wilson Observatory by them when he was in junior high.

Santa Anita Park was one of the so-called Assembly Centers for the Japanese Americans during World War II and we did not know our San Diego friends Ben Segawa, Ted Hirasaki, the Yamadas had spent uneasy days in a horse-stable-turned ‘abodes’ before they were sent to Camp Poston in Arizona. It’s an irony that I knew about Sea Biscuit before the Japanese internees, because of the life size horse bronze statue on display at the entrance of Santa Anita race track. The 1938 match story of the century, Sea Biscuit vs. War Admiral became a book by Laura Hillenbrand in 2001. The story of the Japanese American incarnation of 1941 to 1945 was published by Joanne Oppenheim in 2006. Could it be a case known as “50 miles is as good as 100 miles?” I saw Adele Stone last at the hospital near to Santa Anita Park in 2008. She was reading a book all alone and no nurses attended.

I have frequented Los Angeles County Arboretum even after I left for Japan. I visited Adele whenever I revisited the U.S. and my daughter’s family in Northern California. The Arboretum is on Baldwin exit off the busy Freeway 210. It‘s a good stopover for resting and wandering about the garden to take in seasonal flowers. The pink Ipe and the golden trumpet trees used to greet me at the entrance.

Mind you, this Arboretum is huge, 127 acre (51.4 hectares), 4 times larger than the San Diego Botanical Garden (previously called Quail Garden). You can get a good exercise covering it all. I had covered all corners of the Arboretum on many visits including its historical landmarks such as “Lucky” Baldwin’s ornate Victorian house “Queen Anne Cottage” and the great blue gum eucalyptus tree there, Hugo Reid’s Adobe, etc. Lately, I just stroll the front fountain area, the Stones’ favorite area, and sip coffee at the Peacock Cafe, watch resplendent plumage of male peacocks around the fountain, remembering Guy Stone jokes and his mischievous smiles.

”You know, Rio, Charles Darwin hated Peacocks.”

”Why, Guy?”

”Because Peacocks spoiled his ‘Origin of Species’ theory. He was frustrated by those feathers. How the extravagant plumage evolved was hard to explain. He admitted that it made him always sick, you know.”

When Guy was gone, Adele gave me Guy’s trench coat, windbreaker and jacket which fit me just right. I like to wear them often. Gone is the joy of stopping by Pasadena now that both have passed away.