Mary Sunada

My last fishing trip to the High Sierras was on Sunday, July 7, 2019. This was our annual family vacation away from our hectic life in the city. We would call ourselves the fishing four. My husband, John, started the fishing family tradition. He grew up fishing in Fresno. He never forgot the joy of fishing with his dad. Once his sons, James and David, were old enough to hold a fishing pole, he taught them how to fish the High Sierras. Now, it has become a Japanese tradition in our family. James and David were automatic members of the ...

As I celebrated my 72^nd birthday on January 1, 2020 with my family, we greeted each other with Shinnen Akemashite Omedeto Gozaimasu (Happy New Year) and toasted with sparkling apple cider. My family started the day with ozoni (soup with rice cake). Our dining table was full of osechi ryori (Japanese New Year’s Day food) inside two-tier lacquer boxes called jubako. All day long we ate our favorite Japanese foods. My husband would eat his inari sushi, futomaki sushi with renkon (lotus root), gobo (burdock root), and salmon. My oldest son loved sashimi with hot rice and satoimo ...

As I gazed upon my mom’s old wooden hand mirror, I found that time has not been kind to my face. There were noticeable lines across my forehead, wrinkles around the corners of my mouth and dark spots of old age.

Whenever I held my dad’s old broken wrist watch against the windowpane, I noticed that time had stopped at 10:30 a.m. The face on the watch was made of glass which was dome shaped and tinted yellow with age. The numerals on its face were from 1-12, 13-24 by the hour and 5-60 by the ...

Almost 60 years ago, a promise was made by a girl who was ten years old. I was that little girl and remembered that day very clearly. My best friend, Leslie, came over to play and told me a secret. She said that the man I called “Pop” was not my biological father. I felt hurt and anger towards my mom because I heard it first from a friend. Now, I understood why I had emotions of not belonging, being unhappy, and always feeling lonely. I wanted to know why Mom did not talk about my father. Was he bad ...

Returning home in October 2016 from Japan reminded me of how much my dad, Yoneto Nakata, loved me.

Even though his life was cut short, he had accomplished so much.  My dad was a World War II veteran of the U.S. Army.  He volunteered for the Military Intelligence Service, a top-secret unit of the Japanese American soldiers fluent in the Japanese language, while his cousins were shipped to Jerome internment camp.

After WW II, Dad met and married my mom, Yaeko Niikura, in Japan, where he worked as a civilian interpreter for Gen. Douglas MacArthur’s government. I was ...