Susan Yamamura

Susan Yamamura nació en los Estados Unidos y fue recluida antes de los dos años de edad  con el resto de su familia en el  campo de internamiento Harmony (Puyallup, Washington) y en el campo de internamiento Minidoka (Hunt, Idaho) en virtud de la Orden Ejecutiva 9066. Se puede descargar gratuitamente sus recuerdos en el campo de internamiento desde esta cuenta (Inglés): Camp 1942–1945

“A pesar de la Orden Ejecutiva  9066, como podría suceder solo en los Estados Unidos, mis abuelos paternos, mis padres, mi esposo y yo hemos cumplido nuestro sueño americano”.

Exprogramadora informática y administradora de sistemas informáticos y de red jubilada, viuda de un Regents’ Professor de la Universidad de Arizona, Hank Yamamura, y madre de un hijo. Actualmente, es escritora, artista en arcilla y acuarelista.

Última actualización en marzo de 2017

identity en

Jichan in America

The grandfather of my heart will always be my father’s father, Grandfather Araki (born a Kaneda but taking the Araki name as a yoshi), whom I called Jichan. He gave me the precious gift of unconditional love. I thought Jichan was his given name. In reality, it was a child’s version of ojisan, which means “old man” or “grandfather” in Japanese. Jichan’s true given name was Nisaku.

Grandfather asked me once why I called him Jichan. I told him all my friends’ names ended in chan and since he was my friend, I had added chan to ...

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Cherry Blossom Petals

An elegant few, pale pink blossoms on the slender limbs of a delicate February Fuji Cherry tree, displayed themselves in the midst of a light winter snow. To Naomi, looking down on the scene from her second floor bedroom window, the blossoms looked magical—large, pink snowflakes amid the falling, smaller, white ones. The tree looked very much like the beautiful, delicate hazel tree in Elenore Abbot’s illustration for “Cinderella” in Grimm’s Fairy Tales. In this version of “Cinderella,” rather than a fairy godmother, the magical tree, upon a certain incantation, showers Cinderella with a gorgeous ball gown ...

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Minoru Tamesa: The Quiet Man Who Came to Dinner - Part 3

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In writing this remembrance of Minoru Tamesa, one more memory of Min’s father, Uhachi Tamesa, comes to mind. My Jichan (grandfather) Nisaku Araki was a friend of Uhachi’s. On one of Uhachi’s visits to our house, I remember hearing raised voices from the kitchen, almost as if Uhachi and Jichan were having an argument. Such raised voices were unexpected and different from the usual low murmurings of polite conversation, so I peeked into the kitchen alcove, where they were seated around the table. Their voices were raised but both had smiles on their rather ...

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Minoru Tamesa: The Quiet Man Who Came to Dinner - Part 2

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Last year, I googled “Minoru Tamesa.” I can’t remember why. I was startled to find a picture of him as a young man, looking a bit like a “tough guy,” nothing like the quiet, prematurely aged, sensitive, almost fragile-looking man who came to dinner. Believing there might be few still alive who knew the middle-aged Min, I decided to share my memories of the man on Discover Nikkei’s Facebook page, hoping that others with more memories of him would come forward. Eventually, Ken Izutsu responded to my post with the following comment, edited slightly for ...

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Minoru Tamesa: The Quiet Man Who Came to Dinner - Part 1

When I was a little girl, Minoru Tamesa was, to me, the quiet man who came to Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. The holiday meals were held in our home in the South Park neighborhood of Seattle after we got out of the World War II incarceration camps. I’m sure Minoru’s father, Uhachi, came with him, but I don’t remember Uhachi from those dinners. I do, however, remember the incomparably beautiful and delicious peaches he gave us—huge, golden, orange-and-red-hued globes of succulent peach sweetness grown in the Tamesa orchard. Their orchard was located in Sunnydale, close to ...

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