Read Online Red Berries, White Clouds, Blue Sky by Sandra Dallas - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sandra Dallas
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America, but not many.
“Is she Issei ?” Ruth asked.
“No, her parents were Issei . They were born in Japan. She’s Nisei , second generation.” Tomi said. “Helen can’t speak Japanese.”
“Then why in the world would she want to go to Japan?” Ruth wondered.
“I guess she hates our country that much,” said Tomi.
One day, Roy announced he and four other high school boys were forming a dance band just like the Jivin’ Five band he’d had in California. They would call themselves Roy and the Royals. “ Roy -als. Get it?” he asked. The band was Roy’s idea, and he was in charge. He went to his suitcase where he’d stored his clarinet when the family moved from the house in California, and took it out, playing a few notes. “We’ve even got our first gig scheduled. Too bad you’re little kids or you could come and hear us,” he teased Tomi and Hiro.
“I want to go!” Hiro said.
“You can’t dance,” Roy told him.
“I can dance with Wilson,” he retorted. Wilson, Helen’s brother, had become his best friend.
“And I can dance with Ruth,” Tomi added.
“We will all go,” Mom said. “We will go as a family.”
“A dance isn’t exactly a family event,” Roy said.
“We will all go, or none of us will go.” Mom gave Roy a stern look. After a year in Tallgrass, many Japanese families in the camp had fallen apart. Families didn’t eat with each other, and without real jobs, the men no longer felt they were head of their households. But Mom had done her best to keep the Itanos together. She insisted they go to church together every Sunday and attend the movies with each other. Tomi thought attending Roy’s dances was another way to keep the family connection strong.
For the next few weeks, Roy and the Royals practiced almost every day after school, in the Itanos’ apartment. People in the barracks kept their doors open to listen to the music. Although the walls between the apartmentswere so thin, they probably couldn’t have blocked out the sound if they’d wanted to. Only Helen kept her door closed. Tomi asked her why she didn’t want to hear Roy and his friends. Helen said, “It’s only noise. I used to dance to a real band at home. I heard Benny Goodman and Tommy Dorsey play,” she said, naming two famous dance bands. “And once I went to a Frank Sinatra concert. I heard him sing ‘Green Eyes.’ He was dreamy. So why would I want to listen to a hick band like your brother’s?”
“They’re not hicks,” Tomi defended Roy. “The guy who plays the saxophone sings sometimes. He’s pretty good. I bet if you heard him, you’d think he was Frank Sinatra,” Tomi said.
“Bet I wouldn’t,” Helen replied. “I would know he’s not Frank Sinatra because Frank Sinatra isn’t Japanese. That means he wouldn’t be in this camp. So how could he be singing in your apartment?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Tomi began.
Helen shut the door in her face. Tomi remembered that word her teacher’s husband, the Boy Scout leader, had used—tolerance. It wasn’t just white people who didn’t have tolerance.
Roy and the Royals played their first dance on a Saturday night in the summer of 1943. Tomi wore her red dress, the best of only three dresses she had in the camp. Mom washed Tomi’s hair and braided it wet. After her hair dried and Tomi unbraided it, her black hair was a waterfall of curls. Ruth promised to get dressed up, too, just like Mom and Mrs. Hayashi, because Mr. Hayashi promised that after the dance, he would take them all to the canteen. That was what they called the room in the camp where the evacuees bought soda pop and candy bars. It was as close to a restaurant as anything at Tallgrass.
“We’re picking up Carl and Wilson on our way,” Mom said, then added, “and Helen, of course.”
When they reached Helen’s apartment, the boys were standing in the doorway waiting, but Helen had on her old dress, and her hair wasn’t combed. “I’m not
“Is she Issei ?” Ruth asked.
“No, her parents were Issei . They were born in Japan. She’s Nisei , second generation.” Tomi said. “Helen can’t speak Japanese.”
“Then why in the world would she want to go to Japan?” Ruth wondered.
“I guess she hates our country that much,” said Tomi.
One day, Roy announced he and four other high school boys were forming a dance band just like the Jivin’ Five band he’d had in California. They would call themselves Roy and the Royals. “ Roy -als. Get it?” he asked. The band was Roy’s idea, and he was in charge. He went to his suitcase where he’d stored his clarinet when the family moved from the house in California, and took it out, playing a few notes. “We’ve even got our first gig scheduled. Too bad you’re little kids or you could come and hear us,” he teased Tomi and Hiro.
“I want to go!” Hiro said.
“You can’t dance,” Roy told him.
“I can dance with Wilson,” he retorted. Wilson, Helen’s brother, had become his best friend.
“And I can dance with Ruth,” Tomi added.
“We will all go,” Mom said. “We will go as a family.”
“A dance isn’t exactly a family event,” Roy said.
“We will all go, or none of us will go.” Mom gave Roy a stern look. After a year in Tallgrass, many Japanese families in the camp had fallen apart. Families didn’t eat with each other, and without real jobs, the men no longer felt they were head of their households. But Mom had done her best to keep the Itanos together. She insisted they go to church together every Sunday and attend the movies with each other. Tomi thought attending Roy’s dances was another way to keep the family connection strong.
For the next few weeks, Roy and the Royals practiced almost every day after school, in the Itanos’ apartment. People in the barracks kept their doors open to listen to the music. Although the walls between the apartmentswere so thin, they probably couldn’t have blocked out the sound if they’d wanted to. Only Helen kept her door closed. Tomi asked her why she didn’t want to hear Roy and his friends. Helen said, “It’s only noise. I used to dance to a real band at home. I heard Benny Goodman and Tommy Dorsey play,” she said, naming two famous dance bands. “And once I went to a Frank Sinatra concert. I heard him sing ‘Green Eyes.’ He was dreamy. So why would I want to listen to a hick band like your brother’s?”
“They’re not hicks,” Tomi defended Roy. “The guy who plays the saxophone sings sometimes. He’s pretty good. I bet if you heard him, you’d think he was Frank Sinatra,” Tomi said.
“Bet I wouldn’t,” Helen replied. “I would know he’s not Frank Sinatra because Frank Sinatra isn’t Japanese. That means he wouldn’t be in this camp. So how could he be singing in your apartment?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Tomi began.
Helen shut the door in her face. Tomi remembered that word her teacher’s husband, the Boy Scout leader, had used—tolerance. It wasn’t just white people who didn’t have tolerance.
Roy and the Royals played their first dance on a Saturday night in the summer of 1943. Tomi wore her red dress, the best of only three dresses she had in the camp. Mom washed Tomi’s hair and braided it wet. After her hair dried and Tomi unbraided it, her black hair was a waterfall of curls. Ruth promised to get dressed up, too, just like Mom and Mrs. Hayashi, because Mr. Hayashi promised that after the dance, he would take them all to the canteen. That was what they called the room in the camp where the evacuees bought soda pop and candy bars. It was as close to a restaurant as anything at Tallgrass.
“We’re picking up Carl and Wilson on our way,” Mom said, then added, “and Helen, of course.”
When they reached Helen’s apartment, the boys were standing in the doorway waiting, but Helen had on her old dress, and her hair wasn’t combed. “I’m not
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