Temple 7G - Part 2


>> Part 1Piano practice in Amache was a challenge and was interrupted by more than wind storms. At one afternoon session I heard tapping on the window. Three friends, Eva, Tami, and Katy peeked in. I smiled. Tic, tic, tic. They continued pecking. I glanced up. Tami began to strike …

Temple 7G - Part 1


From the trunk my mother packed in Los Angeles, I retrieved my metronome and my set of “The Scribner Radio Music Library,” each volume lovingly protected with Kraft paper by my mother.  The set, as with my piano lessons and the piano itself, were purchased on the “payment plan,” with …

Phyla, etcetera - Part 3


>> Part 2 Unlike summer 's eruption, fall crept in day by day. The sagebrush clung to their dusty gray color but became more brittle. The moths, mosquitoes, and rattlers retreated. We folded and stored the mosquito nets. The jack rabbits were the only animals that I saw regularly, hopping …

Phyla, etcetera - Part 2


>> Part 1Outside of school we of course played games. The summer heat was a challenge so outdoor games began at dusk. “Annie, Annie, Over,” we chanted as we tossed a tennis ball over a barrack. Eva, Tami, Katy and I usually stood on one side and other friends—and we …

Phyla, etcetera - Part 1


No matter where we were, even in a prison camp, schooling took precedence, that is, after food and a place to sleep.

Arcadia, No. 2 - Part 3


>> Part 2I thought about my father, his absence, his distancing. He was an apparition that appeared briefly and disappeared over and over from my life. Like my mother, he grew up in a small rural hamlet tacked on to the fringes of a larger city. Both ended their formal …

Arcadia, No. 2 - Part 2


>> Part 1A temporary school was organized to make up for three months of lost time. We were scattered in small clusters across the bleachers in the grandstand. The clamor was overwhelming. Most of the time I could barely hear our teacher, Miss Nakasuji.

Arcadia, No. 2 - Part 1


As we settled into our bewildering lives at Santa Anita, clashing mess bells dictated our days. Clang, clang, ding, ding, bong, ka-ching—a mishmash of rhythms and tones rang out three times a day. In the evenings we surrendered ourselves to the block captain making bed-checks. The first few weeks he …

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Lily is a retired school teacher, pianist, stained glass artist, and watercolorist who now spends her time attempting to unclutter her life and to urge her garden to grow. She has written a creative memoir, 'Gasa Gasa Girl Goes to Camp: A Nisei Youth Behind a World War II Fence' to be published by the University of Utah Press.


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