Mama Quotes in They Called Us Enemy
Each family was assigned a horse stall still pungent with the stink of manure. As a kid, I couldn’t grasp the injustice of the situation.
But for my parents, it was a devastating blow. They had worked so hard to buy a two-bedroom house and raise a family in Los Angeles... now we were crammed into a single, smelly horse stall. It was a degrading, humiliating, painful experience.
Memory is a wily keeper of the past... usually dependable, but at times, deceptive.
Childhood memories are especially slippery.
Sweet and so full of joy, they can often be a misrendering of the truth.
For a child, that sweetness... out of context and intensely subjective... remains forever real.
I know that I will always be haunted by the larger, vaguely remembered reality of the circumstances surrounding my childhood.
Mama began the impossible work of making a home for us out of the rough-hewn single room.
She ran up curtains made from government surplus fabrics.
Using strips of discarded rags, she braided together colorful floor mats.
About the only thing Mama didn’t have to do was cook.
But to her it was no relief. The kitchen was just one more aspect of caring for her family that she was denied.
One more loss. I realize that besides comforting us... perhaps everything she did was also her own statement of defiance.
Childhood memories come rich with sensations...
... Fragrances, sounds, colors, and especially temperatures. That golden afternoon when Daddy took the family on that wonderful jeep ride...
... Is a fond memory that glows radiantly with warmth.
Though they responded in different ways—caring for their families...
Fighting on the battlefield...
Or serving time for their principles—all these Japanese Americans showed incredible courage and heroism.
They proved that being American is not just for some people. They all made difficult choices to demonstrate their patriotism to this country even when it rejected them.
Mama Quotes in They Called Us Enemy
Each family was assigned a horse stall still pungent with the stink of manure. As a kid, I couldn’t grasp the injustice of the situation.
But for my parents, it was a devastating blow. They had worked so hard to buy a two-bedroom house and raise a family in Los Angeles... now we were crammed into a single, smelly horse stall. It was a degrading, humiliating, painful experience.
Memory is a wily keeper of the past... usually dependable, but at times, deceptive.
Childhood memories are especially slippery.
Sweet and so full of joy, they can often be a misrendering of the truth.
For a child, that sweetness... out of context and intensely subjective... remains forever real.
I know that I will always be haunted by the larger, vaguely remembered reality of the circumstances surrounding my childhood.
Mama began the impossible work of making a home for us out of the rough-hewn single room.
She ran up curtains made from government surplus fabrics.
Using strips of discarded rags, she braided together colorful floor mats.
About the only thing Mama didn’t have to do was cook.
But to her it was no relief. The kitchen was just one more aspect of caring for her family that she was denied.
One more loss. I realize that besides comforting us... perhaps everything she did was also her own statement of defiance.
Childhood memories come rich with sensations...
... Fragrances, sounds, colors, and especially temperatures. That golden afternoon when Daddy took the family on that wonderful jeep ride...
... Is a fond memory that glows radiantly with warmth.
Though they responded in different ways—caring for their families...
Fighting on the battlefield...
Or serving time for their principles—all these Japanese Americans showed incredible courage and heroism.
They proved that being American is not just for some people. They all made difficult choices to demonstrate their patriotism to this country even when it rejected them.