Through The Fire
Five Forever Friends
By Sharon Yamato
Wednesday, Aug. 13, 2008

Usherettes Mary, June, Yayeko, Aiko and Sadako (from left to right) at the Tule Lake Auditorium in October 1944.

Aiko, June, Sadako, Mary and Yayeko at the Tule Lake Class of ’45 reunion in 2005.

“Sixty-five years,” he said. “My mother still gets together regularly with five girlfriends she has known for 65 years.” My mouth dropped as I talked to the not-so-young sansei (like me) I had just met at Peet’s Coffee. In my head I thought, I can’t even stay in touch with one friend, let alone five, I’ve known for half as long!

To back up a bit, the story began at Peet’s a week earlier when my mate spilled scalding coffee all over the pants of this nice, quiet JA guy. It seemed only fair that the next time we ran into him having coffee, we would ask Da­vid Nishina to sit down for another apology and a little small talk. But as he casually mentioned his mother and her longtime friends, a more in-depth conversation seemed in order. I had to know how the friendships of five Nisei women could survive camp and resettlement in dis­tant places, some more than 400 miles apart. I hesitated just slightly before asking David if he thought it would be okay for me to call his mother. Fortunately, David’s mother Yayeko welcomed my call, as did the others (with some typical Nisei enryo).

According to Yayeko (Kono) Nishi­na, the five young high school-aged girls lived within two blocks of each other at Tule Lake. She and Mary (Kawano) Fong, childhood friends in Loomis, California, lived in Block 12 before Aiko (Outa) Kusaba’s family joined them, while June (Manji) Oga and Sadako (Hamamoto) Abe lived in Block 9. No one remem­bers exactly how they met, except for something about a baseball game that pitted the two camp blocks against each other (even though June denies ever having played baseball in favor of her best sport, basketball). I suppose the passage of 65 years ac­counts for some understand­able lapses in memory.

What they do remember is how they became insepa­rable in camp—to the point that if one were enlisted to the decorating committee, it meant five people would show up; or if one were asked to be an usherette, they’d all volunteer. Accord­ing to Sadako, it went so far that if one were asked out on a date, they wouldn’t go to the dance unless each of them had a date. No problem—as far as the guys were concerned. Mary remembers every single one of them ran for queen (be it Cherry Blossom queen or Japanese school queen)—except for herself. This group of good-looking women, she boasted, had to have a business manager.

If they all had fun together in camp, they also got in trouble to­gether. Again, the story varies de­pending on who you ask, but Aiko recalls the five of them sitting atop a table in Japanese school against the instructions of a very strict teacher. “They came after us for that… all five of us!”

Like many nisei, it was easier for them to remember the innocent teen­age years of camp than the trauma. “We didn’t think deeply about any­thing,” says June.

Aiko remembers it as a time of “no worries.” All echo that it was the camaraderie that helped them feel carefree. Mary was the only one to admit she suffered from debilitating depression. Were it not for Yaye, and then the others, she might not have survived. “I got so sick when I went to camp. I didn’t want to be there… We really kept each other’s spirits up.”

Despite being separated after camp, the girls continued to write each other. After the war, Mary and Yayeko re­turned to Loomis, and June left for nearby Yuba City; Eiko and Sadako came to LA. Even though school, jobs, marriages and families occupied most of their time, they never lost touch with each other. They always managed to remember birthdays with a card or a phone call, and there were even occa­sional visits.

All married and had children, but now in their 80s, their children are long gone out of the house, and three of them have lost their husbands.

Yayeko and Eiko ended up in LA, Mary and Sadako in Sacramento, while June lives in nearby Lodi. Despite their age, they’re all active enough to jump on a plane to visit one another, mostly here in LA. They’re still being enlisted as a group to serve: on the same camp committee, of course. Nowa­days, it’s the Tule Lake High School class of ‘45 reunion planning committee. Other friends still laugh when they see them together at reunion events. Even though they try to mingle and talk to oth­ers, the five friends usually end up where they feel most comfortable—alongside each other.

“We just take off with our conversations like we never left each other… we can talk about nothing, but it goes on until midnight,” says Sadako. “We talk about our camp days. We talk about our husbands and the good times we had, now that some of them are gone,” sighs June. Like the old days, they still keep each others’ spirits up.

Yayeko admits, “They seem closer to me than my own sisters,” and June adds, “It’s just how I felt when she told me that, and I almost got tears in my eyes.” Consideration is key, or as Mary says, it’s just a “constant looking out for each other.” They might not all agree on cer­tain things or want to go out to the same places, but it doesn’t really matter. “It’s much more fun if we are together,” says Sadako. “We’ve never had a bad moment or anything that we could not resolve,” concludes June. “We still don’t.”

“Nothing?” my cynical sansei mind probed. “What! No competi­tion, no jealousy, no taking sides, no talking behind each others’ backs?”

I thought of the argu­ments that have caused me to leave some of my own friends behind. “You have to work at friendship, just like anything else,” said one of the wise women. “We have our arguments but we don’t stay angry. And I think that’s the reason we’ve always remained friends. I’ve al­ways thought it’s positively amazing.”

There’s something to be said for the meaning­ful friendships made during those camp years, but even more remarkable is how these women made them last.

Something for all us young, under-80 folk to think about.
===
Sharon Yamato writes from Playa del Rey. She can be reached at syama­to@ca.rr.com. The opinions expressed in this column are not necessarily those of The Rafu Shimpo.