returned to the US before Pearl Harbor, so was caught in the US panic which incarcerated all people of Japanese descent, including US citizens.  Her rose-tinted glasses clouded the memories of eviction from her family home (where so many priceless artifacts were destroyed—in the hopes of looking less Japanese).  She didn’t recall the barbed wire fences, young soldiers with guns pointing at them, the long lines, and swamp conditions—I had to learn from books for that.

   "But it was there she met my sweet, level-headed, handsome dad at the Rohwer Arkansas Japanese-American internment camp.  He impressed my grandfather as he helped him manage all the kitchen/cooking, feed over 8,500 people three meals a day, and teach children at the camp school.  So Jean Fujimori and Don Hiroshi Yamaoka were married and moved to Chicago (apparently, if you live away from the Pacific Coast, it is okay to be outside the barbed wire). The government moved them back to the camp so Mom could give birth to me—medical conditions had drastically improved from the initial army-oriented medical staff who had little knowledge of obstetrics and geriatrics in the beginning. (The camp cemetery is proof of that, per cousin Dr. Don Nakayama’s research.)          

   "I remember how Mom would burst with pride about all our accomplishments to anyone she encountered—customers, friends, relatives, store clerks, gas station attendants.  She was proud of us—her legacy—so when the grandchildren arrived, she loved to lavish them with treats.

   "Mom put together picture and memento albums later in life.  I imagine it helped her relive those special moments. She was organized –Dad’s books, President of the Church women's group, and our school news clips and awards. She was dedicated to helping us—driving miles back and forth to Stanford for Julia and attending the bowling tournaments for Kres and Day.  Mom had a form of PTSD from WWII, but she was a survivor.

   "Happy Birthday, Mom: you gave us so much—Jean Takako Fujimori Yamaoka McLaughlin."