Eulogy for Samuel Emoto

Thank you for being here today. I know some of you traveled to the U.S. for

My father was the kind of man who carried all the burdens

There are no words to describe

"A monetary sum and words alone cannot restore lost years or erase painful memories."

An eloquent opening line from a letter 46 years overdue. As eloquent as it could possibly be. Signed by George Herbert Walker Bush, President of the United States, but that didn't mean much to my father. I found it crushed at the bottom of his lockbox, along with a check from the U.S. Treasury, and this small leather journal. The few entries I was able to translate so far are, what I consider, his last words to me.

Dad was a daydreamer, not so much a to-doer. He worked a long life for us though- everyone. For tomorrow, next year, next century. He knew it was extremely expensive to be poor. He introduced me to James Baldwin and Gore Vidal, and shared his love of reading with my sister and me. An avid American history buff, but vague about his personal past. A line he quoted comes to mind, from The Fire Next Time, "To accept one’s past – one’s history – is not the same thing as drowning in it; it is learning how to use it."

Our parents would take us on road trips at least 3 or 4 times a year in the early 60s. Yellowstone, Joshua Tree, and as far as New York City and Tallahassee. He wrote poems on these trips and would recite them to me and my sister in the backseat whenever Mom drove. These memories are really what's left of them. Isn't that the best we could ever hope to become?

He was barely 12 when he was eventually relocated to the Puyallup Assembly Center in Washington, cheerfully known as Camp Harmony. When his mother instructed him to carry as many necessities and things of value as possible, he included a journal and pencils in his overstuffed suitcase. Staples I take on every trip to this day.

My grandparents had to sell their 4 bedroom house and the 25 acres it sat on at a huge cost when it was seized. Their bank accounts were frozen anyway. Some of you know that part of the story. Yet two questions on the Loyalty Questionaire finally scattered the family.

Question 27:

Are you willing to serve in the armed forces of the United States, wherever ordered?

Uncle Ken wrote yes to this and was on his way to Camp Savage two months later. Years later he served as an interpreter in the Korean War. He died in October 1991 at the Sacramento VA medical center, only a week prior to receiving his $20,000 redress check. My father had this stuffed away for 30 years, probably out of grief, but knowing it would be important for us one day.

Question 28:

Will you swear unqualified allegiance to the United States of America and faithfully defend the United States from any and all attacks by foreign and domestic forces, and forswear any form of allegiance or disobedience to the Japanese Emperor, or any other foreign government, power, or organization

Grandpa Akio answered yes, but added, "when my family is released." Considered disloyal, he was sent to the Tule Lake in Northern California. The stark reactions these two men had would be a point of contention between them for decades.

You'd think this would shape a young boy into a bitter man. This height of hypocrisy, hard slap on the facade, that a country that would bait-and-switch its' own principles. Exploited hands cultivated the land of the free, so what should one expect to possibly grow from it? How do we have a place like Casa Padre to this day? "People are trapped in history and history is trapped in them."

One entry, in which I can hear his voice clearly saying this, my dad wrote, "I feel small sometimes, like a floating speck of dust. As inconsequential as I may be to others, I'm aware of my autonomy, and that is why I'm free."

Nobody or government could not revoke his identity, intrinsic to our country's ideals. Freedom, equality, justice- these words hold no meaning, we do. America is not the buildings, monuments, in the land, or even the legacy, but fundamentally and functionally, the people.

My father would say that once you know to love yourself, you learn to grow it with family, friends, neighbors, humanity in its' entirety, life itself. And that is a burden as much as a longing. The world dizzily spins faster the older I get. What came before us, will come after, but everchanging, like all things must be. When I look out at each of you, my feet find solid ground. I'm truly thankful for you being here today.