". . . 'member all those swell times we had way back
about this time last year . . . fried chicken, steaks every day, butter
and sugar, cook and devour anything the little heart desires . . . see
the latest in movies . . . all for a bit of work" . . . and that takes in
all the gossipy furlough news, even now . . . O what wouldn't I give to
lead the life of a homesteader . . . I mean his righthand man, in short, a
plain laborer.
THE ART TO SLIMNESS
They asked us how we got so thin, working out on the
beet-fields . . . Now I'll tell . . . it wasn't the labor so much as the
way we packed ourselves in. . . eight of us in two single beds. The food
we enjoyed but the expression "flies in me zoop" was more than a true
axiom. . . not in our bowls but in our mouths. . . We also know what
Little Willie went through on his rugged Boy Scout excursion in
manhandling and getting the best of the ole antique things they call
stoves.
VICTORY STYLE
For bathing we claimed the best . . . the backdoor
creek plus the automatic washer ... when the moss covered base made it
possible to take your three unnecessary dunkings now called the Victory
bath ... up, down, and out.
Get the most food value is a rule we never failed to
observe. Yep, relax and eat. We always thought the meal tasted much
better with the cool breeze fondling around with our tootsies, coming up
from the holes in the floor we forgot to patch. Yes sir, the best of
lighting facilities. . . lighting anyway, until the only candle flickered
its last goodbye.
It gave us a certain amount of satisfaction (when we
couldn't possibly get a ride to town) to stay home on Saturday nights
after nursing and handling sugar all day long, but sometimes yearned to
handle them at night too. . .and it was even better when you got paid
for this kind of work. We can't forget the relaxation the radio
provided, by no means, for this was our constant companion. . .we were
always delighted to hear even the static for soothing the nerves, which
ran a second best in competition, next to the fairer sex's constant
chatter we've endured so long in camp. . .and the "mooing" of the
cows.
TWO COMPLAINTS
They told us to get up at the crack of dawn but we
didn't believe it until it was a regularity to wake up at the crack of 2
in the morning too, and it was not what you're thinking either . . .
guard our peaceful nest of angels against all those wild animals and
livestock. . .The other is that we blistered our school-girl hands doing
an overdose of the la conga on the board, washing those bloo zoot soots
once every month.
One consolation is the remaining fact that someone
back home misses you. . . to rush home for your monthly letter
and only find it to be your Uncle Sammy remembering you . . . with a
draft notice.
Town Scene
It was hot! Manzanar's weather was 110 degrees. The
dusty barracks stood frying like brown pancakes in the shimmery heat.
Now and then a truck roared by. A soft peal of a saxophone playing
"Idaho" came from a distance. Plunk, plunk of the "Go" rock on the
board could be heard as two men carefully laid down that previous price.
Occasionally one of them drew his tired hand across his perspiring
forehead. Then he automatically reached for a rosy-colored glass perched
on the steps. He raised the sparkling liquid to his dry lips and
murmured:
"Too bad they don't sell beer here." He leaned back
in his chair and carelessly threw the rest away.
The girl reading quietly on the shady side of the
grass turned when she heard the splash of water. Her brows drew
together and she glared at him as it to say that he had disturbed the
peace.
The mail boy threw up a cloud of dust as he shuffled
along. He was hot and tired. Here, at last, was his last barrack and his
last mail for the day.
Suddenly a sound could be heard. The mess hall bells
were ringing. The girl gathered up her books and hurried into the
house. The two men drew back their chairs, stretched their
legs and walked away. The saxophone music stopped. Here and there
figures could be seen running down the steps. The heat was forgotten. The
people had stretched their arms and moved about. Manzanar had
awaken.
Kiyoko Matsuoka, Age 16.
