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MA: I was going to ask, at that point, how did reading and writing and art become an outlet for you?

CQ: Well, my teacher was very, very good. I remember her, and she recognized that I had an artistic talent, 'cause I'd always drawn and painted and things like that, 'cause my sister was a painter and my dad was really a bonsai artist, and he made all kinds of little sculptures and even did, was experimenting doing bonsai pots and things, you know. And so he was very artistic, and he could do a lot of things. And so I was able to paint paintings for the white teachers' dining room.

MA: And this was in camp?

CQ: In camp, yeah, in the fourth grade and the fifth grade and the sixth grade. I was fourth, fifth and sixth, I think, there. And then I was a very good reader, I was compliant. So she asked me if I would have my eyes tested for the teacher's meeting, and I had 20/20 eyes, somebody else had 20/100 eyes, and they were talking about how important for the kids to learn. So the kids who couldn't see very well, always asked anyone who couldn't see very well to come and sit at the front of the room. And that was when I was in the fourth grade, and then I was a very good reader, I was a good student, and so she was the one that really gave me the confidence and sort of like I felt a little special. And so I read a lot, and during the summer months I would just read and read and read, and I'd read, like, three or four books a day. And I'd read the same things over and over because, you know, I wasn't really interested in some of the books, I was interested in stories, and all the fairy tales and things like that.

MA: And in Poston, was there a library that was available to you? Was there a lot of resources, books?

CQ: The thing is, the Quakers and the Mormons sent books and newspapers, old newspapers, to the camp. And there were a lot of wonderful, wonderful people, and I'm sure, just teachers, other students who came to camp sent books to camp also. Because everything was, everything had to go through... what do they call it? Censorship. And, but the Quakers and the Mormons were so fantastic, they were the only groups in the United States that felt it was wrong that we were incarcerated in the camps. And they were the only groups that sent teachers to teach in the camp, you know, of course, they were paid by the government. And they sent books and magazines. And a lot of them were censored, but it was okay, because we did get them. So we had a half a barrack was a library, and then eventually I think a whole barrack became a library. And then as a year went on, they built the adobe auditorium at Poston, and I think they... for the older kids, they must have had something else, too, because I have read a lot of things about the older kids being able to do sports. And so they must have built, maybe the camp people did it, probably the inmates did it. And, but this library was my haven. It was a lifesaver for me. And I remember it being there after the first school year, and then summer vacation. And summer vacation, the library saved me. And I would read the books, and when I would find Mary was free, my little next-door neighbor friend, I'd tell her about every book. And so she liked just hearing the stories. So we got along really well, but she was a mama's girl, too, you know.

And she probably, it was really funny, 'cause I wrote my book, I had my show, Camp Days, when my two youngest grandchildren at that time, two girls, my daughter's two girls, were seven and nine. And then, and then when they were eight and ten, I wrote the book. And then when they were nine and eleven, I got a big shock of my life, and I knew why I was in the wrong place at the wrong age at the wrong time in camp. My nine-year-old granddaughter, Carolyn, was still saying, "Grandma Chiz, can you read a book to me?" Or, "Let's paint, let's do this, let's do that." And we'd do so many things together. And my eleven-year-old, we all did all these things together until they became about nine and eleven for some reason. And it just hit me really hard, then Jessica, the eleven year old, was no longer painting with us, no longer reading books with us. She was going to sleepovers and she was thinking about, you know, clothes and her friends coming over, and doing this and baking over there and baking here. And Carolyn and I were still like a baby and a grandmother, you know. And we did everything together. And then I realized, when I was nine, I was still a baby. I was probably more babyish than Carolyn was. And my sister was like Jessica. She wanted nothing to do with Carolyn. You know, she was going to a movie with her friends, I'd say, "Oh, can Carolyn come along?" You know, "Carolyn probably would like to go." And Jessica would say, "No, Grandma Chiz. She would get nightmares from this movie. She's not old enough." And, you know, I thought, so I'd say, "Oh, Carolyn, we'll go to another movie. We'll go see this other movie." And so that's what we'd do. And so I realized when I went to camp, that was, I was the wrong age, I didn't have a mother, and I... 'cause everybody else had fun. My sister had fun in camp. My brothers were doing judo, my oldest sister was, the middle sister, who was like a mother, was working in the canteen, and my dad was working in the mess hall, and my oldest brother was a fireman. So the three older, my dad and my oldest sister and my oldest brother that was home, were all working and had lots of friends and lots of activities. And my two brothers who were still in school were doing judo and doing all kinds of things. I remember they just had judo gi, and, 'cause I'd watch them sometimes.

<End Segment 7> - Copyright © 2009 Densho. All Rights Reserved.