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LT: And we'll come back to that, but let's go back to Japan and talk about your maternal grandparents and your mom. So your grandparents, the Miyakes, came from Okayama, which was not too far from Hiroshima, on the southeast portion of Honshu island. What did they do there and how did they get to America?

TT: Oh, that's right, yeah. It's interesting because we were very close to our mom's parents. We used to go up there every summer and spend several weeks. And Grandpa, I had thought, came over as a much younger man, but apparently they actually had connected before and what I've been told now is that I knew my grandmother came from a very fine family, because she had been trained, she was a dressmaker, she had taken koto, she had done odori, and I know not every little farm girl did that. Then found out that my grandfather was actually the fourth son of a family that had some money, and my sister said they were aristocratic. And so that's why I think Grandma married Grandpa, thinking he had money. And when they came to America, of course, it was the biggest shock in her life because she had never had to do house stuff or do grocery shopping. And we would sit and laugh as I grew older, because she said it was the biggest shock of her life to come somewhere and there was no help. Then, of course, they started having babies right away, so it was the washing of the diapers, and she had to learn to cook, and those things she didn't have.

But he, I believe, came because he was the fourth son, and came out to make it on his own. And he was amazing. He started out as the junk man, and he would just walk around the neighborhood -- he did this until the day he died -- picking up junk. Anything he found was a treasure to him. And then I guess he just actually started selling these things here and there, and he made enough money to start his own greenfront or grocery store, and that one was totally open where you'd put up the doors, and all the fruit and everything was out in the front, and you see all his kids except for my mom and her older brother working there. And I don't know how anyone could do that from the start he had. He had been a judo teacher, I know, as a young person, so he did do some judo teaching and things like that, but the store must have made us money. And by the time we were old enough to go and visit, he had to be of retirement age, but he worked at the Olympic Hotel.

LT: And this was in Seattle?

TT: In Seattle, and he started out I guess as a custodian, and eventually became the head of something. He was the head of the night shift, and I remember so fondly when he'd come home at seven a.m. and he'd bring party hats and balloons and all these snack foods, caviar. So we'd always get up early in the morning and wait for Grandpa to come home. And he'd come home wearing these funny party hats and carrying a thing of balloons. That's really vivid in my mind, it was a wonderful time. And Grandma was very quiet, and she was a phenomenal cook, and she did all the things you think of that little Japanese ladies, she followed behind him, you know, and did all the right stuff for us as far as being a grandma. She'd never let us eat Japanese food because she'd sit in the back in this little pantry, it had glass around it, she would eat ochazuke, and she would eat spaghetti and pork chops and stuff for us. And we'd stand in front of the little pantry that had a sliding window just looking at her because we wanted otsukemono no chazuke. [Laughs] But she tried to feed us the right stuff.

LT: It must have been difficult for her, though, to be a family of an aristocrat, and to come over and find that her husband was not as wealthy as she thought, and to find that, in fact, she was from a culture background, and they were living a fairly menial life.

TT: Yes. And she did really move into what, I guess you'd call middle class or whatever, she didn't do -- I never knew about the koto and she never talked about the odori. I just knew she knew about odori, and she knew about these things, but she had never told me she'd done any of this. And it wasn't until my mother was telling me how Grandma used to play the koto. And then, of course, the best story of all is that after I had heard from my auntie that my mom had a koto and my grandma had played the koto, we started looking for it. And my cousin, Kan Yagi, who was from Utah, he was working for Portland Public Schools, and I mentioned to him that we had a koto that we haven't been able to find sine before the war. Well, luckily, Grandma had given it to his mom, and so she had taken it to Utah. So during the internment, of course, they weren't touched, the koto stayed safe. So about, it must be now ten, fifteen years ago, Kan tracked it down, one of his brothers had it, it was in storage, and no one knew who it belonged to, and I got my grandma and mom's koto back. So for a short time I took lessons, and I'm pretty pathetic at it, so I haven't continued. But I like getting it out, and I'll set it out oftentimes especially in the spring. And since I can read music, I tune it American-style, so I can play Mickey Mouse Club, and When You Wish Upon a Star. [Laughs] Oh, and Sakura, but that's about it.

LT: That's about it?

TT: Yeah. So she never said anything, so she fit very easily into... then they were very involved with their church, which was the... I don't know, I'll have to tell it later, it's a Buddhist church. Koyasan, the Koyasan church, and Grandpa was the lay minister, so they did a lot of things in the community with the Japanese people. Grandma never spoke a lot of English. Grandpa was pretty fluent, especially in swearing. He had a pat little phrase that when he was driving, his arm would shoot out of the window, he'd shake it, and he had this little phrase of bad words that he would say.

LT: What was that phrase?

TT: All bad words starting with "Goddamn son of a bitch," I can remember that so clearly. So when I was little a girl, when I'd get mad and I'd stomp my foot, those four came out immediately.

LT: Because you were in the backseat with your grandfather.

TT: Always. And I'd watch that arm come out, and that fist pump, and then those four words would come out just like silk.

LT: Now your mom was born in Seattle on, in 1914, as Tomiye Miyake. And what do you know about her early life and her aspirations?

TT: I think she was probably the first feminist that came along. She really believed that women should do what it is they wanted, and that the confines and marriage and all of that wasn't anything she really wanted. And she was very fortunate, because being the first daughter, she did, she played koto and she did odori, and she did some traveling. At that time that was unusual for things, but Grandma, I guess, maybe was the original first feminist, because she encouraged, and so did Grandpa, for Mom to do these things. So her life was not as traditional as when you think of someone of her generation. And she had decided she wanted to be a nurse, and I think had she stayed with it, I bet you money she would have been a doctor. It wasn't so much that she loved the study, but she just knew she wanted to be the best she could be or do the most, and so she kept taking classes, etcetera, and when she got into Columbia School of Nursing -- and none of us can figure how this happened.

LT: And this is in Seattle?

TT: Yeah, this is in Seattle. And she did very well, and she just absolutely loved it. And like I said, I think had she gone on, she would have. But a friend of hers, a doctor, knew my dad, and put them together at a party. And her father did say to her, "It's time for you to get married," and so she did. But, as I look at her, I think had she had the choice, none of us would have been around, and she'd probably be Dr. Miyake running around with a stethoscope around her neck. [Laughs]

LT: So your father had aspirations to be a doctor, and he was not able to because of finances. And your mother had aspirations to be a doctor and she was not able to either because she got married.

TT: Right.

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