reactorpic.jpg

July 17, 2002

Did my DNA make me a possible spy?

I was conceived early in the Depression. I turned 11 in March, 1942. By the time I was 15 World War II was well over. 1942-43 were years of transition for my family. An abortive job hunt took us to the northern Rockies. Our return to California was complicated by such tight gasoline rationing we might have been frozen in place in Idaho for the rest of the war. Grim necessity and some clever finagling instead allowed us to return and settle once and for all in my hometown of Santa Rosa, a few blocks from my Italian Grandmother's house. At some point in 1943 Italy surrendered. Italy was so mixed up one of my Italian cousins was a prisoner-of-war in England and one a prisoner-of-war in Germany. I'm not sure just when Grandma ceased to be an enemy alien. A son had been in the U.S. army even before Dec. 7, 1941. Even so, she was required to stay within five miles of her house unless she had specific permission. The bad news? She, a most law-abiding, non-political, kindhearted person, was suspect simply because she was still an Italian citizen. The good news? Only she was restricted, and it involved only a kind of loose house arrest. My grandmother's American-born children and grandchildren, including me, were free to go to school, to work, to church, to live our lives.

Several thousand other American children of all ages were treated quite differently. If your grandparents had been born in Japan, and you were an 11 year-old Californian living with your American parents, and it was 1942, you and they were probably ripped from your home, your school and your friends. Your Japanese grandparents might be as gentle, law-abiding and non-political as my Grandma. Nevertheless, you and they were shipped to a cold, dry, windy, remote prison camp, perhaps Manzanar or Tule Lake. Your home would be a tar paper shack. Barbed wire would discourage escape. Guards with machine guns would see to it you didn't explore the surrounding countryside with your little red wagon, assuming you'd been allowed to bring it with you. Your dad's camera would be confiscated.

The injustice has been acknowledged for decades. I wouldn't rehash it now, except, not long ago, I referred to it publicly and heard from WWII vets still convinced the internment was both necessary and justifiable. No! It was not!

Do you know they even accused me of being Politically Correct. That's going too far!

The grandchildren of Japanese immigrants were no more traitorous than I was, the grandchild of Italian immigrants. Whether your grandfather was born in Cumiana or Hiroshima, it was irrational to judge you a potential traitor based on your ancestry.

With all that, it could have been far worse. We had no Dachaus, no Treblinkas. Manzanar? Nowhere near as bad as Auschwitz. I've never heard those interned in America's concentration camps were starved or tortured. Most of the guards, as far as I know, weren't deliberately cruel or abusive. Many Nisei of draft age enlisted. They served heroically and with distinction. Like the Holocaust, however, the internment of Japanese-Americans was based on a pervasive, mindless bigotry. The Jews of Europe were judged guilty by those in charge. Japanese-Americans were also guilty. We all have ancestors. If it's your ancestry that makes you a criminal, you can't ever be absolved. Your very DNA convicts you.

Would Paul Azevedo have been sent to juvenile hall if he'd written this column during WWII? Or might he have just gotten an 'A' from his sixth grade teacher for good spelling? To discuss his opinions or critique his spelling, e-mail him at Paul@thereactor.net. Check his website at http://www.thereactor.net.

 
[This Week] [2002 Archive] [2001 Archive] [2000 Archive] [1999 Archive] [1998 Archive]