"If I hate, I should hate war itself."

Hiroshima
(Taken during the 9th grade field trip, January 29, 2016.)

When I wrote my novel, I didn't know her. But because I wrote my novel, I got the opportunity to meet her in Kobe, Japan. Sometimes things happen that you never expect.

Tiny, humorous, endearing, Koko Tanimoto Kondo told her story inside the Canadian Academy auditorium to ninth grade students. She was just eight months old the day her world exploded.  Literally. The Enola Gay did what it was sent to do over her hometown of Hiroshima. At just 1.2 kilometers away from the epicenter, the Tanimoto house crashed around Koko and her mother. When Mrs. Tanimoto regained consciousness, she heard a baby cry.

That baby belonged to her. She had to do something quick.

Koko was too little to know what was happening to her city at that moment, but over the years, she heard the story and now tells it to audiences across Japan and the USA. "My mother made a hole (in the debris) and was able to make it out," she said.  "Our house was on fire."   Her father was working at his church that morning, but desperate to find his family.

Koko grew up angry.  She wanted to "get back" at the people who had destroyed her city. She wanted to punch and kick those who had marred the faces of the older girls who came to her father's church after the attack. Their faces----distorted from the burns of the bomb's blast. Their bodies, disfigured and permanently scarred.

Authors always have their characters and novels close by in their hearts.  More than anything, we want to be authentic in our portrayal of both history and human emotions. As I listened to Koko talk, I briefly made a mental note:  It's in line.  What I meant was how I portrayed my characters following the attack. In my World War II novel, Under the Silk Hibiscus, I let my characters (Japanese-Americans living in Heart Mountain, a Wyoming internment camp) be devastated by what the USA had done to their country of origin. Papa Mori had family in Hiroshima----his home town before coming to California to raise his own family----and getting letters about relatives dying from radiation tore him up inside. He was only a shadow of the man he once was when the war finally ended.

Koko's words brought another scene from my novel to mind as she continued her talk.

When she was in fifth grade, she and her family (after their story had been documented in John Hersey's Hiroshima) were invited to be on the American show, This is Your Life. Koko recalled that day and lifting a fist into the air, told us that at that time she was ready to punch and kick the co-pilot of the Enola Gay, also a guest on the show.  She wanted revenge.  When the host of the show asked Captain Robert Lewis how he felt after dropping the bomb on Hiroshima, the co-pilot said, "Hiroshima disappeared. And I said, 'My God, what have we done?'"

Instantly, Koko saw the "bad evil" in herself.  "If I hate, I should hate war itself.  Not this person," she recalled. Slowly, like a crab, she walked over to Captain Robert Lewis. She just wanted to touch his hand. When she got close to him and reached out her hand, he took it and squeezed.

Forgiveness.

Nathan, my main character, forgives an American soldier from Heart Mountain, the camp where Nathan was interned.  Was the forgiveness realistic? As I listened to Koko's rationale for forgiveness, I knew that forgiveness for a act so grievous could be granted. For like Koko, my fictitious Nathan realized that he was just as wretched in his own heart as the soldier was. He desired to be forgiven and, in turn, knew that he wanted to forgive his enemy. God's grace.

Under the Silk Hibiscus at Canadian Academy in Kobe, Japan

Again, I made a note:  It's in line. Check!

Koko, now 71-years-old, promotes peace.  "It's up to you," she said to the students in the auditorium, as she encouraged them to become peace keepers. "Will you help me to spread peace in this world?  I want you to be the ones to change the world."

After her talk, I was invited to eat lunch with her and Bob Hengal, a teacher at Canadian Academy who was instrumental in bringing me from my home in North Carolina to the school as an alumna author. Koko's lively comments over each course that was served showed appreciation for the culinary experience. Before we parted at the train station, we had photos taken together.

It was an unexpected day of inspiration coupled with a wealth of history for this missionary kid born and raised in Osaka.  It was one of those experiences that are so monumental that you feel you don't deserve, but you are graciously given.

And gratitude dances in your heart.

Koko Kondo and me, daughters of ministers
Kobe, Japan

Under the Silk Hibiscus on Amazon.

See why this novel is invited to Japan!

I grew up in classrooms filled with kids and teachers from all over the world. My high school, Canadian Academy, located in Kobe on top of a hill, had a view of the harbor which looked beautiful. My school also had a grassy area where we ate lunch in the warmer months. I recall looking around at my senior friends and noting the countries they represented. Malfrid from Norway, Sophie from France, Jules from Canada (the French region of Quebec), Sangeeta from India and Japan, Nada from Lebanon, Katie from California, USA. We are like a United Nations, I thought.

I know I almost failed algebra. And hated biology. But I never recalled learning anything in history about internment camps for Japanese-Americans during War World II.

I wish I had listened. One of my classmates' mom was in a camp during her youth. But that didn't register in my mind until long after I held my high school diploma.

It would be years later when I felt the need to write about this period of history. It would be when living in another country, at another setting. In North Carolina, I heard my friend Artie Kamiya talk about his mother who had been forced to spend years in a camp in Colorado after President Roosevelt issued Executive Order 9066. Shortly after Pearl Harbor was bombed, those of Japanese descent on the West Coast of the U.S. were sent to various camps. Many forced to these camps were American citizens. Most had never even been to Japan.

This shows just has strong fear and prejudice go and how they eat at people's hearts and minds. Americans, born in the United States, had to leave their homes, board trains with one suitcase each, and head to bleak camps where barracks became dwelling places.

I wrote Under the Silk Hibiscus with the help of materials I received from Artie's mom. I was also able to interview Terri Takiguchi, a woman in my church who was sent from her life in California to a camp in Arizona during the war.

And this time I listened. At my computer, I heard the voices of dozens of others as I watched videos about one camp in particular---Heart Mountain in Wyoming. This camp became the setting for my fictional family, Nathan Mori, his siblings, mother, and aunt.

When I got the news that my high school wants me to come to Japan as an alumni author in residence, I couldn't believe it! Even now, most days, I think that I'm still dreaming. It's been since 1988 when I was there last as a teacher of English.

Early next year, I'll be flying to Japan, the country of my birth and childhood. In addition to going on a field trip with ninth graders to Hiroshima, I'll share about being an author and how I researched for my novel. I hear authentic food calling my name, too: Unagi, katsudon, chirashizushi, oyakodomburi, an pan, and of course, green tea ice cream (as pictured below).

I know it will be a most wonderful reunion.


You can read more about Under the Silk Hibiscus here.

When a cookbook is more than a book of recipes

As a child in Osaka, Japan, I loved illustrated books from our international school's library. Not only were the pictures works of art (especially for me since I couldn't draw anything but a stick figure), but the aroma of the pages grabbed my senses. Musty, a little on the mildew side, damp---to me that scent was adventure. To this day, I associate the smell of musty bookstores, libraries, and book pages with the joy of escaping into beautiful and wild lands. I'm six again, learning to read. I'm ten, on the train heading home from school, a Bobbsey Twins book in my hands.

So when Carl showed me his cookbook, The Modern Family Cookbook, I loved it immediately for its musty smell. Of course, the fact that he uses it to bring great dishes and desserts to our table is equally important to me.

But upon further observation, this cookbook entices me for other reasons. It is a piece of American history. It's a legacy, a document of what our culture around the kitchen and table used to be.

The first edition came out in 1942. That was a time period when women dominated the kitchen whether they wanted to or not. The author, Meta Given, provides pages of advice, including The Cook's Creed, found near the first half of the book. These five pointers stress how the woman is to do an outstanding job at making meals. To assist her, every month she has a weekly meal guide, using seasonal foods for "thrifty balanced menus". Each recipe found in the guide is numbered.

For breakfast on a Monday in February, stewed dried peaches and soft cooked eggs are recommended. Coffee for adults and milk for the children. On a following morning, cocoa is part of the breakfast menu for children. On a Friday in December, "luncheon" is to be carrot souffle and watermelon pickles. The dessert (after every lunch something sweet is to be served) is "inexpensive fruitcake", which from the recipe looks like a typical Christmas fruitcake with cherries, candied citron, and pitted dates.

The mother of the house was clearly responsible for her family's welfare as well as nutrition. She was to abide by The Meal Planner's Creed: "The health of my family is in my care; therefore---
I will spare no effort in planning the right kinds of food in the right amounts.
Spending the food dollar for maximum value is my job, therefore---
I will choose from the variously priced foods to save money without sacrificing health.
My family's enjoyment of food is my responsibility; therefore---
I will increase their pleasure by planning for variety---for flavorful dishes, for attractive color, for appetizing combinations.
My family's health, security and pleasure depend on my skill in planning meals; therefore---
I will treat my job with the respect that is due it.

When I was writing my World War Two novel, Under the Silk Hibiscus, I slipped the cookbook into my story. The aunt in my novel uses it to make food for her niece and nephews. She's a lover of cookies and bakes oatmeal raisin cookies. Since all my novels hold recipes in the back, I include this cookie recipe in Under the Silk Hibiscus so all can enjoy it.

Cookbook language changes over time. Women have allowed men in the kitchen and men are proving to be just as skilled with creating meatloaves, chocolate cakes, and souffles. But a cookie recipe that was delicious back in 1942 is still tasty today. It is timeless, as is wanting to share it with your family. To me that falls under the "I will spare no effort in planning the right kinds of food in the right amounts." Two cookies after dinner? Four? Seven? Meta doesn't tell me, but I'm thinking since both the enjoyment and the pleasure are "my" responsibilities, the more the merrier!

~*~*
Under the Silk Hibiscus, with the oatmeal raisin cookie recipe, is available today for just $1.99 on Kindle.

Eat raisin cookies, get smarter!

Where else can you munch on oatmeal-raisin cookies and increase your knowledge of World War II? Under the Silk Hibiscus, my newest novel, provides the reader with food for the body and the mind. Set in one of the Japanese-American interment camps, the aunt in the story loves to have a "pep", a.k.a., a cookie. So I knew that there had to a recipe in the back for cookies. All of my other novels have recipes and I wanted this one to be just like them.

There are differences, though. My other five novels are all set in North Carolina. This newest one takes place in Heart Mountain, Wyoming. But I had to bring some South to it, so I made one of the soldiers Southern. And after the war, one of the internees heads for North Carolina to work at Lucky Strikes in Durham (where I live now).

This is also my first historical fiction. Research became my friend.

I grew up in Japan as a missionary kid and so my love for the Japanese and all things Japanese is ingrained in me. I feel like that shows in my story. The research part did make me sad as I saw how poorly American citizens were treated----just because they looked like the enemy. My desire was to portray the truth of how things were for Japanese-Americans both during and after the war. The discrimination was brutal. To keep the balance, I had to rely on humor. After all, my books must have that vital ingredient.

Whether you know a little or a lot about the plight of Japanese-Americans who lived on the West Coast during WWII and were sent to camps, I hope you'll enjoy Under the Silk Hibiscus.

And don't forget to bake the cookies so you can get the full flavor of the story. When Aunt Kazuko says she needs a pep for "pep me up", you should freely have one, too.

Pick up a copy for yourself and one to give as a gift this Christmas. The novel is available in both e-book and print versions.

Historical Romance, Under the Silk Hibiscus

And in less than four weeks, my sixth novel, Under the Silk Hibiscus, will arrive!

This novel takes place in an internment camp in Wyoming where many Japanese-Americans were sent after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. There's upheaval, frustration, pain, and sorrow. Families are separated. Some members are accused of being spies, like Nathan Mori's father.

To balance the discrimination that evolved during this time period, I had to rely on humor and romance.

One of the most fun relationships I enjoyed crafting was between the main character, Nathan, and his aunt Kazuko. Even though she's single and has no children of her own, Aunt Kazuko knows how to keep Nathan and his brothers in line. She knows truth----particularly that a body can't live on hard work alone. She loves cookies and keeps morsels in her sweater sleeves, taking them out when she needs a "pep".

And of course, there's young romance. Nathan dreams of the lovely singer, Lucy, and wants her to notice him, but she seems more interested in his older brother, Ken.

There are two characters which are not people---one is Heart Mountain, the mountain viewed every day from those in the barracks at the camp. Then there is the Mori family's coveted gold watch, a family heirloom from Japan.

So the questions form: Will Nathan get the girl? What happens to the family heirloom during the war and after the war ends? Does Nathan's father return? How does war and discrimination change hearts? How does God's love prevail?

Here's the book blurb:

During World War Two Nathan and his family are sent to Heart Mountain, an internment camp in Wyoming for Japanese-Americans. Nathan's one desire is to protect the family's gold pocket watch, a family heirloom brought over from Japan. He fails; the watch is stolen. Struggling to make sense of his life in a bleak camp as the only responsible man of the household, Nathan discovers truths about his family, God, and the girl he loves.

Read more at Amazon.

Under The Silk Hibiscus, my newest novel

Unfortunately, our country has a history of discrimination. During World War Two, after the bombing of Pearl Harbor in 1941, Japanese-Americans were targeted. Out of fear, the United States government had those on the west coast sent to internment camps. Even though many of them were American citizens, they had to evacuate their homes, sell their belongings, and leave their businesses and friends.

Under the Silk Hibiscus, my sixth novel, is a story of such a time as this. The main character, Nathan, tells his saga through his fifteen-year-old eyes when he and his family were sent to Heart Mountain, Wyoming. As he grows older, we continue to hear, not only about life in the camp where his family lived until the war ended, but about life after the war when they returned to their hometown of San Jose, California and tried to rebuild their lives.

Excerpt:

Early the next morning before faint sunlight crept through our billet’s slats, Aunt Kazuo screamed. “The baby is coming! The baby! Somebody help us!”

Ken wasn’t in our barracks. His cot was empty, untouched; in fact, both the pillow and wool army blankets were still in place as though he hadn’t slept there at all.

As usual, it was going to be up to me. I scrambled out of my own cot. One of my blankets fell onto the floor. From the back of a wicker chair, I pulled off a checkered shirt and then grabbed a pair of trousers that were in a heap at the foot of my bed. Once dressed, I worked my feet into my shoes and looked for my jacket. I didn’t wait for Aunt Kazuo to tell me not to dilly-dally. Sprinting toward the clinic, the frosty autumn air didn’t bother me.

By the time I reached the clinic, my face was damp from sweat. The main door was locked. I banged on it; I had to get a doctor.

Mekley, one of the uniformed soldiers assigned to the camp, appeared from the clinic’s vicinity. “What in tarnation are you doing?” he cried.

“I need a doctor.”

“Well, I need a million dollars.” He spoke with a drawl. Everybody told me it was southern. I didn’t know for sure. I’d never heard a southern accent before. I just knew that he was ornery. That characteristic had nothing to do with accents.

“I need a good woman too.” He winked, but it wasn’t a wink like Ken’s; it made me feel dirty to have witnessed it. “Know where I can find one?” he asked.

Thirst cloaked my throat and I tried to swallow to ease the dryness. Mama needed help and it was up to me. “Where’s the doctor? Where’s Doctor . . . ?” My mind suddenly became like a boarded-up window. What was the doctor’s name from San Jose? “Yamagata.”

“Ya-ma-ga-ta?” He said, drawing the surname out like it was a piece of taffy, the kind you got at the fair. “What happened that you need a doctor?”

“My mother’s having a baby.”

He grinned. “A baby, huh? Another one?”

I wasn’t sure what he meant by that. I knocked on the door again and then heard a strong and familiar voice from behind. “Are you looking for me?”

Turning around, I tasted relief. Dr. Yamagata stood before me, a Dunlap hat on his head.

“You have to come. My mother is in labor.”

“Can’t she come to the hospital like all the other mamas?” asked Mekley.

Under the Silk Hibiscus will make her debut on Veteran's Day, November 11---an appropriate date.


Under the Silk Hibiscus can be pre-ordered on Amazon.