You Can't Do It by Yourself by Cecile Betts
My daughter, Martee, called me at six this morning. "Mom," she said,"Sherm fell again, I called the paramedics to pick him up, again, but we will be late getting to dialysis and I won't be able to come over to see you as we planned."
"Is Sherman all right, or as all right as possible?" I asked.
"Yes, I am taking him to dialysis now, I'll call you later."
She had not called me back so I called her at 10:30. "Martee, do you remember what you said to me Labor Day 1987 when I called you from the Palmer Hospital?"
"Mom, your memory is fantastic, no, what did I say to you on Labor Day in 1987?"
"You remember Jack had alzheimer and I took care of him at home. This was the third time in a little over a month when I had to go to hospital because of heart problems. You said to me--Ninm tiy cab;t take care o Jack at home any more. Do you remember that?"
"Yes."
"Okay, now I'll say it to you. You can't take care of Sherman at home by yourself anymore. You have serious health problems of your own and while I know you must keep working until you are 65 in order to have medical insurance, you must get someone who can help Sherman dress, bathe, get out of bed into his power chair and who will drive him, in your van, to Dialysis. You can't do it all by yourself anymore. I know neither of you will consider a Skilled Nursing Facility, which is what I had to do with Jack. But, you've modified your home at great expense to be able to keep Sherm at home. Good, but here is the name and telephone number of a man who worked for one of Annie's neighbors. Give him a call and see if you can make a deal with him.
"You're right, I'll call him."
"Good, remember the first rule for a caregiver is to take care of yourself otherwise you can't take care of anyone else."

A Family Secret by Cecile Betts
My first cousin, Goldy Brezinsky, daughter of my father'
youngest sister, Ettie, came to New York City to live after her eighteenth birthday. She had resided in the National Home for Jewish Children in Denver after her mother died when she was twelve. She says the first time we met, I took her to Radio City. I must admit I don't remember that. But, as time went by, she married and moved to California, I moved to California many years later, and we visited each other when we could.
When I was seventy and she three years younger, we decided to compile a family tree listing the descendants of my father and mother as well as those of his four sisters. All of their generation had died and many of the next generation, because they were so much older than Goldie and I were, also had died. But, we persevered, and in the course of our project discovered two family secrets. I'd always thought I was the first person in the family who obtained a divorce. It was a real surprise to find that Goldy's mothewr had been divorced years earlier by a husband who did not want to care for a wife who suffered from tuberculosis. My father paid the expenses of sending Ettie to Colorado because the climate was considered to be more healthful for people with tuberculosis. She recovered enought that she married again and had one daughter, Goldy. We decuded not to reveal this secret in the family tree which we sent to my nephews and nieces and first cousins once removed.
Goldy said she never found any mention of her mother's first marriage, until we sent for a copy of the marriage certificate (to Goldy's father) in order to verify her age and the date of the marriage.
Another secret unearthed during this time, I discovered my father's marriage to my mother was not his first marriage. But that is another story.

Dillon Myer, who was in charge of the Japanese American Relocation Camps in the 1940’s, treated inmates unfairly, withholding food and placing them in isolation. Most of the inmates over the years have felt that Myer made decisions that had the welfare of the Japanese in mind. Some did not.

Initially the camps were to be constructed by Milton Eisenhower, older brother of Dwight Eisenhower, using the Indian reservation as a model. They were to be built as semi-permanent facilities with long-term incarceration in mind. Better construction, longer lasting facilities, more convenient buildings for the inmates. Milton never carried this out since in a short three-month period he escaped this chore and transferred to another government agency.

His friend,Dillon Myer, succeeded him. Myer took on the construction of the camps with a much shorter period in mind. In fact, he started a review with release of the inmates back to society almost immediately. A paradox—semi-permanent facilities (with much nicer amenities but long term incarceration) versus flimsy, low cost construction (with marginal facilities but short term incarceration). If the inmates really trusted the administration’s goal of early release, most would have cooperated without reservation. There was some evidence of this: students back to college, release of best adjusted, most skilled, most energetic inmates to leave and resettle. Marginal facilities for the inmates resulted in much bickering between different factions of the community. Myer separated the “loyal” from the “disloyal” into separate camps. The disloyals and their families were put in the Tule Lake Relocation Camp, which had a mix of loyals and disloyals. Some loyals refused to leave Tule for fear of being separated from newly established friends. They suffered the chaos that ensued in that camp.

Of the remaining nine loyal camps, some inmates caused disruptions for their own personal reasons even though evacuees were slowly being released. They were few in number but caused problems nevertheless. Myer had the option of transferring these troublemakers but did not do so since Tule was having enough problems of their own.

Myer put these various troublemakers into a separated camp numbering over a hundred inmates. Severe penalties were inflicted on them when rules of this camp were violated. Food was withheld and inmates were put in solitary. When word of this situation leaked, Myer quietly transferred these inmates to Tule and placed them in stockades separate from the camp proper. The stockade issue became a major problem, a problem Myer had tried to avoid.

Was Dillon Myer’s illegal actions for the greater good or was he a true villain? Should there be further investigation into this matter?
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An optional story pre-week 16 assignment which I believe is more informative.

Yes-No; Right-Wrong; Good guy-Bad guy

Are we always stuck with a Yes or No, Right or Wrong? Many times there are other correct answers—Could be, perhaps, I don’t know; Are you sure?, some times yes and some times no, the end justifies the mean, etc.

There are some I wouldn’t touch for fear of offending someone. “The bible teachings are to be seen as unchanging OR in cultural and historical context.”
Just saying that has offended someone already.

Many years ago I was commenting about the unfair discrimination that the blacks faced in LA central to my Nisei friends that lived there. I was asked: “From Orange County where only a few blacks live, who are you to make such a sweeping statement?” They then told me stories of their lives within the black community. Would I feel the same if I lived there? Hmmm…Are my friends prejudiced?

Looking at my own situation, the incarceration of the Nisei into relocation camps was reviewed. Nisei to this day keep referring to the wrong that were committed against us. Yes, it is true that we were incarcerated wrongly. Yes, it is true that some have never recovered from that period where there lives were completely upset.

Now let us look at a sub-set of that event. There was a group of Nisei (Japanese born in the states) who were sent to Japan by their parents. They returned to the US just before WW II and tried to integrate back into the community. They were called Kibei (further defined Nisei). They were not accepted in Japan as Japanese but as American and treated accordingly. They were not accepted in America by the other Nisei as American but as weird Japanese.

We were then all thrown into camp where we had to deal with each other in daily life. Then came the loyalty questionnaire, which was an attempt by the government to determine who was loyal enough to be released from camp.

Would you forswear loyalty to the emperor (never mind that we never swore in the first place)? Would you serve in the armed forces if called?

Some Kibei worked on the Nisei to try to get them to answer No, No. In addition the parents of some didn’t want their sons to be drafted into the Army since they were depending on the sons in the aftermath of whatever. I had answered: Yes, Yes, if released from camp. Those that answered Yes, No, unless released from camp had some problems. (Isn’t that silly?)

The result was a small percentage of Nisei held to their No, No answer and was to be sent to Japan in an exchange for US prisoners. Due to delays some stayed in custody for up to six years long after the war ended. Almost all were given redress after petitioning to get back their citizenship. Many were of college age and after such a delay never got the education that would have changed the course of their lives.

Tak was a friend of mine in camp. We played touch football and basketball together in camp league play. I was quarterback and devised a special play in which Tak would receive the ball from me and would be in a position to make a touchdown with minimal opposition. I left camp in one year and never saw many of my friends from camp after that.

One day, years later--55 years later--I spotted Tak’s name in a national JA newsletter. He was to become President of a local Lions Club. I thought how great that he had left camp and made a success of himself in the business world. So I tracked him down and called to congratulate him. Momentarily he did not recall who I was but in reminiscing about our football team he recalled a special play in which he received the ball surreptitiously from me and made a touchdown. (Actually the play didn’t work. No touchdown was made by Tak.)

What followed was a reunion. He related the sad story of his having answered No,No and having been put in a number of camps in preparation to be sent to Japan. After five years transferring from one special camp to another, he was released pleading duress. He had to make a living after being released and did not go on to higher education. Six month after receiving his freedom he was drafted into the Army and spent two years in the Aleutian Islands. (Was he being punished by the Army?) He was recommended for Corporal but was never promoted since his record shows he had been a No, No in relocation camp.

Tak tells me he was young and foolish to have listened to the Kibei. He relates to me a number of other Nisei that followed the same paths. They fought the relocation administration and were taken away as a result.

Yes or No… Right or Wrong…Bad guy or Good guy…Who really can judge?

An aside: Tak and I re-established our friendship and I was able to explore what happened at Tule Lake Relocation Camp, which was initially used to separate the No, No’s from the Yes, Yes’s.. There are many who still resent each other and this animosity exists today. Nisei of that age cautiously explore each other’s history before opening their arms in friendship.

(MJR: You introduced Hideyo to me in 2001 from your Santa Monica class. His father was incarcerated in a special camp for having Japanese ties. Hideyo was in grade school in the same camp as I but I did not remember him due to our age difference. He remembered me for I had participated in organized sports. We exchanged many emails and got along very well. He had gone to Tule Lake with his family…. Small world…Hideyo played on the same baseball team in Tule Lake as my friend Tak.

POINT OF VIEW by Diane Marcus

I know she really loves me, but there are times she can be very annoying.
Sometimes I just like sitting on the couch curled up letting the sun warm me.
It feels so good to just relax and think about nothing, to not even dream. But every time she walks by me she can’t resist touching me and hugging me and kissing me. I pretend I love when she shows me all this affection and I do respond. And to be honest I really love her too. After all she did rescue me but that was six years ago and it’s time for her to let me go. I promised her over and over, not verbally but certainly by my actions that I would never leave her. I guess she’s insecure.

I live in a beautiful home, I’m never hungry and I’m always rewarded. I have a comfortable bed and when it’s cold they let me sleep with them. So why am I whining like an ingrate? Well sometimes I just need my space. But when all is said and done I must admit I really am one very lucky dog.

               by Reiss duPlessis

“One day, my neighborhood will go up in value and my house will be worth lots of money.” She had no doubt. She was not prone to doubt about anything she considered worth her time and thought. She took great pride in her ability to “cut away the fat and get to the meat.” She loved discussion that became debate and was not one to lose gracefully. She was not one to lose.

She lived happily alone when widowed after 65 years of marriage in her decaying hill-top castle. The changes in the neighborhood did not deter her. Her slower reflexes behind the wheel of her aging car did not stow her regular runs to the discount stores. The removal of one cancerous lung after 50 years of smoking, did not end  her daily forays into the world... her world that was west of downtown Los Angeles and east of Hollywood. It was her neighborhood, her domain. It had everything she wanted or needed, only minutes from her hilltop.  She was the mistress of her manor and her world was good.

One day, however, worried about her safety, her failing health and her ability to maneuver the bustling city streets, her daughters, forced the issue she dreaded most, she had to sell the house and move with them to San Diego. Life as she designed and lived it was over. She, weeks before she died, said to me, “Even the grass down here in Sad Diego does not grow the way it does in my neighborhood. I hate it!”

Yesterday, I drove by her house on the hill. The decades of brush was gone, the house was surrounded by scaffolding and it was smiling down on the streets below telling the world, I am here, I am still beautiful and after my makeover by the make-up artists of carpentry, painting and landscaping, you will again see me as my mistress did. When is she coming home?