The Color of Deception: An Ironic Black and White Tale of Love, Tragedy, and Triumph

by Frank Perdue

  However, this sharecropper’s field was far from the southern America of that picture. It was, in fact, across an ocean. The fields were lush, and covered with sugar cane. The plantation was on the island of Hawaii. It still is. The farmer and his wife, both first generation Japanese-Americans, still toil there to make their living.

  Milt Yamaguchi often thought of that farm, and his parents, who gave up so much for him and his sister Patsy, who died of meningitis while still in her teens. They had always given their love, even though his father was a stern disciplinarian in the tradition of his own Japanese upbringing. When Patsy died, Milt was only nine. The parents seemed to double their concern for their only surviving child. They doted on him, catering to his every wish.

  When Milt expressed an interest in going off to the mainland to college, his parents immediately agreed that he should have the opportunity. They were far from rich, but were determined to see their son get a higher education. He wanted to go to UCLA, but the non-resident costs would be just too much of a burden on his parents. Instead he applied to San Jose State, a much smaller school with a campus south of San Francisco.

  Milt had always been good in Math and Science in school. He wanted to become a weather forecaster. San Jose State accepted him for their school of Meteorology. They even arranged for a small scholarship. It seems that his enrollment would help the school meet its minority guidelines, which had recently been adopted by the state of California.

  Upon graduation from college, the small Japanese-American scholar (he was only five feet two) went to work for the United States Weather Bureau in San Francisco. It was nineteen sixty-five. He had to start as a Meteorological Technician because there were no openings for Meteorologists at that time. He learned to take and record weather observations. He also briefed pilots on expected weather conditions along their flight path. He was conscientious. After a couple of years at San Francisco International Airport, a job opened up at the Forecast Office. He applied and was accepted. He started out as an aviation forecaster. Because of his diligence and obvious care for detail, he was soon promoted to lead forecaster.

  Issy Yamaguchi’s given name was Isoko. After he became Americanized on the Big Island, he grew accustomed to answering to the shorter slang nickname that was given to him by the plantation owner. That didn’t happen right away, however.

  In nineteen thirty-nine Isoko Yamaguchi, from a hillside tea farm outside Sasebo, Japan, took a bride. She was a beautiful slender girl named Amori Takei. The marriage was one of convenience for their parents. As it turned out, it was one of love for the twenty-two year old farm laborer and his sixteen year old sweetheart. Although they had known one another ever since she could remember, she didn’t really pay much attention to the older boy. He was mostly just a nuisance who teased her on the few occasions when their paths actually crossed.

  As Amori became more sexually aware of her own body and the changes that were occurring, she also noticed Isoko. She watched him toil on her father’s farm. He had broad shoulders and a muscular upper torso. He had come there from his own family’s adjacent land to help out with the harvest of tea leaves, after their own reaping was done.

  The families of the two young people were not only neighbors, they were very good friends. Each had only one child, and as the children grew toward adulthood, the elders planned the marriage.

  Actually Amori hardly ever saw Isoko as they were growing up, because of their age difference. When the families were together socially to discuss farm issues or politics or whatever, Isoko seldom accompanied his parents. When he did come, he remained obediently silent, never interfering with the worldly talk of his elders.

  All that changed when Amori began paying attention to him. They found they had many things in common in addition to their growing physical attraction for one another. Love came rapidly after that, though it was unrequited. Imagine then their excitement when told of their impending nuptials. They could hardly conceal the joy each felt. But they dutifully held hands, and restrained the ache in their loins. Their smiles were forced, but not for the reason expected by their parents.

  It was decided that the newlyweds would be packed off to Hawaii. It would not only be a wedding trip, but also a permanent change for the young couple. Their elders did not like what was happening in Tokyo and the more populated cities of Japan. The war against China was taking its toll on the young men of the Empire. It would not be long before Isoko would be called to fight.

  Though Isoko’s parents were far from rich, neither were they poor. The weather had been good to the crops for the previous two years. They could afford to save their son from war. He would be safe in the Islands of Hawaii. Their in-laws reluctantly concurred. It would be only a matter of time until their daughter would be alone if they didn’t act rapidly.

  Passage was arranged on a Dutch lumber freighter docked in Sasebo, and the newlyweds steamed into a new life.

  The young lovers settled into a singular existence at first, their thoughts occupied only by their passion. Naturally Amori became pregnant. Patsy was the result.

  Isoko, who knew only how to farm, went to work as a laborer on a sugar cane farm, called a plantation in Hawaii. He worked harder than the others there, and he was soon rented a piece of the land to farm for himself. They moved into a small one bedroom cottage there which they were allowed to homestead. Life became idyllic. They had been on the island nearly two years when Amori again was with child. They both hoped for a boy.

  Issy, who by then was becoming completely Americanized, thanks to the plantation owner who had treated them so well, had little time to pay attention to world events. He seldom turned on their tiny radio because he was too tired from his day in the field. And when he did, it was most often to listen to band music from Honolulu on the island of Oahu, because Amori enjoyed it when the baby was finally asleep and all the housework was done for one more day. There was much static on the airwaves because they were so far from the radio transmitter, and in the shadow of the Mauna Loa volcano on the southeast side of the island. Of the two radio stations available to them, KGU came in the clearest.

  It was December eighth, in nineteen forty-one, before the young Japanese family realized they were at war with their own country. Mister Jimeson, their landlord, took it upon himself to notify them, and two other sharecroppers on his land. He showed much concern that they would be harmed because of their ancestry. Issy had confidence in the American people, and did not think anything would happen to them.

  Due to the remoteness of Jimeson’s ranch, it took three months for the authorities to come for them, but come they did. It was early April when a squad of infantrymen marched in and took the Yamaguchis and the other two Japanese families into custody.

  They were transferred by Army transport plane to San Francisco. Two days later they were in an internment camp somewhere in Colorado. Amori had her baby in the camp that June. Issy, as he had done with their first child, gave the tiny boy an American name. Even though their parents had learned very little English, Patsy and Milton Yamaguchi would be raised as American citizens. Issy Yamaguchi blamed the Japanese for their predicament. He even tried to enlist in the Army when he heard about the 100th Infantry Battalion and the 442nd Regimental Combat Team whose enlisted ranks were completely filled with Japanese-Americans who wanted to fight for their country. But he was not accepted because he had a wife and two children.

  In October of nineteen forty-five, the Yamaguchis returned home to the sugar cane plantation in Hawaii. Their homestead had been held for them by the man named Jimeson.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  As traffic on the freeway crawled at a solid five miles an hour, Daryl Collins tried to relax. What else could he do? Sophie was asleep on the bench seat of their Chrysler, her head resting on his shoulder. He decided to let her sleep. There was nothing she could do. It wouldn’t be long before rest of any kind would be at a premium, when the baby came. His wife was eight months along, but he couldn’t see it.
He was sure she hadn’t gained any more weight at all.

  It wasn’t like the first time. He hoped they’d never have to go through something like that again. Had it really been three years? Yes that’s what it was. He’d been sixteen when he and Sophie were married. Now he was almost twenty. By the end of the year his apprenticeship would be over and he would be a journeyman plumber. Things hadn’t worked out too badly for them, after such a rocky start. He had worried that their marriage wouldn’t survive. He’d come home late that fateful night. There had been a hard freeze in the rural farm country away from the city. Some water pipes had burst. By the time he finished with the last job it was after ten. Normally he would take the company truck back to the shop near downtown Sacramento and pick up his own car, before heading home. He would pick up the old Buick the next day, which would be Saturday. He would have to head in to work anyway. He put in six days a week trying to keep up with the expenses of married life.

  They lived in an old detached garage that had been converted into a living space by the property owner. That way the man could rent out the main house, and also get something every month for the garage. The sleeping area was separated from the main living space, not by a panel, but by a thick, heavy curtain. The cooking area was along one wall. There were no partitions to hide the old refrigerator, sink, and gas stove. Against another wall that had once been a garage door was an old faded gray sofa. The owner had cut a new door on the side of the building. Sophie was on the floor. Her head was resting on the center pillow from the couch. She was in obvious pain. Her mouth was contorted into a shape that would suggest a scream, but nothing came out. Both her hands were clutching her huge belly.

  Daryl bolted out the door, covered the forty feet to the main living quarters in about seven running steps, and pounded on the door of the darkened house. Soon a woman answered. When she opened her door, Daryl burst into her living room, went to the phone and dialed “0”. When he was sure help was coming, he ran back to his own place. He fell to the floor next to his wife and held her and comforted her as best he could until the ambulance arrived.

  It was a boy. There was no chance to save him. He had suffocated in his mother’s womb less than a day before what would have been his birthday. Apparently the umbillical cord, which was a lifeline, had looped around the fetus’ neck and cut off the supply of oxygen. No one knew for sure if Sophie’s weight was a contributing factor. Even before the girl was told that she would not be a mother after all, the young, would-be father was informed of what had happened. The attending physician asked if he would like to see the body, but Daryl declined. It was a quick decision, born out of grief, and a desire not to carry the picture of his dead son with him the rest of his life. For how would you erase an image like that? It would be burned into the consciousness. Something went out of his wife after their personal tragedy. She no longer saw the humor in everyday life. She forgot for awhile that her husband was grieving too. She spent many days at the cemetery where the never-born child, whom they had named Jonah, was interned.

  The marriage did survive. Although they had grown apart, they were both determined to ride out the storm. In the next year after Jonah’s demise, they came to realize that, for Sophie, her husband was the best thing that had ever happened to her; and for Daryl, life would not be worth living were it not for his wife. The healing powers of time helped draw them back together. They began to make love again. At first it was just an attempt to comfort one another. But soon the act took on another meaning, another purpose. They desperately wanted a child. It would be a product of their will to hold their union together. However, even with the love and intensity they brought to bed, Sophie remained decidedly un-pregnant. The second year passed without a positive result.

  It was the only thing in their lives that wasn’t going well. Daryl had received a couple of raises at work, and there was plenty of overtime. They were able to move to a much nicer house. They bought a late model Chrysler. Sophie had volunteered to look for a job, but Daryl took pride in the fact that his wife didn’t have to work.

  They had almost given up hope of ever having a baby, when it happened. He came home from work one night in the Summer of nineteen sixty-nine, after putting in a fourteen hour day. All he wanted to do was plop on the new couch, drink a beer, and watch their thirteen-inch color television. All that changed when he walked through the door and saw Sophie standing in the middle of the living room. She had wrapped a large blue ribbon around her waist and tied it with a bow at her belly button. It was the only thing she had on. If that didn’t give it away, her huge grin was the clincher. Suddenly he wasn’t tired any more. They celebrated in the bedroom.

  ----------

  As traffic crept along in the fog, Daryl found himself wishing he had gone down Highway ninety-nine. It would have been more direct. And it might have been faster than going out of his way to hit the freeway. The section he was on had not been completed too long ago. This was his first trip on the new stretch.

  They had gone up ninety-nine the evening before, stayed the night with his parents in Red Bluff, and then left after breakfast to head back. The trip up hadn’t been bad. The fog had lifted some.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  When the Great Valley fogs settle in, usually in January, the local residents try not to use the freeway system much. They recognize the danger that the extremely low visibility poses. I mean, when you can’t even see if there is a vehicle in front of you, and when high beams are useless because they disappear into the fog even sooner than the low beams, why bother? If the trip can’t be postponed altogether, then the best time to try it is in the mid-afternoon. The fog will sometime lift slightly when the land is the warmest. Actually the heat that is released from the earth dissipates the envelope of saturated air closest to the ground. The visibility usually doesn’t increase much, but even a sixteenth of a mile helps. When this happens traffic speeds increase slightly. When the fog dissipates altogether, or lifts enough so that road visibility becomes unrestricted, drivers try to make up for lost time. They push their vehicles to speeds far beyond the posted safe values, or limits.

  January sixteenth was the date that Joanna and Jake picked to begin their married life together. It coincided with Jake’s proposal in that it was the next day. Neither of them wanted to wait. Now that they had made the decision to commit to one another forever, it was important that forever have its beginning as soon as possible.

  The waiting period in California made their decision to drive to Lake Tahoe rather academic. It was the closest point at which they could be married immediately. The road to Reno was better, but the distance farther. They both liked the idea of a mountain lake setting for their vows.

  The biggest perceived danger for going into the mountains in the winter is, of course, snow. Jake called the twenty-four hour Weather Service phone number to check the forecast. Luckily, he thought at the time, he dialed into the repeating message just as the mountain forecast was being read. There were no storms in the area, but one was predicted to affect the border region in a couple of days. He didn’t remain on the line for the rest of the text. If he had he would have been informed about the dense fog. As anxious as they were it wouldn’t have made any difference. It had been just two hours since Jake had come through their apartment door and sprung his surprise on her. Joanna was still feeling the glow that comes with the realization of one’s dreams.

  “I have to tell Anna.” She announced, to no one in particular. Jake was in the kitchen making himself a snack.

  “What did you say?” He yelled back. The dining area was adjacent to the living room, toward the back of the apartment. The kitchen was around a wall to the left. Jake was out of sight.

  Joanna rose and walked the ten steps, peeking around the corner into the kitchen. “I said Anna needs to know what’s going on with us.”

  “Sure.” Jake said it with a grin on his face. He was smiling a lot that night.

  “Maybe she’ll want to come along and be a
witness. I really like her. She’s been a good friend to you.”

  Joanna walked to her man and kissed him on the cheek. “The best friend I ever had.” she said, and then added as an afterthought “Until you.”

  Jake didn’t pursue it. It would have been easy to just pick her up and carry her into the bedroom right then. But it would be even better after their marriage.

  She reached up with her left hand and ran her long fingers through his thick curly dark hair. With her right she placed the tips of her middle three fingers gently on the scar tissue over his left eye.

  “Why did you do that?” he asked, with a quizzical expression on his face.

  “What? The hair or the scar?” She was teasing him now.

  “Both,” he answered.

  She became serious. She placed both hands on his face, cupping it. Then she pulled him down to her, using her fingers on his thick, muscular neck for leverage. Their lips parted as they touched. His arms reached around her thin waist, and his fingers cupped her firm buttocks. He pulled her tightly to him. The kiss, which had begun innocently, turned urgent. He hardened against her groin as he pulled her upward to meet him. Only the toes of her bare feet touched the kitchen linoleum.

  “Hold on.” he said sternly, pushing her gently away. “We can’t do this now. We have plans to make.”

  Her eyes became sad and her mouth cupped into a pout. She was warm all over, and didn’t want it to end.

  “I love you, baby.” he continued “And I want you all the time. But I also want tomorrow to be like the first time. After tonight you’ll have to fight me off.” He was grinning now. “I know I’ll embarrass you, trying to take you in a crowded elevator, or in the middle of dinner in a nice restaurant.” He finally had her smiling.