Saturday, November 3, 2007
The Process part 2
The pinkie ball.
Rubber, pink, resilient, $1.95.
So, the story goes like this, as told by Grandpa Jack: I was riding in a truck driving on an irrigation canal (at Gila River Canal Camp). It turned over and I broke my hands. Since then, I squeeze the ball to help heal my hands. If this didn’t happen, I would have had to join the Army like my brother Tsuk (Tsukasa Tanaka was a member of 100th Inf. BN, served in Italy and returned with an Italian wife, Maria).
This story stuck with me. And there it stayed until I recalled it after his death in 2007. So, if my grandparents can be seen as ‘typical’ of their generation, I was able to hear one story about the war years from only one of four grandfolks. Which begs a question, I know three people who didn’t pass on their experiences, of the other roughly 116,000 people how many didn’t say anything to their children and grand children?