It was 1962, Culver City, California.
“The manager said I wasn’t doing a good enough job,” she said. She held the cigarette in her hand an inch of ashes at the end. Laraine pushed a tin ashtray over to June.
“Mom, maybe he’s just acting out his own frustration because the boss stressed him out. Perhaps it isn’t anything personal. You were just the one there he could vent at.”
“You think so?”
“Yes, people vent. It’s like a chain reaction. Don’t take it personally.”
Irene came in and noted the conversation. If Laraine offered June any solace or comfort, Irene became jealous. There had always been competition between the girls but it seemed to have heightened over the months. June was the only support and had not been in any condition for some time to be a real mother. She was especially bad at Christmas and knocked over the Christmas tree.
Laraine felt herself slipping deeper into depression as each day played over the same conversations with the same results. She gave up reading psychology books. They helped her to understand people but had done nothing about helping her live better with other people. The comfort given to June was not helping June recover. It was enough only to maintain the status quo. June needed professional help but she wasn’t getting it.
Gloriana Soriano was a student at Santa Monica City College. She invited Laraine to move in with her and her uncle. It was only a few blocks away from June’s house. Laraine decided to see what would happen if she moved out.
“Mom, I just want to be a little more responsible for myself. I will be visiting often. I’m only a few blocks away. You can come and visit me there.”
The day Laraine was to move out, she arrived home from Santa Monica City College to find Uncle George’s car in the driveway. June was in the hospital. She was in withdrawal from Seconal and it had sent her body into shock. She was in a coma.
“It was a good thing I happened by. No telling what her condition would be now,” he said with contempt. “You are going to stay now, aren’t you?”
The days went by strangely. Uncles came over and began to renovate the house. Their plan was to sell it to pay the medical bills. They cleaned, painted and installed a new wall heating device; realizing for the first time how poorly the house had been constructed. Some contractor had taken advantage of the returning Japanese after the war and quickly constructed structurally unsound houses with no insulation. Irene and Laraine took care to pay bills.
One day, Laraine went through the papers that June kept in a cabinet. She found the house payment bill, but also a letter from Paul, from her father."…How could you think that you could get more money, when all these years you wouldn’t let me speak or write to the children or send them gifts... Because of you, I am no longer in the army and there won’t be any more support money. You lied about the divorce and never had the courtesy to let me know you had not filed the papers you sent me to sign. I have my own family now to support… "
Laraine's mind stuck on the words “you wouldn’t let me”. Her father hadn’t abandoned her. June forbade him. If she worked the
time clock back, the time of the letter, that was when June’s slide into oblivion began to escalate. Paul had supported the family for years and she had said nothing. The letter wasn’t dated but Laraine guessed it was sent after June asked the girls to write him for money.
June was in the right place. She was in professional care and so she had a chance to finally recover. For the first time in a long
time, Laraine was not the one that needed to watch over her. For the first time in her life, she could just be a teenager, a normal teenager. For the first time, the very first time, she felt light-spirited and joyful. Someone said June had coma psychosis, she had
committed mental suicide. They said there was no physical reason why she was in a coma.
“You know what the uncles are saying,” said Irene. “You’re leaving precipitated the coma.”
“They’ve made it clear to me what they think.”
“You’re not leaving now are you?”
“No.”
Dear Diary,
There’s no reason to leave now. As for the uncles, you would think ministers would look a little deeper and be a little wiser. Perhaps they are all working through their own guilt for letting the situation get so out of control.
Laraine paid the house payment and had her hair done. She went out and ate breakfast at a restaurant. She smiled. She laughed. She felt good to be alive. Irene kept in contact with the relatives.
“She’s going through electroshock treatment. They’re hoping to bring her out of the coma,” she said. “They don’t want us to visit her yet.”
Dear Diary, I know the doctors will do the right thing. I know she is going to recover. Everyone else is so uncertain. How can they be ministers and not have faith?
June came out of the coma. She asked the uncles about her daughters. She said she remembered one was leaving. They told her Irene was leaving. June was considered to be still too fragile to know the truth. Uncle Smitty took the girls to visit her at Chino, the psychiatric place. The girls took her fresh underwear.
“So how are you girls doing?” She asked.
“We’re working and going to school,” Laraine said.
“We have a new apartment in Los Angeles,” said Irene. “It isn’t bad, you’ll like it there. We don’t have to do the gardening!”
But my tree is gone and we lost the cat during the transition, Laraine thought, and all my Wonder Woman comic books were thrown away.
“Are you girls dating?”
“I’m still going out with the same crowd. We get together on weekends,” Irene said. “Working and going to school though doesn’t leave a lot of time for other things.”
June looked at Laraine.
“I am dating someone new. I met Larry at Sam’s-U-Drive. He works there too.”
“Caucasian, no doubt,” June said smiling.
There was hesitation and then, “No, actually he’s from a Black heritage.”
There were startled looks. Laraine was sure Uncle Smitty would go back and drop that bombshell on the rest of the family. They were both polite about it though. That’s the Japanese way.
The girls were moved into the apartment, they spent more time together. They visited Aunt Ruby, the “black sheep” of the family on the Tsutsui side, Paul’s sister. Aunt Ruby gave the girls clothes and took them to see her friend who gave the girls shoes. They
liked Aunt Ruby. The talk was that there was a time in her life when she “slept around.” The girls had long discussions, philosophical discussions about men and life in general. They even bought a small Christmas tree at Christmas time in an attempt at holiday
spirit. Paul’s side of the family, whom they rarely saw since he left for Japan fourteen years prior, brought gifts. The girls were delighted with the extra attention and gifts. Some of the gifts looked quite expensive, almost as if the relatives were trying to make
up for years of neglect. Better late than never and it wouldn’t be Christmas without gifts.
“What am I going to do with a white sweater with black mink trim?” asked Irene.
“I could switch out the trim and put my white mink trim on your sweater and the black mink on my black sweater,” responded Laraine.
“Please do!”
Christmas Eve, Uncle Walt called to say he was coming by and bringing a little something. He apologized over the phone and said it wasn’t much. Anticipation was high. Uncle Walt was Paul’s older brother. A widower, he was a frail looking man, small and trembling.
Irene and Laraine heard the sputtering of his rickety, rackety, old, old truck pull up to the curb. Then they answered the very quiet knock at the door.
“Hi girls,” said Uncle Walt. “I only have a moment. My boys are in the car. I wanted to let you know I’ve been thinking about you. I am so sorry about your mother. If we had only known.”
He apologized again and again at the door as he handed over an envelope. His droopy, hound dog eyes gave him an especially sad look but there was a twinkle there and his concern was genuine.
“It isn’t much. I wish it could be more. I wanted you to know you are in my thoughts.”
The girls politely waited until he was gone before tearing into the envelope. There was nothing in the envelope but a card. It wasn’t even a Hallmark! The girls discussed it and decided that there might have been money in the card but that the sons pilfered it. A nagging feeling deep inside Laraine said there was never anything in the card. He drove miles out of his way, in a beat up truck, to deliver a card and it wasn’t even a Hallmark.
Dear Diary, The foolish things of the world are often used to confound and reprove even the wisdom of the wise. God likes to use the simple, humble things so none may boast. And He loves those who give out of their poverty. Most people will only give if they have something to boast about. Uncle Walt’s humility was the greatest gift.
The psychiatrist’s diagnosis was that June was over burdened with the financial responsibilities of caring for her children. He recommended a medical disability for her for some time. She did recover enough to go back to work at a U.S. Post Office. The uncles sold the California house right before the real estate boom. Laraine married Larry and moved to San Fernando Valley. She dropped out of college and had her first baby. And so began the next generation, the next saga.
“The manager said I wasn’t doing a good enough job,” she said. She held the cigarette in her hand an inch of ashes at the end. Laraine pushed a tin ashtray over to June.
“Mom, maybe he’s just acting out his own frustration because the boss stressed him out. Perhaps it isn’t anything personal. You were just the one there he could vent at.”
“You think so?”
“Yes, people vent. It’s like a chain reaction. Don’t take it personally.”
Irene came in and noted the conversation. If Laraine offered June any solace or comfort, Irene became jealous. There had always been competition between the girls but it seemed to have heightened over the months. June was the only support and had not been in any condition for some time to be a real mother. She was especially bad at Christmas and knocked over the Christmas tree.
Laraine felt herself slipping deeper into depression as each day played over the same conversations with the same results. She gave up reading psychology books. They helped her to understand people but had done nothing about helping her live better with other people. The comfort given to June was not helping June recover. It was enough only to maintain the status quo. June needed professional help but she wasn’t getting it.
Gloriana Soriano was a student at Santa Monica City College. She invited Laraine to move in with her and her uncle. It was only a few blocks away from June’s house. Laraine decided to see what would happen if she moved out.
“Mom, I just want to be a little more responsible for myself. I will be visiting often. I’m only a few blocks away. You can come and visit me there.”
The day Laraine was to move out, she arrived home from Santa Monica City College to find Uncle George’s car in the driveway. June was in the hospital. She was in withdrawal from Seconal and it had sent her body into shock. She was in a coma.
“It was a good thing I happened by. No telling what her condition would be now,” he said with contempt. “You are going to stay now, aren’t you?”
The days went by strangely. Uncles came over and began to renovate the house. Their plan was to sell it to pay the medical bills. They cleaned, painted and installed a new wall heating device; realizing for the first time how poorly the house had been constructed. Some contractor had taken advantage of the returning Japanese after the war and quickly constructed structurally unsound houses with no insulation. Irene and Laraine took care to pay bills.
One day, Laraine went through the papers that June kept in a cabinet. She found the house payment bill, but also a letter from Paul, from her father."…How could you think that you could get more money, when all these years you wouldn’t let me speak or write to the children or send them gifts... Because of you, I am no longer in the army and there won’t be any more support money. You lied about the divorce and never had the courtesy to let me know you had not filed the papers you sent me to sign. I have my own family now to support… "
Laraine's mind stuck on the words “you wouldn’t let me”. Her father hadn’t abandoned her. June forbade him. If she worked the
time clock back, the time of the letter, that was when June’s slide into oblivion began to escalate. Paul had supported the family for years and she had said nothing. The letter wasn’t dated but Laraine guessed it was sent after June asked the girls to write him for money.
June was in the right place. She was in professional care and so she had a chance to finally recover. For the first time in a long
time, Laraine was not the one that needed to watch over her. For the first time in her life, she could just be a teenager, a normal teenager. For the first time, the very first time, she felt light-spirited and joyful. Someone said June had coma psychosis, she had
committed mental suicide. They said there was no physical reason why she was in a coma.
“You know what the uncles are saying,” said Irene. “You’re leaving precipitated the coma.”
“They’ve made it clear to me what they think.”
“You’re not leaving now are you?”
“No.”
Dear Diary,
There’s no reason to leave now. As for the uncles, you would think ministers would look a little deeper and be a little wiser. Perhaps they are all working through their own guilt for letting the situation get so out of control.
Laraine paid the house payment and had her hair done. She went out and ate breakfast at a restaurant. She smiled. She laughed. She felt good to be alive. Irene kept in contact with the relatives.
“She’s going through electroshock treatment. They’re hoping to bring her out of the coma,” she said. “They don’t want us to visit her yet.”
Dear Diary, I know the doctors will do the right thing. I know she is going to recover. Everyone else is so uncertain. How can they be ministers and not have faith?
June came out of the coma. She asked the uncles about her daughters. She said she remembered one was leaving. They told her Irene was leaving. June was considered to be still too fragile to know the truth. Uncle Smitty took the girls to visit her at Chino, the psychiatric place. The girls took her fresh underwear.
“So how are you girls doing?” She asked.
“We’re working and going to school,” Laraine said.
“We have a new apartment in Los Angeles,” said Irene. “It isn’t bad, you’ll like it there. We don’t have to do the gardening!”
But my tree is gone and we lost the cat during the transition, Laraine thought, and all my Wonder Woman comic books were thrown away.
“Are you girls dating?”
“I’m still going out with the same crowd. We get together on weekends,” Irene said. “Working and going to school though doesn’t leave a lot of time for other things.”
June looked at Laraine.
“I am dating someone new. I met Larry at Sam’s-U-Drive. He works there too.”
“Caucasian, no doubt,” June said smiling.
There was hesitation and then, “No, actually he’s from a Black heritage.”
There were startled looks. Laraine was sure Uncle Smitty would go back and drop that bombshell on the rest of the family. They were both polite about it though. That’s the Japanese way.
The girls were moved into the apartment, they spent more time together. They visited Aunt Ruby, the “black sheep” of the family on the Tsutsui side, Paul’s sister. Aunt Ruby gave the girls clothes and took them to see her friend who gave the girls shoes. They
liked Aunt Ruby. The talk was that there was a time in her life when she “slept around.” The girls had long discussions, philosophical discussions about men and life in general. They even bought a small Christmas tree at Christmas time in an attempt at holiday
spirit. Paul’s side of the family, whom they rarely saw since he left for Japan fourteen years prior, brought gifts. The girls were delighted with the extra attention and gifts. Some of the gifts looked quite expensive, almost as if the relatives were trying to make
up for years of neglect. Better late than never and it wouldn’t be Christmas without gifts.
“What am I going to do with a white sweater with black mink trim?” asked Irene.
“I could switch out the trim and put my white mink trim on your sweater and the black mink on my black sweater,” responded Laraine.
“Please do!”
Christmas Eve, Uncle Walt called to say he was coming by and bringing a little something. He apologized over the phone and said it wasn’t much. Anticipation was high. Uncle Walt was Paul’s older brother. A widower, he was a frail looking man, small and trembling.
Irene and Laraine heard the sputtering of his rickety, rackety, old, old truck pull up to the curb. Then they answered the very quiet knock at the door.
“Hi girls,” said Uncle Walt. “I only have a moment. My boys are in the car. I wanted to let you know I’ve been thinking about you. I am so sorry about your mother. If we had only known.”
He apologized again and again at the door as he handed over an envelope. His droopy, hound dog eyes gave him an especially sad look but there was a twinkle there and his concern was genuine.
“It isn’t much. I wish it could be more. I wanted you to know you are in my thoughts.”
The girls politely waited until he was gone before tearing into the envelope. There was nothing in the envelope but a card. It wasn’t even a Hallmark! The girls discussed it and decided that there might have been money in the card but that the sons pilfered it. A nagging feeling deep inside Laraine said there was never anything in the card. He drove miles out of his way, in a beat up truck, to deliver a card and it wasn’t even a Hallmark.
Dear Diary, The foolish things of the world are often used to confound and reprove even the wisdom of the wise. God likes to use the simple, humble things so none may boast. And He loves those who give out of their poverty. Most people will only give if they have something to boast about. Uncle Walt’s humility was the greatest gift.
The psychiatrist’s diagnosis was that June was over burdened with the financial responsibilities of caring for her children. He recommended a medical disability for her for some time. She did recover enough to go back to work at a U.S. Post Office. The uncles sold the California house right before the real estate boom. Laraine married Larry and moved to San Fernando Valley. She dropped out of college and had her first baby. And so began the next generation, the next saga.