Something big just happened, the words reaching out through the phone grabbing my attention. But they didn't illicit that much of an emotional response. It should have, I think in any normal person they would have. I just feel kind of numb. Not numb from like oh my god I can't believe what just happened, but just sort of numb. It must be this detached existence that I live, capable of faking emotions but never really knowing if they are genuine, My grandpa died, he was a cranky bastard but I admire how he took care of 6 kids in a bad era to be japanese.

Those were war years, years where they looked at you like the enemy. He was a no yes boy. Which if you don't know is pretty bad ass. After the japanese were interned they were given these questionaires to test their loyalty. Two of those questions were the most important. The first one was "Do you swear to denounce your loyalty to the country of Japan and the Emperor." That is like a paraphrased version of it. So there were no/no boys, who were the serious in your face fuck you kind of guys. They either said no to this because A) they were like, fuck you, I never had any loyalty to the emperor I am a fucking American, or B) Why would I denounce my loyalty to Japan when America treats me like shit, I may not have had any loyalty to them before but I damn sure know who's side I am on now (I don't think anyone was found to be aiding the Japanese out of the people that were interned, but I can understand a feeling of I hope you lose, you guys are dickheads.) Then there were Yes/yes, which were the go along with it they will realize they are wrong let's not act up kind of people (I think this would be me, am a bitch.) Then the Yes/No boys. So my Grandpa said he would denounce Japan, he was an american citizen afterall and they were at war. The second question was "Will you bear arms and fight for America?" So, people said yes, they wanted to prove they were real citizens, they were not the enemy, they would go and prove it.

Other people said no, because first off why would I fight for a bunch of assholes that rounded us up, imprisioned us, and made us abandon our homes just because of the color of our skin? How fucked up is that? You go gather your family, bring only what you can carry, and most people had kids so they had to carry them and their luggage too, and then go sleep in these horse stables. Oh and also would you like to fight to protect this great country? My grandpa said no. He actually stood up in the mess hall and questioned the officers that were trying to get him to enlist. He said that he would not serve because the very fact that they were imprisoned violated the constitutional rights that they had as citizens and went against all the democratic principles that this country stood for. He had the balls to stand up in a military compound and question the people with the guns. To stand up for what he believed in. Afterwards people came up to him and said, "Why did you say that? They are going to lock you up." He turned looked at them and said, "What are you talking about? Look around you, we are already locked up?" Now those are balls I do not have, he was stronger than me, and you have to admire that in a man.
He was drafted to fight in the army anyway, but he served as an optometrist.

My Grandpa went to a university that is in high esteem today. He was actually disowned from his family because of this. His father wanted him to stay on the farm with the family. Instead my Grandpa understood the importance of a good education and he struck out on his own. Another situation where he showed some big balls. Disowned? Doesn't matter I am going to college. Thank god that he did, otherwise who knows what the family would be doing right now. We would probably be farmers in Fresno. But thanks to his gumption he was able to get a higher education, recieve his PHD and start his own private practice with two offices in hick ass towns. He was successful, active, in japanese american organizations, in organizatins within his occupation. He was president of the school board. This guy had his shit together. I just saw a plaque of his the other day that said president of the optometric society when we were cleaning out his storage space. cleaning it out like a precursor to his death. moving things, his things.

They said they arent having a funeral, they said they werent having a wake. My mom wasn't even crying, she said my grandma is fine. I think it was the slow deterioration, his mind slowly losing it's grip, accusations that made no sense, illusions that didnt exist. Even before that he wasnt very loveable though, he was rough around the edges, held grudges, he was gruff, grumpy, surly. but you have to admire what he did, he raised an optometrist, a doctor, a professor, a buisnessman, a teacher, and a state worker. he kept them fed, none of them fucked up their lives and that in itself is pretty amazing. my mom said he was never the same after he had that stroke. this was way back when he was younger, he was like 40 or something, I never knew him prestroke, but he was never the playful grandpa, you never really ran up and jumped on his lap, a pattern of detachment, leading to a simple acceptence of his passing. Everyone seems to be taking it well saying it's better, he is at rest. It's just so unmovie like, non dramatic, a life gone like a bump in the night. a small blip on the screen, which is what I guess we all are. This is dedicated to my grandpa George, thank you for all that you did, for ensuring the future of this family, for being strong in hard times to be strong.

(This piece may have two different tones, one was written before the funeral and left private, before I learned some stuff I didn't know. The second tone was just written today after I re-read the piece, added some, and decided that I would share this piece. I haven't re-read it as a whole so I don't even know if it meshes together, and I don't really care so yeah whatever.)