"CALIFORNIA BOYS WEAR JEANS"
4月
8日
My mother said on our weekly phone call, “Grandpa told me he didn’t want you to go to UCLA because the boys down there wear jeans.” We never talked long because calling was expensive in 1959.
This was in response to my choosing to transfer from Lewis & Clark Collage in Portland to either UCLA or U of Washington to finish my degree in nursing. My best friend from high school was in Los Angeles and we wrote letters to each other about the boys. The U of WA had a reputation for being the top school of nursing in the USA, so I chose the north direction with the encouragement from Mom and from her Dad?
Growing up on Eastern Oregon and Western Idaho farms, I was written up in the Vale, Oregon, newspaper as the first third-generation of Japanese heritage born in that area of the few Japanese living there before WWII. Grandpa and friends had migrated to start row crop farming after being discriminated out of the dairy business in the greater Seattle area.
My world was very small. Our farm was in a place called Sand Hollow. It was 8 miles to school in Notus and 12 miles to shop in Caldwell, Idaho, a couple times a year. Later we moved back across the Snake River to Ontario, population 5000. Going to school in Portland, I was again isolated to the smaller campus life.
I had passed my R.N. exam in Portland and took the train, arriving in Seattle, New Years Eve 1959-60. All my possession fit in to my blue Samsonite three-suitcase set and a metal trunk. Grandpa had arranged for me to stay with cousins, I interviewed at a couple of the hospitals and immediately got a job working in the Post-operative Surgical Ward of the King County. Hospital.
Interestingly, in those days, we were taught to wear a hat and gloves when we went to interview for a job. Being poor at that time, I sewed all my own clothes, but I did buy shoes and a pillbox hat. The shoes were $15. I don’t know where I got the money for my nurses uniforms to start work? Maybe, I started with my student uniforms?
Back to talking about the boys, my Mom told me on one of our weekly phone calls, “I heard you went out with… Grandpa doesn’t like that family.” How could they have heard about someone who I dated 500 miles away?? I knew they cared but the whole community caring was rather appalling at that time.
That’s when I realized that Grandpa had once been a community leader in the Seattle area and had a lot of connections that were maintained with business and social, even 500 miles away! I have also learned that the Japanese first generation immigrants in Seattle considered themselves more intellectual than those in California.
Such is life!









