Historical

1928 RALEIGH, NORTH CAROLINA Akemi was taking a while to adjust. Her father, mother, and sister had made the trip to Japan a few weeks before to finally complete the adoption process and bring her home. She was overwhelmed. There were so many new faces and personalities to learn. Everything was so different here in America. The day-to-day life was nothing like she was used to. Akemi had never known that you could miss your old home so much—even if you were in a new home. She’d owned next to nothing back at the orphanage in Japan, so she didn’t even have anything to remind her of her native land. Her mother, Rachel, understood the way her new daughter was feeling, for she had been adopted herself when she was eleven years old. Her sister, Grace, was fourteen years old and understood that she was simply to comfort her sister. Akemi had definitely taken to Grace. She still wouldn’t speak to anyone but would stand by her sister whenever she could and sit next to her at the dinner table. Her father, Chris, knew that Akemi was still trying to get used to her new surroundings. He was concerned for her, though. All of the adoption guidebooks instructed him to just keep loving her, and he tried to do that as much as he could. He only wished that there was something he could do, even a little something, to make her feel a little more at home. Akemi had never known that you could miss your old home so much Chris knew he had to return to work the following day but couldn’t even begin to think about that. He was absolutely exhausted from their long journey to Japan and only wanted to rest. He knew that wouldn’t be happening in the next few days, though. Chris worked at the North Carolina Museum of Natural Sciences, where he set up and removed exhibits. He also assisted with some of the cleaning occasionally. All of this took place before and after museum hours, so Chris had early mornings and—sometimes— late nights. He was usually around to help his daughter with her homework, though. Soon Akemi would be going to school, too, and he could help her with her homework as well. The orphanage that Akemi had lived in for the first twelve years of her life had given her basic schooling and English lessons, as most of the parents looking to adopt from that orphanage spoke English. That made Akemi’s transition much easier, as she would have had much more to learn had she not spoken the country’s language. *          *          * Chris headed up the stairs to the girls’ bedroom to say good night to them. The family had a three-bedroom home, but Akemi seemed most comfortable sharing a room with Grace for the time being. Before adopting Akemi, the family of three had spent much time and effort putting a room together for her. The beautiful purple and gray designs painstakingly painted on the walls, the desk and dresser all ready to be used. But, if Akemi wanted to share a room with Grace, no one was going to upset her. Chris said good night to his daughters and then headed back to the family room. He pulled out his folder of work assignments and sat down to review. The task summary described a doll to be put on display. “A doll?” thought Chris. “Why on earth would we put a doll in an exhibit?” As he read on, the instructions outlined a bit of the doll’s history. The doll to be put on display has been christened Miss Kagawa. As some will recall, in the early months of last year, our country sent around 12,000 dolls to Japan as a gift of friendship because of the discrimination being placed on Japanese immigrants here. Eiichi Shibusawa from Japan organized a “thank you” gift and led the creation of fifty-eight Japanese “Friendship Dolls” to be sent to the states. The dolls traveled across the U.S., and the North Carolina Museum of Natural Sciences has the opportunity to house one of these dolls. Miss Kagawa has in her possession a ticket for a steamship, a passport, and various accessories and furniture. You will place and position these items as shown in the diagram included. This exhibit will be set up on the morning of October 5th, 1928. Please report to the circulation counter at five-thirty that morning for further details. Thanks, Tom Highton Museum Exhibit Manager October 5th was, unfortunately, the following day. Chris decided to turn in early, for he had a big day ahead of him. *          *          * Chris woke to his alarm at five o’clock the next morning and, begrudgingly, readied himself for work. He ate a quick breakfast and climbed into the car. The drive to work wasn’t too long, and Chris was there in a matter of minutes. Chris would have walked to work, but the air was surprisingly biting for October. Pulling his key out of his pocket, Chris opened the museum’s side door and proceeded to the circulation desk as the directions instructed. There, the exhibit manager, Tom, stood waiting for him. “Morning, Chris,” Tom boomed. Tom was a very loud man, but he was always smiling. Chris had discovered that no matter how tired he was, Tom’s smile was usually effective in fully waking him up. “Morning, Tom,” Chris replied. “Do you have the details on this doll exhibit?” “That I do,” Tom said as he reached over the counter and grabbed a folder. Tom then showed Chris everything he would need to know to set the exhibit up that morning. There were diagrams, handwritten notes, and photos of exactly how the case was to look when it was completely set up. Chris thanked Tom and went to find the empty display case he was to use. The doll and her accessories would be inside this case, which would be

A large hand wiped the tears from Tom’s small red eyes. “Don’t worry, son,” he smiled, “I swear we’ll come back.” Tom hoped so, with all of his eight-year-old heart. But it still hurt so much to watch his father and brother go off to war. Even though President Lincoln needed soldiers, Tom still puzzled over why it had to be his family. “Why not John or Mary’s? Why did my father and sixteen-year-old brother Stephen have to go to war?” he asked himself. This terrible war. Why, thought Tom, why? For three long years Tom believed his father and brother were coming back. He still did but he felt his poor mom was losing hope. He heard it in the way she spoke and the way she acted. But life went on. Tom’s mind grew faster than his body. At age nine he was only three-and-a-half feet tall. Now at the young age of eleven he had barely grown a foot from the last measurement. He was pushed and bullied by schoolmates and teachers alike, most likely because of his size but also maybe because he was so smart. So instead of playing outside like everyone else, he dedicated his life to reading and learning just like his biggest heros, his dad and brother. He thought about them more than ever as the years went on. Right in front of their house was Grant’s army, its flag billowing in the breeze The old pages crinkled as the wind blew the yellow dog-eared book. Tom sighed. Even with his few savings, made from selling wild blackberries, his mother wouldn’t let him buy a new book. I’m sorry Tom, but money’s too tight. Save it for something useful, yak yak, blah blah, Tom thought scornfully. To him, reading was very important. Though he knew he had to help support his mother, sometimes be wanted to be like his other hero: Lewis Carroll. Almost no one around there ever heard of him. It made Tom crazy to think that Carroll was unknown. It was an outrage. Don’t they know who’s creating modern literature? he angrily thought. All that mattered to everyone else was strength and appearance. But now he barely had time to read. He had to do chores like go into town on errands, feed the animals and so much more. His days were full. As much as he wanted, his reading time was becoming shorter and shorter. How come no one believed in being smart? Tom shut his book. He took a deep shaky breath. Inhale, he thought, careful now, exhale. He was bored and grouchy as he thought about his life. His mom had stopped his schooling, which was the only thing that made him happy (apart from learning in books and thinking about the old times with his dad and brother). She made him chop wood or hunt or feed the animals or harvest the crops. Tom knew she missed his dad and brother as much as he did but she tried not to show it. She was a strong brave woman, like a mom should be, but was very stern. And when she got angry, you did not want to be there . . . Every week Tom would go into town with her. They would go to the general store and, every week, Tom would ask Mr. Cameron, the owner, if any letters had come. None ever did! Where can his father and brother be? he thought. Tom puzzled over this question as he had a hundred times before. He knew that joining the army was the right thing to do but a war was very scary. Now the idea of them dead was circling in his mind, getting closer and closer to his believing it. “Get out,” he silently screamed at the horrible thought, “out! out!” He clenched his teeth and balled his hand. “OUT!!” he screamed out. His shout even surprised himself. In an instant his mom raced through the door. “What happened, Tom?” she yelled, her small face slowly turning white. “Are you hurt?” Tom silently looked up at his mom, her small figure layered with patched and ragged clothes. Tom wiped his black hair from his eyes. “Nothing,” he muttered in sadness, “nothing.” Her face relaxed. She understood how he felt. She took a seat at the fire while Tom looked out the window, slowly watching the snowfall. “No letters came?” she nervously asked. “None at all,” he sighed. “None at all.” She adjusted her dirty bonnet. “It’s time to go home,” she said. Life on the farm without Father and Stephen was hard and stressful. Aside from the extra work he now had to do, he missed their friendship. While his mother was kind and loved him very much, there was something special that connected his father and brother to him. Maybe because they were all men. Plus there was no one around to help, or teach him many of the chores. Tom was now forced to do, like how to shoot or how to cut down trees. No man could ever support a family or just a mother without learning these skills. It was impossible! Although Tom was not that big or strong he believed that with enough practice, skill and knowledge would come. Every day, with his spare time, he practiced everything he needed to know. It might take time but he was convinced he could be like his father and brother. But even when they had been there, the family barely got along with so little money. Between the bad crop seasons and the poor game, they were forced to stop buying many of the things they wanted. Tom thought this was unfair. All his other friends were as poor as him, but at least they had their whole family. Worst of all, after his dad left, his mom asked Tom to quit schooling so he could work. Tom missed it terribly. As a young child, he

A large hand wiped the tears from Tom’s small red eyes. “Don’t worry, son,” he smiled, “I swear we’ll come back.” Tom hoped so, with all of his eight-year-old heart. But it still hurt so much to watch his father and brother go off to war. Even though President Lincoln needed soldiers, Tom still puzzled over why it had to be his family. “Why not John or Mary’s? Why did my father and sixteen-year-old brother Stephen have to go to war?” he asked himself. This terrible war. Why, thought Tom, why? For three long years Tom believed his father and brother were coming back. He still did but he felt his poor mom was losing hope. He heard it in the way she spoke and the way she acted. But life went on. Tom’s mind grew faster than his body. At age nine he was only three-and-a-half feet tall. Now at the young age of eleven he had barely grown a foot from the last measurement. He was pushed and bullied by schoolmates and teachers alike, most likely because of his size but also maybe because he was so smart. So instead of playing outside like everyone else, he dedicated his life to reading and learning just like his biggest heros, his dad and brother. He thought about them more than ever as the years went on. Right in front of their house was Grant’s army, its flag billowing in the breeze The old pages crinkled as the wind blew the yellow dog-eared book. Tom sighed. Even with his few savings, made from selling wild blackberries, his mother wouldn’t let him buy a new book. I’m sorry Tom, but money’s too tight. Save it for something useful, yak yak, blah blah, Tom thought scornfully. To him, reading was very important. Though he knew he had to help support his mother, sometimes be wanted to be like his other hero: Lewis Carroll. Almost no one around there ever heard of him. It made Tom crazy to think that Carroll was unknown. It was an outrage. Don’t they know who’s creating modern literature? he angrily thought. All that mattered to everyone else was strength and appearance. But now he barely had time to read. He had to do chores like go into town on errands, feed the animals and so much more. His days were full. As much as he wanted, his reading time was becoming shorter and shorter. How come no one believed in being smart? Tom shut his book. He took a deep shaky breath. Inhale, he thought, careful now, exhale. He was bored and grouchy as he thought about his life. His mom had stopped his schooling, which was the only thing that made him happy (apart from learning in books and thinking about the old times with his dad and brother). She made him chop wood or hunt or feed the animals or harvest the crops. Tom knew she missed his dad and brother as much as he did but she tried not to show it. She was a strong brave woman, like a mom should be, but was very stern. And when she got angry, you did not want to be there . . . Every week Tom would go into town with her. They would go to the general store and, every week, Tom would ask Mr. Cameron, the owner, if any letters had come. None ever did! Where can his father and brother be? he thought. Tom puzzled over this question as he had a hundred times before. He knew that joining the army was the right thing to do but a war was very scary. Now the idea of them dead was circling in his mind, getting closer and closer to his believing it. “Get out,” he silently screamed at the horrible thought, “out! out!” He clenched his teeth and balled his hand. “OUT!!” he screamed out. His shout even surprised himself. In an instant his mom raced through the door. “What happened, Tom?” she yelled, her small face slowly turning white. “Are you hurt?” Tom silently looked up at his mom, her small figure layered with patched and ragged clothes. Tom wiped his black hair from his eyes. “Nothing,” he muttered in sadness, “nothing.” Her face relaxed. She understood how he felt. She took a seat at the fire while Tom looked out the window, slowly watching the snowfall. “No letters came?” she nervously asked. “None at all,” he sighed. “None at all.” She adjusted her dirty bonnet. “It’s time to go home,” she said. Life on the farm without Father and Stephen was hard and stressful. Aside from the extra work he now had to do, he missed their friendship. While his mother was kind and loved him very much, there was something special that connected his father and brother to him. Maybe because they were all men. Plus there was no one around to help, or teach him many of the chores. Tom was now forced to do, like how to shoot or how to cut down trees. No man could ever support a family or just a mother without learning these skills. It was impossible! Although Tom was not that big or strong he believed that with enough practice, skill and knowledge would come. Every day, with his spare time, he practiced everything he needed to know. It might take time but he was convinced he could be like his father and brother. But even when they had been there, the family barely got along with so little money. Between the bad crop seasons and the poor game, they were forced to stop buying many of the things they wanted. Tom thought this was unfair. All his other friends were as poor as him, but at least they had their whole family. Worst of all, after his dad left, his mom asked Tom to quit schooling so he could work. Tom missed it terribly. As a young child, he