The generation that came of age during World War II, my grandparents’ generation and what Tom Brokaw called the “Greatest Generation,” is quickly dwindling.
After a great aunt died this past weekend, only two relatives of that generation on either side of my family are still alive.
I enjoy talking to people who are of that age because it’s often fascinating. Too often we’re so busy running around we don’t take the time to listen. The Larry Henry story on Roman Miller that ran in a couple of the sports sections last week is still only a Cliff notes version of the man’s experiences. Miller, who was instrumental in getting Terry Ennis to come to Archbishop Murphy, is in his mid-80s and it seems he knows something about everyone and everything.
I visit my great-uncle, who is in his mid-80s, a couple times a month at his home on Beacon Hill. He was born in Seattle and has lived here his whole life. His memory is still sharp, years after retiring from running a construction supply business on Mercer Island. A graduate of Franklin High School, he remembers going to school with such icons as baseball player Fred Hutchinson and the great newspaper columnist Emmett Watson. After lunch in the International District a few weeks ago, we stopped at the Panama Hotel’s tea house. He pointed out his Washington Junior High eighth-grade graduation photo, circa 1937.
Back in May, I went down to the University of Washington and watched him and dozens his peers in their 80s get college degrees.
It was an unusual ceremony and one that was long overdue.
Several months after Japan bombed Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7, 1941, President Franklin Roosevelt issued Executive Order 9066, which barred those of Japanese descent, most of them American citizens, from living on the West Coast. More than 100,000 Japanese-Americans were put behind barbed wire in internment camps in desolate areas across the western United States. They spent several years until the end of the war either in the camps or away from home. Not a single Japanese-American was ever convicted of treason and many, including my grandfather, served in the armed forces in Europe.
At that time, about 450 Japanese-Americans, including my great-uncle and grandmother, were attending the University of Washington. They would be forced to discontinue their education there. The university was able to relocate about 58 students to other colleges and a few received diplomas in a makeshift ceremony at the Puyallup Fairgrounds where they were being held. But most never returned to the UW to get a degree, until May.
About 70 of the students, now in their 80s, attended the ceremony at Kane Hall to receive their honorary degrees, in an unprecedented act by the university. My great-uncle thought too much of a fuss was being made, but he eventually decided to go and saw old friends he hadn’t seen in years. My family was among many that cheered them on. My mother accepted a degree from UW President Mark Emmert on behalf of my grandmother, who passed away five years ago.
Former U.S. Congressman and Transportation Secretary Norman Mineta, who lived in an internment camp as a boy, gave the commencement address.
“It’s never too late to do the right thing,” Mineta said. “It’s never too late to rejoice that the right thing has finally been done. And it’s never too late to be grateful to those who do the right thing.”
Many times, the so-called Greatest Generation rose to the occasion and did what had to be done. We can learn from them, but now it’s our turn to take the reins.
Tony Dondero is assistant sports editor for The Enterprise.
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