Japanese faces, American hearts
Yoshio Nakamura remembers Dec. 7, 1941. The panic of a nation. The cries for revenge and anger from his neighbors. The sentiments boiled within him, too.
But “Yosh,” as he likes to be called, also recalls the rage directed at people who looked like him in the wake of that day of infamy. The suspicions. The eventual order to leave his home.
That dreaded notice arrived in May 1942. Yosh was a junior in high school in El Monte, California. Just months earlier, inside that blissfully isolated existence unique to teenage academia, his classmates had elected him president of the