By kiki
My dad had a
Japanese friend who had a farm on Greenwood Blvd., just north of Telegraph Road
in South Montebello. Not sure if it was in the Montebello City limits. Soon
after the Dec. 7, 1941 bombing of Pearl Harbor my dad’s friend was roundup with
his wife and young family and send to a “War Relocation” camp.
We were
living in the Simons Brickyard at the time when my dad’s friend was roundup. I
remember pops going to say goodbye to his friend the day they were going to be
to be driven away from the farm, when pops got back home, he told us that we
were moving into his friend’s farm. I don’t know what kind of arrangements pops
made, or with whom he made them with.
I don’t
remember actually the year we moved into what we called “El Rancho”, but it
was during the early days of the war.
I really
don’t know why we called it a “ranch” when it was a farm. My dad’s friend, how
I wish I knew his name, but I don’t, grew black-eyed beans, tomatoes, cabbage, green chilies
and lettuces, etc. The house on the farm was pretty good sized. It was the
first time I had had a bedroom to myself. There was a small irrigation channel
that ran alongside the house. Don’t remember ever jumping in the water, but
that channel gave “El Rancho” character. In the winter that we lived at the
farm I remember that my older late sister, Rachel, and I, all bundle up in our
winter clothing had to walk through frozen farm land, that area was all farms
in the ‘40s, on our way to school at Vail Elementary, which was about a forty
minute walk. Back at the farm after school I remember picking black-eye beans for
mom to cook, also picking up a cabbage that mom would cook, I love cooked
cabbage!!
For some
reason or other we didn’t stayed at “El Rancho” long, maybe six months.
Couple of memories still embedded in my mind from those days we spend at the
farm: remember Rachel and I sitting by the window, looking out of our dark
house as search lights lighted up the sky to identified unidentified
aircraft…One memories that comes to life when I close my eyes is when we had
retired for the night, I would be lying in bed in my dark bedroom listening to
the big rigs as they roared up and down Telegraph Road. Will never forget those
months we lived in “El Rancho”
