Cherry Blossom Baseball by Jennifer Maruno Page B

him,” he said. “That’s why he took the job building houses.”
    â€œDid you ever want to wear a uniform?” Michiko asked.
    Sam spat on his boot and kept on cleaning.
    H e’s not going to answer my question. Michiko rose from the table to head for her room.
    Sam put down his boot as the colour drained from his face. When he spoke, his voice was thin, and it quavered. “I have lived and worked in Canada longer than I did in Japan. They still don’t see me as a Canadian because of my face.” He looked down.
    Eiko put her hand on his arm.
    Sam lifted his head and cleared his throat to make his voice sound strong again. “But we need to put all these things behind us now,” he said. “We can spend the rest of our lives blaming the war, the government, the camp, the prime minister. Instead of complaining, we should work hard to make things better.”
    â€œThings will be better when it’s baseball season,” Michiko said, trying to cheer him up.
    Sam gave her a wide smile. “Like the games in the ghost town,” he said. “Everyone stopped looking at the colour of other people’s skin and started looking at their batting average.”
    Michiko had one Christmas card left. She decided to send it to her Uncle Kaz. Mrs. McIntosh would know how to get it to him.

    Christmas preparations brought a small tree that filled their little house with the scent of pine. To Michiko’s and Hiro’s delight, their mother purchased lights and a box of tinsel.
    â€œWhen I was little,” she told them, as they decorated, “the pine tree stood outside the house, near the front door.”
    Michiko looked at her in surprise.
    â€œYour Uncle Ted used to go with Geechan to the woods to cut it down.” She inhaled the scent of pine and smiled. “Your grandfather would always say, ‘If the pine tree is strong and always green, our house will be blessed with strength and long life.’” Eiko turned to Michiko with a broad smile. “Sadie was the one who insisted the tree be set up indoors, like those of the rest of the children in her class.”
    Christmas morning, Michiko was thrilled with the books from her parents. Aunt Sadie had sent them a game of Snakes and Ladders. Uncle Ted made Hiro Noah’s ark, complete with four pairs of animals. The tiny red rowboat and set of oars was for her. Mrs. Morrison put a whole dollar bill in their Christmas card just for Michiko.
    That afternoon, Mrs. Palumbo left a covered casserole dish on their kitchen table. Eiko lifted the lid to reveal a large square of cheese and tomato sauce.
    â€œWhat is it?” Michiko asked as she sniffed at the steaming dish.
    â€œTonight’s dinner,” her mother responded, as she placed Mrs. Palumbo’s masterpiece into the oven. “Mr. Palumbo told your father she would be sending it over.”
    Christmas night, the Minagawa family gathered at the kitchen table, anxious to try the dish that filled the house with its spicy aroma. The strange food didn’t give Michiko the usual feeling of happiness as she unfolded her napkin. Her father’s hand shook as he accepted a plate of this unfamiliar dish the Palumbo family called lasagna. But to everyone’s surprise, the frilly noodles, the delicious savoury meat, tomato sauce, and sharp cheese blended together perfectly.
    There were other treats as well. Mr. Downey had given their family a fancy wrapped box. When Eiko lifted the lid and opened the wax paper, she discovered a cake of dried fruit and nuts, topped with white icing and glazed cherries. She served it with dishes of red Jello.
    But the feast they were all waiting for was New Year’s dinner, the biggest holiday of the year for the Japanese. Eiko had cooked from dawn, preparing thick rolls of nori- wrapped rice stuffed with strips of omelette and mushrooms. There was chawanmushi and chicken yakitori, too.
    Mr. Takahashi arrived in a