“COME on, Pop. Come build a snowman with Hiro and me,” Tomi pleaded.
Pop sat in his chair in the apartment, a blanket around his shoulders. “Bah! I don’t like this snow. It makes me ache all over. We never had snow in California. Why would I go outside and make a man out of snow?” He pulled the blanket closer.
“It’s fun,” Hiro told him. “And after a while, you won’t feel the cold.”
Pop waved them away, and Tomi and Hiro went outdoors by themselves.
“He isn’t any fun anymore, is he, Tomi?” Hiro asked. “He never jokes or plays with us. Remember when it was hot outside on the farm in California? Pop would turn on the hose and let us run through the water to cool off?”
“We wouldn’t want to run through it today,” Tomi told him.
“I like the cold. After we build the snowman, Wilson and I are going ice skating.” The fire hydrant had been opened to flood the ball field, turning it into a skating rink. Last year, before he left for the army, Roy had made ice skates for the two boys. He made them out of pieces of metal, with straps they could use to tie the skates to their shoes. Hiro added, “I like Tallgrass. We couldn’t go ice skating in California. This is a good place.”
Tomi studied her brother for a moment. Tallgrass was a real home for Hiro and Wilson. They had a baseball field and an ice rink. They explored the prairie around Tallgrass for snakeskins and arrowheads. And they made kites to fly in the brisk Colorado wind. The children had adjusted to the barracks and harsh land and to the change of seasons. It was the older people such as Pop who still resented the camp.
Tomi wished she could find a way to help Pop. Mom and Roy were counting on her, but nothing had worked. She’d tried to get Pop to play with Hiro and her, but Pop wouldn’t do it. She’d invited him to school programs and plays and concerts, but he wouldn’t go. He sat in the apartment all day, grumbling. Tomi had just about given up.
Wilson joined them, and Tomi helped the two boys make two snowballs for the snowman. Then she stacked one on top of the other. “Let’s make him a soldier,” Hiro suggested. “Come on. I bet Helen would make a cap for him. And we can find a piece of wood for his gun.”
The two boys saluted the snowman, and Hiro said, “Whatcha know, Joe?” Then they took off, leaving Tomi alone.
Mom was teaching her quilt class, and Tomi didn’t want to return to the apartment. Pop was there, and she didn’t care to listen to him complain. She thought she might go to the library, but just then, Mrs. Glessner came up to her. Since it was the weekend, Tomi was surprised to see her teacher in the camp.
“The classroom is such a mess. It needs to be cleaned up. Saturday seems like a good day for it,” said Mrs. Glessner.
“I can help you,” Tomi said.
“I would be grateful for that,” her teacher replied. The two walked together to the school building and went into the classroom. “Let’s take down the books and dust the shelves first. Then we can put the books back in order. I never seem to find the book I’m looking for,” Mrs. Glessner said. She stood on a chair and handed down the books to Tomi. Then she found a rag and wiped the dust from the shelves. “I don’t know why I do this. The dust just keeps coming back.”
When the shelves were clean, Mrs. Glessner stood on the chair again, and Tomi handed her the books. Mrs. Glessner stopped and studied one of them. “So that’s where this book was hiding. It’s about citizenship. I promised to loan it to my friend who teaches at the Ellis school. I think you understand what citizenship is, Tomi. It’s about being loyal and working for your country, like your brother’s doing by serving in the army.” Mrs. Glessner paused. “And you. I know you have had a difficult time here, but you’re a good citizen.”
“I was when I lived in California. I was a Girl Scout. We flew the flag, and I said the Pledge of Allegiance every day. But I don’t know how to be one here. I live in a camp. There’s nothing I can do.”
Mrs. Glessner got down from the chair and set the book on the desk. “Of course there is, and you’re doing it. You’re working for the war effort, collecting newspapers and scrap iron. You sold raffle tickets to raise money for the 442nd. You’re loyal and patriotic, too.” She set the book on her desk and dusted off her hands. “The children in my friend’s class are writing essays on why they’re Americans. All the ninth graders in Colorado have been asked to write them. There’s a contest to pick the best one, with a one-hundred dollar prize for the best essay. The winner goes to Denver to receive it from the governor.”
Tomi thought about it. Then she asked, “If I’m so loyal and patriotic, why can’t I write an essay? Why can’t all the kids in my class write them?”
Mrs. Glessner put the dust rag down. “Why indeed? Why didn’t I think of that? Of course you must write an essay, and so should everyone in your class. After all, you’re ninth-grade Colorado school children.” She laughed. “Even if you don’t want to be.”
“What are we supposed to write about?” Tomi asked.
“Whatever you like. The subject is ‘Why I Am an American,’ but that could include almost anything. Think it over. I’m sure you’ll come up with something. You have a week to turn it in.” She picked up the citizenship book and looked at it. “I’ll give this to my friend. Your class won’t need it. With the paper and scrap metal drives, the Fourth of July celebration and the raffle ticket sales, you already know what citizenship is all about.”
Tomi thought about the essay on the way back to her apartment, and all that evening. She was an American because she’d been born in America. But she knew there was more to it. Being an American wasn’t just an accident. You chose to be a good American. Maybe she would write about that.