Hiroshi Morio was my father’s brother. I think my uncle came to America quite early in life. He lived in San Francisco, California. My father knew his brother was in America, but never heard from him, so he really didn’t know where he was. When I was in Japan, my grandmother (his mother) worried about her son wondering where he was. While I was in Japan, he sent a package once and that made his mother very happy. He sent the package through a friend that came to Japan, but there never was a letter in it, so she didn’t know where he was. After I came back from Japan, I must of talked about my uncle to my relations. My cousin Kiyoko Kawahara’s husband was a chauffer for a lady and he used to drive her places and once he drove to San Fancisco and went to a Japanese restaurant and asked around if anyone knew a man named Morio. He told them that he was not a large man and had quite a big ear. He was able to find him, and came back to Seattle and told my father so my father was finally able to find his brother.
When Henry, Noboru, and I were going to Los Angeles, California from Seattle, Washington, we decided to stop and see him. We went on the train to Los Angeles. Our father worked on the railroad, or at the station, so I guess we got a pass to travel, but I don’t know for sure. Anyway, when we got to San Francisco, our uncle was there to meet us. Our uncle took us around town on foot because we didn’t’ have a car. When we told him about Japan, he said he already heard it from Mr. Kawahara. Mr. Kawahara is quite an amazing person and remembers everything he heard. People said once he hears anything, he doesn’t forget, but we were glad that he found our uncle and we were able to visit him.
It is now the year 2000 and Mr. Kawahara is in his 90’s and still lives in Seattle with his wife Kiyoko. Kiyoko is my cousin. They are both over 90 years old. We stayed over night in San Francisco because our uncle got us a hotel to stay in. The next day we left for Los Angeles. Next time we met our uncle was when he got out of the concentration camp and came to live with us in Murray, Utah. Then after the war, he went back to San Francisco and we never heard from him again. Later we heard that our uncle died when he was hit by a car, but we didn’t know how we could find out. I don’t know how much later it was, but my uncle Tsunetake, (Hiroshi’s brother) came to Seattle from Japan and stayed at my brother Noboru’s place. Uncle Tsunetake wanted to find out about his brother. My son Ken heard about it and started to go see what he could find out. He must of gone to many places when he finally found out that he was buried in Oakland. Ken made arrangements to have his grave dug up so they could get his bones and they were sent to Seattle where Uncle Tsunetake was . Uncle Tsuentake Ojisan took it home and had a decent burial for him and he was happy. When I went to California, Carolyn (Ken’s wife) took me where he was buried, and it had a number on it, and no name. They said that was him, so we had to accept what they said.
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