Dad, Part ll
By Jean Ikezoe-Halevi
(My father, Quentin Chihiro Ikezoe passed away on October 8 at age 90. Last month in Part l, his life from his childhood in a Salvation Army orphanage in San Francisco, meeting his future wife there, being in an internment camp then coming to Chicago was discussed.)
Chic and Betty got married in Chicago on July 1, 1950, just days after the Korean War started. Called up again, he was sent to Georgia as a staff sergeant and Betty went with him. Although they’d experienced prejudice in California, they were not prepared for racial segregation. They didn’t care for the South because of the way blacks were treated.
Soon Chic and his unit were scheduled to be sent to Korea. Days before they were to leave, a snafu in the paperwork was discovered. Instead of going to fight in Korea, they were all honorably discharged.
Returning to Chicago after the war, Chic worked at the Post Office. He and Betty had four children: Jean, Warren, Jay and Wes. They were happy in Chicago.
Chic finished two years of junior college on the G.I. Bill at Wright Junior College and another year at Northeastern Illinois University. All four of his children went to Northeastern, too.
In order to support his children, Chic took a second full time job at St. Joseph Hospital. He worked very hard to give his family a good life.
While at the orphanage, Chic and Betty played together in a musical group. Chic played the guitar and Betty played the violin. When they went to the internment camps, each person could only take two suitcases. Chic opted for taking his Gibson guitar instead of a second suitcase; he had to sell a banjo because he couldn’t carry it. Betty opted to take her violin.
At home Chic played his guitar and often sang cowboy songs, such as “Red River Valley.” “You Are My Sunshine,” was another favorite. He also enjoyed playing a Hohner harmonica and was very good at it.
Betty had a stroke in 2002. Chic became her caregiver until her death in 2006. They were married nearly 56 years and were the couple that still held hands when they walked outside. He missed her terribly.
When talking about his life, Chic said going to the orphanage wasn’t a bad thing because there he met Betty. Out of the fifty children, he and Betty were the only two who fell in love and married another from the Children’s Home.
Regarding being in an internment camp, Chic said the war gave him new opportunities that wouldn’t have been possible before due to racial prejudice. He told that story to author Studs Terkel a few years ago, during a lengthy interview for a book he was writing. Chic and Terkel got along very well and had a beer together in Terkel’s north side home. Although his story didn’t make the final cut for Hope Dies Last: Keeping the Faith In Troubled Times, Chic’s name is mentioned in the acknowledgements, slightly misspelled.
Dad was a good person who treated everyone with respect. He had a great sense of humor and loved to joke around.
One of the most telling signs of a person’s character is how they are treated by others. When Mom was a patient at St. Joseph’s Hospital after Dad retired, I went with him. As we walked through the hospital, he saw a staff member who knew him. Instead of a brief “hello,” the staff member stopped, shook hands with Dad and talked for several minutes. I stepped aside while they talked.
We started walking and another staff member came up to Dad and did the same thing. This happened two more times and you could tell by their body language that people cared about Dad and wanted to talk with him. It took nearly an hour to get to Mom’s room. You don’t often see how your parents are treated by their peers and I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder of my father than that day.
When we lost our mother, I learned more about her from my father and saw a whole new dimension to her. If my father had died first I wouldn’t have known him half as well as I do now.
Dad died on Monday, October 8, 2012. I believe he’s with my mother now, holding hands forever.
****
I’d like to thank all of our family and friends who came to my Dad’s funeral service. I’d like to give special thanks to the Rev. Patti Nakai, members of Chicago Nisei Post 1183, Ray Hallowell and the Lakeview Funeral Home. It’s truly a blessing to have so many good people in our lives.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jean Ikezoe-Halevi is a Chicago area journalist who has written for newspapers and television.
(This article first appeared in The Chicago Shimpo newspaper in December 2012.)
By Jean Ikezoe-Halevi
(My father, Quentin Chihiro Ikezoe passed away on October 8 at age 90. Last month in Part l, his life from his childhood in a Salvation Army orphanage in San Francisco, meeting his future wife there, being in an internment camp then coming to Chicago was discussed.)
Chic and Betty got married in Chicago on July 1, 1950, just days after the Korean War started. Called up again, he was sent to Georgia as a staff sergeant and Betty went with him. Although they’d experienced prejudice in California, they were not prepared for racial segregation. They didn’t care for the South because of the way blacks were treated.
Soon Chic and his unit were scheduled to be sent to Korea. Days before they were to leave, a snafu in the paperwork was discovered. Instead of going to fight in Korea, they were all honorably discharged.
Returning to Chicago after the war, Chic worked at the Post Office. He and Betty had four children: Jean, Warren, Jay and Wes. They were happy in Chicago.
Chic finished two years of junior college on the G.I. Bill at Wright Junior College and another year at Northeastern Illinois University. All four of his children went to Northeastern, too.
In order to support his children, Chic took a second full time job at St. Joseph Hospital. He worked very hard to give his family a good life.
While at the orphanage, Chic and Betty played together in a musical group. Chic played the guitar and Betty played the violin. When they went to the internment camps, each person could only take two suitcases. Chic opted for taking his Gibson guitar instead of a second suitcase; he had to sell a banjo because he couldn’t carry it. Betty opted to take her violin.
At home Chic played his guitar and often sang cowboy songs, such as “Red River Valley.” “You Are My Sunshine,” was another favorite. He also enjoyed playing a Hohner harmonica and was very good at it.
Betty had a stroke in 2002. Chic became her caregiver until her death in 2006. They were married nearly 56 years and were the couple that still held hands when they walked outside. He missed her terribly.
When talking about his life, Chic said going to the orphanage wasn’t a bad thing because there he met Betty. Out of the fifty children, he and Betty were the only two who fell in love and married another from the Children’s Home.
Regarding being in an internment camp, Chic said the war gave him new opportunities that wouldn’t have been possible before due to racial prejudice. He told that story to author Studs Terkel a few years ago, during a lengthy interview for a book he was writing. Chic and Terkel got along very well and had a beer together in Terkel’s north side home. Although his story didn’t make the final cut for Hope Dies Last: Keeping the Faith In Troubled Times, Chic’s name is mentioned in the acknowledgements, slightly misspelled.
Dad was a good person who treated everyone with respect. He had a great sense of humor and loved to joke around.
One of the most telling signs of a person’s character is how they are treated by others. When Mom was a patient at St. Joseph’s Hospital after Dad retired, I went with him. As we walked through the hospital, he saw a staff member who knew him. Instead of a brief “hello,” the staff member stopped, shook hands with Dad and talked for several minutes. I stepped aside while they talked.
We started walking and another staff member came up to Dad and did the same thing. This happened two more times and you could tell by their body language that people cared about Dad and wanted to talk with him. It took nearly an hour to get to Mom’s room. You don’t often see how your parents are treated by their peers and I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder of my father than that day.
When we lost our mother, I learned more about her from my father and saw a whole new dimension to her. If my father had died first I wouldn’t have known him half as well as I do now.
Dad died on Monday, October 8, 2012. I believe he’s with my mother now, holding hands forever.
****
I’d like to thank all of our family and friends who came to my Dad’s funeral service. I’d like to give special thanks to the Rev. Patti Nakai, members of Chicago Nisei Post 1183, Ray Hallowell and the Lakeview Funeral Home. It’s truly a blessing to have so many good people in our lives.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jean Ikezoe-Halevi is a Chicago area journalist who has written for newspapers and television.
(This article first appeared in The Chicago Shimpo newspaper in December 2012.)
