"I was looking for a name on an exhibit that's honoring more than 4,000 people who were incarcerated in the middle of Idaho farmland, at an American prison camp that most people don’t know about or would prefer to forget.
Each name printed on the 7-foot panel belongs to a first-generation Japanese person who was held at the prison camp in Minidoka, Idaho, during World War II. The exhibit acknowledges their risk of leaving Japan and creating a community here in America. They worked hard, despite prevailing anti-Japanese sentiment, to pursue their version of the American Dream.
Then in 1942, with little warning, they were rounded up and imprisoned without being charged with a crime, told where they were being taken, or when they might return to their homes, businesses, and lives.
I was squinting and scanning the middle of the three panels for a particular name, as I dodged the heads of people in front of me. They were looking for the names of their loved ones. I was looking for a name I heard only a few times growing up.
A fellow pilgrim asked me who I was looking for. I hesitantly said, “my honorary uncle, Shosuke Sasaki.” I moved to the front and we looked for Uncle Shosuke. It’s easier to read the names now, but it still feels like an endless list. My fellow pilgrim pointed at the top right corner of the final panel. Once I saw it, his name, “Shosuke Sasaki,” stood out from the rest and seemed to glow in the sunlight".