I spent the weekend attending this year’s Minidoka Pilgrimage, an annual event that’s one part family reunion and one part return to the scene of the crime––and opinions and emotions ran accordingly. Nearly 150 people were there, including dozens of former internees and their families.

Minidoka is one of several “Sites of Shame,” funded by the National Parks system, along with other internment camps, like Manzanar, as well as a few Native American battlefields that U.S. history books have tried to forget.

It was a packed weekend, but highlights included:

Roger & Me. I’ve always been a big fan of artist Roger Shimomura, especially his work entitled: Stereotypes and Admonitions. It was cool to hang out and talk story with the man himself.

Where our people are. It was humbling to hear a talk by a Caucasian man who’s family moved from Seattle to Twin Falls when the Japanese American community was taken to Minidoka. His father was the head of the local Japanese Baptist Church and when his flock moved, he moved his family to Idaho so he could tend to their needs.

Something about Mary. Walt Woodward of the Bainbridge Review was the only editor during the 40s that spoke out against the Japanese Internment—directly in the face of charges of treason. His response, “Treason it is!” I worked at the Review right out of college and knew the story behind the story. It was a joy to meet Walt’s daughter, Mary, the author of the beautiful book, In Defense of Our Neighbors.

Darumas. During the closing ceremonies everyone made wishes and pinned small darumas to an 8-foot-tall replica of a guard tower. A daruma wish weaves its way through my new book so I took that as a portentous sign.

Justice Society. It was interesting to talk to so many people who were there because they felt called to the cause of social justice. Including a pair of Buddhist monks, one of which had retraced the steps of Harriet Tubman’s underground railroad. Walking from the U.S. to Toronto, Canada, traveling 10-20 miles each night––in the snow.

Karaoke at the Red Lion. And of course the hilarious, tragic and poignant irony of former internees singing the cowboy song, Don’t Fence Me In, was too good to miss.