My grandfather was a USC educated lawyer. He was also a janitor, a gardener, a chick sexer (literally separating out male and female baby chickens), a store clerk, and he did any other odd job he could find. My grandmother also worked any job she could, including a job at See's Candies, a receptionist and many others before going to nursing school and becoming a RN. Both of my grandparents worked graveyard shifts so that they could make enough money for my grandfather to attend school while also raising two young children. When my grandmother reminisces about what must have been an incredibly trying times, she does it with a smile on her face and a bit of a chuckle as she describes how my grandfather would come home early in the morning from working as a janitor, covered in dirt and grime, and then go to school a few hours later. She talks about the fact that she got no sleep with a thoughtful expression, but with no words of regret or hurt—nothing but pride for what their sacrifices allowed my grandfather to accomplish. After completing six years of schooling, my grandfather graduated from USC in 1958 with a degree in law, one of only two Asian-Americans in his class.

Growing up as a Japanese-American in the first half of the twentieth century was a challenge on its own. After Pearl Harbor was bombed in 1941 and President Roosevelt signed Executive Order 9066, my grandmother and her family were forced to move to a Japanese internment camp called Granada (also referred to as Amache) in Southeast Colorado. They were forced to leave behind their homes, their friends, their businesses, and most of their possessions. Living behind barbed wire in horse stables and barracks, they waited for the end of the war. Even after being released, the lingering animosity towards Japanese-Americans made it hard to find employment and re-situate themselves in the lives they were forced to give up. But today, my grandmother's face lights up when she remembers the $20,000 issued in 1988 to each surviving person who was interned, saying that the money allowed them to travel.

Photo of the barracks at Granada/Amache Japanese Internment Camp; Source: Library of Congress (LOT 10617, vol. 14)

The circumstances surrounding the struggles my grandparents faced may have been extraordinary, but the lessons that we can learn from them are not. Despite the lack of money for glamorous vacations, my dad grew up learning how to make the best of any situation. He tells me about going camping with his parents as we're hiking up Yosemite's Vernal Falls trail and, as I huff and puff my way to the end, he reminds me that he did this same hike while he was still in diapers. My dad was a boy scout and his father was his scout leader and together, piece by piece, they completed the entire John Muir trail. Now, Yosemite is one of my favorite places in the whole world. The sacrifices my grandparents and my father made allowed me to see quite a bit of it, and my appreciation for the simple joy of being outdoors has grown exponentially.

Photo of Vernal Falls in Yosemite National Park. Taken by the author.

Every time I went to go see my grandparents, I could always feel love just radiating off of them. Love for each other, for their children, and for their grandchildren. After so many years of marriage, their partnership and the respect they had for each other was beautiful to watch. I may have been young, but I noticed. I would watch the way they anticipated each other's next moves, helping the other out when they could. When my grandfather passed away, the first thing my grandmother said was, "I just lost my best friend." It absolutely shattered my heart. To this day, I tear up every time she talks about him because she paints him in such a beautiful light, one of respect, love and admiration. Their relationship is what reminds me that true love must really exist. Not the fairytale love-at-first-sight stuff, but the kind of unconditional love where a true and mutually respectful partnership exists. You can look at your partner/best friend fifty years from the day you got married with that special wonder in your eye, as if to say, "How did I get so lucky?"

My favorite photograph of my grandparents. (Photo provided by the author)

The lessons my father inherited from my grandparents have, in part, been passed down to me. Now that I'm more mature I am able to understand the sacrifices by grandparents and my father made that have allowed me to grow up in a wonderful home, attend great schools, travel and never truly want for much. However, everyday I am reminded of the lessons that I learned from them, like not letting food go to waste and appreciating the fact that I can go to college of my choice with little to no debt. I'm grateful for their sacrifices most when I get to experience the beauty that is Yosemite---riding my bike along the valley on a warm evening.

You and I both can learn a lot from our grandparents. In an age where technology has made it easy to be lazy, where we expect instant gratification, we need to remember the hardships our previous generations faced and, more importantly, how they didn't it stop them from succeeding. We have to stop taking the little things for granted and learn how to appreciate and fight for what we have. It is from those who allowed us to be where we are today that we may be able to learn some of life's most valuable lessons about life, love and the importance of perseverance.