A Legacy of Quiet Courage: My Father, George Tsugawa (Unintentional Change Agent)

Photo of George Tsugawa with his daughter (Lori Tsugawa) and son-in-law (John Whaley)

I think of courage, I don’t think of loud declarations or heroic spotlights. I think of my father, George Tsugawa. A humble man of great strength, whose life embodied the principles of Bushido, not by intent but by instinct.

My father never set out to change the world. But he did; quietly, patiently, one berry, one child, one act of kindness at a time.

Rebuilding from Ruin

My father was born in Everett, Washington, a proud American citizen. And yet, after the bombing of Pearl Harbor, that identity was stripped away. He and his family were forced into a Japanese internment camp, transported to the Minidoka War Relocation Center in Idaho. One suitcase per person. The rest (home, possessions, dignity) left behind.

He rarely spoke of it with anger. “I should be bitter,” he once told me. “But we just learned to become better citizens.” That, to me, is Gaman, enduring the seemingly unbearable with patience and dignity. It’s what the samurai practiced. It’s what my father lived.

Rooted in the Soil of Service

After the war, with nothing but resilience in his hands and hope in his heart, my father and Uncle Akira bought a farm in Woodland, Washington. Neither of them were trained farmers. But they knew hard work, and they believed in the promise of a new beginning.

In 1960s Woodland, our family stood out. Not just because we were Japanese American in a town of nearly all white residents, but because we worked with purpose. We built trust not through words, but through action. My father taught me the values of honor, integrity, and respect, not by preaching, but by planting.

He often said he was just trying to make a living, to grow something for his family. But in doing so, he cultivated far more than berries. He cultivated understanding, diversity, and opportunity.

An Unintentional Teacher

What amazes me most is that he never thought of himself as a change-maker. When he began bussing in students of all races and backgrounds to help with the harvest, he wasn’t trying to make a social statement. He simply needed help picking berries. But what blossomed from that practical decision was a rare and beautiful thing: natural desegregation, in a time when division defined much of America.

Kids from Woodland, Vancouver, Castle Rock, and Portland worked side by side. Different schools. Different skin colors. Same goals. They learned the value of a day’s labor, and more importantly, the value of each other.

At the end of every season, my father held a harvest picnic, a simple act of gratitude. He believed that if young people associated hard work with joy, they’d want to come back. He never realized he was planting seeds of tolerance that would grow far beyond the borders of our farm.

A Samurai Spirit

People have called my father courageous. But he never used that word for himself. He believed in doing what needed to be done with grace, humility, and persistence. That is the essence of the samurai spirit.

Even as he neared 100 years of age, he was still farming. Still waking up early. Still walking the fields. He never stopped working. Not because he had to, but because it was who he was.

The principles of Bushido honor, honesty, integrity, respect, courage, and hard work weren’t ideas my father studied. They were values he lived.

As I reflect on his life, I realize my father never sought recognition. He simply did what he believed was right. And in doing so, he quietly changed the community around him.

He taught me, not by words, but by example.

To move forward even when the world seems against you.

To meet prejudice with perseverance.

To lead not with ego, but with quiet strength.

And perhaps most importantly, to never underestimate the power of a single act, done with integrity, to ripple across generations.

My father, George Tsugawa, was my greatest teacher. He showed me that greatness doesn’t always wear a title. Sometimes, it wears muddy boots, carries a berry basket, and walks into the sunrise with purpose.

Photo of Tsugawa Family Reunion (2018)

He was unintentional change agent through his actions, life, and legacy.

What lessons have you learned from the quiet heroes in your life? I’d love to hear your stories.