Ann Sugano traveled the Midwest going from job to job. It was a tough life for anyone, but it was even tougher for her—a Japanese American in the years just after World War II. She never knew what to expect.

“Where you from?” the man in a tollbooth said.

“Chicago.”

“No, I mean, what are you?”

Puzzled at first, Mrs. Sugano finally figured it out. She said she was Japanese.

“Take another road,” he said.

With a job to get to, she backed out and drove away, forced to take a less direct route to her destination.

It happened a few more times before Mrs. Sugano decided to change tactics. “I’m Chinese,” she said, flashing a big smile and waving as the gate opened up.

Tough work as a chick sexer.

That’s how Frank Sugano began the Sun-Times obituary describing the life of his aunt
Anna Yoshie Sugano who died Sept. 27 of complications from Alzheimer’s. She was 87. This past weekend the Sugano family and friends gathered for a memorial service honoring Ann.

“She was practical and determined,” said her daughter Patti. “She was a single mom trying to make a living at a time when there weren’t that many opportunities. It must have been pretty stressful.

The Sugano family celebrated Ann’s life, and showed no bitterness in remembering an America that discriminated against many of its loyal Japanese American citizens. Ann, along with several other Sugano family members attending her service, spent World War II years behind barbed wire in an American internment camp in Arizona. Frank was born in the Arizona internment camp.

After World War II, Ann and several other Sugano family members, including my wife’s mother, earned their livelihoods by chick sexing, a technique enabling one to separate chicks by sex.

At the time, it was one of the few jobs open to Japanese Americans who traveled across the Midwest, working long hours at hatcheries, which made money selling day-old female chicks. It was a difficult life, but a way for Japanese Americans to earn a living after their homes and possessions on the west coast were confiscated at the start of World War II.

By 1959, Mrs. Sugano no longer sexed chicks. Divorced, she was now owner of a North Side six-flat, with all its responsibilities. As a single mom she was devoted to her daughter Patti.

As each speaker at the memorial service described Ann, they recalled her sense of humor, laughter, and appreciation of life. One of Patti’s girlfriends described how Ann took them in the mid-1960s to see then teen heartthrob Bobby Sherman in Chicago. A cousin described a trip to California to visit relatives and meet renowned chef Wolfgang Puck at his restaurant.

It was a picture of a woman who faced life with determination. She managed to retain a sense of dignity even as Alzheimer’s slowly robbed her of her abilities to communicate in her final years. At the service, the Buddhist priest announced that Ann’s Dharma Name, similar to a Confirmation name, was Yo-e, meaning “nurturing wisdom.”

“She made the best of what life handed her,” said Patti. “It was a testament to her spiritual strength. I was lucky to have her as my mother.”

It was with that same unselfish, dignified devotion that Patti returned to caring for her mother as Alzheimer’s progressed. Over several years, Patti continued to make adjustments in her career and personal life so that she could care for her mother. This allowed Ann to live with her daughter until the last few months of her life.

Near the conclusion of the service the guests drew consolation from singing the Japanese hymn Nadame:

“She has parted from this world of sadness and gone into the world of Eternal Truth; thus there is consolation in the midst of sorrow.”

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Paul Marcotte is a lawyer and regular columnist for The Chicago Daily Observer.