(My advice column for caregivers called Dear Frances that appears monthly in the Hawaii Herald was written by Wordsworth, my little mouse poet this month.)
June 2019 Dear Frances,
Dear Readers,
Frances is away from her desk, giving lectures and book talks in Hawaii so I volunteered to do the column. I’m Wordsworth the mouse poet from four of her children’s books. At first she was skeptical until I reminded her that in all of my books, I resolve human problems through poetry just like her. So please stay and read my column.
I’m still dancing the waltz after Patrick Toal, Director of the Alzheimer’s Association in Hawaii made me a mascot. My job is to visit schools and libraries to teach our younger generation about memory loss and how to live with our elders with compassion, dignity and respect.
We already visited libraries in Kohala and Hilo and will be flying to Maui and Molokai soon. If you want us to visit you, please call your Alzheimer’s Office or get in touch with Frances. I would like to visit schools.
Frances and I did some work with students from Kindergarten to Middle School in Honolulu and will share some of their poems.
But first, let me brag a bit. I was in the Merrie Monarch parade in Hilo. I think I saw some of you waving to me. At first I felt a bit insulted when children began to shout Chucky Cheese at me. Luckily, Patrick Toal, showed them my name and for the rest of the parade, I heard “Wordsworth! Wordsworth!” What a relief. Have you had someone call you by the wrong name? Not good. Hey Frances, have you ever been in a parade?
Here, I’m dancing with waltz as I did with Grandma in my book.
The children we visited are wonderful. They draw pictures, write poems, play games and talk story about their grand or great – grand parents. They are preserving so many good memories. Some of the children are confused about the changes that happen after their grand or great-grandparents get dementia. That’s where I come in and show them what is really happening. Once they understand what dementia does to our brains, they are less confused and fearful. But you know all about this and why it’s important that we don’t isolate children from our loved ones no matter what stages of dementia are at hand. If they are given truthful information, they are able to handle ailments and changes. And you’ll be surprised how aware they are of our elders.
I like the story of a young mother who said her two pre-school children are like me and are teaching her how to be a better caregiver. After they heard my Wordsworth Dances the Waltz, they told their mother, “Why do you talk so mean to grandma?” Wow. Their mother said she respected her children and they have become her teachers. She told them, “You are like Wordsworth, keep reminding me when I talk mean.”
Another mother shared how her two young grandsons taught her how to hang loose and laugh instead of getting so stressed out. When their grandpa wore his pants inside out, their grandma began to get stressed and upset because it meant more work for her. Before she could change her husband’s pants, she heard her grandsons and husband laughing. Her grandsons had told Grandpa, “Hey Grandpa, you made new fashion.” And they all laughed and let Grandpa wear his new inside out pants.
Sometimes, our young children know exactly what to say and do so we need to leave them alone and let them become our teachers.
Here are some poems written by 6th and 3rd graders when Frances was their teacher. I left their names out to protect their privacy. Please note how aging, dying and death claim their thoughts a lot and how poetry helps to express them. Too often we try to be silent in these areas, thinking we need to protect our children but listen to them here. Except for the last poem, they were written by sixth graders.
Grandma
Grandma is a beautiful name.
I know she didn’t go to hell.
I know she went to heaven.
My grandma, a humming bird on a branch.
***
My Grandfather
I don’t know why God wants to take him someday.
He’s not old, he’s not young.
But he’s been good to me.
Please God, don’t let him die.
I don’t know why
We are born
If we are going to die.
***
Aging
An old woman sits by the fire.
Quietly she drapes her old tattered shawl
Across her shoulders.
A drop of rain lands on her cheek,
Like a tear.
An old tired work horse
Limps to the barn.
Then a young excited horse
Trots to the plow.
Soon he, too, will limp.
***
My Grandmother
While I think of my grandmother
Lying dead in a coffin
Under the ground,
I feel a tear drop on my arm.
Why did she have to die?
I love her.
I didn’t even get to say
Good-bye.
***
My Grandmother
My grandmother is like
A stale piece of bread,
I feel sorry for her
Now that she’s almost dead.
As she limps down the dark road,
She looks wrinkled and so old.
I wish my grandma was young again,
Like a freshly baked loaf of bread.
***
( When Geof wrote this, he shocked himself and put his head down on his desk and kept saying, “Miss Kakugawa, Miss Kakugawa, this is so bad. Oh, this is so bad. I said my grandma’s like a loaf of stale bread. I can’t believe I said this.” After Frances read the poem, and told him, “This is beautiful. This is what poets do, using metaphors as you did with the loaf of bread,.” he was pleased to know he had written a good poem and allowed it to be published.)
****
Photographs
bring back memories
more and more each time.
if they are of grandpa
I look at them and cry.
I see his light blue coffin
going
down
into
the
ground.
***
Old Bird
The old bird sits there
Ready and willing to die,
Weeping with its last song.
***
This last poem was written by a third grader:
Memory
Oh, sadness comes to me.
I feel like a puzzle being apart
Into a hundred pieces.
Sadness of a memory
That I don’t have.
I don’t have the memory
Of my grandfather.
He was gone
Before my mother was born.
I wonder…
If he were here,
Would he take me out
To From the Heart
And buy me erasers?
Would we talk together
And have a good time?
I wonder what name
I would call him.
3rd grade
***
This was enjoyable, doing the column for Frances. You can send me comments and questions through Frances or directly to me.
I have my own email address: wordsworth@bookshawaii.net
You can also check me out at my own FaceBook. https://www.facebook.com/WordsworthThePoet/
Maybe if you fill my mailbox with letters and questions, this column will be called Dear Wordsworth. Oh, oh, hope Frances doesn’t read this.
By the way, do you know how she sent me from Sacramento to Hawaii? In a Fed EX box! My head was all squished. I hope after all this work I’m doing for her, my trips to Maui and Molokai will be on first class. Maybe you can suggest this to her?
Aloha, readers.
Wordsworth the Poet
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