Posted in Alzheimer's Assoc. lecture, Alzheimer's Association, Alzheimer's Disease, Basically Books, Caregiving, Dignity in Aging, Elder Care, Hawaii Island Adult Care, Inc., I Am Somebody: Bringing Dignity and Compassion to Alzheimer's Caregiving, poetry and caregiving, Sacramento Poetry Center, Uncategorized, Watermark Publishing, tagged Basically Books, Caregiver's workshop, Hawaii Island ADult Care, Watermark Publishing on April 10, 2019| Leave a Comment »
Please pass the following info to caregivers, health professionals or family members living with elders.
Phone reservations necessary for these two free events.
I will also be at Native Books in Honolulu to discuss my children’s books at their Tea and
Talk Story on May 19 from 11 to noon.
Posted in Poetry, poetry month, Sacramento Poetry Center, Uncategorized, tagged Poetry, Sacramento Poetry Center, Women poets on April 4, 2019| 1 Comment »
Men in Disguise at Book Signings
“Did your husband write all these books?”
He was in the audience a few minutes ago.
Yet, here he stands in his three piece designer suit
Scanning book titles with furrowed brows.
“Idiot,” I didn’t say, “Would I be sitting here,
Two hours on my hemorrhoids
Signing someone else’s books
With carpal tunneled fingers?”
At Barnes & Noble in Hawaii,
The FBI disguised in a loud Aloha shirt,
A wilted orchid lei, a camera strapped like a gun
Interrogates me.
“You wrote these books?”
Not satisfied, he grills me over hot coals again.
“You? You wrote all these books?”
Ready to turn the lamp on me,
He turns to his partner.
“Martha? Martha? Come on over.
She said she wrote all these books!”
Expecting the click of handcuffs,
Water boarding or worse,
I remain silent.
A man in his black robe
Sits on the Court bench.
The Advertiser news story of my poetry book
Spread across his lap.
“A Japanese woman publishing poetry…
No Japanese man” he prophesized,
Is ever going to date her.
She crossed over into the Haole ( white) world
With this poetry book.”
Yes, Your Honor.
Japanese. Woman. Poet.
Guilty as charged.
Frances Kakugawa
Posted in Alzheimer's Disease, Caregiving, poetry and caregiving, Rotary Club, Sacramento Poetry Center, Uncategorized, tagged Poetry and Caregiving, Rotary Club on March 8, 2019| 5 Comments »
Thank you, President Diane Woodruff and members of the Sacramento Rotary Club. It was a privilege to be your speaker at your meeting on Tuesday. No, I didn’t wear a feather boa as part of my attire. It was a prop for the following poem found beneath these photos. My message was: In the midst of cleaning my mother’s bathroom floor, once I said, “Maybe there’s a poem here,” I was no longer a caregiver cleaning BM off a bathroom floor. I was a poet/caregiver, and that made all the difference in the world.
photos by John Swentowsky of Swentoswsky Photography.com
A Feather Boa and a Toothbrush
It is 3 a.m.
I am on my hands and knees
With toothbrush in one hand,
A glass of hot tap water in my other,
Scrubbing BM off my mother’s
Bathroom floor.
Before a flicker of self pity can set in,
A vivid image enters my mind.
An image of a scarlet feather boa
Impulsively bought from Neiman Marcus,
Delicately wrapped in white tissue
Awaiting in my cedar chest
For some enchanted evening.
The contrast between my illusional lifestyle
Of feather boas, Opium perfume and black velvet
And my own reality of toothbrushes,
Bathroom tiles and BM at 3 a.m.
Overwhelms me with silent laughter.
Kakugawa
from I Am Somebody: Bringing Dignity and Compassion to Alzheimer’s Caregiving
Posted in Agelessness, Climate change, Coffee and Poets, Dignity in Aging, Poetry, Sacramento Poetry Center, Uncategorized, tagged Elders, Poetry on January 22, 2019| 2 Comments »
Becoming
Never laugh at the elders
Who meet at MacDonald’s in Hawaii
Never laugh at their animated conversations
On trips to Vegas and the best ramen at Hotel California.
Never laugh
Because eventually you will become them
As I have these cold winter months
After working out at the gym in early morn.
I walk across the street to La Bou
Stop by three or four tables
To exchange greetings with the regulars.
Monday through Friday, one conversation
Is a recording…
She speaks Spanish, I speak English…
We say Buenas Dias, Gracias and more Buenas Dias.
And smile without translation.
Are you that youngster at a table
Laughing at my limited vocabulary
Swearing you will never succumb
To life of the elders
Who drink the same bitter coffee,
Morning after morning
Staring at the world that never changes
Through last month’s spider webs
Except for a tree that reminds me
The seasons of my life are alive and well.
frances kakugawa 1/22.19
I
Posted in Alzheimer's Assoc. lecture, Sacramento Poetry Center, Uncategorized, tagged Alzheimer's lecture, Caregiving, Poetry on August 12, 2018| Leave a Comment »
Posted in our children, Sacramento Poetry Center, Uncategorized on June 28, 2018| 2 Comments »
I was thinking of a second grade class I visited as a writing resource teacher. I worked with poetry in this particular class. On the last day, a little boy, who wore a baseball cap to hide the after-effects of chemotherapy followed me to the door and said, “I floated on air, being with you.” How I wanted to stay and become God.
Yes, I Will
When he takes my hand in his,
His tiny little fingers curled around mine,
I am filled with a great sense of duty,
Duty to keep this world
Free from fear and evil.
When I feel his hand in mine,
The contrast: spring to autumn,
I feel compelled to live
Every minute of my life
With love and human kindness
So this world that belongs to him
Will be a place where his deepest secrets
Will be safe,
Where all his dreams and hopes
Become possibilities,
And this world becomes
The greatest, most trusted friend,
Anyone could ever have.
Oh, I will live so I can make
All the difference in his life,
For having trusted his hand in mine.
frances kakugawa: from Teacher, You Look Like a Horse
Posted in Kapoho, Memoirs, Pahoa eruption, Sacramento Poetry Center, Uncategorized, tagged Kapoho on June 14, 2018| Leave a Comment »
Our house lot is now under lava and with it, a Christmas Memory in summer.
A Kapoho Christmas
It was Christmas without lights.
It was Christmas without indoor plumbing.
It was Christmas without carolers at the window
Muffed and warm under falling snow.
But there was Christmas.
A Christmas program at school
Where the Holy Night reenacted:
White tissue paper glued on spines of coconut fronds
Shaped as angel wings and halos.
Long white robes, over bare feet.
Santa Claus with bagfuls of hard mixed candies
Ho ho hoed by the plantation manager,
His yearly holiday role in the village where he reigned.
Fathers in Sunday best
After a hard day’s work in sugar cane fields.
Children in home-sewn dresses and shirts.
A fir branch from the hills,
Needles not lasting 24 hours.
Chains from construction paper,
Origami balls, strands of tin-foiled tinsel.
Kerosene and gas lamps
Moving shadows on the walls.
It was not the Christmas of my dreams.
No carolers at the window,
Singing O Holy Night.
No large presents under a Douglas Fir
No fireplaces and rooftop chimneys.
No blue-eyed boy handing me hot chocolate.
For 18 years, the true Christmas
Lived in my head until Madame Pele
Came to my rescue
And buried our kerosene lamps.
“Finally,” I said,
Running out fast —
My bare feet over pebbled, unpaved roads
To the Christmas of my dreams.
Frances Kakugawa
Drop by to say hello if you’re near the library.
