BEFORE COLUMBUS - AMERICAN BOOK AWARDS SPEECH

My wife and I have been overwhelmed by this award. It has made us a "Wow" family. I'll explain that. In the morning instead of greeting each other "Good Morning," we would say "Wow." After more "Wows" during the day, when it came time to sleep at night, instead of "Good Night" we would say "Wow" once again.

What's remarkable about the award is that it was totally unexpected, I can't say that it's a dream come true, as people often say, because I didn't dream about it. My main concern was to get something out in book form before it was too late and I must admit it was a bit late in the day for me.

The other day I was on the telephone, always a daunting task, with this young lady who asked me when I was born so I told her. After a moment she said, "You sound so young."

"I am 82 years old."

"But you really do sound young."

What did she expect? A lot of wheezes and cackles?

"It's not the voice, my dear, but could you repeat what you said? I want to make sure I heard you correctly."

Now, I would like to thank the people who were responsible for this miracle. First, I want to thank the person who submitted the book and brought it to the attention of the Before Columbus Foundation; who would have thought to do that? I know I didn't and neither did my publisher. Next, I want to thank the editorial board or the selection committee of the American Book Awards. I would also like to acknowledge the following: the California Civil Liberties Public Education Program grant which partially funded the publication; my publisher Florence Hongo and her staff of the Asian American Curriculum Project; my editor Tamiko Nimura who is also my niece; and my book designer Pamela Matsuoka. And of course my wife and family members and friends who are here today for the celebration. Thank you all.

Before I stop I want to read two short poems from the book. The first is titled, "Shungiku."

SHUNGIKU
Edible chrysanthemum
from the garden.
I bite it thoughtfully
and the mint taste
spins time and distance
until I'm face to face
with my Yamato origin.

The next is a poem remembering the late writer Richard Brautigan who used to come to the library where I was working. One day he was there and picture, if you will, a rustic, gangling figure in a round hat with a walrus mustache passing out free booklets containing packets of seeds and somewhere it said "Plant me."

RICHARD BRAUTIGAN
I planted the seeds
in the garden
just like you said
in your book
up came puppies
and Shasta daisies
and marigolds
a riot of flowers
in my garden
when I was expecting
pot
you fooled me there
Richard Brautigan
(September 4, 2005, Oakland, California)