Interviewed by Leonard Chan (LC)

Frances Kakugawa is an author, poet, and retired teacher and educator. “The Outhouse Poet” is Frances’ nineteenth published book.

I first became aware of Frances and her writing nearly 21 years ago when I read her book “Mosaic Moon: Caregiving Through Poetry, Easing the Burden of Alzheimer's Disease.” I started corresponded with Frances back in December of 2008 and the very next month we had a reading with her at one of our January poetry events. That same month, she made her first contribution to our newsletter with an interview to promote her appearance at our poetry event.

Since then, we’ve kept in touch and had other events with her even when the AACP newsletter was on hiatus for over nine years. Last year she even participated in our January “AAPI Poetry For Peace, Love, and Understanding” event at the San Mateo Main Library.

As you may gather from reading her writings, she has many people that she has known and called friend. I am happy to be considered among them.

LC: Hello, Frances. Thank you for giving me this chance to interview you again. After the release of your book “Can I Have Your Pearl Necklace?” we were kind of wondering if you were going to do another book since that book had some finality tones. I think you even told me that you weren’t sure you’d be doing another one. I am so glad that you have, partly because it gives me another opportunity to interview you and to be in touch with you again.

In one chapter, you mentioned that you got started on this one after your doctor told you that he thought you would live to a hundred. Did you have a lot of notes or thoughts for this book that you were, no pun intended, dying to tell? You have so many people and encounters that you write about. Do you work from memory, keep a notebook with you, or do you journal or write a diary when you find the time? Do you have any suggestions for the prospective writers out there?

I was inspired to write this book after two encounters:

One, a lot of attention was given to writers who were in their 70’s, writing a new book and I thought, “Hey, I’m 89, don’t brush us off yet. I’m writing another book to honor us in the 80’s. We’re still here.”

The second came from the cardiologist who assured me I would live until 100. I was inspired to believe I still had time to keep on writing. I showed him the book and he said, “Since it’s in writing, I’m now obligated to keep you healthy until 100.”

On writing: I don’t sit down and say, “I’m going to write another book.” Throughout my life, stories or poems come to be written, and I write them. So when I decide to write another book, I look into my collection of work and use them to get an idea for a theme. A few of the stories and poems in this book have appeared in other anthologies. I do add new stories and poems.

To writers: Don’t think of “I’m writing this for a book.” When an inspiration comes, sit down and preserve them.

Write them in prose or poetry. I would say my poems and stories go through at least 15 edits. One story was rewritten 20 times to get it just right.

LC: You used the word “omoiyari” in your chapter “Conversations with Mr. H” about a considerate homeless person that got removed from his temporary spot next to a business when other homeless people moved in later and started to not take care of their shared spot. You speculate that the new people that moved in didn’t respect the business and thus were removed because of the mess they were making. Your translation of omoiyari is to think of others first. I did a little more research on the word omoiyari. Google says the following –

Omoiyari is a core Japanese concept meaning deep empathy, compassion, and thoughtful consideration for others, focusing on intuitively understanding someone's needs and acting to support them, often without being asked. It's about putting yourself in someone else's shoes, anticipating their feelings, and responding with kindness and presence, going beyond simple sympathy to active, selfless support that fosters social harmony.

Omoiyari seems like such a powerful word. One of the thoughts I’ve had for a while is that our selfishness is what hinders us from functioning in society which needs us to think with omoiyari in order to make our communities work. I think omoiyari is not just the theme of that chapter, but a major part of your new book. Would you agree with that? Was that your intent when you started this book? Tell us more about your thoughts about omoiyari. Could you tell us how you learned about omoiyari – was it something that just came to you over the years or was it a concept that you learned from an early age from someone like your parents?

I didn’t think of Omoiyari when I wrote this book. Later, readers began to send in responses as yours, of living with human kindness and compassion. My first goal was just to have each story tell it’s own story.

I learned of the word Omoiyare recently from my good friend Charles Pellegrino whose review appears at the beginning of the book. Looking at your question, I think I just grew up with Omoiyare without knowing that it had a word. My father always said, “A house where no one visits is not a good house” so our door was always open for people in the village to drop by, especially during dinner time. My mother taught me about humility directly when I was a young teacher. Early in my career, I was asked to supervise a State program for the Dept of Education. I must have gone home complaining about the teachers who couldn’t understand the program because my mother brought home a NOH mask and said, “This is for you. There is almost no chin to help you look down, the cheeks are high to remind you to not envy your neighbors and the forehead is very high to keep you from looking above everyone.” She said this all in Japanese and until today, I have that NOH mask on my wall. My parents never lectured, they told stories to teach us.

Listening to people teaches us a lot: When I had first published a poetry book in my 30’s, someone told me, “You’re really nice, didn’t think you’d bother with me after all, you’re a poet.” She taught me to be aware of always respecting others and being humble.

Each time I leave the house, I make it an effort to make a stranger feel good about him/herself. What else can I do in my old age?

LC: You mentioned that your friends at the mall are a microcosm of the larger outside world. There is a wide variety of people there with diverse opinions, political and educational backgrounds, cultures, and class. Your walks there give you plenty of opportunities to interact and learn from each other. This seems like the perfect way for people to get out of their sheltered bubbles and help bridge the country’s divide that we keep hearing about. Not all of us have the access or time to walk in malls. Can you think of other ways for us to go out and meet people outside of our spheres? What do you recommend as conversation starters?

Malls, parks, neighborhood roads or streets are good starters. I walk the mall before the doors are opened, say good-morning to the ones who look friendly and receptive. After awhile, we would stop and chat, exchange names and soon our chats get longer. Last week, a new man I’ve seen, stopped and said, “I see you often, my name is John.” I introduced myself and we now greet each other by name. Or, with cashiers, workers at supermarkets, Amazon deliverers, etc. They are all around us. 

At the bank today, the teller asked for the last four digits of my Social Security Number, I had to try three times to get it right. She asked for my bank code and again, I had to try it a few times. Then she asked for my mother’s maiden name. I asked her, “Are you giving me a dementia test?” She kept on laughing. Humor works all the time.

LC: Ah, “dementia test,” you’re alluding to your poem “Tick Tock, Tick Tock” where you give  us the perspective view of a person with dementia that is being asked a bunch of questions that she can’t answer. In the book, before this poem, you were advising a daughter of a person with dementia to be mindful of not asking too many questions, as they become a burden to someone with dementia. You end the paragraph with “Sometimes it’s nice to make friends with silence.” This is another example of omoiyari.

First, how and when did you get this insight about what a person with dementia is going through to write your “Tick Tock” poem and second, you must have been reading the bank worker’s mind to realize that it was a good time to interject the moment with some humor, right? Reading the minds of others is a skill that you seem to excel at. Is there some advice you could give for those that often feel oblivious to the feelings of the people around them? Is it something that just comes naturally to you or do you actively have to practice it?

Hmmmm. I think it’s part of who I am. Where did it come from? Perhaps from all the readings I did from childhood on. I can recognize faces that are open to humor and those who are closed. Those who are open for conversations and those who are saying, “Leave me alone.” About being with Alzheimer’s loved ones, I learned a lot caring for my mother who had Alzheimer’s and from the voluntary work I did at a nursing home. From my observations I noticed how family visitors came with questions which became a monologue.

When visitors came to visit my mother and began to ask too many questions, she would say, “I forgot,” or mutter “Yakamashi,” which means “too noisy, shut up!”

I think bottom line is we need to be imaginative and creative. And as we say in Hawaii, “Hang Loose.”

LC: In your chapter, “Robots vs. Humans,” you particularly express your concerns, with younger generations that have their heads buried in their smart phones and devices. What can we do to get them to look up and interact with those around them? Are we too late to break their addiction?

I have a children’s book called Wordsworth, It’s in Your Pocket. It addresses addiction to technology. This is one of the five books in the series. This book is less popular because I believe the addiction may be beyond repair unless our schools, as in some districts, have banned cell phones in schools. My friends at the mall do not take out their cell phones. I have three friends who do not have cell phones. The younger generation are glued to their phones. Once I had to stop myself from approaching a young mother. She was on her phone, not paying attention at all to her two year old who was so active watching people, trying to get her attention by climbing over her shoulders.

LC: In your chapter “Why Poetry,” you give examples of how poetry can make a difference in people’s lives. Your caregiving books also cover how poetry writing can help us get through tough times. Back in our 2020 interview, I asked you to give us a simple lesson on how to write poetry. Could you maybe give us a refresher lesson (especially for those that didn’t read that interview) and maybe tailor it to the times we are living in now? In 2020, we were living through a pandemic. Today we’re living through a human caused calamity. I think some people are wondering about what they can do to make the world a little better. Perhaps writing poems could help us at this time.

A friend told me recently, wouldn’t it be something if a poet brought down our government today? A dear friend began a movement to have poets send him poems. This is the site:

 https://redslider.substack.com/p/call-for-poems-on-the-dark-ages

The best way to begin is to read poems that speak to you. When you’re emotionally moved, think of one idea or thought or event that moves you to the core. Then pick your pen up and write. Not to worry about punctuation or grammar, just write it down. It can be in prose form. Then look at your prose form and rewrite into poetry form. I would form a group and share your poems. We get to learn from each other, and we can also inspire others to write from our own poems. When you form a group, be sure to have a copy for each person.

And you will find that each time you write a poem, whatever you’ve been struggling with, has been released in poetic form.