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When did you start to write poetry?
That
I started quite late, when I was working for the library downtown.
One of my duties was to select poetry books. So, I would
read all these poetry books and while reading you think of ideas and
you think, "Well, I could do this." So, I started to write
poems. Then, it was 1970. Actually, I started to write when I was about
thirteen or fourteen. I started in a Japanese language sc hool, where
we were told to write little essays. So, I wrote in Japanese
and that's when my creative writing started.
Now
I am also an actor, so I began to act in the Japanese language school.
Also, every year, we would do a program to show the progress we made
during the year for our parents. My teacher once wrote a skit, in which
I had a big role. Supposedly it was a comedy, and I was able to make
the audience laugh and they thought I was quite good. That's when I
got hooked on acting. I've been acting ever since off and on. Now
I'm a member of the Screen Actor's Guild. And I was a member of the
Actor's Equity, which is a live theatre actor's union.
I
am also a member of the Dramatist Guild, because I've been writing
plays. I started that when I was in college and published just this
year. This is a book that I had published just this year and I'm going
around promoting it. It's called "Swimming in the American—A
Memoir and Selective Writings." It sort of covers my life and
also the experience in the camp. This is the poem that I referred to,
it's called "Pee in the Puddle."
There was an article published in the Chronicle and
it was talking about how Swimming in the American was a metaphor
for something. Could you go into more detail about that?
Ah,
yes, Swimming in the American is a metaphor for living in America
—my life as an American. Also, it refers to swimming that I did
as a child. We used to swim in the American River—a little
swimming hole we had. When I was around ten, I learned to swim -
not just dog paddle, but real strokes. It was called the 'Austrialian
Stroke', I learned from this older fellow, who taught me. So one
Sunday, I tried to cross the river. It was not very far from here
to maybe the wall, or the other side of the room. I did a few strokes,
but I hadn't learned how to breathe correctly. So suddenly I stopped
my swimming. Since I wasn't breathing much, I ran out of breath.
As I stopped, I became vertical. So I screamed for help and he
threw me a tire tube—an inflated tire tube. But my eyes were full
of water and I couldn't see that, so I'm screaming. He dove in
after me, and pulled me out. And that was my first experience of drowning,
and being saved.
Years
later, after the war, we went back to the American River, and we
were swimming—cooling off—and there were younger kids, teenage. I was about in my twenties, but there were younger kids,
who couldn't swim. Yet they were in the water. They were using
inflated pillowcases as floats—very dangerous, because it deflated.
This girl started to go down and screamed for help. I was standing
nearby and I was about the only one able to swim. So I reached for her
and she grabbed me and we both went down down down. It was quite
deep. As I was going down, I thought, "Oh, here we go." Completely
relaxed. And that was the key to the whole thing, that I was relaxed.
We went down together. As I was going down, I had visions of a Japanese
folktale where this man—old man—goes into a watery kingdom and
notices beautiful mermaids. I was thinking sort of like that, as
we went down, it only took a few seconds. We hit bottom. Miraculously,
we both rose to the surface.
After
we came up, we had to struggle. I'm holding on to her and
we finally made it to shore. It was kind of messy. I didn't feel
heroic at all. The girl said, "Oh, thank you for saving my life!" And
I couldn't believe I had done that actually. That's the story of
the swimming, which is part of the book. The struggle in all that
is also part of the book.
You mentioned two friends in that poem. Were you
friends with them throughout your school years?
It's a strange thing. We would make friends as kids—young kids
—and I suppose race did not enter into the picture then. But, as
we grew older we would slowly drift apart. So, my friends were mainly
of Japanese descent—Japanese-Americans—and we would lose our
white friends. By the time we were graduated from grade school
and we were in this eighth grade grammar school. After eighth grade,
we would graduate and go to a four-year high school. When we went
to High School, we would meet on the sidewalk. John, as I mentioned
in the poem, would recognize me. I'm sure he remembered our childhood,
but there was nothing close about it. We were not real friends by
that time. So that's the tragedy of our growing up.
Did you know of any acts of racism against the Japanese farmers?
Not that I can remember. There was limitations, but no overt acts.
Did the kids at your school ever ask the teachers why there were two groups?
No, we didn't question it, I guess we were kind of happy to be promoted each year, because some kids were held back, and that was not cool. But no, we didn't, and it is only recently that I learned about this tracking thing that went on in many of our schools. It happened in our school. I don't know why, because otherwise our school was pretty good, but that was the practice.
Have you ever had the problem of befriending a wealthy white kid and then his parents didn't want you to be around him?
Not that I know of, but when we moved to town—the Japanese were all farmers so they didn't live in town—we were about the only Japanese family living in town, and we would walk to school, being in town, it was only about a five-minute walk. I would walk with the kids in town, who were all white kids, and got to be friends with them, at least while we're walking to school. When we got to school we were in different groups. But I remember having some friends at that time. They came to our store because they liked to buy candy, and stuff, but I was never invited to their homes. I didn't even think to approach their homes, because it wasn't done. And so I don't know what the parents felt about our friendship. I never met their parents, though on occasion the father of one of the boys would stop for me on a rainy day and pick me up and we would go together. We had some of that, but there was nothing unpleasant that happened that I can remember.
Would you think of yourself as a child as more of an introvert or an extrovert?
I was not exactly an extrovert. We had the store and so I would walk home for lunch every day and have hot lunch at home, and the when I go back I would get some candy—cheap candy, suckers and stuff, penny candies—and my pocket would be full. When I got to school, kids knew that I had candy with me, so they would all come and flock around me. I was very popular. Other than that, I don't think I made many overtures to become friends.
Were you ever sad that you couldn't really participate in social activities with upper class kids?
Not really, it was kind of an accepted thing, and so, no, I didn't. It was more or less natural, there were certain things that you were not allowed to do, and some stores we didn't even go to because they didn't want us to be there.
Like restaurants?
Yes, restaurants, but of course we didn't go to restaurants. Barber shops, they would not cut our hair. So my father cut our hair, he was our barber.
You said you wouldn't go to restaurants. What time period were you talking about?
I mean when we were kids. We couldn't even afford to go.
Was the issue economic?
It was probably economic. It was not a habit of ours. But sometimes we would go to Sacramento and go to a Chinese restaurant as a special occasion. Not for having pancakes at a restaurant or something in the morning. We would make our own.
Can you tell us what it would like to have your hair cut by your father? Can you paint that picture for us?
Yes, it's in the book. That's pretty much how it was. Every couple weeks he would look at us and say, "Oh, I've got to give you a haircut." It was not a happy thought because manual haircut was not a great experience. I mean you have to sit very still, and you feel the hair, itchy, around your neck and so forth. Especially in the summer, when you perspired a bit. But I was the oldest, so my father would start with me. He would still be fresh, and not so tired of cutting hair. I was fortunate. I usually got good haircuts, because he was, as I say, fresh. Then I was pretty disciplined, I didn't move around, and I understood that if I did move, then he would hit me or bop me or something. So I usually got a good haircut. Maybe it was the shape of my head. Anyway my brother, who was of course younger, he was playing and he would play till the last minute until his turn came, so that he would be perspiring. And when you're perspiring, the hair sticks and it's very hard to cut. I think his experience was not so pleasant. He would get bopped pretty often. I don't know about his haircut, but there were just the two of us, so the old man didn't get all that that tired, but by the time he finished with me, he didn't care about my brother, especially when he was moving around, and restless and impatient, and so forth. You had to be a very good subject to get a good haircut.
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