Welcome to "Japanese America," where the Japanese American National Museum unveils captivating stories that add a Nikkei slant to the American narrative. In each episode, we explore the unique experiences, challenges, and triumphs of Japanese Americans, illuminating their rich contributions to the mosaic of American life. From historical milestones to contemporary perspectives, join us for an insightful journey through the curated collection of the Japanese American National Museum, showcasing the diverse tapestry of a community that has shaped the American story in extraordinary ways. Welcome to "Japanese America," where each story unfolds like a chapter in a living history book.
In this episode of the Japanese America Podcast titled "Legacy of Hope: Clara Breed's Letters and the Art of Compassion," hosts Koji and Michelle embark on a touching exploration of the enduring power of empathy and small acts of kindness. They begin by sharing personal anecdotes about the impactful teachers in their lives, setting the stage for the inspiring story of Clara Breed, a courageous children's librarian from San Diego during World War II. Clara Breed's quiet defiance against the forced incarceration of Japanese American families is highlighted through her thoughtful gestures of sending letters and supplies to children in camps, creating a vital link to the outside world. The episode draws poignant parallels between Breed's actions and the historical support of the Quakers, reflecting on the lost art of letter writing and its lasting impact on human connection. Through heartwarming excerpts from the letters exchanged between Miss Breed and the children, listeners are reminded of the profound impact small, compassionate acts can have, even amidst adversity. Join Koji and Michelle as they honor Clara Breed's legacy and inspire listeners to become beacons of hope in their own communities.
For more information about the Japanese American National Museum, please visit our website at www.janm.org.
CREDITS
The music was created by Jalen Blank
Written by Koji Steven Sakai
Hosts: Michelle Malazaki and Koji Steven Sakai
Edited by Michelle Malazaki
Produced by Koji Steven Sakai in conjunction with the Japanese American National Museum
Koji. Who is your favorite teacher or worst teacher and why? Great question. My favorite teacher was a teacher in 10th grade, Mrs. Naquib, who told me that I should be a writer and really encouraged me to be a poet and really encourage me to start writing. Um, I think that that's probably my favorite teacher. I have some really teachers that I had a lot of problems with, but I won't share it here because I think that people are gonna get the wrong impression of me if I tell them all the things I didn't do. Teachers? What do you mean, wrong impression. I'll tell you later. What about you? Who is your favorite or worst teacher? Okay, I had some memorable teachers and not so memorable teachers. I had this one teacher who was my English teacher. He was great. Okay. Um. And also a Japanese teacher when I was in elementary school. And she encouraged me to become whatever I wanted it to be. That's something extraordinary in Japan, because you are supposed to be the same as everybody else. That's funny. Welcome to season two, episode eight of the Japanese America Podcast, the podcast where we explore the blend of Japanese and American cultures, history and traditions, as well as all the quirky and wonderful things in between. My name is Koji and I am one of your hosts. And I'm the other host, Michelle Koji. How is back to school going for you? School is going well. My son started his new school, so it's a lot of driving. It's a lot of setting up my new office. It's a lot of work, but I'm excited, um, to be in a new place. What about you? How is your back to school going. Great. Like no more kids laying around at home all day. I'm done. It's funny. It's September, as we mentioned, and it's back to school. Yay! I love back to school. Our kids are going to be hitting the books, at least in theory, so we thought it'd be good to talk about a hero librarian. Michelle, did you ever think a librarian could be a hero? Yes. I love library, and when I was growing up, especially when I was in elementary school, that's where I went to take refuge at the library. Refuge from what? From everything else. Like I was sticking out. I had to hide myself not to be sticking out. That makes sense. Because I grew up in Japan. I had to be the same as everybody else. Yeah. So this month, we're talking about an amazing woman named Claire Breed. Claire Breed, known affectionately as Miss Breed, was a children's librarian in San Diego who became a quiet force for justice during World War Two, when Japanese American families were forcibly relocated to concentration camps. Breed didn't just protest, she acted. She handed out self-addressed postcards to the children and encouraged them to write to her camp. Over the years, she sent books, supplies, and unwavering kindness, becoming a lifeline to the outside world. Her archive of hundreds of letters now stands as a testament to the power of empathy and resistance in small, consistent acts. Did you know about Miss Breed's story? Michelle? I did not know about her until you sent me that stuff. And. Oh, my gosh, it's. She's amazing. Did you read about how she went to the the train and was giving the children, uh, envelopes and stamps to write back to her? Yes, she visited the camps, and, um, I don't know about camps. Is that, what, one camp? Yeah, I think she didn't go to all the camps. I think she only went to one camp, but I think she was doing a lot of stuff like that. She wrote letters? Yeah. Yeah. I mean, that's so nice of her. I mean, she had to travel so far from San Diego and to give out self postage stamp, um, Self-addressed. Yeah. That's I, you know, I just met someone whose grandfather went to the camp, and the terrible thing was, there's nothing to do. Like, nothing at all. It was so boring. So this is something that was nice to have, like, something to read and have a pen pal to help bring her story to life. We are going to hear some of the letters from students to Miss Breed. This audio was taken from a documentary, Once Upon a Camp, which was a co-production between JANM the UCLA Asian American Studies Center and the Alhambra School District. One person who thought this was wrong was Clara Breed, the children's librarian at the San Diego Public Library. Never thought of a librarian as a hero. Think again. When the war broke out and the Japanese Americans were being taken away by armed guards, Miss Breed grew outraged. She was brave enough to take a stand and wrote articles about why she thought it was wrong, and also wrote letters to the children and asked them to write back. Clara Breed saved over 250 letters from the children who wrote to her in the early 1990s. She gave them to one of the letter writers, Elizabeth Kikuchi Yamada, who later donated them to the Japanese American National Museum. On the day the children were sent away, Miss Breed went down to the train station to say goodbye. She gave the children stamped postcards and said, write to me. Dear Miss Breed. After 20 hours on the train and one hour on the bus, we have finally arrived at Poston. Our waters from the wells was very salty. Please give my regards to miss McNary. I will write again soon. Sincerely yours, Margaret Ishino. Dear Miss Breed. We are now in a strange place. Host in Arizona. I doubt whether this is even on the map. Bye Jack Watanabe. There are many things I would like to tell you about Poston. The camp is made up of blocks. Each block has its own washroom, ironing room and latrine. There are 14 barracks and a mess hall in each block. Very truly yours. Hisako Watanabe. Have to get in line everywhere. In the shower, mess hall. Even washing. So my mother sometimes takes all morning just to wash a bucket of clothes. Love, Elizabeth Kikuchi. There's going to be a fence around this camp. Five strands of barbed wire. They say it's to keep people out. Ha ha ha. What people? They say it's also to keep out cattle. Where in cattle countries do they use five strands of barbed wire? What do they think? We are fools. With becoming accustomed to camp life, I have also been getting utterly bored. There seems to have been no life previous to the one we are now living. There seems to be no future. People have gotten so they don't leave their own block, let alone their home. Last week, a very good friend of mine got to thinking and he went crazy. He tried to commit suicide. He is still alive, but his face is like that of a wild ape caged for the first time in his life. Sincerely, Tets. Dear Miss Breed. We can hear conversations through the partition. We can hear every word our neighbour is saying. There are so many people here that the cooks have to use shovels to transfer food from one pan to another. Louis Ogawa. Dear Miss Breed. I shall never forget last Tuesday, the day you visited us. I was most happy, even though it was a mere 30 minutes when I saw your smiling face a big lump formed at the pit of my throat. Because I never dreamt that I would ever see you again. Dear Miss Breed. I wonder if it would be too much to ask for you to send me any old discarded book you might have in the library. I would appreciate it very much if you would do this for me. The reason I ask is because my Christmas this year was very awful. I didn't receive a single thing, and I thought, if you could send me an old book of any kind, I would have something to show as being a present from someone. Yours truly, Hisako Watanabe. I had a wonderful dream last night. I left Poston on short leave of absence and headed for good old San Diego. And to you? My first stop was a candy store. And you were right behind me. Oh, everyone treated me so kindly and they were so friendly. Oh, I had a wonderful time. Then by 6 a.m., I was back in my poston cot again. I was sincerely Louis Ogawa. I was overjoyed to hear from you and that lovely book you sent. Thank you very much. I cannot find words to express my feeling. You helped to enlighten my holiday. Dear Miss Breed, the news of being able to go back to California has been met with mixed feelings. Those with homes are wanting to go back but wondering how the sentiment will be. We know that good friends like you would be glad to have us back, but others may not be so glad to see us. I too, would like to go back to San Diego. And yet I hesitate with public sentiment as it is. I think it might be best to start life anew in a new community. Dear Miss Breed. Sometimes I wish I were Webster or Winston so that I could write my appreciation. In other words, besides, thank you for all the lovely books you sent me. Then again, I am glad I am just plain Margaret Ishino because of the many interesting books I receive from you. When peace comes again to this world, I would like very much to travel. Then I would like to live contentedly the rest of my days here in America. My home sweet home. She knew was wrong, locking people away simply because of her. Their skin color. This breed didn't flinch even when others turned their back. She stood up. She reached out. She became a lifeline when it mattered most. Years have passed. The children she once defended are elders now, but in their hearts she remains what she always was. Dear Miss Breed. Brave. Unshaken. Unforgotten. So when you hear these letters about Miss Breed, what are some of your thoughts and feelings? I... Like so heartbroken. Those little kids had to go to the camp, and it's not the fun camp. You had no choice to but go with their parents, and you could only pack a bag full of stuff. Belongings. I'm sure there is no space for toys or books or anything extra. And what are you supposed to do? And you don't know when you're going to get out and Miss Breed. Send them things to do. Like, uh, stationery, paper. I love stationery, something I get excited, pens and paper. And they go a long way to write letters, to receive letters. That was so nice that she did for the people at the camp. Yeah. I think for me, it just goes to show that it's it's not the, you know, that that when you do something, it doesn't have to be something crazy, that it doesn't have to be something, you know, big, that it's the little actions and the little things that really show that that make a difference. So, you know, one of the stories that we've already featured on the show is with the Quakers. And I remember one of the stories was that, you know, the kid never had didn't get a Christmas present that first Christmas. And it was the Quakers that gave him a Christmas present. It was a book. And it's those it's those little moments, I think, that make a huge difference. And Miss Breed, you know, went out of her way to make try to make these kids lives a little bit more bearable. And I think that's that's something that, you know, that makes her a hero and that those are the kinds of things that we should be talking about. And and really showing that not everybody was not everybody was racist. Not everybody was bad, that some people were trying to make, you know, what happened to Japanese Americans. Not so bad. And also keeping that connection with the outside world. That's not your friend friend. I think that was really nice that they kept them sane. I agree, I think that that's a that's a really great point. If something like this happened. Koji, would you bring some papers and pens to the camp? Yes, definitely. I mean, I think I would try to, you know, I think we would try to do something that would try to make these people's lives better as much as possible. Um, so I think that's something that we have to kind of think about and try to figure out how to help make sure that we're helping as much as we can. What about you? Um, I don't think I would bring any soccer ball or baseball because I'm not a sports person. I know football season just started yesterday. Was it yesterday? But I'm a stationary person, so I'm gonna bring journals, pens and paper if they are needed. Michelle, did you ever have a pen pal? And more importantly, would you be my pen pal? I had a pen pal when I was in middle school. I had a German girl who was my pen pal. And we were exchanging mail for about ten years. But I don't know what happened to her. Ten years? That's a long time. Yeah. Ten years. And then she moved. She moved from West Germany, remember? West Germany to somewhere in South America. And that was the end of our exchange. And I would be your pen pal. But, hey, we could text too. I don't think I've ever had a pen pal like a real pen pal. Uh, but, uh, I don't know if I'd be Michelle. I don't think I'd want to be your pen pal, so don't take offense to it. Oh. Oh. I'm so offended. But remember, like many years ago when we used to be kids in a magazine on the backside, you know, back part of the magazine, there's like the, um, little section, like, I want to. I'm looking for a pen pal. I'm a girl 18 years old, and I love anime. Do you remember that? I don't remember that now. No. Or maybe it was just me I used to I love reading, I used to read from, like, one end to the other. I read everything. So ten years. For what? Do you remember her? Do you remember the, uh, the person's name? No. So it was like a. No the person. Magazine, I think, in, um. I used to subscribe to a magazine called Shogaku Sunset in Japan. And then it was it was just targeted for the third graders in Japan. So they have, like, magazine for that first grade, second grade, third grade to the sixth grade. And it has like the grade appropriate stuff in a magazine. And then the back side is where you find the pen pals or prospective for the pen pals. And then it even had addresses and you just write them letters like, oh my gosh, that's not going to happen right now. Does your does your daughter have a pen pal? I know my son doesn't. And I don't think she does have like many Snapchat friends. Or Instagram or something. I think the days of writing letters to people is pretty is not going to happen anymore. I think everyone is. People aren't doing that as much as they used to. Um, and it's interesting because, uh, it used to take four days for my parents to send me letters to here to my house. But last letter that my mom sent me took three weeks. Why so long? I don't know. I know. A long time. Three weeks? Yeah. Three weeks. So it's better to just call her. Well, nowadays. And nowadays, you don't even call people. I don't know what I would do if people called me, I would, I would be like, why don't you text me. Like FaceTime? Yeah. True, true. But you don't even like text. I text you and you send me email. That's pretty funny. So I don't know about you. Yeah, yeah. Thank you all for listening to our podcast. We are deeply grateful for your continued support and enthusiasm for the Japanese America Podcast. Your engagement, feedback and passion inspire us to keep sharing stories and perspectives that bridge cultures and bring people together. Thank you for being part of our community and for tuning in to each episode. We're excited to continue this journey with you, exploring the rich and diverse tapestry of Japanese American experiences. Stay tuned for more exciting content, and don't hesitate to share your thoughts and ideas. This podcast is a program of the Japanese American National Museum. The museum's mission is to promote understanding and appreciation of America's ethnic and cultural diversity by sharing the Japanese American experience. Please rate, review and subscribe to our podcast, and be sure to join us next month as we delve deeper into Japanese American culture and history. Bye.
