Lexington, KY - The local literary scene was dealt a staggering blow late last month when former state poet laureate James Baker Hall passed away in his home in Sadieville. As the director for the University of Kentucky creative writing program for over two decades, and a professor for even longer, he touched many creative minds in and out of the academic sphere - this writer included, though I was never fortunate enough to have Jim for a teacher; his classes always filled up too quickly for me to enroll, and I was too bashful to ask for a schedule override.
Through good friends, who were very close friends of Jim and his wife, Mary Ann Taylor-Hall, I had met the author many times while I was in college, though it is safe to say that I was more familiar with his work than he was of mine. It was always an auspicious occasion getting a chance to hear his peculiar insights on subjects most of us took for granted, and his hearty knee-slapping laugh and mesmerizing hand gestures while he spoke were endearing.
I remember I happened to run into Jim the day I was moving out of my apartment here in Lexington after graduating. I was moving to Alaska and Jim had just watched a nature special the night before, he told me, about the depleting population of large salt-water fish. He implored me to get up there and do something about it.
Aside from an impressive collection of poetry and fiction (which includes one of my favorite novels, "Yates Paul, His Grand Flights, His Tootings"), Jim was also a prolific and accomplished photographer Ö and an avid fan of UK sports - especially basketball. When he was a young teenager, he actually had the posh job of shooting the UK men's basketball team when they played, not at Memorial Coliseum, but Alumni Gymnasium.
He told me that story the last time I saw him a few years ago. I was taking pictures on the sidelines of a freezing UK football game and he was bundled up in a thick blue and white coat. The basketball season hadn't started yet, but Jim wanted to know what I thought of our new coach, who was Billy Gillespie at that time. He said he didn't know how good of a coach he was, but the Bluegrass had, as he put it, "finally got a coach as crazy about basketball as the fans."
Now that I think about it, it is a real shame that Jim had to leave this world before he had the opportunity to yell at the television screen while watching Coach Calipari and this unprecedented recruiting class we have starting this season. It's even sadder that the last season he got to watch was so lousy, but Jim certainly wasn't a fair weather fan.
They say good news and bad luck comes in threes, and it was slightly surreal reading the local headlines the day Jim passed away - he was sharing the stage with the likes of Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett. As far as I know, the three didn't share any sort of connection with one another, but if I know Jim, I would like to think that he got an incredible kick of out of the court he was holding.
If you're looking for something of significance to read this summer, try visiting, or revisiting, one of Jim's works - you won't be disappointed.