A couple of months ago the chair of the Speakers and Issues Series, Dr. Montoya, asked me to introduce James Hoggard at his next reading. I thanked her for the honor, and set to work on my words. I felt deeply honored and delighted to give my observations about his work as I introduced him.
Here are some excerpts from my speech.
James Hoggard served as Poet Laureate of Texas for the year 2000 and has won numerous awards for his writing, including a fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts, and recognition for his translations, short stories, and poetry books, and most notable to me, a Lon Tinkle Award for Excellence Sustained throughout a Career. He's written very well for a long time.
Most of the public know about his long list of awards, so rather than list them, I wanted to emphasize his longevity as a poet, one of the grandest things about Hoggard. Also, he has worked as professor at MSU for a couple of decades, and I wished to point out another grand thing about him, and that is the effect he has on his community and students.
His work, his awards, and his devotion to MSU and the community have raised the quality of education in the city, indeed the world, for students from all around the world attend MSU and return to their countries taking with them everything they've learned from him.
At first I thought it sounded excessive, until I recognized its truth.
My late first husband, David, a Harvard grad, mathematician, and professor of linguistics, would read aloud to me Hoggard's work. With few exceptions, David would not read aloud, so I knew that when he read something great emerged from his lips. I've known that . . . a poet has some influence on his readers. I paraphrase Mr. John Hirschi when he said that Hoggard weaves magic with his words.
And here I begin to explain my observations about his work, his remarkable work over the years.
Carefully considered words by Hoggard are the magic through which he expresses his insights into the parts of life that we may not see otherwise. His book Elevator Man, and his latest novel, The Mayor's Daughter, in addition to countless poems, all show these beautifully written ways of expressing things, those things that seem equally as intelligent as his choice of language.
I added that In Eyesigns he wittily compels the reader with imagery, words, and numbers. This book is difficult to find now, but do try to acquire your own copy because it is a treat to visit every once in a while.
For The Mayor's Daughter, my intention was to comprehend more the depth of Hoggard's insight, so I spent a few hours at the archives downtown reading the court documents and articles about the tragedy.
The knowledge I gained about the tragedy shocked me. The culprits and the people who continued to support them made me feel such disdain that I did not feel sure I wanted to read the book at all!
The story, though, brings redemption to the victims, and to a town, and said that it shows the struggle of a townsfolk experiencing increasing wealth, and then attempting to maintain the commensurate levels of culture rising in their lives. Indeed, Hoggard beautifully righted a wrong.
My second honor that evening was to present him with a plaque to commemorate his twentieth book. The chair, unable to attend the reading, gave me that wonderful task.
And so it was another poetic evening in Wichita Falls. This time, though, I had the honor to contribute my part, an honor that I will have present in my mind for a long time.
See an article about Hoggard's recent awards published a couple of days later in the Times Record News, written by Ted Buss.
Photographic and poetic meanderings along the countryside or while flying an airplane.
Except as noted, all images copyrighted by and should be attributed to E B Hawley.
I had become many eons ago a traveling literary gnome, inquisitive about places I had and had not visited,
walking the same paths of peoples from the past, through places once grand and still grand,
photographing images that now show me the places about which I still dream . . .
Saturday, October 29, 2011
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Let Lovely Turn of Phrase Begin
JMHawley Gave Me a Kiss to Build a Dream On
Listen, will you? I think that . . . literature, poetry, music and love make the world go round . . . while mathematics explains things; I fill my life with them, then go walking in snowy woods.
Let us go then, you and I
like two etherized patients floating
through life, together feeling prufrockian.
DDB Jr. makes my world go 'round; during his absence, Pachelbel fills it up.
One summer I sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, then through the Gulf of Finland to reach Saint Petersburg; I pursued Joseph Brodsky in its alley ways. I dream of making that two summers.
I read “Biking to Electra;” found my way in a Jaguar car, and glanced at the flashing steel grasshoppers at sunset. I’ll follow K.O.P.’s footsteps after he followed N.Scott Momaday’s; find warmth and inspiration on a rainy mountain.
Throw chinese coins for the I Ching.
Save the whales, the spotted owl, the woman in toil.
Cast a fly for trout; my memories of fly fishing under the sunny blue Colorado sky remain; I yearn to build more . . . with more trophy Browns.
Listen for the swan’s calls on the Baltic Sea. Feel KKII's joy, his arms spread wide in Yazilikaya.
Good night, Jimmy Durante, where ever you are.
Listen, will you? I think that . . . literature, poetry, music and love make the world go round . . . while mathematics explains things; I fill my life with them, then go walking in snowy woods.
Let us go then, you and I
like two etherized patients floating
through life, together feeling prufrockian.
DDB Jr. makes my world go 'round; during his absence, Pachelbel fills it up.
One summer I sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, then through the Gulf of Finland to reach Saint Petersburg; I pursued Joseph Brodsky in its alley ways. I dream of making that two summers.
I read “Biking to Electra;” found my way in a Jaguar car, and glanced at the flashing steel grasshoppers at sunset. I’ll follow K.O.P.’s footsteps after he followed N.Scott Momaday’s; find warmth and inspiration on a rainy mountain.
Throw chinese coins for the I Ching.
Save the whales, the spotted owl, the woman in toil.
Cast a fly for trout; my memories of fly fishing under the sunny blue Colorado sky remain; I yearn to build more . . . with more trophy Browns.
Listen for the swan’s calls on the Baltic Sea. Feel KKII's joy, his arms spread wide in Yazilikaya.
Good night, Jimmy Durante, where ever you are.
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