It is AAALLIIIIVVVVEEEE!

The blog, I mean. It's alive. I am going to maintain this little corner of the internets if it kills me -- and it probably will.

For my first act among the living, here is a recent piece I wrote about the 25th Anniversary of the Porter Fund Prize. I am a very, very, very lucky Porter Fund winner. The gala at the Governor's Mansion -- well, read below. It was a special evening.

Oh, and the picture to the right is of Dr. Ben Kimpel, the professor I didn't know but who lives on in the literary prize started in his honor.

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During a recent reading at the Great Hall of the Governor's Mansion, poet Miller Williams paused to take note that his work does not require the constant use of a dictionary. He went on to state that his intent was to create poems with language that could be read and understood by “squirrel hunters and taxi drivers.”

Williams said this while addressing a sizable crowd that included the sitting governor of Arkansas, Mike Beebe, the attorney general of Arkansas, Dustin McDaniel (who also happens to be a cousin of Williams), former governor and senator David Pryor and several captains of industry including Don Tyson. There may not have been any taxi drivers in the bunch and the squirrel hunters didn't identify themselves.

The happy occasion – and any chance to hear Williams' heart-expanding, smile-inducing verse can be labeled as such -- was the 25th Anniversary of the Porter Fund Literary Prize. The poet from Hoxie received the Lifetime Achievement Award, the second such designation given by the literary prize started by Phil McMath and Jack Butler over drinks in a bar. The idea by the two former students' was to honor Dr. Ben Drew Kimpel, the distinguished chair of the Department of English at the University of Arkansas at Fayetteville. Kimpel made a request that the prize be named in honor of his mother, Gladys Crane Kimpel Porter.

In his welcome speech, McMath couldn't help but notice how far the Porter Prize has come in the past 25 years. Taking note of the glittery appointments of the Great Hall and the wine and martini bars that were taken advantage of by many of the guests, McMath remembered the “early days” where he and his wife Carol would run out the day of to buy the cheese and the wine for the Porter Fund events.

Poet Leon Stokesbury has the honor of the first Porter Prize, which he won in 1985 and received a check of $500. The last Porter honoree, non-fiction writer Roy Reed, received his award and $2,000 in prize money, at the Main Library in downtown Little Rock. There have been 24 Arkansas writers – 9 poets, 12 fiction writers, 2 non-fiction writers and 1 playwright -- recognized between Stokesbury and Reed. Over the years, what has come clear is that the Porter Prize is something more than money and a nice pat on the back (which is not to say that most writers don't desperately need and appreciate both). The Porter Prize is helping to identify the significant talent that Arkansas has produced. Along those lines, McMath drew the attention of the crowd to a chance to donate to The Porter Literary Project, a documentary film that will begin production in 2010. When completed, the documentary will be distributed to schools as well as writing departments in Arkansas' colleges and universities.

The documentary will go a long way in capturing the past of the Porter Prize (and footage was taken of the 25th Anniversary event), but McMath struck a note of concern about the present, specifically the paradox of “how there is less communication in this age of communication.” This notion was echoed in the direct and moving remarks by McDaniel about his cousin. After taking a moment to recognize the members of his extended family in the audience including state representative Kathy Webb and Williams' daughter, Grammy winner Lucinda Williams, he mentioned a brief e-mail he received from Williams after being elected to the office of Attorney General. The e-mail, which McDaniel said he printed and has kept in his office, was a plea for the new head of Arkansas' legal realm to be mindful of how his decisions affect those without power or money.

In between his poems during his reading Williams mentioned how he started his collegiate life with a major in biology. The work he selected and read reflected that keen appreciation of the natural world – the way a caterpillar doggedly crawls along the edge of a dog bowl, the way husband and wife can talk around one another and even the questions raised by the very atoms and particles of our being. Williams direct verse -- those well-carved out words aimed at squirrel hunters and taxi drivers – delighted the crowd. It was a night of honors and recognition, but, above all, a night of peerless communication.