A toast to Kim Ricketts

Yesterday was an incredible day for me professionally. I conducted interviews with Maria Menounos, Chris Jordan and Morgan Spurlock at The High Bar. Then, last night, I hosted Mr. Spurlock at a special screening of POM WONDERFUL PRESENTS: THE GREATEST MOVIE EVER SOLD. Roughly, this task consisted of introducing him, handing him the mike and watching the Energizer Bunny of documentaries zip thru a post-show Q&A with his trademark verve, nerve and charm. Interwoven through the day were promises of possible distribution for the show and future A-list guests plus a reassuring sense of validation for my new commitment to this improved version of the series.

I went to sleep with visions of Emmys and woke with the dull, buzzing reminder of all the celebratory gin I had consumed hours earlier. Far worse, was the news I received moments later upon rolling over and checking my e-mail: my good friend and frequent collaborator, Kim Ricketts, had died. Sure, I knew she had been battling illness and yet Kim has always struck me as invincible; beneath her thin smile and strong facade, steely and pickled, I imagined her surviving the apocalypse and presenting author events with new life forms shortly thereafter.

I already miss Kim. I remain convinced that she did more to promote literature and literacy in this town than anyone and I remain frustrated that she never received the credit deserved for her noble efforts. (Too often, she got the quite opposite, sadly.) I am proud to have hosted dozens of events in The Good Life and Words & Wine series she conceived, the latter an obvious merging of our shared belief that communal high culture is best with hooch… and laughs.

Long before these series, a dozen years ago or so, Kim recruited me to host visiting authors at University Bookstore. She was one of the first and the few in this town to seriously consider the passion and levity I can bring to such occasions and for that I shall forever be thankful. Without her, and the exposure these events granted me, I am uncertain I would be filming The High Bar and inviting authors such as Booker Prize winner Howard Jacobson on to discuss The Finkler Question and what it means to be Jewish or Lori Gruen to talk about Animals & Ethics.

Like all of us, Kim had her quirks — such as savant-like knowledge of history and her magical ability to repeatedly double the size of any audience in her head — but all her eccentricities underscored her single-minded devotion to books and their power. The Warren Report has long touted that smarter audiences make better movies. I know Kim believed that smarter readers make a better world. It is inarguable.

I know there is nothing I can do to resurrect Kim just days after Easter yet I do know how best to honor her life and memory. Tonight, I will pour myself a good, stiff drink pick up a book I’ve been meaning to read — maybe Jose Saramago‘s Death With Interruptions would be fitting — and consume both with urgency, wonder and delight.

Here’s to you, Kim Ricketts. Thanks for all you have done and all you will still inspire.

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