In a lot of places trolley tracks are asphalted over but then the asphalt breaks and you can still see them.

Cool,I can't wait! You have to go, we need a tour guide!

Robot Lincoln,

Thanks so much for the invitation to join your Sentimental Journey into Far Metaphor. (That's how I described my own visit to Waukegan in my letter to Ray on the subject!)

I don't know just where I'll be working in the fall or what my situation will be. But, if it's at all possible, I would very much like to join the party.

Anyone can reach me off the discussion board at jpatrickmullins@gmail.com.

My own quest for the identity of Mr. Electrico over the last two and a half years has pretty much fizzled without a promising lead.

A couple of years ago, when I found out about the Sam Dill circus--and its proprietor Mr. Dark, I mean, Mr. Sparks--I thought for sure I'd found the right outfit. (See my posts on this subject at the CircusHistory.org discussion board.) Alas and alack, t'weren't so.

You say Sam pinpoints the location of the carnival in his book? I missed that--could you show me where? That's one site I was really hoping to visit. Thanks for your trouble, R. L.

Drunk on Dandelion Wine--

Patrick

P.S. Yeah, the trolley chapter has always been one of my favorites in D.W. Hard to get through it with dry eyes.

Patrick, I did see your post on the circus site before I knew of you on here, I tried that sparks name too, but its yet a different one than yours, but I thought, how wonderful a name would that be for him. Its such a cunundrum(?)(help Braling, I'm drowning in a quagmire of my own misspellings). It doesn't pinpoint the spot, just the street. That quote is on page 57 of my book about halfway down the page.The Buick came to a halt along Sheridan Road, and Ray clambered out of the car... Don't know exact spot, but beleive me when I tell you I have a vivid imagination and I will check it out. I'm planning on "feeling" that town from the inside out like those ladies from the auxilary in The Ghost and Mr. Chicken trying to feel the spirits at Nicholas Simmons mansion and all of them chanting. Seriously, hope you can make it and serendipity will spur you onward to Greentown, U.S.A./Mars.

Greg

p.s. here in Louisville, there is a restaurant called Spaghetti(don't care B-Two)Junction. Its downtown and it used to be a four story ancient department store, its all the restaurant now and they have a real trolley inside that you can eat in. They have really good mixed sherbert ice cream for dessert and the atmosphere is vintage. My grandmother took me as a child when it was the department store and they had a real monkey in a cage upstairs.

Posted on Ocala.com



Article published Mar 24, 2006
National Endowment for Arts Urges Reading

By CARL HARTMAN
Associated Press Writer
WASHINGTON
In the novel "Fahrenheit 451" a futuristic government forbids people to read books and sends firemen to burn any they find. Today's U.S. government urgently wants people to read books, not burn them.

Ray Bradbury's 1953 novel is one of four being used in test projects for "The Big Read," a program in which a community selects a single book to read and discuss in a monthlong event.

Industries and governors have complained that Americans are reading less just when today's jobs call for people who can read better. The National Endowment for the Arts, which organized the Big Read projects, believes that people who read more will make better citizens.

The National Council on the Arts, which advises the NEA on policy, heard reports Friday on the four-book test projects. The literacy drive likely will be expanded this spring, with a longer list of books from which communities can choose.

In addition to "Fahrenheit 451," the NEA offered the 10 test communities a choice of three others:

-F. Scott Fitzgerald's "The Great Gatsby" (1925), a tale of the lives and misfortunes of wealthy New Yorkers.

-Harper Lee's "To Kill a Mockingbird" (1960), about race relations in a small Alabama town.

-Zora Neale Thurston's "Their Eyes Were Watching God" (1937), about how a black woman found peace after happy and unhappy encounters with men.

An NEA study released last year found that fewer than half of adult Americans read novels, short stories, poetry or drama. While the number of people reading such works is falling among all age groups, the sharpest decline is among the young.

The pilot projects were in Little Rock, Ark.; Enterprise, Ore.; Miami; Fresno, Calif.; Huntsville, Ala.; Buffalo, N.Y.; Minneapolis; Boise, Idaho; Sioux Falls, S.D.; and Topeka, Kan.

I love the list but notice, there is nothing beyond 1960. They say that things are better today and in some ways that is surely true—medicine comes to mind—but there was a time when the easiest way to hear the storyteller was to read him or her. Today there are easier alternatives, and their content is controlled more and more by demographics, not quality or worth.

Would love to see some of Hemingway's and Hawthorne's great stories on that list. Also, there are some great novels that are currently being done. Perhaps one problem is that these new works are not getting the kind of notice they should be getting.

Of the why there is less reading question, there are many, many factors.

FAREWELL SUMMER
By Ray Bradbury

Farewell summer,
Hear the words, the dust enchantments on the tongue
And tamping ears, and drumming veins along the neck,
A reckoning of time now spells itself,
And all of summer funnels in the glass
And heaps itself to pollen sands,
The lands where boys and dogs have traveled
Ditching girls and weaker boys and careless dogs,
Now tilt and empty-drain themselves to schools,
The ruleless meadows now know only quail or autumn sparrow,
The harrowing of long grass by barefeet is done,
The self-made streets of summer shut and close,
The Indian paths grow up with weed
Where once the need of children, aimless in free time,
Made spokes for summer's wheel and crushed the symbols
Of God's silent speaking in the fields,
Those garter snakes, pure hieroglyphs that yield
A mystery then another and another,
As, driven by herd of elephant beast boys,
They scribble-write their lives in tongueless shapes,
Running for cover.
And still the wind that touches dead flowers by the road,
And shakes the rust in a raining blood of dry sough
Down the day and the drowning day's twilight,
In the last shimmer of sun, and a glimmer of first star
On the hedgehog bristling harvest fields
Where October's game takes over
From the running mobs of August and the rampant clover
That mob which once shunned schools
And stunned by sunlight overran the rules of meadow grass
Now gone, alas, and the wind a rustle and a whisper
In the dusking hour and the fading flower
And the dying fall of a summer dream,
The gleam which shakes from the rust-spilled stem
Recalling the children, remembering them,
And whispering a tune, to an antique drummer,
And these the words, throbbed by autumn's birds:
Farewell Summer.
And again:
Summer farewell.
And at last:
Farewell summer.

Robot Lincoln, thank you so much for posting this.

What an absolutely exquisite individual is this Ray Bradbury.
How glad I am that he lives!

This planet is a better place because he is on it. We should all live so that people will say this of us, as well.

Love to you in all you do,
N. Love

Thanks N.K.,

I feel pretty much the same. I was going to write something with that posting but after typing/reading it, I was moved and in awe. I'm beginning to realize that there is alot more to his poetry than meets the eye or is on the surface. Like a placid appearing river that has an undertow just beneath the surface. You just have to look really intently to "see". His poetry seem to have an odd rythm or cadence, but I like it. I don't know that much about poetry, just what I like. I prefer short, powerful poems. I recently bought a book of poetry written by children with their art as well. They were from kindergarten to sixth grade. I was completely astounded and blown away by the raw untarnished emotion and creativity stabbing my heart from the pages. It was is great!!! I beleive Ray is not only saying farewell summer, but also childhood. Yes, we can keep a slice of orange childhood in our hearts, but its never really the same after its gone. It's through jaded eyes and thoughts. Everything is so new, so vibrant, wondrous and mysterious. Its technicolor versus black and white almost sometimes. It is one of the most bittersweetest things there is. I lament and cherish it, what a paradox. Although having children is a great way to rekindle a little of that magic. I still love and nurchure that child wherever he is inside me, and the man he became now, even with all his faults. It brings to mind another poem. "The wheel is turning and you can't slow down,You can't let go and you can't hold on,You can't go back and you can't stand still,If the thunder don't get you then the lightning will..." Farewell Summer is in The Haunted Computer and the Android Pope. I just received a copy of The Complete Poems of R.B. of which it is in. Thought it fit. Thanks for your kind words by the way.

Clear Skies,

Greg

This message has been edited. Last edited by: rocket,

oh, to be invited to such a soire nocturne under the stars. to have planned such a thing was a romantic of you, eh greg? a night with the stars and something you love... it appeals, quite simply, to my whimsical fancies. and the tour of town sounds unforgettable. pity that im so close to where mr bradbury resides now, but so far from anything to visit...

wherefore don't you join us m'lady in black?

your just what this little seance needs...

alas, kindly sir, the tantalizing scent of freedom comes only after emancipating myself, a tempation i am barely able beat off these days. i'm not a big fan of the fake angst kids of today, but i would be sure to join their ranks, were i to think about my life too seriously. yes, i would love to run away to a midwest town period, but i'm sure the effects of a complete familial severange would be felt throughout my latter years.

i'm saving for college, and a residence in Japan thereafter with my best friend. serverance is sweeter on foreign soil.

although i would LOVE to visit something as precious to me as the hometown of ray...a sweet possibility for a late night dreamer.

there there m'lady in black, your talons are showing...richelieu may be displeased...

not to mention your teacher when your veiled attempts at "homework" help come to no fruition.
JUST PICK UP A BOOK!

actually, i am reading. "bradbury speaks..." right now, along with "brave new world" by huxley. "bradury speaks" is open right now woot!

This message has been edited. Last edited by: Depth Perception,