Some sentimrntal words about a dear man...

For a kid growing up in Los Angeles during the 60s and 70s (and beyond), Ray was always nearby. Not just as a name on a cherished pile of paperback books, but as an actual man charging from one public appearence to the next like a railroad locomotive in bright suspenders.

Life is full of distractions and wrong turns. One is lucky to find even a few things, or people, that confirm one's identity. Always a timid fan at Ray's signings, I didn't reach his doorstep in Cheviot Hills (head full of nonsense and hands full of drawings) till the very end of the 20th century. Since then it's been my extreme good fortune not only to call him friend, but to learn a thing or two about the meaning of that word.

Age and disability (mine as well as his, for there are disabilities of youth) can make some things stand out all the more sharply. Grace and good character are only two of them. Perhaps the most inspiring thing about Ray is his utter sanguinity in the face of what's unimportant or unchangeable. Any anger or sadness is used as firewood for his work, not hoarded up to become bitterness or regret. Time is hard on a ninety-year-old, but Ray responds with unfailing optimism. "Call at noon to make sure I'm well, then come over with hamburgers!" he'll say. "There's root beer and chocolate ice cream in the fridge!" The hour comes and I'm out the door, forgetful of my own idiotic dramas and dazed to discover that ice cream still trumps almost anything.

Recently I've been blessed with the bittersweet joy of reading out loud to Ray (whose eyesight is not up to the task). Confined to bed for the moment, he enjoys revisiting his own classic works, many of which he hasn't read in years. There's no vanity in it; clearly he wants to touch upon these mushrooms and Martian sands at least one more time, his surprise at having created them as fresh and genuine as when he received his first letter of acceptance.

It's a homecoming for both of us. And yes--my skin DID prickle while reading him Fahrenheit 451, as I realized that I'd momentarily BECOME the book that first gripped me as a boy.

There have been a lot of ups and downs since that crazy, candlewax-and-comic-book childhood. But such hurts as we all aquire may occasionally be softened, and transformed. I'd almost forgotten the trick; Ray kicked me in the behind. I've made a couple of fiction sales this year, and have a play allegedly in production. In every case I first shared the idea with Ray...who commanded me to write it, to cut or expand it, to send it hither or thither. Grazie, Maestro!

There are plenty of annecdotes I could share...some funny, some sad, some deeply meaningful (at least to me). A memoir of some sort seems almost obligatory, and I may write it someday, if encouraged. Mr. Phil Nichols (Ray Bradbury Media) has read a thing or two that I've posted elsewhere, and he suggested I log on here to share any news or reflections. It's an invaluable message board and there's no end to exploring it. Hail and hello! (and pass the ice cream).

Hey Bill, it's great to see you over here, and very nice to read your thoughts and reminiscences of Ray. Please visit often, and tell us more tales!

PS Were you at Ray's 90th birthday party in Glendale last August? If so, I may have met you without either of us knowing it. (And if not, not.)

It's entirely possible! That was a turbulant week...I was at Mystery & Imagination books (probably hiding somewhere with a sketchpad), and also had the pleasure of riding out to Pasadena with Ray for a party and screening of "Something Wicked This Way Comes" at the beautiful library there. The Pasadena event is particularly vivid in my mind: it was a mild night, and the portion of the public that couldn't be accomodated indoors was provided with a large screen on the lawn. Families lay about on blankets in the dappled moonlight, quite magical.

Then I do believe we DID meet: I found you in a quieter aisle of Mystery & Imagination doing a pencil sketch of Ray. We discussed his hair, of all things. I think I may have photographed the sketch. I photographed most things that day.

Or, perhaps, the shop was full of pencil sketchers, and 'twas some other artist whose doodles captured Ray's wayward locks.

Yes! I remember the sketch, the conversation, and you taking the picture. What a world, where jet airliners and petroleum-fuelled carriages bring people continents apart to the same bookstore aisle, and then, months later, they're able to talk about it via wires and satellites.

I've done several drawings of Ray. I wonder if I could upload one to this board(?).

You must try! We'd all love to see it!

Bill tells me he couldn't locate the sketch from that day, but has another one to share with us... but hit a problem trying to upload it. So I said I would have a go.

Here goes...

billgoodwinbradburyart.jpg (68 Kb, 15 downloads) Ray Bradbury, by Bill Goodwin:

It turns out that I didn't photograph Bill's sketching at all. But I DID video it! I have uploaded the video clips, and you can view them here.

quote:

Originally posted by philnic:
Here goes...

Ray-as-steam-locomotive, yes! It also reminds me of what he said at his 88th birthday bash when he saw the number on the cake: "Eighty-eight - that's my speed!"