When I was much younger, I met Ray Bradbury in Lake Arrowhead, CA. He spoke at a hotel (Lake Arrowhead Resort maybe?) next to the Lake Arrowhead Yacht Club, and my mother took me along to hear him. She had been a fan in her youth, but grew out of it. I guess she wanted to do some bonding thing with me. I had no clue who I was going to hear, I had never read any of his books, and so I showed up wearing a Bart Simpson t-shirt and feeling a bit frustrated for being pulled away from my Super Nintendo.

I don't really remember what he talked about, but what I do remember was meeting him after the talk. He was friendly, and asked about my t-shirt. When I explained it, he chuckled and said he would have to watch the show. My mother bought paperbacks of The Martian Chronicles and The Halloween Tree (I think?), and he signed my copy of TMC. It's currently sitting on a shelf in my living room.

I didn't dig in. It wasn't until my freshman year of high school, when I was a rather troubled kid, that I finally did. I hated most of what we were reading, but I had this insane english teacher who had us reading things we weren't supposed to be reading. I believe she eventually lost her job over it. But one of the books she had us read (I don't believe it was banned in our district, not all of her selections were) was The Martian Chronicles.

I was fascinated by it, and remembered the day I met him, how funny and friendly he was. I dug the book out of a moving box and, after showing it to the teacher (who was impressed and said she wished she could have met him), I put it on my shelf. It has always been on my shelf, whether in our living room, in my office, etc. It's like a good luck charm now.

Anyway, to bring some meaning to this post, I was a troubled kid. I was stuck between two parents who were suit-and-tie business types, in schools where I didn't fit in, and as awkward as a teenage boy could possibly be. I ran away from home for two weeks at one point, skipped a lot of school, smoked a lot of pot and was generally unhappy. But there were a few people that held me together. They were the glue, so to speak. Aside from Ray, I've only met a few of them, but they were the authors, musicians and video game designers (still quite a gamer) I was fascinated with. It's a short list, maybe six people, but Ray's on there.

The result? I held it together. I rebelled against my parents, but looking at that list of inspiration I realized that I could make a living doing something I loved without selling my soul to the corporate machine. I now create sound effects for video games, I make a decent living, I've got a nice little house and a wonderful woman I plan to marry. I'm totally happy with life, I'm contributing creatively to something I believe in and I love getting up in the morning. Not many people can say that. I came through it, and Ray was one of the people who inspired me to do so.

So Ray, if you're reading, thanks for being funny and friendly to the grumpy little kid in the Bart Simpson t-shirt in Lake Arrowhead. You probably had no idea what good it would do, but I'm glad you did it.

Introvert, what an awe-inspiring story. Thank you for relating it. Ray's genuineness is uncanny, he is a real person and I am very happy that he had such a strong influence on you that you applied yourself and your talents in a most constructive manner.

True, Bi1: One of the main reasons that I offer many of his works (F451, DW, IM, GAofS, SWTWC, ICS), as determined by the groups of kids I have, is because of what Introvert has posted.

RB is like no other author, I have read, that can "hit a nerve in our psyche!" When that happens his characters and worlds open up to you for a lifetime. In many cases, so do the worlds of other authors, books, styles, ideas. (My most selfish reasons, I simply love his writing, it is a pure joy to read aloud and present at all hs grade levels, and I am not locked into a "must do" literature list. I also teach loads of classic stuff, grade appropriate titles, and poetry.

But it is RB who sparks the flames!

Introvert,

Great story. Nothing like a happy ending due in part to the influence of RB. You're in good company here.

Interesting about your teacher, too. Was she "good" insane or "bad"? Sounds like she paid the ultimate price for her creativity, though. Strange world.

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When I explained it, he chuckled and said he would have to watch the show.

Chuckled is a good word - sorry.

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...smoked a lot of pot...

Have you ever met George Clayton Johnson - sorry.

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...thanks for being funny and friendly to the grumpy little kid in the Bart Simpson t-shirt...

Yes, that's our Ray! Wonderful story, thanks!

introvert:

Bradbury often influences on a much deeper level. Tho many poets and writers of the past have done equally, Bradbury is a contemporary. Alive. You can go today and shake his hand and get an autograph. That adds a lot to the present-day 'magic' of him as an author. Once he passes, the fervor will most likely continue, and if it wanes in a generation to come, and this country as we know it is still here and the culture that we now know continues, he'll be re-discovered again and again.

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Originally posted by Nard Kordell:
You can go today and shake his hand and get an autograph.

Just remember to extend your left hand.

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Once he passes...

Bite your tongue! (well, not really, but you know what I mean)

Doug, your sig says it all: Ray is going to Live Forever!

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Originally posted by philnic:
Ray is going to Live Forever!

Indeed he is!

Live forever?

Of course he is. He wrote that fact into one of his books, just in case...

She was good insane, definitely. She was one of those extremely rare teachers that really seemed to care about us. I don't know what the ratio is like in other parts of the country, but in the school district I attended teachers who were concerned with their students were a very rare things. I encountered maybe three of them in my four years of high school.

I liked what fjp451 had to say about his worlds opening up. It's true. There are very few books that leave me feeling like I've actually been to the place I read about, but several of Ray's have done this for me.

That's MY kind of teacher.

I only had one "good" insane, brilliant, fiery, and caring teacher in school who was both profound and creative and, therefore, indelible. What an impact she had on me. Just like the work of Ray Bradbury continues to do to this very day.

I crossed paths with my "crazed' Lit teacher in my first year of studies at our local community college. He had been a tank commander in Viet Nam prior to initiating work in the C.C. classrooms. Not a loud or physically ominous individual by any means, he had a very wry sense of humor that I found hilarious. He stood about 5'9', wore distinguished wire-rim glasses, had a full (Smith Bros' type) beard, and was always nattily dressed, while so many others on campus let their beads and frayed cuffs make a different statement.

I took every possible course of his I could fit into my schedule for two years. I even took a couple of evening classes, just to listen to him talk of literature and read passages aloud. He ripped a page out of a book one night because he didn't like what it said. Or maybe because it didn't seem to be going anywhere. It was something out of Joseph Conrad's Lord Jim. (Think, 8:45pm of a 7-9pm class!)

Another night during some exciting explanation, he paused, looked around the class, and then threw the piece of chalk he was holding directly at me, seated in the very back of the class. He probably realized I was the only one paying attention, or capable of it. (It was the mid 70's, and the class was typically given a 15 minute break before the second part of class was conducted!). I deftly snatched in the chalk from mid-air and placed it in the little pen groove at the top of my desk. He barely grinned, shook his head, scratched at his bearded chin, through clenched teeth uttered a slight "Sheesh!" and continued on with his dissertation of London or Hemingway or Steinbeck or maybe Poe - some of his many favorites. No one really knew what had transpired. Higher education, I guess!

He always referred to his students by Mr., Mrs. or Miss, with no intention of slighting in his tone. I saw him several years after I had graduated and gone on to do whatever it is that I do. He was still teaching and had begun raising naturally fed Black Angus, or was it Herfords? Not sure that he would remember me, I approached and greeted him, "Hello, Mr. R! Good to see you again. You may not remember..."

To this day I clearly recall his very rewarding interruption, "Mr. P! Of course I recognize you. I've heard tell you are now an English teacher."

I hope I am!

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Originally posted by fjp451:
...and then threw the piece of chalk he was holding directly at me...

We had a biology teacher who used to throw erasers at talkative students - he was much beloved.

I'm glad you met Ray. I hope I can meet Ray too, some day.