The first time I wrote Ray Bradbury was in 1975 when I was in Junior High School. I just received a form letter back and was so crushed I didn't write again for five more years. I then wrote in 1980 and received a personal letter. Over the years we corresponded a number of times.

It took me nineteen years of trying to get to Ray's house. One special thing I did was when I graduated college, my dad offered me any gift within reason and I chose a trip to Waukegan, Illinois. For several days I went around photographing sites relevant to Bradbury's stories, and made him a photo album. He was so touched he sent me a special gift, so I was definitely on his radar. I had his phone number and when I called he always remembered me.

In June, 2003, just before Father's Day, I got to meet him in person. I was with two other people, but Ray sat me right next to him, on the side with his good ear. He asked me for a kiss. He didn't ask the others, and the guy with me half-jokingly said, "Well, he didn't ask me for a kiss." We were there about an hour, but Ray didn't want us to take pictures or make an audio recording, so the only proof I have is a picture of myself standing on the sidewalk outside his home. When Ray said he was tired we left.

In August 2010 I attended Ray's 90th birthday party. We were videotaping and I thought I'd get a tape of him recognizing me. Thing is, Ray wasn't doing so well that day. Even after an operation which improved his eyesight (I forget whether that was before or after this occasion) his vision was not good, so he wasn't able to recognize my face or to read my name tag. His hearing was not good so I don't think he heard me say my name. Someone later said one of his best friends was there and Ray forgot. He was very pleasant, though, and again asked me for a kiss. There is a picture of him kissing me and somewhere there is video of me kissing him. I have never seen a still picture of that but I think I have the video somewhere. The meet and greet session was ended by a man acting on Ray's interest when he saw Ray was getting tired.

Ray and I corresponded and spoke by phone for years. His wife died around Thanksgiving one year and the next Easter his brother died. I called Ray up and asked how he was and he said, "I'm getting my work done."

Thank you Dandelion. Your recollection about Ray has inspired me to write one of my own.

I haven't visited this forum in years but for some reason I was moved to do so today. Maybe it was the rain today in Lake County, Illinois (same county where Waukegan is located). The rolling thunder and lightning this morning reminded me of the days in the 1940s when my brother and I would stand on the porch of our home in Chicago, watch the rain and marvel at the thunder in the clouds and the flashes of lighting. That got me to thinking of days gone by.

My introduction to the writings of Ray Bradbury was at Culver City High School in about 1961. My English teacher had assigned us to read Fahrenheit 451, but, ever the rebel, I avoided the assigned work and instead I read Dandelion Wine. For me, "that has made all the difference." I found this Bradbury guy to be so different from the Hemingway, Steinbeck and others who I had been reading. So different, but so relatable. Dandelion Wine evoked for me, a world a lot like the one I had grown up in. At the time I had no idea I would ever want to write to the author, would correspond with him for years and would meet him a number of times. I certainly didn't realize that he lived - in the house before he moved his family to Cheviot Hills - a short bicycle ride away from my home.

In the summer of 1976, while out for a morning run, I found a paperback volume of Ray's short stories on the sidewalk. No name in it. No one else was around. So I kept it. When I got back home the first story I read was "The Sound of Summer Running." I enjoyed the coincidence that I was out for a run in my new tennis shoes on that summer day. In two of the other stories I found even more dramatic synchronicity with immediate events in my life. I thought that Ray might be someone who would appreciate these serendipitous moments so I found his address and wrote to him. Thus began a correspondence. In later years I found that this generous-hearted author exchanged letters with many people. I'm grateful to have been one of them.

The most dramatic meeting I had with Ray was in the summer of 1987, when my wife and I were visiting France from Cairo, Egypt, where I had taught Freshman composition at American University and worked as a reporter for several publications. I had been exchanging letters with Ray from Cairo. When I unexpectedly met him in the W. H. Smith English language bookstore in Paris and introduced myself, he said "You're supposed to be in Egypt!" I explained that my wife and I had come to France for medical treatment. We spoke briefly, then he put his hand on my shoulder, said "God bless you," and walked out.

Two days later I met Ray again. He was seated at a sidewalk cafe. He motioned me over and we spent a couple hours there. He did most of the talking. I learned much from him. One of the topics he spoke of was how much General Lafayette had done for America. For years I waited hopefully for him to write a book or a filmscript embodying the things he had mentioned to me about the marquis. Twenty five years later, when good old Ray passed on in 2012 without having written the hoped for Lafayette work, I felt I had to do something to honor that extraordinary meeting with him. I began researching about Lafayette, and writing about him. In 2019 I finished what I have titled Founding Son: How Young General Lafayette Helped George Washington Win the American War of Independence. I am still trying to get it published.

After that meeting with Ray in Paris I went back to where my wife and I were staying and wrote about it in my journal. In a later year I typed up all those notes and sent them to Ray. He thanked me for that. I think those noted might be somewhere in the archive of his collected papers.

I once visited one of my cousins in the Palm Springs area, and his wife told me that Ray would be speaking publicly the next day. We went. I introduced Ray to my cousin and his wife. He took a photo of Ray shaking my hand. I treasure that, as I do his letters and the books he signed for me at various bookstores.

I leave you with something encouraging that Ray said to me in one of the several dreams I've had about him: "Write, dammit!"

Thanks again Dandelion. Best wishes,
Walt

Thanks, Walt, that was great!

I am emboldened to tell you that some years ago I wrote a biography of Ray for kids ages 10-15. I tried Ray's agent and publisher and everywhere I could think of but no one was interested. A friend of William F. Nolan's even sent it to him and he wrote back saying he liked it better than Sam Weller's book but considered it too little, too late. He thought it was another adult biography and didn't understand it was specifically aimed at kids. I think the kids' biographies out there are woefully deficient and mine would be perfect to fill that niche but I have no idea how to proceed in getting it published. It employs a lot of quotes which would require permission and I would also need pictures which are now in the Bradbury archives.

Here is the thread giving my (rather low) opinion of the Bradbury juvenile biographies. I don't know whether any have been published since then but if they have I will be extremely annoyed. https://raybradburyboard.com/e...727084016#5727084016