I'm a friend and neighbor of Ray's who often reads aloud for him, since his eyesight isn't what it used to be (see "Reading to Ray").

As a young man on a difficult car tour of Mexico, Ray watched his cherished typewriter get hurled into a river by an angry friend. I recently speculated to him that the poor machine had suffered a sea change. It was still down there somewhere--perhaps in the Gulf of California--a fragile heap of rust inhabited by crabs.

Ray liked the idea, and told me to write a poem about it. I told him I'd do it as a parody of Ariel's Song from Shakespeare's "The Tempest." Below is my liberal interpretation of the bard's stanzas, which he enjoyed:

A Fee Change

Come unto these Rio sands,
See pried away, thy tiredly typing hands,
Curiously kiss'd by mummy dust
And wild dog-piss,
Witness typewriter tossed in water,
A hermit-crab home, and burden
For sweet sprites to bear.

Si! Si!
Bow-wow.
The old circus dog barks.
Bow-wow.
Si! Si!

I hear the strain of a groaning calliope
Cry: "For God's sake get out of here!"

Now,

Full fathom five, thy typewriter rusts,
Of its ribbons are seaweed made,
And those are pearls that were its keys,
The writing, however, loseth no lust,
The stories continue!
But doth suffer a fee change,
Into something richly paid.

Agents hourly ring thy phone,
Don Congdon!
Hark, now I hear him.
Don Congdon!
Oh, how swell.

--Bill Goodwin

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As we say on the Facebook, "Like".

As a coincidence, I'm going round to visit him today, myself. A neighbour? Do you live practically next-door, friend Bill? Or perhaps next-door. I should like to make your acquaintance. A fine artist, and a fine poet.

This episode of History Detectives sent a dive team down to search a river for metal master plates to records pressed in the 1920s dumped in the river when the factory closed. Unfortunately, the river was disturbed by opening a dam or floodgates at some subsequent point. Maybe if enough of us ask they can find Ray's typewriter. Of course, maybe it's still writing stories down there.

What a dream gig! Reading aloud to the Master!
Wow.
Not the same Bill Goodwin from the Burns & Allen radio show, surely!

quote:

Originally posted by Braling II:
What a dream gig! Reading aloud to the Master!
Wow.

I was fortunate enough to have had the same gig earlier today! And was invited back for another soon! It's a wonderful thing.

@At Doug Spalding: Thank you for the kind words.

It IS a wonderful thing, to read to Ray. A tide seems to move back and forth, from past to present and from Ray's eyes to one's own speaking mouth. Everything gets stirred around and you feel like you're in the story. Let's keep in touch.

@dandelion: Still typing down there...what a weird and wonderful idea. Sounds like a story...

@Braling II: Ray IS the master. I am unfortunately NOT a radio star. I never heard of the earlier Bill Goodwin, until one night, when we were standing in line for a movie, a friend pointed at the Hollywood sidewalk and said: "Look, it's you!" There, glittering, was my star on the Walk of Fame (sigh).

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quote:

Originally posted by Bill Goodwin:
@At Doug Spalding: Thank you for the kind words.

It IS a wonderful thing, to read to Ray. A tide seems to move back and forth, from past to present and from Ray's eyes to one's own speaking mouth. Everything gets stirred around and you feel like you're in the story. Let's keep in touch, here: http://www.facebook.com/profil...p?id=100001442014246.

You're welcome. Touch kept. Yes! I noticed the very thing with my mouth and his eyes. Since I know the words so well, I would often look him in the face whilst speaking the words, and I believe he got the idea that it was playing out in front of him. It was for me. He mentioned you while I was there. Said that you read to him often.

He's rapt, isn't he? Those blue, creekwater eyes are piercingly lucid under the tired lids, ever childlike but never childish (for Ray is the epitome of grace and generosity). He must of course have long ago have learned to help his ears with his vision...but it's also obvious how intense and personal an experience it is for him, to visit and touch upon these many words and selves once more. "The true harvest of my life is like the tints of the rainbow..." said Thoreau. By writing so much and so well, Ray has captured for himself the essential shimmer that rises off the long highway of life, to become a strength and validation for him in old age.

It's a good lesson, and reading aloud for him, a favor dearly bought. I'd give Ray my bones if I could. Failing that, we can only pilot the verbal raft as best we can, yes? I always feel as though I were the one being recited to. And speaking the words--caressing the syllables like newly discovered river stones in my mouth--makes me more alert to the world, and a better writer too (I hope).

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Wonderful exchanges here Mr. Goodwin!

For the next few days, I wiil be closing my files, room, and lights... For thirty-five years I have had the true honor to read aloud of Mr. Bradbury's works to my students (gr. 7-12). Countless selections of novels, short stories, poems, articles...each has had its own special tone and images and beauty - really! They will love his stories forever.

My own RB awakening was as a kid, told by the good nun, "Get a book and use your time wisely!" Walking (Just walking!) into the library, I spun a metal book rack without much purpose. However, when it stopped, Golden Apples of the Sun with its classic cover drew my curiosity
http://farm5.static.flickr.com...10178_f04a769c9e.jpg

Then I started reading! All those great stories, prefaced by Joseph Mugnaini's artwork, were just what I needed. Look how things turned out!? (There seems to be a Bradbury metaphor in this tale!)

To read Mr. Bradbury's words has been a joy. Our own two boys grew up hearing RB in their bedrooms before "Goodnights!" I have already made inquiries so that when the key locks for one last time - in a day or so, I will have an option for an offering at a nearby university. My thoughts....a course purely Bradbury!

RE: "It's also obvious how intense and personal an experience it is for him, to visit and touch upon these many words and selves once more."

Yes, indeed!
f

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quote:

Originally posted by Bill Goodwin:
And speaking the words--caressing the syllables like newly discovered river stones in my mouth--makes me more alert to the world, and a better writer too (I hope).

It's certainly worked for you! A good writer you are.

I carried him a Heritage Club edition of The Martian Chronicles from 1974 to see (just see), and he was keen on being shown all the beautiful colourful Mugnaini illustrations.

Rapt is a good word.

@ fjp451: Your students are lucky, and your children too. Best of luck with this new beginning. Isn't it strange, the fortune or instinct that draws us to the books we need, like fruit-flies to...well, a golden apple! (I love that cover, and those of all the paperback editions from that period. They were formative images for me too).

@Doug Spalding: Thanks, I hope to be. Rapt: a good word, and a theological one too, I ween. "Venite adoremus."

quote:

Originally posted by Bill Goodwin:
@Doug Spalding: Thanks, I hope to be. Rapt: a good word, and a theological one too, I ween. "Venite adoremus."

Hey - that's my field!

Ween is a good word.

All words are good until they're abused.

To ween Hallow is a fine field. It brings forth gourds a hundredfold.

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Like.

My English Teacher introduced me to Ray Bradbury's stories in the 7th grade, and I have loved him ever since. He is truly a role model in countless aspects of life, for he brings about so much thought and inspiration. I wrote him a letter last year but received no reply. It draws a smile to my face to know that he is still well and enjoying books and words and stories which have touched so many over the years and which I'm sure are touching him. Thank you for posting this.

"'So-So' is good, very good, very excellent good, and yet it is not so: it is but so-so." -Shakespeare