there was a sound of thunder
Ray Bradbury passed away last night.
(Although I don't know the hour of his passing, I can't help but note the timing and wonder if he departed this earth as Venus transited the Sun for the last time in this next hundred years. And then I think about "All Summer in a Day," and I start crying again.)
I was in 7th grade when I first read his work. It was from The Martian Chronicles, and it was "The Million-Year Picnic." Soon after came "A Sound of Thunder," and "All Summer in a Day," and then, and then, and then, and I kept reading Bradbury's stories and books and never stopped.
My first appearance on stage, in fact - an extremely rare event, for many reasons - was in a reader's theater performance of the radio play adaptation of Dandelion Wine.
I had the good fortune to meet the man himself here in Denver, several years ago. I found out about his appearance at the last minute and was able to secure a ticket; I didn't have time to go home and get a copy of any of his work, so when he stayed after for autographs and discussion I shyly asked him to sign the ticket stub instead and explained why, and stammered that even though I didn't have my favorites in print with me I had them all in memory, and he smiled. Black glasses and white hair and tired from a long day, and still, his whole face crinkled up when he smiled.
I couldn't tell you now where that ticket stub is. I think it's scattered in along with a number of other things in a desk drawer, probably a little worn at the edges, much like my copies of his short story collections are thread-worn and scattered around my house, much like my thoughts at this moment are scattered all through my mind, such that I cannot find the coherence I desperately want so that I can talk about how much his work influenced my life, in story and in novel and on stage and on screen, in so many, many ways. But it did, and he did, and so.
Farewell, sir. You will be deeply missed, but your words will live on. Thank you, for everything.
This entry was originally posted at http://silveraspen.dreamwidth.org/277207.html and mirrored to LJ. Please comment where you wish! (There are
comments currently posted at Dreamwidth.)
(Although I don't know the hour of his passing, I can't help but note the timing and wonder if he departed this earth as Venus transited the Sun for the last time in this next hundred years. And then I think about "All Summer in a Day," and I start crying again.)
I was in 7th grade when I first read his work. It was from The Martian Chronicles, and it was "The Million-Year Picnic." Soon after came "A Sound of Thunder," and "All Summer in a Day," and then, and then, and then, and I kept reading Bradbury's stories and books and never stopped.
My first appearance on stage, in fact - an extremely rare event, for many reasons - was in a reader's theater performance of the radio play adaptation of Dandelion Wine.
I had the good fortune to meet the man himself here in Denver, several years ago. I found out about his appearance at the last minute and was able to secure a ticket; I didn't have time to go home and get a copy of any of his work, so when he stayed after for autographs and discussion I shyly asked him to sign the ticket stub instead and explained why, and stammered that even though I didn't have my favorites in print with me I had them all in memory, and he smiled. Black glasses and white hair and tired from a long day, and still, his whole face crinkled up when he smiled.
I couldn't tell you now where that ticket stub is. I think it's scattered in along with a number of other things in a desk drawer, probably a little worn at the edges, much like my copies of his short story collections are thread-worn and scattered around my house, much like my thoughts at this moment are scattered all through my mind, such that I cannot find the coherence I desperately want so that I can talk about how much his work influenced my life, in story and in novel and on stage and on screen, in so many, many ways. But it did, and he did, and so.
Farewell, sir. You will be deeply missed, but your words will live on. Thank you, for everything.
This entry was originally posted at http://silveraspen.dreamwidth.org/277207.html and mirrored to LJ. Please comment where you wish! (There are
comments currently posted at Dreamwidth.)