inspiration, longreads, Memory, Ray Bradbury, stories, writing

Thank You Mr. Bradbury

I lost a friend yesterday. Though he was not someone that I ever had a cup of coffee with, ever exchanged a handshake with, ever had a conversation with, ever met, yet, he was still my friend. He was my friend through the words he put to the page, the wonder he instilled in my mind and my heart, and the inspiration he filled my soul with. I don’t know that I can recall the first story of Ray Bradbury’s that I ever read. I know the first novel of his that I read was The Martian Chronicles. I know that for years, I would seek out magazines that featured his stories, including a small stack of Playboys purchased solely for an exclusive story featured in it, checked his collections out of the library and dreamed that I could some day be a fraction of the writer that he was. And just a few years ago, he put out a book that became one of my favorite books of all time, From the Dust Returned. So favored has the book become to me, that I have gifted copies of it to many of my friends. I have read it 5 times already and am sure there are at least dozens more readings still in it. Woven from stories over decades into a tapestry that sweeps me into its folds every time I open its pages, regardless of what page I first land upon. It is Bradbury at his best. Or maybe Bradbury at his best to stir my soul. I spent many moments of the day wiping tears from my eyes over the loss of this man who left such an imprint on my mind and my spirit. Regret that I never made the effort to seek him at one of his signings, his speakings, even though I lived so close to his home. I never was one of the lucky ones to have a chance encounter in one of the dusty bookstores, libraries or other haunts that I am sure we both shared. I missed my chance. I missed it many times. To spend a moment in his presence, to maybe speak to him, to have him sign one of his books with my name on its pages, to maybe breath in just a mote of his presence into me, to plant a seed and inspire me to allow it to grow. But, he has still, even though I have not looked into his eyes, inspired me. He taught me through his words the beauty and value of the story. He showed me that short stories are just as valuable as the longer tomes, that a story is as long as it needs to be.   And I think it is from him that I learned that a story doesn’t need to be truly complete. That it is okay to leave it slightly unfinished, spaces to be filled in by the reader, spaces to be filled in by the writer, at another time, when another voice decides to speak. He taught me that I can make my own rules. And the story is done when I am done with it. And maybe not even then, maybe just till another time.  Then it is up to the reader. And I think I am learning that if the reader asks for more, then maybe, just maybe, I am getting it right. So many things I have learned about him, who he was, I find I can identify with. The hours lost in the stacks in the libraries, the love of toys, the clutter of things that speak  in the quiet times. I suppose that is why there are so many such things scattered around my house. I have always loved those little things, my statues, my stuffed animals, my baubles. There are stories in each of them. And I have been so very lax in listening to the stories they have to whisper. I need to listen to the words of that man. I need to write, to write every day. To write with joy and to dare to write badly if that is what it takes to get the words to start. Bradbury, I can never be. But, there is a gaping hole in his absence that those of us that are left need to fill. My dreams are different, but maybe there are souls my dreams can touch in the way his touched mine. I am saddened that there will be no more volumes of stories from this dreamer. But, he left a legacy that teaches those who allow his words into their hearts to dream, fully, completely and that life lived in the dream is a life truly lived.
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Ponderings
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  1. Greetings!

    The first ‘Novel’ of his that I recall reading was “Something Wicked This Way Comes”; I really loved it, and was horribly disappointed at what Disney Studios had done to it. I believe that it could be made (especially now) into an incredible movie.
    I read, and reread, “The Illustrated Man”, a favorite; I really enjoyed Zero Hour, and The Veldt, although, there were others.
    There will not be another Ray Bradbury. Unless, of course, you are considering taking up the Mantle…

    ~Matto!~
    6-07-12

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