Yeah, we all read the Martian Chronicles in high school, but Ray went above and beyond for me.
During one of the several summers I spent “making up work” from the previous school year, the only relief I found during the day was to spend my lunch break in the air-conditioned library of Walt Whitman High School in Bethesda, losing myself in a huge hardcover titled “The Stories of Ray Bradbury.”
It was just me, Uncle Einar, the dead dancers of “The Cistern”, and hundreds of others huddled in that faux wood-paneled work desk marking time until I had to go back to the hard-plastic chairs with the rest of Life’s Winners.
I credit that hour a day with keeping me alive. Twenty-two years later I got to meet The Author for a few passing seconds. I don’t remember what I said to him but I hope he heard me say he was a hero to me. Still is.
Read the books. Honor the man.
Thank-you, Ray.
