Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Ray of Sunshine

“I have never listened to anyone who criticized my taste in space travel, sideshows or gorillas. When this occurs, I pack up my dinosaurs and leave the room.”
-Ray Bradbury, Zen in the Art of Writing

I don’t remember which period I had her but I was lucky enough to have the best 9th grade English teacher.  She was a tall plus size woman who commanded the class room and what I remember most about her class was she loved books.

It’s in this class that she introduced me to Mr. Ray Douglas Bradbury.  It started easy with a book called Something Wicked This Way Comes.  Nothing too strenuous, just your normal book about a traveling carnival allowing people to live their fantasy but then making them indebted to the carnival. Hey who doesn’t want to ride on a merry-go-round backwards and be young again? Had he thrown in a scary circus clown I probably wouldn’t have slept for months.  Her next offering was Fahrenheit 451 and this my friends was when I knew I was in love with Bradbury.  Books an endangered species, May December Romance, TV’s as big as walls, a disconnected society what could I not love.  This eventually lead me to the Illustrated Man, Martian Chronicles, I Sing Body Electric and The Wonderful Ice Cream Suit (there are more…but these are my favorites). 

So when I made my life list I knew Mr. Bradbury would be on it.  At some point when I made my list I told my cousin about Mr. Bradbury.  I don’t know how long after but my cousin saw a flier that Mr. Bradbury was going to be at a local high school in San Bernardino.  To this day I still don’t understand how they were able to get him to that high school. 

It was raining on December 12, 2000 and I hadn’t time to buy the book I wanted to autograph.  I figured they would have Fahrenheit 451 there.  Of course never assume anything because it turned out that they weren’t able to purchase that book so instead I bought Martian Chronicles for myself and I Sing Body Electric for some friends.  The high school had a very nice theatre and when I walked in there he was at the bottom of the stairs sitting at a table.  I wanted to turn to everyone and say “THERE’S RAY BRADBURY!!!” but they already seem to know that. 

So I sat there staring at him in awe.  A cute chubby man with white hair, red tie, glasses and wonderful awesome suspenders!!   He spoke for about 45 minutes about his life/love as a writer.  It was spell-binding.  What woke me from the spell was the clapping.  It was a sorry excuse of clapping for a writer of his caliber.  I looked around the room and realized there were about 20 students who were there because they were getting extra credit and another 20 more who were either teachers or the public.  How sad… 40 people for someone who brought science fiction into people’s lives.  This was my thought not Mr. Bradbury because he didn’t seemed to mind, he smiled and seemed delighted with everything.  Almost grateful that people still would come out and see him.

He even took questions from the audience.  I really wanted to ask him a question but I was afraid.  My question had to do with The Wonderful Ice Cream Suit. The main characters were all Mexican and I wanted to know if this was really how he wrote it or was this changed later at someone else’s request.   For the life of me, I couldn’t imagine this famous writer knowing about Mexican people or even relating to them yet he wrote a wonderfully funny story about them/us.  But I never did ask. 

At the end I waited in line and when it was my turn I said my name and told him how I loved his work.  Then I said, “Mr. Bradbury can I have my picture taken with you?” and he smiled and said, “Why would you want a fool thing like that?”  and then I said, “Well because you ARE Ray Bradbury!”   He laughed and turned to his assistant and said, “Give this young lady her picture!” So his assistant took my camera (It was 35mm camera) and below what you see is one of the coolest moments in my life.

 

 
Seven or eight years later he came back to San Bernardino but this time he didn’t take questions and this time the room was packed.  My sister-in-law and I waited in a huge line and the couple behind me noticed that his assistants were giving him wine, chocolates, crackers and cheese.  With disdain they said, “Wow how sad they have to keep him liquored up to keep him going!” I choose to believe that at his age and fame he got to enjoy the things that made him happy; Wine, Chocolates, Cheese, Crackers and adoring fans.  I say that’s a life well lived.

 So Mr. Bradbury, wherever you may be, thank you for being you and thank you for being a part of my life/life list.
 
Epilogue

I did do an internet search on the Wonderful Ice Cream Suit.  I still regret not asking my question but here is the answer I was looking for and yes I love even more now:

      The Wonderful Ice Cream Suit came out of my experiences as a child and young man in Roswell, New Mexico, Tucson, Arizona, and Los Angeles. I grew up with many boys of mixed Mexican-American blood. My best friend at junior high school was a boy named Eddie Barrera. When I was twenty-one I lived in and around a tenement at the corner of Figueroa Street and Temple in L.A., where, for five years, I saw my friends coming and going from Mexico City, Laredo, and Juarez. Their poverty and mine were identical. I knew what a suit could mean to them. I saw them share clothes, as I did with my father and brother. I remembered graduating from Los Angeles High School wearing a hand-me-down suit in which one of my uncles had been killed by a holdup man. There was a bullet hole in the front and one going out the back of the suit. My family was on government relief when I graduated. What else, then, but wear the suit, bullet holes and all?

Friday, September 7, 2012

Big Girls Don't Cry and Cello Players Don't Fret


I am no stranger to the cello as it has always been my favorite string instrument.  When I was 17, my mother graciously bought me two tickets to see Yo-Yo Ma at the Ambassador Auditorium in Pasadena, California. I remember asking my mother for these tickets and she told me no because we couldn’t afford it but I BEGGED and PLEADED for them.  What I can’t explain to you nor myself is what led me up to asking and how did I even knew who Yo-Yo Ma was.  All I know is I wanted to go SO BAD!  I still have no idea why she gave in because thinking back it was really a ridiculous request.  My father has passed away four years ago, my sister was in college and there wasn’t extra money to be had.  She must have saw desperation in my face and gave in.

I have to say it was a remarkable event.  There he was sitting on stage with his piano accompanist.   His arms embraced his cello as if his life depended on it and he played music that I had no idea could be played on a cello. Modern and Classic all rolled into one beautiful concert. 

So during my second year of college I decided to take a beginning string class and I signed up for Cello.  As the teacher let the class go he called me to the side and said, “Hey Nancy, we have so many Cello players would you mind playing Viola”.  NO WAY I thought, but as most of you know I’ll say no then give in. In my heart I just want to go along with what will make everyone else happy.  So, I picked up my viola and spent a semester learning something I didn’t care for and at the end had nothing to show for it.  

21 years later, Christmas 2011 I started thinking about the whole New Year’s resolution and every year I tell myself I’m going to lose weight (almost the mantra of my life).  But this year I wanted to do something to make a change in me, to do something that I will love and something I will be proud of.  I wanted to stop crying about how I look on the outside and work on what’s on the inside.  So I texted my brother and he pointed me to a great music store in Redlands ( FYI Nick Rail Music).  I actually felt nervous making the initial call.  They said yes they rented Cello’s and yes they could recommend a teacher but I should call her first to see if she was taking on students.  Have you ever made a phone call and when you hung up with them you pictured them a certain way.  Then you meet them they are nothing like they sounded?  Well in my mind I imagined a tall, brown hair middle aged woman would be my new Cello teacher.

When I met Betty, it was like going to my grandma’s house.   Her hair was salt and pepper (more salt), short, cute, grandma chubby (aka the weight looks SO cute on her) and giggles/smiles nonstop!  We sit and talk about Cello, Life, Love, kids, dogs, cats … you name it, it’s a topic.  This is not to say she is easy or that I don’t take it seriously but I feel very honored to meet a soul who can’t imagine her life without the Cello.  And she is very proud to say she is 77 years old and has been playing Cello for 67 years!

Learning to play the Cello is HARD. No… its harder than that.  It demands respect and tells on you when you disobey it.  From the way you place it in front of you, to holding the bow it won’t tolerate sloppiness.  This is not to say other instruments don’t, but the Cello just expects it.  What has exasperated me, made me cry and just plain wanted to quit is that the Cello has no frets to easily distinguish what note you are playing.  Some days I’ll be moving my hand up and down the neck only to not know if I’ve hit the right note or if I’m just hitting a clunker over and over.  Then to add insult to injury when wonderful Betty tells me to make the note higher (sharper)…she means to move my hand down the neck and to make it lower (flatter) to move my hand up.  High is Low and Low is High… sigh…

So after 8 months, I sound like this (cringing in advance):

 
 
As horrified I am for you to hear me play, I’m also proud of what I have accomplished so far.  I told Betty that I wanted to learn how to play “All you Need is Love” on the Cello (which she already knows) and she said that is a very worthwhile goal.  So kids that is where I am when it comes to #47!  Practicing, getting frustrated and practicing some more but as the Beatles said:
 
Nothing you came make that can’t be made;
No one you can save that can’t be saved;
Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you in time;
It’s easy!