-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.
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?