I'm sure many of you are aware of this, as it's been over the Internet since this morning. Yet many of the news articles flooding the web are rather short sighted. Calling Bradbury as science fiction or fantasy writer might be the only way a news organization can identify him, but the man's work was so much more than simply fantastic tales. Bradbury was an artist, his works creating a world for the reader to explore. His writing allowed one to see the Martian landscape, smell the smoke from burning books or indulge in a deep drink of dandelion wine.
But we will always have his books. What the world lost yesterday was a teacher who reminded us that, no matter how adult the world forces us to behave, one must still find time to allow us a moment of childlike wonder, whether through a book, a movie, or the rustling of autumn leaves on a dark October evening. To deny ourselves that sense of bewilderment, joy or fright, we allow our world to become drab and lifeless.
So I bid farewell to a man I never met, yet he taught me to find a place in my life for dinosaurs, aliens and creatures of the night, even as an adult. RIP, Ray Bradbury. You leave the world a little duller, but taught us all how to keep it bright and colorful. For that, I can not thank you enough.
