Ray Bradbury Is Dead
Ray Bradbury is dead. That is the news I woke up to this morning. I still can’t believe it is real.
Recently, with so many pop culture deaths, I have had to write more than a few memorial pieces here on the blog. A dear friend told me just a few weeks ago I was very good at it. I would like to do the same here for this man I admire so much, but I can’t. I just can’t. I have no words. Other folks will have to do it for me, as they have done here.
Again, I have no words. People often talk of the day that Bill Haley died, or when John Lennon was shot, or when Kurt Cobain took his own life, as the day the music died. This is the day of no words.
The man was an inspiration, a genius, a forefather, an icon, perhaps one of the best writers of our time. I could read Bradbury’s work over and over again and always get enjoyment and wonder, and still learn from it on each reading. His words made me think. I could say that Harlan Ellison and Stephen King made me want to write, but Ray Bradbury made me want to read.
Ray Bradbury is dead. Today is a day without words.