October Country . . . that country where it is always turning late in the year. That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and mid-nights stay. That country composed in the main of cellars, sub-cellars, coal-bins, closets, attics, and pantries faced away…
I once received a birthday card from a Neil, postmarked from England, and while I thought that was very kind I didn’t know any Neils, and certainly not any from England. Inside was a kind note and some drawings in pen, and then it dawned on me that I was holding a birthday card sent…
I sat down years ago to make a list of Remarkable Things I Want to Do in My Life. #1 was “Tell Ray Bradbury how much I love Dandelion Wine.” Shortly after, I moved to San Diego, and read that Ray was going to teach a seminar for writers. Right down the hill from my…
I met a man from the future at one of Ray Bradbury’s talks. Around ten years ago Ray would give classes on writing in San Diego once or twice a year. These turned out to be Ray reminiscing about being a writer, not so much about writing. Not that I minded! Sitting next to me…