R.I.P. Ray Bradbury, by Axel Howerton

There are few people whose passing could affect me the same way as a close relative or a good friend. I remember being terribly sad when Roy Orbison died. I may have shed a tear over the loss of Stanley Kubrick and drank a few too many to the memory of H.S.T.

Such are the bonds you grow with an artist over time. None of those compare to the heartbreak of losing a beloved, revered and favorited uncle like Ray Bradbury.

Like most of my generation, I came to Bradbury first, as a child, first with vaguely remembered chills watching The Martian Chronicles on TV, then through the Disney film version of Something Wicked This Way Comes. I was a very impressionable nine years of age when I first saw that. Along with E.T. and Raiders of the Lost Ark, Blade Runner and The Empire Strikes Back, these are the things that formed me (I could also add dusk til dawn Drive-In showings of Saturn 3 and The Shining, but that’ another story.)

Not long after, we got Superchannel (Canada’s early answer to HBO) and I was regaled with weekly, then daily, showings of Ray Bradbury Theatre. Ray became my go-to impression of a writer. Every episode, wandering through his kick-knack and ephemera-strewn offices, rambling on about African veldts, Martian landscapes and magicians toy shops. The ensuing stories weren’t always great, but they were definitely interesting.

Read more of Axel’s post on his blog >>>

While I usually don’t add my own commentary to these posts, I’d like to say, much like Axel, I believe the world has lost a true visionary and a soul that was inspired to share his brilliance in the most gracious of ways – through his words.  A hero of my childhood now gone, I’ll second that RIP Axel, with the greatest of respect.