Saturday, June 23, 2012

A Montana morning...

In Nebraska no less. We had quite a storm roll through last night. Lightning, thunder, and rain...lots of rain! This morning its cloudy and cool. Right now (8:15 am) its 67 degrees with a light breeze. The forecast calls for A.M. Thundershowers and a daytime high in the mid 90s. Until then, the morning reminds me of Montana, on the Madison. Beautiful. This is the time of year when my fondest memories are knee to thigh deep in the Madison River with a fly rod in hand. Not striving to catch the biggest trout in the stream but to catch the longest-lasting memories. And I have a stringer full.
If I could have but one wish, I wouldn't wish these types of memories for anyone else. (Not unless I had at least two or three wishes.) All the same, as Henry Fonda said in the film SPENCER'S MOUNTAIN, "I don't need to wait for heaven, Mother Ida. I get a little heaven 'bout everyday."




























And this is Montana — the Madison River...

Monday, June 11, 2012

What happened in 'Vegas...

Want to see what happened in Las Vegas over the Memorial Day weekend? Go to the North Central Chapter blog to get the story and photos. :-)

Friday, June 08, 2012

My Ray story

It started at the Toonfest some 6 or 7 years ago. As a part of the art exhibit, I brought some new, older pieces from my portfolio including two large airbrushed pieces from my work-in-progress, MARTIANS — THE SEARCH FOR INTELLIGENT LIFE. One of the two featured one of the Martians sitting at the breakfast table, sporting a stripped bathrobe, a pair of pink fuzzy slippers, reading the morning edition of MARTIAN CHRONICLE and a steaming hot cup of radioactive coffee near by. Between events, I was standing outside the Masonic Hall watching the quiet. As I recall, everybody was at the Uptown for the cartoonists presentations. You remember those. :-) This fellow walked up looking a bit lost. He was maybe a year or two older than me, wearing one of those caps that you'd picture a middle aged gentleman wearing while tooling around in his 50s MG-TD. I said, "Hi," and he reciprocated. He asked if I was one of the cartoonists. "Yes, I am," I replied. "Have I seen your work?" he asked. "Probably not as most of my work is freelance and rarely gets into newsprint," I said. "But I can show you some of my works, if you like." We walked into the Hall and I pointed to my work. He was, and still is as far as I know, John Tibbetts, professor of English at KU or KSU. He walked around the exhibits, stopping at the MARTIAN CHRONICLE piece. He said, "I like this." "Thanks," I said. "Has Ray seen it?" he asked. Looking quizzically I asked, "Ray?" "Bradbury." "I seriously doubt it as it hasn't been published and I don't know Mr. Bradbury," I responded. Still gazing at the piece, he said, "I think he'd like it." "Well, I hope so, but as I say, I don't know him so I couldn't say for certain." He replied with a sense of authority, "Well I do and I think he would." "You know him?" I asked with only a mild touch of celebrity worship. "Yes. Would you like his address?" "Ah YES!" I responded like a dumb-founded teenager. He promptly gave me Ray Bradbury's home address and phone number. Once I got home I wrote Mr. Bradbury a letter, explaining the chance meeting with Professor Tibbetts and enclosing a copy of the MARTIAN CHRONICLE piece. Within 10 days he wrote back, thanking me for the note and the copy of the artwork. In my letter, I asked if we might meet the next time I was in LA. He said he would love to and encouraged me to get in touch with him upon arrival. Soon thereafter, I was in LA, staying at a friend's in Valencia (just up the I-5 from the City of Angels). I called Ray only to find that he was asleep and wouldn't be up until after 11:00 a.m. and I should try back. We missed each other. When I got home, I wrote him again a time or two. His last letter to me arrived in the mail on the day of my dad's memorial service. I had arranged the service, his friends gathered to send him off. I spoke from the heart about my dad and how he valued his friends and what they meant to him. It's been said that entertainers can lose as much as 10-15 pounds during a performance. You know, singers, dancers, musicians, actors, etc. I felt as though I was now among their ranks. Before going inside to crash, I got the mail and amid the bills, junk mail, and such was a letter from Ray. It was exactly what I needed on that day. It was fairly long and just a very nice read. I truly wish we had met at his home. That would have been a memory never to be forgotten. I've loved his writings since I was in jr. high and took a class in science fiction writing. The piece we started with and eventually was the focus of the entire class was THE MARTIAN CHRONICLES. At my first Comic-Con, I did sit in on the conversation between Ray and his life-long best friend, Ray Harryhausen. That was incredible! But it was in Room H at the San Diego Convention Center; a room designed to comfortably house roughly 8,000 people. Hardly an intimate setting. It was a packed house! That's my Ray Bradbury story...