Our memories are a rich landscape painted and blended like watercolors in a glass. Each one is tied to and connected to one another. At some point, the memoriesruntogether and faces, and names, and stories lose definition. This week's blog comes to you from a classmate. I do not know if they want their name shared, so I will hold it in my memory. Ray Bradbury was a writer who touched my heart and spoke to my inner child. His book Dandelion Wine will sit perched on my memory shelf and painted into my canvas for as long as I am permitted to remember. When I buy new shoes, I am reminded of Douglas and his new summer tennis shoes. When I think of age, I think of the dragon that swallowed a swan, and when I think of love, I think of the timeless nature of it and a blue envelope and lime-vanilla ice. Each book we read becomes another color or shape painted into who we are as human beings, and as writers. I would like for you to listen and read this short tribute to Ray Bradbury by Neil Gaiman, "The Man Who Forgot Ray Bradbury." As you listen, I would like for you to think about what it is that you remember about an author you love. What have they taught you? What have you internalized? Now, this is the hard part. What do you remember and what are you afraid to lose from them? Explain what that author asks you to remember. Please feel free to include any quotes that help you remember so that we too can be part of your memory.
