ray bradbury's agent, don congdon, died in december. mr. congdon was aged, but not quite as old as mr. bradbury.
"they're starting to kick off," i muttered to myself when i discovered the news article, "i better hurry up and wrap this paper up."
so i mailed mr. bradbury another letter humbly asking him for an answer to my question. i also mailed one to michael congdon, don congdon's son, who has taken over his agency.
i knew it was a long shot, but i did it anyway. after all, tenacity is something that eventually pays off, right?
i still haven't heard anything from mr. congdon. i assume that my letter was opened by some assistant and put into file thirteen. who knows?
having dealt directly with mr. bradbury before, i was looking forward to checking the mail that week, expecting a package full of joy.
i wasn't disappointed.
in addition to my letter, i sent him my 1967 edition of fahrenheit 451 and a request that he sign it for me.
boy did he. he even drew one of his famous little face sketches.
see that? that first word is "brandi". that's my name. then "love ray bradbury", the face sketch, and "4/4/10". glee does not even begin to express...
and he signed a little memento on fahrenheit 451 from the national endowment for the arts:
i could smell the fresh sharpie ink when i opened the package. i think i may have swooned from delight.
while he didn't answer my question (i mean seriously, the man is in his nineties and not in the best health), i again have communicated in some small way with a hero. and that's just cool.