Ray Bradbury died yesterday at the age of 91. God rest his soul.

The first spring day that's warm and dry enough for the wearing of sneakers still makes me think of Douglas Spaulding in Dandelion Wine. Streamlined silver cars remind me of the beetles in Fahrenheit 451. Stories about advancing automation call to mind the house in "There Will Come Soft Rains". I regularly check for unexpected changes in my bank balance  - and  Mr. B.'s heartbeat - because of "Marionettes, Inc."

And I still judge all science fiction and fantasy by whether it
energizes my imagination the way The Martian Chronicles did when I was twelve. Thank you, Mr. Bradbury, for the worlds you created for us.