Ray Bradbury

Hall of Influence – Class 5

In 2009 I created the Hall of Influence to honor those who have made some level of positive impact on my life. We last inducted new members into this exclusive club eight years ago. Not only has my life been altered in significant ways during that time, but the world at large has changed dramatically. This time of year I tend to be in sports mode and don’t contribute much else to The Manofesto. Actually, if I’m being totally honest, I haven’t been as productive here as I should’ve been for quite awhile. There are multiple reasons for that, but we don’t wallow in The Manoverse. I believe the best way to reverse a negative trend is with some positivity, so we shall begin that process by welcoming five new members to our HoI.

Ray Bradbury

In the mid 1980s there was an anthology series on television called The Ray Bradbury Theater, but I never watched it. I knew nothing about Bradbury and the show didn’t sound like my cup o’ tea. In hindsight I realize how much our public schools fall short, because why in the hell had I barely heard of the man, much less read any of his stories?? I must give all the credit to my brother from another mother, The Owl, for introducing me to Bradbury in college. He let me borrow his copy of The Martian Chronicles, and my eyes were opened. Perhaps if I’d become acquainted with Ray Bradbury during my childhood not only would I have read all of the amazing tales, but I might have been inspired to follow his path as a writer, which began when he sold his first story at the age of 18. In a career that spanned seven decades Bradbury published more than two dozen novels and 600+ short stories, an eclectic smorgasbord of mystery, sci-fi, horror, and fantasy. He dabbled a bit in social commentary, but not in the heavy handed way we perceive that notion today. Bradbury’s purpose wasn’t to push an agenda or indoctrination of the masses. Instead, he aimed to make the reader think and allow us to feel. His works aren’t just meaningless frivolity, with contemplative outlooks on technology, nostalgia, and humanity. I’d be lying if I told you I’ve digested everything the man wrote, but in a strange way that makes me happy, because I can gleefully anticipate much enjoyment of the stories I have yet to read.

Myron Cope

We don’t have any professional sports franchises here in West Virginia, so a large portion of the population where I am located grow up as fans of the Pittsburgh teams. Back in the day my cable system had all three local television stations in that market, and Myron Cope was a familiar face on WTAE Channel 4. He also did color commentary on Steelers radio broadcasts, and trust me when I say that “color commentary” is a vast understatement when it comes to Myron Cope. He had his own vernacular, which survives to this day, atleast amongst Steelers fans and Pittsburgh natives, along with a unique voice and an amusing twitchiness, as if he consumed way too much coffee on a daily basis. Think…Gilbert Gottfried, only genuine and not a comedic facade. Perhaps his best known contribution to the world is The Terrible Towel, a cost effective way for fans to show support of the team, conceived by Cope in 1975. Though his career began in the 1950s and included writing for the Saturday Evening Post and Sports Illustrated, Myron Cope’s rise in popularity coincided with the Pittsburgh Steelers becoming one of the cornerstone franchises of the NFL during the latter half of the 1970s, when I was just a little boy. He is an indelible part of my childhood.

Johnny Carson & David Letterman

I have written about Carson and Lettermen elsewhere on this site, so I will refrain from being redundant. Suffice to say that late night television was never better than when these two men were essential entertainment for night owls. Their humor was not politically motivated or divisive. They focused on making everyone laugh. My father loved watching Johnny’s monologue and his bits with The Mighty Carson Art Players. Irreverent smartass Letterman was a huge part of the comedy landscape of my youth. Both were great interviewers whose guests were a potpourri of the requisite Hollywood stars promoting their latest project, funny comedians (these shows were particularly important launch pads for up n’ comers), and out of left field personalities…average folks who’d done something cool or had an unusual talent. Carson was especially funny interacting with children & old folks, while Lettermen had his finger on the pulse of the music scene and spun comedy gold from random people on the street. The current late night landscape pales in comparison, with every host being extremely poor wannabes that will never live up to the examples of Johnny & Dave.

 

Alex Trebek

My Grandma Pigott loved game shows. Whenever she was around we’d be sure to get a healthy dose of The Price is Right, Press Your Luck, Card Sharks, Family Feud, Name That Tune, Wheel of Fortune, et al. While many of those programs are charming in their own way, as I grew older Jeopardy! became my jam. Each game show is different. Some require luck. Some require skill. Jeopardy! requires knowledge & intelligence. Watching a convenience store clerk from Podunk BFE seize an opportunity to walk away with a brand new car or a cruise to Puerto Vallarta is fun, but watching an already successful person earn thousands of dollars because they are smart and know things is inspiring. At the helm for nearly forty years of the show’s run was Alex Trebek, whose low key demeanor & mellifluous tone added gravitas to the production (hilariously parodied by Will Ferrell on SNL). He was a key element without taking the focus away from contestants or the game itself. Sadly, Trebek died about four years ago, and though Jeopardy! continues on it’s just not the same. Thank you Alex Trebek for decades of memories. 

Gene Siskel &
Roger Ebert

Young people nowadays will never understand the influence that two nerdy Chicago film critics had on pop culture in the 80s & 90s. In the 21st century people are too arrogant & apathetic to give a rat’s ass what anyone else thinks, and if they are so inclined to seek information about movies they’re on the fence about spending money to see all they need to do is hop online where there is a plethora of opinions from countless sources. Four decades ago we didn’t have Rotten Tomatoes or the blogosphere. If we decided to skip seeing a movie it wouldn’t be on home video or HBO for atleast a year, unlike now, when we have streaming services providing access to movies that might actually still be playing at the local cineplex. Gene Siskel & Roger Ebert were writers employed by rival Chicago newspapers when someone got the idea to put them on television. Perhaps they were the first frenemies, although their contentious professional relationship felt more like it was played up in front of the camera, disguising real life deep respect & kinship. A double thumbs up/down could make or break a film, an idea that seems quaint years later, but what really came thru all the biting commentary & good-natured jabs at each other was a shared love of cinema, conveying the idea that sitting down with a bowl of popcorn & a beverage to watch a movie is a perfectly legitimate and maybe even enlightening way to spend one’s free time.

Dandelion Wine

This is the first of several books by author Ray Bradbury that you will see here eventually, and I have to give a shout out to my friend The Owl for introducing me to Bradbury in college. I would love to be able to say that I am one of the many who enjoyed his stories from a young age, but unfortunately that isn’t the case. I vaguely recall a TV show called The Ray Bradbury Theatert that aired for a few years back in the 80’s, but at the time it didn’t seem like something that would frost my cupcake. I don’t think I developed good taste in much of anything…literature, food, music, movies…until I was a young adult. We lost Mr. Bradbury in 2012, and I felt his passing as a profoundly loss. I wish I would have “gotten the memo” about his stuff when I was a kid, but I guess it is better to be late to the party than to miss it altogether. The great thing about authors (and I suppose any artist…actors, musicians, etc.) is that we can enjoy the fruits of their talent long after they themselves have left this mortal coil.

I am not a fan of cold weather and think the only good things about autumn & winter are football, Christmas, and The Great Pumpkin. Other than those few exceptions I would prefer a perpetual state of warmth & sunshine. Dandelion Wine is Bradbury’s ode to summer.

Originally written as disparate short stories, they share enough common threads to be strung together into one congruent novel. The main characters are 12 year old Douglas Spaulding (based on Bradbury himself) and his 10 year old brother Tom. The setting is Green Town, IL, loosely based on Bradbury’s recollections of his boyhood hometown of Waukegan, IL (40 miles north of Chicago). Green Town has sort of a Mayberry feel to it, with just a tinge of mysticism & fantasy thrown into the mix. We are introduced to the boys’ family, neighbors, and various townsfolk, but generally see things thru the eyes of the two youngsters. The summer depicted is 1928…a simpler, more bucolic time to be sure. A small town, the prism of childhood, an assumption of a more peaceful era…all combine to make this a fun, nostalgic, & easy read. The infinitesimal elements of what I suppose might pass as sci-fi or horror are non-intrusive, but enough to keep things interesting. Bradbury’s lyrical prose makes humble traditions of summertime…sitting on the front porch swing, eating ice cream, mowing grass, and enjoying Grandma’s cooking…seem monumentally important, which of course they are to a child. The boys are occasionally confronted with heavy issues like death, illness, fear, and the loss of a best friend to relocation, and Douglas is a deep thinker who waxes philosophical about life, but even the chapters that deal with these melancholy subjects retain a light tone. The stories are realistic enough to induce wistful remembrances of a bygone era, yet fantastical enough to sweep the reader away to the land of make believe.

I have always had a tendency to remember my own childhood as being far more idyllic than it likely was in reality, which is probably why I really like Dandelion Wine. Bradbury leans toward the sentimental, which is just fine by me. In our modern age of violence, callousness, and immorality it is nice to atleast pretend that it wasn’t always this way. Dandelion Wine may not belong in the same conversation as the greatest works of literature, and it probably isn’t even Bradbury’s best effort, but it is immensely enjoyable and a nice way to spend a couple of afternoons.

POINTS OF PONDERATION…..EPISODE 8.21  

A semi-regular attempt to address some of life’s minutiae that might otherwise be overlooked…..

As a society we frown on the concept of being abrupt. It is perceived as rude and I’m not here to dispute that. However, perhaps a little more abruptness in our lives would be…functional. When it’s time to leave how bout just leaving instead of lingering at the door or in the parking lot, saying goodbye only for the conversation to last a few more minutes necessitating another goodbye. Or what about what I call “false goodbyes” during a phone conversation?? You know what I mean…goodbyes are said only for a new topic to be introduced and the tedious yapping lasts another half hour. Just stop!! End it!! Be abrupt. Say goodbye and go. Hang up the damn phone. Life is too freakin’ short!!!!!

Most people don’t mind paying for a product or service if they feel like they are receiving good value. Even if there is a reasonable price increase the vast majority will understand and remain loyal to the brand, company, store, etc. But…the minute someone feels like they’re being screwed they will almost certainly bolt. It’s pretty simple really…treat customers fairly, do business with a high level of integrity, and don’t take advantage of anyone because there’s a good chance that plenty of viable options are available.

I love it when people post about controversial or moderately disputable topics on social media then when someone engages they say “I wasn’t looking for a debate”. Yes, yes you were. And that’s fine. Sadly we’ve lost the ability as a society to have intelligent, productive discussions, which is ironic given the fact that technology allows for it more than at anytime is history. For that reason I completely understand being hesitant to dive down the rabbit hole, only don’t tell me you weren’t looking for a debate. Trust me, I’ve been that guy. In posting such things one is seeking something, whether it is validation from those who agree with your perspective, or to start an argument with those who don’t. I had an old friend who did both. His posts were intentionally contentious on a daily basis because he craved the (positive & negative) attention. That’s okay too if it’s how you roll…just be intellectually honest about it. Those who enjoy that kind of thing will feed the monster, while others who don’t have the stomach for it will exit. I used to be the former, but these days (most of the time) I am the latter.

Ray Bradbury is my spirit animal…..

I don’t understand why certain people think their mundane stories are appropriate topics of conversation. Hey Bro, your life is even more monotonous & inconsequential than mine (and that’s saying something 😬)…I don’t need you to fill me in on the details for a freakin’ hour. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again…there is a scarcity of meaningful & enlightened interaction in my life, atleast the kind of deeply fulfilling connection I so deeply desire.

Points of Ponderation…..Episode 3.20

A semi-regular attempt to address some of life’s minutiae that might otherwise be overlooked…..

 

 

 

 

 

 

So I ran across this lil gem…

“Cynicism can actually be damaging to one’s heart, according to the National Institute of Health. A study previously published by the agency’s National Center for Biotechnology Information concluded that cynical, hostile attitudes toward others can be connected to cardiovascular disease”.

I’m so screwed 👀.

 

 

“Speak softly & carry a big stick”. That’s a philosophy famously promoted by President Theodore Roosevelt, and I believe it’s a good rule of thumb. Unfortunately, with social media nowadays it’s really easy for people to not speak softly. In The Godfather Michael Corleone instructs his younger brother Fredo to “never let anyone outside The Family know what you are thinking”, which is another excellent maxim we should follow, but of course we don’t because there are just so many ways to let everyone know exactly what we think about any subject imaginable. I mention all of this because I see some common themes pop up amongst several of my female friends out there in cyberspace. Many of them are divorced and have been screwed over in one way or another. They talk about “reclaiming their power”, being fierce, & “straightening each others’ crowns”. They use terms like “gaslighting”, “my truth”, “mansplaining”, “self care”, “empowerment”, “patriarchy”, “narcissist”, “toxic masculinity”, & “lovebombing”. They’re really into being independent, strong, no longer staying quiet or falling in line with societal expectations, and being bold & fearless. Most are really liberal and all about being “woke”. Look, I’m not saying any of that is necessarily bad, and to be honest I prefer strong, intelligent, independent women. I am simply opining that constantly talking in those terms feels a bit disingenuous, as if a scared child is trying to psych herself into facing a difficult situation but not really believing in themselves. It also seems like such women kind of hate men, and as a man why would I possibly want to become involved on any level with someone who hates me?? I think most of us can agree that the old-fashioned notion of women staying home, being barefoot & pregnant, doing all the housework & taking care of the kids 24/7, and being submissive to their man is no longer appropriate, if it ever was in the first place. I would love to find a wife, and I would like that person to be my equal, my helpmate, my partner, strong, intelligent, and even a badass. But I’m not sure I could deal with someone who expects me to “check my privilege” (whatever the hell that means) and walk on eggshells in fear of offending her at every turn. Many of the ladies I see embracing these ideas are beautiful, successful, & strong. They are great mothers and fantastic people. They already embody the passion, courage, & tenacity they seem to desire so badly. Why would such a lovely & valuable treasure intentionally present themselves as unapproachable & morose??

 

 

Earlier this year I started binge watching The Office. I loved it. I enjoyed the Jim & Pam romance and fixated on Jim as my favorite character. Then stuff happened. You don’t need to know the details, but suffice to say I cannot bring myself to finish watching the series, and I freakin’ despise Jim Halpert. I’d run over that sonofabitch with my truck. Life is funny. Maddening, frustrating, & depressing…but funny.

 

 

So…do I believe there was all sorts of chicanery involved in the 2020 Presidential Election?? Hell yes. I’m not much on conspiracy theories, but I have zero doubt that The Left’s virulent hatred for President Trump led them to hatch a nefarious plot a few years ago, a plan they executed well enough. How did the global pandemic play into it?? I’m not sure. Was it simply a convenient disaster that they were smart enough to take advantage of…or is the truth even more sinister?? Who knows?? We’ll probably never get the real story, and I’m not the kind of person who will lose sleep or drive myself mad focusing on the whole deal. I’m certainly not the protest/riot type. I will just continue to quietly go about my business and lead my boring little life, enjoying what I can when I am able to do so. I certainly have some thoughts about America’s future under a new administration. Perhaps I’ll express those opinions…or maybe I won’t. Let’s just say that I have some level of concern about what is going to happen, but I don’t feel like it would be wise or productive to dwell in a place of negativity. My faith is bigger than my politics, and I have learned to embrace a “one day at a time” mindset.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

100 Favorite Movies…..#3

Society has a penchant for wanting everything to fit into its own neat little box. It makes life so much easier to define. This is as true for movies as anything, where we want to be able to compartmentalize films into cut & dried genres like comedy, action, western, horror, or drama. On occasion we’ll grudgingly submit to a special sub-category like family, sci-fi, Christmas, romantic comedy, thriller, or disaster epic. But what if a film simply refuses to be defined?? What if it cannot be shoehorned, pigeonholed, or painted with such a narrow perspective?? Such films are a rarity, and can be either an unmitigated disaster or particularly sublime.

 

I have seen today’s subject be classified as fantasy, which isn’t really a bad definition but doesn’t fit all that well either. Drama is accurate but does not come close to really capturing its essence. Many would call it a sports film but I think that is kind of like calling Abraham Lincoln a politician or The Louvre a museum…not untrue but certainly an epic oversimplification. It is, above all other 99 movies listed, the one that I think to myself “I wish I would have written that”.

 

There is creativity, and then there are ideas so singular that one just has to applaud the creator and simply say “Well done sir”. Such is the case with our #3 film, one that loses out on the top two spots by a nudge simply because it is another seasonal favorite. Surprisingly this time it isn’t a Christmas classic. Instead it is one I prefer to watch when the sun is bathing the Manoverse with warmth, birds are chirping their harmonious song, and the smell of freshly cut grass is trumped only by the sweet aroma of steak, hot dogs, and BBQ being cooked over an open flame. This is a film I can enjoy anytime, but prefer to watch in the summer, and more specifically, during baseball season.

 

Imagine this…

It is the late 1980’s and you are a fat cat movie suit. You have a meeting where an idea is pitched about a middle-aged former flower child who’s now an Iowa farmer that hears a voice tell him to plow his corn and build a baseball field so Shoeless Joe Jackson can come back to play and JD Salinger can write about the whole thing. I’m not sure what’s crazier…that the movie was greenlit or that it turned out to be such an awesome masterpiece.

 

1989’s Field of Dreams stars Kevin Costner as that hippie/farmer/crazy dude, and James Earl Jones as the reclusive writer obviously based on Salinger. It was Costner’s second foray into the world of baseball, immediately following 1988’s Bull Durham (which ranks 17th on this list). The movie is based on a novel called Shoeless Joe, which I must admit I have not yet read therefore I cannot compare with any veracity the book & the movie. But when talking about Field of Dreams I sincerely believe there is one very important point that must be made: it is not about baseball.

 

As I write this I just happen to also be reading an anthology of stories by author Ray Bradbury, and it occurs to me that Field of Dreams could have easily been a Bradbury tale. It is a shamelessly sentimental flight of fancy, soaked in nostalgia with baseball utilized as a metaphor for life. Some of the more sober among us might look at such a film with derision, calling it melodramatic and maudlin, but I am a huge sucker for whimsically capricious stories and wish there were more of them produced. Too many movies are either dumbed down, anvilicious crapfests that anyone with a brain can figure out within 10 minutes or just completely pointless. And then of course there are the movies that spend quality time on the ride but reach the destination leaving the audience either confused or just unimpressed. Field of Dreams is none of these.

 

Costner is at his best here…better than Bull Durham, better than Tin Cup, and certainly better than Wyatt Earp, Waterworld, or Dances with Wolves. My favorite actor, Jimmy Stewart, would have been a fantastic choice to play Ray Kinsella if this film were made in 1949, but forty years onward a Stewart-esque Everyman performance suffices quite nicely. James Earl Jones adds the perfect level of gravitas as Terence Mann, a writer who inspired the 60’s counterculture by talking about “love, peace, and understanding” and was “a voice of reason during a time of great madness”. The novel used notoriously reclusive Catcher in the Rye raconteur JD Salinger, but obviously the role had to be fictionalized for the movie. Ray Liotta plays Shoeless Joe Jackson just one year before he would become a star in Goodfellas. And for me the real clincher, the part of the movie that takes it to a higher level, is a cameo by the legendary Burt Lancaster in what I believe was his last film. Time travel is almost always a cool device, and the way it is done here…long after one thinks they know where the story is headed…is subtle, surprising, and superb.

 

Field of Dreams has been voted in many polls as one of the top five sports movies of all time, and that’s fine. But it is not just a baseball movie. Field of Dreams is about regret. It is about redemption. It is about family. It is about happiness and realizing what that truly means. Would we grab one more shot at our dream like young Moonlight Graham, or, like the older Doc Graham, understand that the path we’ve taken fulfilled a more important destiny?? How great would it be to be Terence Mann and have a chance to undue all the damage decades of world weariness, skepticism, cynicism, and bitterness can do to the soul?? How many among us have, like Shoeless Joe, been (ostensibly) falsely accused or had something we truly loved taken away and only then learned to appreciate it?? Am I a bit effusive in my praise?? Probably. But while I love sports films as much as the next guy, I think the biggest reason I have such affection for Field of Dreams is because it goes so much deeper than the typical cliches, and in fact avoids most of them. It is a film than cannot really be compared to any other, even the plethora out there with baseball as a key element.

 

I think it makes sense to conclude with…well…the conclusion. I always say that only four films have ever made me cry. E.T. made me cry when I saw it in the theater, but I was a little kid so I’m not sure if that even counts. The Passion of the Christ brought tears, and that is self-explanatory. The 2008 Owen Wilson/Jennifer Aniston flick Marley & Me was supposed to be a comedy, but at the end I found myself clutching my beautiful puppy in my arms and bawling like a baby, which is why I have vowed never to watch it again. Fellow dog owners will understand. And then there is Field of Dreams. In the archives here at The Manofesto one can find my 35 Undeniable Truths of Life. #12 states that “anyone who doesn’t shed a tear during the last 10 minutes of Field of Dreams doesn’t have a heart”. I stand by that. In 20 years I have seen this movie countless times, and every single time that final scene gets me. I lost my Mom 11 years ago, and I miss her every day. There is nothing I wouldn’t give for one more conversation with her. My Dad is still around. He lives close by and I see him often and talk to him every day. As strange as it may seem to some, Field of Dreams, atleast on a subconscious level, has affected our relationship, because I never want to be haunted by unkind words or things left unsaid. Redemption is a wonderful thing, but even better is never having to be burdened by guilt in the first place.

 


Related Articles