Tonight there was a gorgeous full moon at the oasis.  It was balmy and breezy on my walk with the dogs.  The palm trees were swaying wildly and the shadows were alive.

Those kind of summer evenings always make me think of Ray Bradbury’s Illustrated Man.  I need to find a copy and remind myself why it had such an impact on me all those years ago.  His rich detail always thrilled my imagination.  Anyway, I love his writings and know Ray Bradbury’s had this kind of life-long affect on so many people, in fact someone was saying exactly that on Los Angeles public radio earlier this week, for her it was specifically Fahrenheit 451, a book that was required reading in my son’s Freshman year at high school.

I can’t imagine not having books to read, it’s a deep and genuine pleasure for me. But I sometimes wonder if my generation is the last, true, book-loving one. I have plenty of friends who read, but does my teenage son? I bet not.