Some centenary notes:
· With Heinlein, the narrator is often middle aged. When I was little, we were instructed in survival in case of nuclear attack, so I never expected to see 50.
· A search of the Internet turned up my hero with his wife, Ginny. They are appropriately middle aged.
· Ginny was the inspiration for many of his heroines. They were strong, lusty women, and I identified with them completely.
· One of my coworkers reacted oddly when I said Heinlein was my favorite science fiction author:
"Guy's a pervert." I responded that he was dead.
"Well, he was a pervert." I didn't say anything else.
"He was a nudist." Anyone who read Heinlein would know that was a distinct possibility. Apparently it was a huge disappointment for my friend.
· In my twenties I suffered overwhelming homesickness for New England. At the very worst of it, I remembered this poem, and took comfort.
Let the sweet fresh breezes heal me
As they rove around the girth
Of our lovely mother planet
Of the cool, green hills of Earth…
[A spaceman describes his life and concludes:]
…We pray for one last landing
On the globe that gave us birth;
Let us rest our eyes on the friendly skies
And the cool, green hills of Earth.
· I thank my stars our home is lush and green, and absolutely overrun with crazy people who make for good stories.
Happy Birthday, Lazarus Long. May you live forever!
Happy Birthday, Robert A. Heinlein, godfather of my writer’s soul.