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My friend Ray Ridenour died the other day, after a long illness, the details of which I know nothing about. But it helps explain why I hadn't seen him at conventions for far too many years. It was typical of him that he kept his illness from so many of his friends. H wouldn't have wanted to distress us.
Ray was an artist, a fan, and an eccentric. Even more so than most of the rest of us, I mean. He came by it honestly. His father was a psychiatrist at St. Elizabeth's Hospital and as a boy Ray used to play tennis with Ezra Pound. His normal was not like yours and mine.
Like most artists, Ray had a day job. He spent twenty-three years as a graphic artist for the City of Baltimore before going freelance. His art was all over the place. He created window displays, newspaper illustrations, posters, portraits, and abstract paintings. A stained-glass window he made, of a Tyrannosaurus rex, was displayed at Dinofest.
He also took an image from a photo shoot by Joanne Burke of Gregory Frost, Tim Sullivan, Gardner Dozois, and me and turned it into a poster for The Back Page Boys, "the Original Boy Band of the 20th Century." Which, out of nowhere, he gave to its four principals. It's hung on my office wall for decades. One week ago, Joanne came to our house for a party and was astonished to see it--Ray hadn't thought to ask permission to use her image.
Which is so typical of Ray: enthusiastic, generous, and just a little oblivious. There never was anybody quite like him.
And now he's gone.
Vayos con dios, my friend. I'm sure the afterlife is much livelier for your presence.
And because I know . . .
You're dying to see it. So here it is, Ray's Back Page Boys poster:
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