My pumpkin this year can best be understood by tilting your head slightly to the right. This wasn’t an accident; it might be an homage to Andrew Bird though. True to pumpkins past, this friendly guy started to grow mold long before Halloween. He will have to become a part of my first offering of compost to the city of Portland. But that’s tomorrow. Tonight, he will shine.
I was talking to my friend about that sultan of swing Edgar Allan Poe, who looks a lot like John Cusack now. Years ago I fulfilled a lifelong dream by visiting the grave of E.A. Poe in his hometown of Baltimore. Poe is buried in grand style befitting the grandiosity of his writing style.
Now everyone knows that Poe didn’t write his own stories – Shakespeare did – but it was nice to see the marker of an American legend, surrounded by snow. It’s also nice to know that tonight Poe’s decomposed corpse will rise again to terrorize and befuddle many a high school English student.