A moment of reflection in honor of Edgar Allan Poe. This would have been his umpty-umpth (I think the 203rd) birthday. The fans discontinued the tradition of “toasting” him (for years a mystery figure had been placing roses and cognac on his gravesite, but that ended with no explanation a couple of years ago. We figure the “toaster” has crossed the veil to join Mr. Poe.) Poe died mysteriously, alone in the gutter. But his work lives on!