Friday, November 12, 2010

Damn. I really love Edgar Allan Poe

I had to give my students a crash-course in Edgar Allan Poe, so I dug up some old pictures of Ed and me.  
At Poe's grave, 1999

Here I am at Edgar Allan Poe's gravesite at the Westminster Burying Grounds.  I lived in Baltimore for a year, in a rented rowhouse just a few miles from Poe's grave, and I dropped in for a visit a few times.  Three years later, after becoming engaged, I took my then-fiance to Baltimore to show her where I lived and worked, and while we were there, we dropped in on Edgar.

Poe, 2003
I have been a fan of Poe as long as I have been a fan of literature.  His brainy morbidity appealed to me when I was young and found most other selections in our English book to be boring and predictable.  For Christmas of 1990, I bought myself a copy of a Poe paperback, wrapped it up, and put it under the Christmas tree so that I would have something to read on Christmas morning.

If it hadn't been for my love of Poe, I probably wouldn't be teaching right now.  I explained to my students how I promised myself one dreary night in Baltimore that I would quit waiting for a career in indie-rock to materialize and find a way to make a career out of something that I truly loved.  I chose Poe.

In 2008, Renee and I took a trip to Virginia for one last vacation before the birth of our son.  While we were there, we took a little detour to Poe's house in Richmond.

At the Poe House, Richmond, Virginia
I almost embarrassed myself in class by showing these pictures.  It's been a few years since I taught Poe, or even read anything by him, and my students were a bit taken aback to see the devotion I have for this one writer.  "Yup.  That's Poe," I told them.  "I really, really loved him."

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