A sad story today from Baltimore…

Every year since 1949, on the anniversary of Edgar Allen Poe’s death, a bottle of cognac and a small bundle of roses have appeared at the writer’s grave.  The tradition has never been interrupted.  Until, that is, last night.

For the last sixty years, between midnight and 5:30 a.m., a mysterious visitor has appeared with the gifts.  No one knows who he is, or why he does what he does.  All we know is that last night was the 201st anniversary of Poe’s burial, and that this morning it was announced that no cognac had arrived.

Speculation is running rampant that the mystery man has passed away, moved on, is in jail, or was simply scared away by the three dozen people who had turned out to keep watch over the graveyard.

Whoever, and wherever, he is; we wish him well.

- Robert Laurie