Parentalia (and more!)

In ancient Rome, the Parentalia or dies parentales ("ancestral days") was a nine-day festival held in honor of family ancestors, beginning February 13 and encompassed Feralia (February 21), Caristia  (February 22) and Lupercalia (February 14). From Parentalia to Caristia all temples were closed, marriages were forbidden (Ovid urged mothers, brides, and widows to refrain from lighting their wedding torches), and "magistrates appeared without their insignia" (implying that no official business was done) and any worship of the Gods was prohibited as it "should be hidden behind closed temple doors; no incense on the altar, no fire on the hearth."

For the Parentalia, families visited the tombs of their ancestors and shared cake and wine both in the form of offerings and as a meal among themselves. The Feralia was a more somber occasion, a public festival of sacrifices and offerings to the Manes. The Parentalia was more a private affair, whereas the Feralia was a public affair. The Caristia was a recognition of the family line as it continued into the present and among the living.

Parentalia was an *official* holiday on the Roman religious calendar, when the Roman state conducted public ceremonies on the opening day, the Ides of February (February 13), when a Vestal conducted a rite for the collective di parentes of Rome at the tomb of Tarpeia. However, its observances were mainly domestic and familial. Ovid describes sacred offerings (sacrificia) of flower-garlands, wheat, salt, wine-soaked bread and violets to the "shades of the dead" (manes or di manes - "the good ones") at the family tombs, to strengthen the mutual obligations and protective ties between the living and the dead. This was a lawful duty of the paterfamilias (head of the family).



Parentalia terminated on February 21 in the midnight rites of Feralia, when the paterfamilias addressed the malevolent, destructive aspects of his manes. Feralia was a placation and exorcism: Ovid thought it a more rustic, primitive and ancient affair than the Parentalia itself. Ovid tells of a time when Romans, in the midst of war, neglected Feralia, which prompted the spirits of the departed to rise from their graves in anger, howling and roaming the streets. After this event, tribute to the tombs were then made and the ghastly hauntings ceased.



As concerns public rites nothing of them survives, however on this day as described by Ovid, an old drunken woman (anus ebria) sits in a circle with other girls performing rites in the name of the Mute Goddess that involve incense, black beans and a buried mouse. The purpose of the rite is revealed in her words, "I have gagged spiteful tongues and muzzled unfriendly mouths" (Hostiles linguas inimicaque uinximus ora).

It appears to have functioned as a cleansing ritual for Caristia on the following day, when the family held an informal banquet to celebrate the amity between themselves and their benevolent ancestral dead (lares).

Caristia, also known as the Cara Cognatio, was an official but privately observed holiday on February 22 that celebrated love of family with banqueting and gifts. Families gathered to dine together and offer food and incense to the Lares as their household gods. It was a day of reconciliation when disagreements were to be set aside, but the poet Ovid observes satirically that this could be achieved only by excluding family members who caused trouble. There were distributions of bread, wine, and sportulae (bonuses, tips, tokens of appreciation.)

Lupercalia is another Roman festival and one of the rumored origins of Valentines Day. Lupercalia is composed of several holy days linked together beginning on February 13th with Parentalia but actually unrelated to it. On February 14th and 15th, Lupercalia celebrants pay homage to the Wolf Goddess, Lupa (Rumina), who suckled Romulus and Remus. Rites involved a group of specially appointed priests gathering at the Lupercal, a cave at the bottom of the Palatine Hill. The priests would sacrifice a goat, and anoint the Lupercii (young male participants) on their foreheads with the blood. The blood was wiped away with milk by other priests, and the young men laughed at them. The Lupercii then skinned the sacrificed goat and ripped the hide into strips which they tied around their naked waists. They then got drunk, and ran around Rome striking everyone they met with goatskin thongs, a special flail called a Februa. Young women who were touched in this manner were thought to be specially blessed, especially in regards to fertility and procreation.



So, now that you know how the Romans spent these next two weeks, you can plan your own celebrations accordingly. Any opportunity that brings family together to enjoy one another's company, reminisce and eat is a recipe for a good time. Lupercalia aside (hold the sacrifices and bloodied hides, thank you very much!) there is much here to add to your own family traditions.

A loving heart was better and stronger than wisdom…

Charles John Huffam Dickens was born 200 years ago today, February 7, 1812. He was an English novelist, generally considered the greatest of the Victorian period. Dickens enjoyed a wider popularity and fame than had any previous author during his lifetime, and he remains popular, having been responsible for some of English literature's most iconic novels and characters. Known for such classics as A Christmas Carol and A Tale of Two Cities, sadly, most high school students know less about him than they do Shakespeare.

At a time when Britain was the major economic and political power of the world, Dickens highlighted the life of the forgotten poor and disadvantaged within society. Through his journalism he campaigned on specific issues - such as sanitation and the workhouse - but his fiction probably demonstrated its greatest prowess in changing public opinion in regard to class inequalities. He often depicted the exploitation and oppression of the poor and condemned the public officials and institutions that not only allowed such abuses to exist, but flourished as a result.

His writings inspired others, in particular journalists and political figures, to address such problems of class oppression. For example, the prison scenes in The Pickwick Papers are claimed to have been influential in having the Fleet Prison shut down. As Karl Marx said, Dickens, and the other novelists of Victorian England, "...issued to the world more political and social truths than have been uttered by all the professional politicians, publicists and moralists put together...".

Dickens lived much of what he wrote about. Due to financial difficulties, John Dickens, Charles' father, was imprisoned in the Marshalsea debtor's prison in Southwark, London in 1824. Shortly afterwards, the rest of his family joined him – except 12-year-old Charles, who was boarded with family friend Elizabeth Roylance in Camden Town. Mrs. Roylance was "a reduced [impoverished] old lady, long known to our family", whom Dickens later immortalized, "with a few alterations and embellishments", as "Mrs. Pipchin", in Dombey and Son. Later, he lived in a "back-attic...at the house of an insolvent-court agent...in Lant Street in The Borough...he was a fat, good-natured, kind old gentleman, with a quiet old wife"; and he had a very innocent grown-up son; these three were the inspiration for the Garland family in The Old Curiosity Shop.

On Sundays, Dickens and his sister Frances ("Fanny") were allowed out from the Royal Academy of Music and spent the day at the Marshalsea. (Dickens later used the prison as a setting in Little Dorrit). To pay for his board and to help his family, Dickens was forced to leave school and began working ten-hour days at Warren's Blacking Warehouse, on Hungerford Stairs, near the present Charing Cross railway station. He earned six shillings a week pasting labels on blacking (boot polish). The strenuous – and often cruel – work conditions made a deep impression on Dickens, and later influenced his fiction and essays, forming the foundation of his interest in the reform of socio-economic and labor conditions, the rigors of which he believed were unfairly borne by the poor. He would later write that he wondered "how I could have been so easily cast away at such an age."

Righteous anger stemming from his own situation and the conditions under which working-class people lived became major themes of his works, and it was this unhappy period in his youth to which he alluded in his favorite, and most autobiographical, novel, David Copperfield: "I had no advice, no counsel, no encouragement, no consolation, no assistance, no support, of any kind, from anyone, that I can call to mind, as I hope to go to heaven!"

Dickens worked at the law office of Ellis and Blackmore, attorneys, of Holborn Court, Gray's Inn, as a junior clerk from May 1827 to November 1828. Then, having learned Gurneys system of shorthand in his spare time, he left to become a freelance reporter. A distant relative, Thomas Charlton, was a freelance reporter at Doctors' Commons, and Dickens was able to share his box there to report the legal proceedings for nearly four years. This education informed works such as Nicholas Nickleby, Dombey and Son, and especially Bleak House - whose vivid portrayal of the machinations and bureaucracy of the legal system did much to enlighten the general public, and was a vehicle for dissemination of Dickens's own views regarding, particularly, the heavy burden on the poor who were forced by circumstances to "go to law".

In 1830, Dickens met his first love, Maria Beadnell, thought to have been the model for the character Dora in David Copperfield. Maria's parents disapproved of the courtship and effectively ended the relationship by sending her to school in Paris. Dickens married Catherine Hogarth and 1836 and they had ten children. They separated in 1858.

In May 1846 Angela Burdett Coutts, heir to the Coutts banking fortune, approached Dickens about setting up a home for the redemption of "fallen" women. Coutts envisioned a home that would differ from existing institutions, which offered harsh and punishing regimes for these women, and instead provide an environment where they could learn to read and write and become proficient in domestic household chores so as to re-integrate them into society. After initially resisting, Dickens eventually founded the home, named "Urania Cottage", in the Lime Grove section of Shepherds Bush. He became involved in many aspects of its day-to-day running, setting the house rules, reviewing the accounts and interviewing prospective residents, some of whom became characters in his books. He would scour prisons and workhouses for potentially suitable candidates and relied on friends, such as the Magistrate John Hardwick, to bring them to his attention. Each potential candidate was given a printed invitation written by Dickens called ‘An Appeal to Fallen Women’, which he signed only as ‘Your friend’. If the woman accepted the invitation, Dickens would personally interview her for admission. All of the women were required to emigrate following their time at Urania Cottage. It is estimated that about 100 women graduated between 1847 and 1859.

On June 8, 1870, Dickens suffered a stroke at his home, after a full day's work on The Mystery of Edwin Drood. The next day he died at Gad's Hill Place, never having regained consciousness. Contrary to his wish to be buried at Rochester Cathedral "in an inexpensive, unostentatious, and strictly private manner," he was laid to rest in the Poets' Corner of Westminster Abbey. A printed epitaph circulated at the time of the funeral reads: "To the Memory of Charles Dickens (England's most popular author) who died at his residence, Higham, near Rochester, Kent, 9 June 1870, aged 58 years. He was a sympathiser with the poor, the suffering, and the oppressed; and by his death, one of England's greatest writers is lost to the world." Dickens's last words, as reported in his obituary in The Times were alleged to have been:

“Be natural my children. For the writer that is natural has fulfilled all the rules of art.”

Dickens continues to be one of the best known and most read of English authors, and his works have never gone out of print. At least 180 motion pictures and TV adaptations based on Dickens's works help confirm his success. Many of his works were adapted for the stage during his own lifetime and as early as 1913 a silent film of The Pickwick Papers was made.

There are many ways to celebrate Dickens' birthday. You can start by reading any of his novels. Doing so will prove Dickens biographer Claire Tomalin wrong. One of Dickens’ leading biographers, Tomalin has created a bit of a stir by suggesting that new generations of readers don’t have the attention span necessary to read Dickens. In an interview with the Press Association, Tomalin said, “Children are not being educated to have prolonged attention spans, and you have to be prepared to read steadily for a Dickens novel, and I think that’s a pity.” “Today’s children have very short attention spans,” the biogreapher added, “because they are being reared on dreadful television programs which are flickering away in the corner.”

You can join many other who have tried and finish The Mystery of Edwin Drood. No, not finish reading it, but finish writing it. The manuscript was incomplete when Dickens died in 1870. Mystery writer Gwyneth Hughes has been quoted as saying, “What’s less well known is that Dickens died on purpose – to avoid having to finish it,” about her frustration at trying to write a script for an ending. There have been numerous attempts by other writers to finish The Mystery of Edwin Drood, including one by a man from Vermont in 1873 who claimed that he came up with his ending by communicating with Dickens’ spirit. In 1914, English mystery writer G.K. Chesterton set up a mock trial to solve the whodunit. And in the 1980s, there was even a Broadway musical, Drood.

Rent a movie adaptation of his works.

Cook a dish from the time period, or something inspired from reading one of his stories. A mention was made in David Copperfield about an Irish stew, for example.

There are many museums and festivals that honor the spirit of Charles Dickens. My favorite, and one you cannot visit today but must wait until December, is Dickens on the Strand in Galveston, Texas. Dickens on The Strand is a holiday festival held on the first weekend in December since 1974, where bobbies, Beefeaters and the "Queen" herself are on hand to recreate the Victorian London of Charles Dickens. Many festival volunteers and attendees dress in Victorian attire and bring the world of Dickens to life.

Whatever you choose to do today, remember that Dickens brought attention to child poverty, over-population, environmental degradation and greed — all still relevant issues today. He was a man of his times and yet a forward thinker. Introduce him to a few who may not know too much about him.

A Day For Poets and Lovers

Today Scots celebrate the birthday of Robert (or Rabbie) Burns, widely regarded as the national poet of Scotland. Have you ever sung Auld Lang Syne at the stroke of midnight of the new year? He wrote that.

Robert Burns was born January 25, 1759 near Ayr in a house built by his father. As an adult, Burns was known for casual love affairs (and lovechild or two). He dedicated poems to Mary Campbell, a woman he fell in love with, while another woman, Jean Armour (who he later married) was carrying his twins.

Burns worked to collect and preserve Scottish folk songs, sometimes revising, expanding, and adapting them. One of the better known of these collections is The Merry Muses of Caledonia (the title is not Burns'), a collection of bawdy lyrics that were popular in the music halls of Scotland as late as the 20th century. Many of Burns' most famous poems are songs with the music based upon older traditional songs. For example, Auld Lang Syne is set to the traditional tune Can Ye Labour Lea.

Burns died at the age of 37, and was buried the same day as his last child was born.

A Burns supper is a celebration of his life and poetry. The suppers are normally held on or near the poet's birthday, and are sometimes also known as Robert Burns Day or Burns Night (Burns Nicht), although they may in principle be held at any time of the year.

The first suppers were held in Ayrshire at the end of the 18th century by Robert Burns' friends on the anniversary of his death, July 21, In Memoriam and they have been a regular occurrence ever since. The first Burns club, known as The Mother Club, was founded in Greenock in 1801 by merchants born in Ayrshire, some of whom had known Burns. They held the first Burns supper on what they thought was his birthday on January 29, 1802, but in 1803 discovered from the Ayr parish records that the correct date was January 25, 1759, and since then suppers have been held on the 25th of January.

Burns suppers may be formal or informal. Both typically include haggis (a traditional Scottish dish celebrated by Burns in Address to a Haggis), Scotch whisky and the recitation of Burns' poetry. The dinner begins with the Selkirk Grace:

Some hae meat and canna eat,
And some wad eat that want it;
But we hae meat, and we can eat,
And sae let the Lord be thankit.

It came to be called the Selkirk Grace because Burns was said to have delivered it at a dinner given by the Earl of Selkirk.

Everyone stands as the main course is brought in. This is always a haggis on a large dish. It is usually brought in by the cook, generally while a piper plays bagpipes and leads the way to the host's table, where the haggis is laid down. The host then recites the Address to a Haggis.

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o' the puddin-race!
Aboon them a' ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy o' a grace
As lang's my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o' need,
While thro' your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.

His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An' cut you up wi' ready sleight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like ony ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin, rich!

Then, horn for horn,
they stretch an' strive:
Deil tak the hindmost! on they drive,
Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve,
Are bent lyke drums;
Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
"Bethankit!" 'hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad mak her spew
Wi' perfect sconner,
Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view
On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him ower his trash,
As feckless as a wither'd rash,
His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash,
His nieve a nit;
Thro' bloody flood or field to dash,
O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread.
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He'll mak it whissle;
An' legs an' arms, an' heads will sned,
Like taps o' thrissle.

Ye Pow'rs wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o' fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer,
Gie her a haggis!

Confused? Yeah, me, too. So here is a translation:

Fair is your honest happy face
Great chieftain of the pudding race
Above them all you take your place
Stomach, tripe or guts
Well are you worthy of a grace
As long as my arm

The groaning platter there you fill
Your buttocks like a distant hill
Your skewer would help to repair a mill
In time of need
While through your pores the juices emerge
Like amber beads

His knife having seen hard labour wipes
And cuts you up with great skill
Digging into your gushing insides bright
Like any ditch
And then oh what a glorious sight
Warm steaming, rich

Then spoon for spoon
They stretch and strive
Devil take the last man, on they drive
Until all their well swollen bellies
Are bent like drums
Then, the old gent most likely to rift (burp)
Be thanked, mumbles

Is there that over his French Ragout
Or olio that would sicken a pig
Or fricassee would make her vomit
With perfect disgust
Looks down with a sneering scornful opinion
On such a dinner

Poor devil, see him over his trash
As week as a withered rush (reed)
His spindle-shank a good whiplash
His clenched fist.the size of a nut.
Through a bloody flood and battle field to dash
Oh how unfit

But take note of the strong haggis fed Scot
The trembling earth resounds his tread
Clasped in his large fist a blade
He'll make it whistle
And legs and arms and heads he will cut off
Like the tops of thistles

You powers who make mankind your care
And dish them out their meals
Old Scotland wants no watery food
That splashes in dishes
But if you wish her grateful prayer
Give her a haggis! 

At the end of the poem, a Scotch whisky toast will be proposed to the haggis, then the company will sit down to the meal. The haggis is traditionally served with mashed potatoes (tatties) and mashed turnips (neeps). The dinner usually begins (before the haggis) with soup and ends with dessert.

Coffee and speeches usually end the meal.

When it comes to haggis, people typically either look at you confused or disgust. I went today to pick up whiskey to make my own vegan haggis and the clerk asked what I was using it for (I had mentioned I was cooking with it.) When I said haggis he stared a moment before informing me, yes, he had tried that. Once. And then gave a little shudder. So, what is haggis, you ask?

Take the liver, lungs & heart of a sheep and boil them. Mince the meats and mix with chopped onions, toasted oatmeal, salt, pepper, and spices. Take one properly cleaned sheep's stomach. Stuff the cleaned stomach with the prepared contents. Sew up the stomach (leaving enough room for expansion to avoid a large messy explosion) and boil. Serve and eat.

You may now shudder, just like the liquor store clerk. Believe me, I did, too, when I first learned about it. So now you are wondering what the heck am I doing making something like this! Well, hold on. I'm all about cruelty-free dining. Mine is vegan! You can find my recipe here. And, yes, it is delicious!

So what does love have to do with this (apologies to Tina Turner)? Nothing, actually. But it does have a great deal to do with another celebration, this time in Wales. Today the Welsh celebrate St. Dwynwen's Day.

St. Dwynwen is the Welsh patron saint of lovers. She is also the patron saint of sick animals.

Dwynwen is believed to have been a daughter of King Brychan Brycheiniog, who lived in the 5th century. Dwynwen lived in Anglesey, and her name is still recalled in place names such as Llanddwyn and Porthddwyn.

There are several different versions of what happened:

- This version of the story is generally told to younger children, usually in primary school or nursery. It is generally considered the most appropriate for children.
Dwynwen was the beautiful daughter of Brychan Brycheiniog, who was said to have had eleven sons and twenty-four daughters (although these figures vary greatly, to the extent of suggesting he had over fifty children). She met and fell madly in love with a man called Maelon, and he reciprocated her feelings. She asked her father if she could marry Maelon, but Brychan disliked Maelon and refused to give his permission. Maelon begged, as did Dwynwen, but Brychan would not relent and Maelon was forced to leave. Dwynwen was so upset that she ran into the forests. There, she met with an angel in a dream who granted her the position of the Saint of Love.

- Dwynwen did meet a man named Maelon, and they fell in love. However, Dwynwen disliked Maelon's attitude towards sleeping together, as she wished to keep her virtue until after marriage but he wanted them to sleep together. She told him this, and enraged Maelon so much that he attacked and raped her. Dwynwen fled to the woods, distraught. There an angel gave her a magic potion that cooled her love for Maelon (it in fact cooled it too much, as he was turned into a block of ice). It also gave her three wishes. Dwynwen wished that she would never marry, and that she would become the patron saint of lovers to console others through sadness and love. She used the last wish (although some sources say this was her first) to get Maelon unfrozen.

- Dwynwen fell in love with a prince called Maelon Dafodrill, but unfortunately her father had already arranged that she should marry someone else. Dwynwen was so upset that she could not marry Maelon that she begged God to make her forget him. After falling asleep, Dwynwen was visited by an angel, who appeared carrying a sweet potion designed to erase all memory of Maelon and turn him into a block of ice. God then gave three wishes to Dwynwen. Her first wish was that Maelon be thawed; her second that God meet the hopes and dreams of true lovers; and third, that she should never marry.

- Dwynwen fell in love with a prince called Maelon Dafodrill but her father (the king) had already arranged for her to marry another prince. As soon as Maelon found out he was angry and said never wanted to see Dwynwen again.Dwynwen cried all night and asked god to make her forget all about Maelon. In the morning Dwynwen was visited by an angel, who appeared carrying a sweet potion designed to erase all memory of Maelon and turn him into a block of ice. God then gave three wishes to Dwynwen. Her first wish was that Maelon be thawed; her second that God meet the hopes and dreams of true lovers; and third, that she should never marry.

Regardless of what really happened, Dwynwen became a nun, fulfilling her wish to never marry, and left for the island of Anglesey to build a Church. This is referred to as Llanddwynwen, literally meaning 'Church of Dwynwen'. She is there until she dies, in about AD 460. Her church at Llanddwyn became an important shrine during the Middle Ages. The holy well became a site of pilgrimage, at which the movement of fish within its waters was believed to indicate lovers' destinies. Visitors to the well believe that if the water boils while they are present, then love and good luck will surely follow.

Saint Dwynwen's day, Dydd Santes Dwynwen, is celebrated on January 25. Seen as something of a "Welsh Valentine's Day", from the 1960s it has increased in popularity as a day when cards are sent and events such as concerts or parties are held.

Wish your loved one 'dwi'n dy garu di ' (I love you).

And make something sweet. I made Red Hot Popcorn.

All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream...

...so said Edgar Allan Poe, whose birthday is today. Best known for his tales of mystery and the macabre, Poe was one of the earliest American practitioners of the short story and is considered the inventor of the detective fiction genre. He is further credited with contributing to the emerging genre of science fiction.

Many critics have noted that Poe's life was marked by the loss of women he loved, a theme that occurred repeatedly in his writing. Having suffered the loss of his mother, Poe was haunted by the idea of a young, sick, beautiful woman, especially when he was forced to witness the illness of his "little wife" (a nickname earned in part by Virginia's delicate stature and in part by her age: she was thirteen when they married while he was twenty-seven) - she died of tuberculosis about 12 years after they married (Poe died two years later). This obsession is reflected in his heroines: Ligeia, Berenice, Lenore, and Madeleine Usher.

Poe was a divisive character while he lived, and had as many enemies as friends, in part due to his volatile, high-strung temperament. Yet he also had his champions: his wife and mother-in-law both doted on him, and the French poet Baudelaire lovingly translated his work into French and proclaimed him one of the greatest poets who ever lived.

The cause of Poe's death remains a mystery, but the more macabre story is the one surrounding his burial.  Poe is buried on the grounds of Westminster Hall and Burying Ground, now part of the University of Maryland School of Law in Baltimore. He was originally buried without a headstone towards the rear corner of the churchyard near his grandfather, David Poe, Sr. A headstone of white Italian marble, paid for by Poe's cousin Neilson Poe, was destroyed before it reached the grave when a train derailed and plowed through the monument yard where it was being kept. Instead, it was marked with a sand-stone block that read "No. 80". In 1873, Southern poet Paul Hamilton Hayne visited Poe's grave and published a newspaper article describing its poor condition and suggesting a more appropriate monument. Sara Sigourney Rice, a teacher in Baltimore's public schools, took advantage of renewed interest in Poe's grave site and personally solicited for funds. She even had some of her elocution students give public performances to raise money. Many in Baltimore and throughout the United States contributed; the final $650 came from Philadelphia publisher and philanthropist George William Childs. The new monument was designed by architect George A. Frederick and built by Colonel Hugh Sisson, and included a medallion of Poe by artist Adalbert Volck. All three men were from Baltimore. The total cost of the monument, with the medallion, amounted to slightly more than $1,500.

Poe was reburied on October 1, 1875, at a new location close to the front of the church. A celebration was held at the dedication of the new tomb on November 17. His original burial spot was marked with a large stone donated by Orin C. Painter, though it was originally placed in the wrong spot. Attendees included Neilson Poe, who gave a speech and called his cousin "one of the best hearted men that ever lived", as well as Nathan C. Brooks, John Snodgrass, and John Hill Hewitt. Though several leading poets were invited to the ceremony, Walt Whitman was the only one to attend. Alfred Tennyson contributed a poem which was read at the ceremony:

Fate that once denied him,
And envy that once decried him,
And malice that belied him,
Now cenotaph his fame.

Probably unknown to the reburial crew, the headstones on all the graves, previously facing to the east, had been turned to face the West Gate in 1864. The crew digging up Poe's remains had difficulty finding the right body: they first exhumed a 19-year old Maryland militiaman, Philip Mosher, Jr. When they correctly located Poe, they opened his coffin and one witness noted: "The skull was in excellent condition—the shape of the forehead, one of Poe's striking features, was easily discerned."

A few years later, the remains of Poe's wife, Virginia, were moved to this spot as well. In 1875, the cemetery in which she lay was destroyed, and she had no kin to claim her remains. William Gill, an early Poe biographer, gathered her bones and stored them in a box he hid under his bed. Virginia's remains were finally buried with her husband's on January 19, 1885, the 76th anniversary of her husband's birth and nearly 10 years after his present monument was erected. George W. Spence, the man who served as sexton during Poe's original burial as well as his exhumation and reburial, attended the rites that brought his body to rest with Virginia and Virginia's mother, Maria Clemm.

Adding to the mystery surrounding Poe's death, an unknown visitor affectionately referred to as the "Poe Toaster" paid homage to Poe's stone marking his original grave annually beginning in 1949. The shadowy figure, dressed in black with a wide-brimmed hat and white scarf, would leave three roses and a partially-filled bottle of French cognac, then disappear into the night. As the tradition carried on for more than 60 years, it is likely that the "Poe Toaster" was actually several individuals, though the tribute was always the same. According to eyewitness reports, and notes accompanying offerings in later years, the original Toaster visited the tomb from 1949 until his death in 1998, after which the tradition was passed to "a son." Controversial statements were made in some notes left by the post-1998 Toaster, and in 2006 an unsuccessful attempt was made by several onlookers to detain and identify him. Onlookers gathered annually in hopes of glimpsing the elusive Toaster, who did not seek publicity, and was rarely seen or photographed.
Members of the Edgar Allan Poe Society in Baltimore helped protect this tradition for decades.The Poe Toaster's last appearance was on January 19, 2009, the day of Poe's bicentennial. In 2010 there was no visit by the Toaster, nor did he appear in 2011 or 2012, triggering speculation that the 60-year tradition had ended and that the toaster had died.

There are a few ways you can mark this day for yourself, barring living near Baltimore and visiting his gravesite.

Tap at the door (bedroom door, office door, bathroom door) of a family member or coworker and keep tap, tap, tapping at the door. Wait if they tell you to come in until they actually have to get up to come answer it. When they do, stare at them for a minute, and then say, "Nevermore."

Too creepy?

You could find a place to perch and just say "Nevermore" to everyone who walks by.

Still not doing it for you?

Then curl up with a cup of hot tea and a warm throw, and read the stories and poems of Edgar Allan Poe. A raging thunderstorm outside would really set the stage, but since we cannot control that, turn the lights down low or read by candlelight. Get out your Hallowe'en cds and have them playing in the background.

Enjoy the delightful shivers from the comfort of your own home.

“When late morning rolls around and you're feeling a bit out of sorts, don't worry; you're probably just a little eleven o'clockish.”

It is more fun to talk with someone who doesn't use long, difficult words but rather short, easy words like "What about lunch?" - Winnie the Pooh

Alan Alexander Milne was born on the 18th of January 1882 in Hampstead, London. In 1924, after the success of  the poem entitled, 'Vespers',  Milne published a book of children's poems entitled 'When We Were Very Young', with drawings by illustrator, Ernest Shepard. This book includes a poem about a Teddy Bear who "however hard he tries grows tubby without exercise". This was Pooh's first unofficial appearance in A.A. Milne's writing. It was not until 1925 that Pooh officially came into being. Milne's contribution for the Christmas Eve issue of the Evening News was a bedtime story that he had made up for his son (named Christopher Robin) about adventures he had with his Teddy Bear who was known as Winnie the Pooh. It was also at this time that the Milne family moved to the cottage at Cotchford Farm in Sussex which later provided the setting for the Pooh books.

Interestingly, Milne didn't write the Pooh stories and poems for children but instead intended them for the child within us.

Until he went to boarding school(where he got teased a lot about Vespers), Christopher Robin Milne (in his own words) "quite liked being Christopher Robin and being famous."

Vespers by AA Milne

Little Boy kneels at the foot of the bed,
Droops on the little hands little gold head.
Hush! Hush! Whisper who dares!
Christopher Robin is saying his prayers.

God bless Mummy. I know that's right.
Wasn't it fun in the bath to-night?
The cold's so cold, and the hot's so hot.
Oh! God bless Daddy - I quite forgot.

If I open my fingers a little bit more,
I can see Nanny's dressing-gown on the door.
It's a beautiful blue, but it hasn't a hood.
Oh! God bless Nanny and make her good.

Mine has a hood, and I lie in bed,
And pull the hood right over my head,
And I shut my eyes, and I curl up small,
And nobody knows that I'm there at all.

Oh! Thank you, God, for a lovely day.
And what was the other I had to say?
I said "Bless Daddy," so what can it be?
Oh! Now I remember it. God bless Me.

Little Boy kneels at the foot of the bed,
Droops on the little hands little gold head.
Hush! Hush! Whisper who dares!
Christopher Robin is saying his prayers.

There are many ways to celebrate today. You can start by pulling out any and all Pooh stuffed animals you have and setting them around the house. I have a small collection of Pooh themed items that I have collected over the years, including a small stuffed Winnie the Pooh. He takes pride of place today.

If you have children (and even if you don't!), read any of the stories from the 100 Aker Wood.

Make Winnie the Pooh cakepops. I'm new to the cakepop making, so haven't made any just yet. Today, however, might be the day I try my hand at it!

Make a Pooh inspired dish. I have the original 1969 Pooh cookbook. I really want to get my hands on the new one, though, to compare them.

Watch a Pooh movie or try to catch the episodes that came on tv. I still use Pooh's phrase, "Oh, bother!" when something doesn't go as planned.

This is a day that can be filled with sweetness and fun, so go and be a kid again. Isn't that what Milne wanted?

Argue Not With Dragons...

...for thou art crunchy and go well with brie.

Or so says my signature line I've used in my emails for years. I have never been able to track down where this quote originated, and have seen many variations on it, but this still remains my favorite. My daughter even found me a t-shirt, and even if it uses the more often used variation of ketchup, it is still the perfect shirt to wear today.

Why, you ask? Well, today is Appreciate a Dragon Day!

Appreciate a Dragon Day was created in 2004 by the author Donita K. Paul, to celebrate the release of her first book in the Dragon Keepers series, Dragonspell.

The spirit of Appreciate a Dragon Day is to get kids involved in literacy, art and reading, but is certainly not limited to kids! There are various ways to celebrate today. Some of those ideas could include:

-Create your favorite dragon in art. Drawing, painting, sculpture, Lego, paper mache, masks, collage, mosiac, mixed media, knitting, sewing, puppets - the list is endless!
-Devise a dragon treasure hunt, to find the dragon's hoard! The hoard can be anything from a gift to money to anything you want it to be!
-Become a dragonologist for the day! Check out any of the Dragonology books, but a Field Guide will be most useful.
-Learn about one or more dragons from different cultures and mythologies. Believe it or not, there are differences in dragons depending on the culture.
-Stage a dragon-themed puppet show, dance, play or musical. I think designing one of those Chinese dragons used in parades would be a blast!
-Make dragon food - this is just a given. Between today and the upcoming Chinese New Year's Year of the Dragon coming up, watch for recipes here.
-Have a dragon party. Dress up as a dragon, decorate with dragons, have dragon foods. There is a plethora of adult beverages that have the word *dragon* in the name.
-Watch a dragon movie or cartoon. There are so many. Dragonheart, Eragon, How To Train Your Dragon, just to name a few.
-Learn about dragons in history and legend. I bet you'll uncover something you didn't know before!
-Try origami and make a folded dragon out of paper. You can find directions here.
-Learn about REAL dragons, or even visit them if you have the resources nearby - find a Komodo dragon at your local zoo, or learn about bearded dragons at specialist pet stores or animal centers! Our local science museum has a live bearded dragon that my daughter brings out for birthday parties there. The animals she shows are animals that have been donated to the museum, often the result of someone getting one as a pet and no longer being able to care for it. (Small rant - why I do NOT believe in the sale of exotic animals as pets!)

Dragons are symbols of strength, fortitude and courage. Their fiery nature also means they are symbols of transformation. For those of you so inclined, spiritually, dragons are messengers of balance and can help strengthen psychic ability. They are rulers of all four elements and therefore embody primordial power, and as a "totem" they offer strength, wisdom, bravery and empowerment. They can also bring magic into our lives and encourage us to be peaceful warriors - standing up for ourselves, but in a constructive and harmonious way. Dragons can be a powerful ally and if you want to work with their energy, you can call upon your dragon totem through meditation. Look at dragon images and read about them - this can help draw them into your life.

Bring out all your (or your kid's!) stuffed dragons and place them all around the house. Light up some dragon's blood incense and enjoy the day!

“Paraskevidekatriaphobia – when you learn to pronounce it, you’re cured.”

According to the Stress Management Center and Phobia Institute in Asheville, North Carolina, fear of Friday the 13th affects between 17 and 21 million Americans. Why should this day, over any other, inspire such fear?

Theories range anywhere from the the number 12 traditionally signifying completeness, therefore 13 is unlucky (which begs the question, what about 11? What about 10? What about - you get the idea) to  Friday being the day on which Eve offered Adam the forbidden fruit and Jesus was crucified (but what has the number 13 got to do with that?) to the demise of the Knights Templar, a monastic military order whose members were arrested en masse by France’s King Philip IV on Friday, October 13, 1307.

Regardless of how it started, those who suffer from paraskevidekatriaphobia, Friday plus 13 equals a paralyzing, debilitating fear for millions of Americans.

But for those of us that don't have such a fear...

Plan a Friday the 13th party!

Once again, anything Hallowe'en related is a brilliant choice, most especially anything such as black cats. Throw in other things related to superstitious beliefs, like paper ladders and the number 13.

Play spooky music. Some of my favorite creepy music is anything by Nox Arcana.

Dress up in costumes. The more mysterious, the better.

Play party games like Truth or Dare or Worst Case Scenario.

Of course, what party wouldn't be complete without watching Friday the 13th movies?

Make a trip to a scary or haunted place, or spend the night in a haunted hotel.

Whatever you do, just be safe and have fun. Don't belittle anyone who has a true fear or even a little trepidation about the day. While it is untrue that hospital admissions are higher on this day, that can be probably generally attributed to the fact that many are just being more careful.