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Echoes of Poe's Past : My Trip with Nostalgia

While in Baltimore, I visited a gravesite...SURPRISE!!!? I love old graves and I am a junkie for them. I visited the resting place of one of my many inspirations in literary horror, Edgar Allan Poe. Some of the younger crowd reading this may not know who Poe is, some will. I dove into his literary works when I was in my twenties. I was twenty-two and about to turn twenty-three years old the year that I was gifted a complete collection from my new bride, Maria, which threw me deeper into his literary works.

Maria signed it, “To my love on his 23rd birthday! All my love, Maria 1996” I loved the book, from the leather hardback to the dark stories, letters, and poems contained within. The collection an inspiration. I spent many nights reading some of my favorites to Maria, and then reading some of my favorites to Annette, Maria’s sister, who spent some weekends at our house. My picks to read out loud were The Raven, Annabel Lee, and The Bells to name a few. I read them so often that Annette, as well as me, memorized a good many words. I loved the ebb and the flow.

My visit to Poe’s resting place was surreal.

I entered the loud city, parked across from a parking structure, paid for parking and walked the sidewalk next to a brick wall. On the other side of those bricks was a small cemetery nestled around a church yard. I entered and all city noise seemed to disappear, and nearly no one was there to pollute my solitude. I longed to see the city as it was when Poe walked the streets. A different time, a bleaker place than present day. This was where he pulled inspiration in those austere times when he internalized the horror, the mystery, and the deep-rooted love that he so often penned.

I had to see more, so I drove a mile and a half to see an old residence he once dwelled, now turned museum. I did not set foot into the building because it was closed. I snapped some pictures, and looked around. Across from the brownstone façade, was a modern-day building. Nesting behind Poe’s house was low-income housing. The surroundings were a very stark contrast to the time when Poe may have glared out through the window at the top floor, through the fickle flame of candle light down at the city streets. A dissimilarity today with vehicles replacing the clomping of horse’s hooves on the cobblestone streets. I was enamored by the past my mind conjured, but yanked into the now as I heard the buzzing of a skill-saw.

My visit is probably no different than the next who may have stepped foot at the grave, or Poe’s house. I was experiencing nostalgia and thought back to the love I have for my wife, the book she inscribed and how we have come to reach the joy in our lives that we encounter day to day. Nostalgia hits home different for everyone. My life and emotions are comparable to those topics Poe wrote about, the elements of life as he observed: Love, loss, madness, and Death. Some of those themes apply to my life today, in my past, and going forward his words will always resonate and be special no matter the macabre intonations. I hope I inspired you to explore more of Baltimore and maybe even Poe, thanks for reading!


Tim Eagle

Tim Eagle is an author of the novellas Stolen Seed, Life Ship, and the Vasectomus Collection. He lives full time, on the road, with his wife, Maria and their dog, Cocoa. He grew up in Michigan and is inspired by the dysfunction of America. His books are available on Amazon, godless and this site Thanks for reading, tune in next week for more...

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