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Maurice Sendak, author of Where The Wild Things Are died (in Danbury Hospital – shout out!) at the spry age of 83.

The nurses sent him to his room without any supper.  That very night in Maurice’s room a forest grew.  And grew.  An ocean tumbled by with a

Sendak, in the Danbury Hospital Cafeteria, shortly before security dragged him back to the Children’s Authors Ward.

private boat for Maurice. That boat took him to a strange, new land with wild, unknown creatures… just across the River Styx.

The original working title for WTWTA (as the kids abbreviate it these days) was “Land of the Wild Horses.”  He was well into the project when he realized that he couldn’t draw horses.  So he then proceeded to create the Wild Things as caricatures of his aunts & uncles.  Uncle Leo was pissed when Sendak drew him as a giant rooster.

He has been quoted as saying, “My gods are Herman Melville, Emily Dickinson, Mozart. I believe in them with all my heart.” Elaborating further, “I have a little tiny Emily Dickinson so big that I carry in my pocket everywhere.”  It was at this point the interview came to a crashing halt when he whipped out his Emily Dickenson for all to see.

His wake is expected to be a pretty wild Rumpus.

Best. Funeral Procession. EVER!

This hit goes to Jami!  Yes, my lovely wife scores on this busy, busy Ghoul Pool week.  With all these people dying, it’s a wonder that Nancy Reagan still survives.

Happy pooling,



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