I’m from Springfield, MA, same town as Dr. Seuss. One of my most poignant memories is from something that took place on Mulberry Street. On the dusk of Halloween night about 15 years ago I was sitting with my mom in her broken down old car on the edge of the cemetery there, right beside the rickety curvy sidewalks that so inspired Dr. Seuss, before dropping me off for the train back to NYC so I could party in Greenwich Village that night. We were eating the rest of our homemade chocolate cake, savoring it amidst the gothic atmosphere, when suddenly about 500 black crows landed in unison on the tops of every bare tree branch around the entire cemetery. We were speechless. Then on our last bite of cake, as we were ready to go, every crow took off in unison and flew southward over the Connecticut river, and their Halloweeny silhouettes were unbelievable against the burning orange sunset. When my mother passes away I’ll think of that electric night and smile, bittersweetly. It signified the pure realization of inevitable death. All souls, eat your cake now.