I found out this morning Maurice Sendak died,
and I was as grief-stricken as a baby boomer losing a Beatle.
I shared his books as a teacher, as a parent, and as a librarian.
My own copies of his books are, as all the best books should be, well-worn and well-loved.
His books contained humor and darkness, violence and grace,
and they were delightfully free
of the boring safeness that too many children's books have.
Rest in peace, old man.
