Let Halloween be a time to remember that the dead are not lost to us. They dwell in a land of shadows and echoes, of spirits and memories.

I look for Jill in the shadows of wings that glide soundlessly overhead. I expect to hear her voice in response to the drone of an approaching blimp. (I know that she earned her wings and is free to soar.) I can’t help but think of Jill when I commune with spirits like Old Bushmill’s and Eagle Rare — aged to perfection in her own "cellars."

And memories continue to burst from photographs and from the archives of Halloweens past. I am sharing some of these with you so that none of us need go through the season without a card and a greeting from Jill.