cincibuck
You kids stay off my lawn!
You're all a bunch of phonies, Holden told me so.
My father hated Holden, thought he was a little smart ass -- that was reassuring as it convinced me that he hated me too, freeing me to continue my rebellion against God knows what in Kettering and all the other places I have lived. As the years between my dad and I have lessened -- I'm actually older than him now -- re-visiting Holden has helped me understand that impenetrable gulf that often existed between Dad and son, to see it as something natural in the world order.
Holden told me I was not alone in this world with my wierdness, that other boys were conflicted, underachieving and doubting much of what they saw being passed on as truths. If the characters, the Okies, Doc, Mac and the boys, Ethan Hawley from Steinbeck gave me a moral compass, Holden gave me a sense of self and self worth. If he wandered from one disaster to the next he did so as an observer who could relay my own thoughts back to me and assure me that doubt and confusion are always with us as we seek our personal truths. If today he were to respond to my e-mail concerning some new confusing life situation he'd start with, "been there, done that," and that would reassure me that at least one other person understood the whirl of clutter and chaos in my brain.
I've gone back to Holden for guidance and understanding more than anyone else in my world of books; more than Yousarrian, more than Tim O'Brien's platoon or Billy Pilgrim and the POWs in the Slaughter House, more than the Joads, Ethan Hawley and Cain, more than Wing Bidellbaum and the strange folks in Winesberg, Ohio or the voices of Spoon River, more than Hemingway or Fitzgerald. I am always left with a thirst for more, at least another chapter, and I always realize that it's better that there isn't one.
Cincibuck
PS, Sepia 5 pm'd me and jogged my memory, here's a great radio story on a high school kid who has the cojones to find Sallinger.
http://thestory.org/archive/the_story_939_JD_Salinger.mp3/view
My father hated Holden, thought he was a little smart ass -- that was reassuring as it convinced me that he hated me too, freeing me to continue my rebellion against God knows what in Kettering and all the other places I have lived. As the years between my dad and I have lessened -- I'm actually older than him now -- re-visiting Holden has helped me understand that impenetrable gulf that often existed between Dad and son, to see it as something natural in the world order.
Holden told me I was not alone in this world with my wierdness, that other boys were conflicted, underachieving and doubting much of what they saw being passed on as truths. If the characters, the Okies, Doc, Mac and the boys, Ethan Hawley from Steinbeck gave me a moral compass, Holden gave me a sense of self and self worth. If he wandered from one disaster to the next he did so as an observer who could relay my own thoughts back to me and assure me that doubt and confusion are always with us as we seek our personal truths. If today he were to respond to my e-mail concerning some new confusing life situation he'd start with, "been there, done that," and that would reassure me that at least one other person understood the whirl of clutter and chaos in my brain.
I've gone back to Holden for guidance and understanding more than anyone else in my world of books; more than Yousarrian, more than Tim O'Brien's platoon or Billy Pilgrim and the POWs in the Slaughter House, more than the Joads, Ethan Hawley and Cain, more than Wing Bidellbaum and the strange folks in Winesberg, Ohio or the voices of Spoon River, more than Hemingway or Fitzgerald. I am always left with a thirst for more, at least another chapter, and I always realize that it's better that there isn't one.
Cincibuck
PS, Sepia 5 pm'd me and jogged my memory, here's a great radio story on a high school kid who has the cojones to find Sallinger.
http://thestory.org/archive/the_story_939_JD_Salinger.mp3/view
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