2015 in retrospect

   If I had a word for 2015, it's meh....well actually meh minus. It wasn't terrific by any means, but it was not completely horrible, either. There was terrific points in late summer and late autumn, come to think of it!

   The first part of the year started off pretty well. At work I was hammering away on a script for the literacy night play as well as producing, directing, and emceeing the final Marvin & Jessie assembly for the year. On top of that  I was also doing the televised morning news announcements. LIfe was quite busy and good. Come late March, during Spring Break, we took a nice trip up to Utah for what would be our final regular visit with Vickie's dad Alan.

   When we got to see him, we took Alan to Village Inn for breakfast. He ordered the biggest and most expensive breakfast there, the chicken fried steak! I didn't care, it was probably the biggest meal he'd had in a long time and he scarfed that baby up!

   Had we known then what was going to happen later, we would have just packed some of this things and brought him home with us.

   Later ended up being less than a week after that breakfast. The following Saturday he had fallen and hurt his head badly. A nurse came to check him and merely gave him some ice instead of recommending a scan or some sort of concerted medical effort. Two days later, he had another fall and was admitted to the hospital with a subdural hematoma. Vickie grabbed a ride with her brother and family to see him the next day.

   This will sound strange, but that was the first time I'd been without Vickie since the night before our wedding. It was rough at first. She came back 2 days later, but went up again 3 days after that to help her dad get into his new nursing home. This time it was a bit easier. She came back on Tuesday... but then we heard on Thursday that Alan was unresponsive and was admitted to the hopsital.

   We went up late that same night to Salt Lake with parental emergency funds. We stayed at a Super 8  for 4 nights while going to the hospital during the day. Vickie would spend long periods of time with her father while Natalie and I hung out in the waiting room. I actually made substitute lesson plans on a waiting room computer standing up!

   On Monday, Vickie made what may have been the toughest decision of her life. As Alan had been going in and out of a-fib with his heart and had been largely unresponsive, the quality of his life was not getting any better, so she chose to take him off of life support. He was moved to the palliative care ward, and as our hotel stay had expired, we stayed in the room with him for two nights, very tough nights at that.

   On Wednesday, we arranged to have him taken to a hospice home that afternoon. After he was moved in, we went for a quick bite to eat. While at the restaurant, Natalie had a quick bout of nausea and threw up at 6:15p.m. Minutes later as we got into the car, Vickie got the call...Alan had passed at 6:15. We got back as quickly as we could and waited as the funeral home people took care of him. We found a motel for the night, then headed for the funeral home in the morning.

   The funeral home itself was not too bad, and the director helping us was very pleasant and made things easier. He even agreed to put a bottle of Pepsi in with Alan as he was transported to Missouri. We headed home soon after, and I managed to teach for two days the following week before we headed to northwestern Missouri for the funeral.

   We stayed at a truck stop in Eagleville off of I-35 for 5 nights. In that time, we made arrangements for a coffin and a gravesite. Natalie also practiced singing "Amazing Grace" for the funeral. We spent our ultra-free time vising different cemeteries to find where some of Vickie's family, including her paternal grandparents and Aunt, were interred. We also drove around the area and found that northern Missouri is quite hilly on the local roads, therefore fun to drive. The Iowa state line was close, so we ventured there twice. We also let Natalie play at a park or 2, and she got to experience what I consider REAL playground equipment.

   On Saturday there was a viewing, which ended up being the 3 of us and Vickie's half sister who came in from Texas. The funeral home people graciously arranged for a CD player to be at the funeral the next day. At the funeral itself, I read a eulogy that I'd prepared and Natalie did a very nice job singing "Amazing Grace" along with Leann Rimes.

  








   We went home the day after that. It was rough for a while for Vickie, still is in many ways. There was less than a month of school left, including Field Day where I ended the day feeling sick, making the holiday weekend a royal bummer.

   A week and a half after that, the school year was over. Almost immediately, I got started on taking my license renewal classes. This actually made for a fun summer as my mind was active. I took a class on online/blended learning, an easy-peasy Powerpoint class, both online. I also went to a class for 3 days learning how to be a "champion teacher", which was helpful. In late July I began a class on early stages of writing.

   Vacation-wise, we took a short jaunt to Laughlin for a dinner cruise on the Colorado River in June, then a week-long trip to Tennessee to spend time with Vickie's friend Marilyn. That was one of the best weeks I can remember!

   Before we knew it, the time for school had begun. We took a very brief trip to Houston in September for a cousin's wedding, where I met some really nice people. I also had one more class to take, this one being about creating centers.

   By late October, I was burnt out. Lots had happened in the course of 7 months. Vickie went on a Carnival cruise with some of her family form Halloween to November 4. Two of those days were staff development days and I had to take them off since I couldn't find a babysitter for Natalie. My Dad and his wife came for Thanksgiving and soon after I celebrated my 43rd birthday.

   December brought something new for me. As I'd been getting more involved with school district issues, I met some new people also involved in that online, and met some in-person when I attended a rally. These people are highly motivated and I hope I meet more like them in the coming year.

   Christmas break was long overdue and it has really helped to re-energize me. It has also helped me to realize that I've been pretty down on myself for a long time. The school year has not been spectacular, although I have a great group of kids. I no longer do the news due to the assistant principal making changes to that program...in fact the school itself has felt very dark and lifeless, and that can be a consuming thing...I've let the dark spirit consume me., and that's not healthy. I've also been paranoid about other coworkers, another piece of dark spirit. This break has helped to clear those cobwebs.

   Here is hoping that the next year brings more Moore happiness!

Confidentially Speaking

What? My blog hasn't had an entry in a while? Well, fear not, because it is time for...you guessed it... a book review! Who knows, perhaps all of these book review posts will be compiled for immediate inclusion in a used bookstore's bargain bin!

Today's featured story is another long one...sitting at 497 pages is James Ellroy's classic "L.A. Confidential". This is another thick piece of pulp made into a movie years later, and the movie was quite good, starring Guy Pearce, Russell Crowe, and Kevin Spacey. OK, we all (meaning I) know how this goes...I give a character profile, a major spoiler alert, followed by movie-book comparison/contrasts.

Characters
Edmond Exley: He is an accidental World War 2 hero, making his way up the ranks in the LAPD. He feels he has much to prove, and will do anything to get where he wants. By the book's end, he is a cold-hearted cop who has lost much to attain his goals.

Wendell "Bud" White: He is a brutal detective who has a penchant for defending female victims of abuse. He holds a grudge against Exley for the majority of the book. He is duped into doing what his superior officer Dudley Smith wants for years.

Jack Vincennes: He is an alcoholic and a narcotics cop who is also a technical adviser on the TV show "Badge of Honor". He has a years-old demon hanging over him, which threatens his career and marriage.

Sid Hudgens: He is a sleazy reporter for the L.A. tabloid "Hush Hush", and loves to catch celebrities doing illegal drugs for a story. He and Jack Vincennes have a business relationship, and he holds a secret Jack wishes he did not.

Dudley Smith: A cold, calculating Irish lieutenant, then captain. He is the brains behind much of the sordid activity in the book and has a crew of loyal lapdog cops working under him.

Pierce Patchett: He is a rich, influential pimp and chemist. He runs a call girl service called Fleur di Lis and is also in league with Sid Hudgens in the blackmail department.

Ray Dieterling: He is a Walt Disney caricature who carries many dark secrets, one of which is a running back story which unfolds at the end.

Preston Exley: Edmond's father, a self righteous cop turned architect. He also has a dark secret which costs him at the book's end.

***SPOILER***

The book opens with a short scene in 1950 of an ex-cop named Buzz Meeks hiding in a San Berdoo (Bernardino)  motel with an extensive amount of heroin. He is immediately hunted down by Dudley Smith and his crew and killed by Dudley himself.

The book then moves into Christmas 1951.Several Mexican men are booked for assault on 2 cops. Several cops, having imbibed in liquor brought into the station that night and led by Bud White's brutal and drunk partner Dick Stensland, go to the jail cells to beat on the Mexicans. Exley is the deputy watch commander. but has no control over the men and is locked in the supply room by one of them. Bud tried to stop his partner but is provoked by the Mexicans into throwing some vicious punches himself. Jack Vincennes also tries to garner some control, but fails and also throws a punch.

The ambush gets quite an exposure in the papers. Ed Exley uses the opportunity to advance his career by snitching on the violent cops.  Bud White and Dick Stensland are thrown off the force, and Jack agrees to corroborate Exley's testimony and serve on administrative vice as his wrist slap. Exley is promoted to lieutenant, but gets small cases and is shunned by his fellow officers as a snitch, Bud White is reinstated by Dudley Smith to permanently serve under him. One night, White and Stensland in disguise beat on Exley in a parking lot. Exley later gets the goods on Stensland for parole violation and has him arrested.

Soon thereafter, Ellis Loew is elected as district attorney with help from Jack Vincennes who not only introduced him to the woman he'd marry, but also worked with Sid Hudgens to permanently smear his opponent.

In 1953, the Nite Owl Diner has a major shooting and the victims of note are San Berdoo native Susan Lefferts, ex-cop Mal Lunceford, and pimp wannabe Duke Cathcart. It is reported that three black men were seen in a purple Mercury fleeing the scene. Some men are arrested on leads, and Exley interrogates them, finding out they abducted a girl. Bud White watches and then storms in, demanding an address. He rushes to it, finding a raped and beaten woman, Inez Soto, tied up in one room.  Bud finds one of her captors in the next room and shoots him. Inez refuses to talk to the police, she just wants the "putos" to suffer. Ed Exley tries to be kind to her, but she taunts him with Bud White's bravado. Exley finds the men after they escaped from jail and shoots them all and is lauded a hero.

In the interim afterward, Sid Hudgens is killed, Jack Vincennes goes to find Sid's secret files but finds nothing. He soon meets up with Pierce Patchett's underlings Lynn  Bracken and Lamar Hinton who have stolen Sid's files form the bank. The files indeed contain dirt on him and an accidental 1947 double shooting of 2 innocent people, but Pierce Patchett owns the carbons.

A paroled Dick Stensland partakes in an armed robbery and commits murder in the process. He is arrested, sentenced, and executed in the gas chamber.

Inez Soto, who formed a brief relationship with Ed following his shooting of her rapists, is sleeping with other men, particularly Bud White and is also working for theme park creator Ray Dieterling. She and Ed soon break up.

The scandal papers soon question the validity of the Nite Owl murders following testimony from a prison inmate who knew the 3 men Ed shot. An extensive re-investigation begins. Ed forms an alliance with Jack and an uneasy one with Bud., as Bud still wants to ruin Ed over Stensland's ruination and execution.

In the extensive investigation, Internal Affairs head Ed Exley finds out that the real Nite Owl shooters were former Mickey Cohen hoods Abe Tetelbaum, Johnny Stompanato, and Lee Vachss, along with driver Deuce Perkins in order to take over Pierce Patchett's smut empire. Sid Hudgens's killer was Ray Dieterling's insane illegitimate son David Mertens, over a complicated plot involving Mertens's torturing and killing of a child 18 years previously. He was never arrested, as another named Loren Atherton was falsely arrested by Preston Exley and later executed. Preston Exley also killed Dieterling's other son who looked exactly like David and who was hated by Ray. Ed confronts his father and Dieterling over the cover-up and the 2 older men commit suicide.

In the end, Ed, Jack, and Bud engage in a shootout with Lee Vachss and Abe Tetelbaum, killing them both. While Ed seeks David Mertens, Jack and Bud intercept a train full of convicts containing the men who tried to kill Mickey Cohen in prison. Jack is killed and Bud is severely wounded before killing Deuce Perkins.

In the end, Bud and his love Lynn Bracken head to Arizona so he can recover (although he will never be a cop again) and Ed vows to nail Dudley Smith, the mastermind behind the Nite Owl.

***SPOILER END***

Overall, the book is much more extensive than that brief spoiler, and involves some detailed and pretty sick smut descriptions. It gives the idea that 1950s L.A. is one big place full of crime and filth.  My favorite character of all the main ones is Jack Vincennes, a sad man haunted by a bad mistake who is trying to make his life better and ends up dying in his valiant call to duty.

Movie comparison/contrast

The movie focuses mainly on Bloody Christmas and the Nite Owl, and most of the smut angle is not present. Completely missing is the story involving Ed's father and Ray Dieterling. Plus, in the movie Dudley Smith is killed by Ed. IN the book, Jack gets married to a younger girl who goes from enamored to disillusioned. In the movie, he remains single..

One big similarity is Bud's hatred of Ed because of Stensland's downfall (in the movie Stensland is killed at the Nite Owl). In the book, Bud comes around during the shooting at the diner, while in the movie he and Ed join forces when they realize who the real bad guy is.

The book contained a large population of gay characters and pedophiles, something almost completely missing in the film. In the end, I say keep with the book, you will be more satisfied.

Sequel King at His Throne

   I've decided to take a side job. I could use the diversion, after all. Sure, I could recreate lesson plans and copy materials into the dead of night, but ripping my toenail cuticles off sounds more entertaining.

   So I've decided to make myself in charge of all movie sequels. I've sent out resumes to all of the studios and have heard from all of them. Granted, they all offered to shove a boom mike up my shorts, but this is merely a salary negotiating ploy.

   You may be asking, "What makes you qualified to be in charge of deciding on movie sequels to be made?" Well, I recently caught Anchorman 2...and from what my college- and NY Times Crossword-trained mind could gather, an ocelot approved that idea.And if an ocelot can make those decisions, I can too...er, let's move on!

   The first strategy to consider is, what movies should be greenlit for a high-budget sequel and/or remake? I think the perfect example here is "Meatballs", a 1979 Canadian "feel-good" camp comedy featuring a high-on-his-keister-from-SNL Bill Murray. In fact, his mere presence was the only thing keeping our VCR from exploding when I rented it back in 1986 from the local video store. From my subsequent research after the rental, I gathered 2 facts.

1. The lone copy I rented proceeded to gather dust until it either was taken off or "accidentally" made it into the curtained-off porn section.

2. The original spawned 3, count them, 3 sequels, most of which haven't been seen by anybody outside the screening room.

   So what, then, makes a film sequel-worthy? From what I can see, earnings are the bottom line, pure and simple. The movie moguls don't appear to research their audience. For all they know, a bunch of drunk college football players attended "Pee Wee's Big Adventure" but they couldn't remember any of it later, much less the theater they randomly chose to puke in. It doesn't matter, ticket sales are ticket sales, so the moguls approved "Big Top Pee Wee", another cassette that got into the curtained porn section.

   I think the same general strategy goes for remakes. Take Spider Man, for example, a highly successful trilogy starring Tobey Maguire as Marvel Comics's favorite web-slinging nerd. Five years after the third installment, "The Amazing Spider Man" was released! Why? Money! The first trilogy was a hit, so why not remake the 2002 hit with a new cast and angle? Same with the Incredible Hulk...one in 2003 and another complete remake 5 years later, as if the original had never been made.

   I can picture it now, I'm sitting on my Sequel Master Throne....yes THAT throne, where else can sequels be approved? I'm on a conference call with 2 of my associates.

Me: OK, what do you have for me today? (subsequent grunt)
Associate 2: We have lots of ideas for you.
Associate 1: Wait, you took my line!
Associate 2: I'm bucking for your spot.
Me: (grunting more) I don't pay you for arguing.
Associate 1: You don't pay us at all! We're interns.
Me: Oh yes . (a fine movement happens at last)Ahhh, nice! Proceed.
Associate 2: First up is "Ferris Bueller's Son's Week Off".
Me: (grunting again). Damn that Hormel!
Associate 1: Pardon sir?
Me: I meant, the original Ferris Bueller was 30 years ago. Is Broderick up for this?
Associate 2: Well...
Associate 1: We have no knowledge of anyone named Broderick.
Me: So who's playing Ferris Bueller?
Associate 2: Jason Biggs is our top pick, going by "American Pie" grosses.
Associate 1: I thought it was Jason Priestly based on "Tombstone" grosses.
Me: (following a loud plop): Denied. Next!
Associate 1 or 2: Remember "Swamp Anchorman" last year?
Me: (grunting big time) Like a Del Taco cheeseburger, why?
1 or 2: It grossed $52.67 above the total cost.
Me: (huge movement happening)Yeah baby!
1: Cool isn't it?
Me: What? Oh, yeah, right, the movie. What was it's final cost?
2: $15,000
Me: It was at theatres?
1: Good one, sir. No, anything with Steven Seagal is now straight to Netflix.
2: And Seagal pretty much works for Slurpees now.
Me: And he wants to do a sequel?
2: What can we say? Slurpees rock.
Me: If he agrees to one kid size a day, let's set the budget at $5,000
1 or 2: He also wants a Slim Jim per week.
Me: No! Who does he think this studio is? These damn celebrities think they own the world! We have to draw the line somewhere.
1 and 2: You rock, boss!
Me: Grunt!!
1 and 2: You grunt, boss!

   Well, judging from that possible scenario, I think we can make some decent, simple, and hopefully unseen sequels. That way I won't get sued for puke in the theatre lobby.

And a goal full of jelly

   It's October at the workplace. That means the smell of pumpkin latte farts! It means September the dreaded first month is now done. It means it is cooling off (southwesterners, this does not apply to you). It means it is the time for....goal-setting!

   What? Yes, you heard me, it is goal-setting time. This is the time of year when we teachers are supposed to set goals to attain during the year. We've been doing it this way for 2 or 3 years now. Basically what happens is, we as teachers are supposed to decide what we want to accomplish for the year. Well, when you think about it our goals are simple

1. Stay out of rehab until mid June
2. Keep from calling strategic air strikes on parents who don't respond to our calls and emails regarding their kids' futures as fry salters.
3.  Either get the salaries to just below the tax hike line or below the food stamps limit, either will work.

   Now I'm not getting into the salary debate, it is a no-win. However, if you want to pay babysitting wages,  $10 per hour per kid, I think you'll find that hiking us up the salary food chain is quite reasonable after all.

   Anyhow, we are not allowed such realistic goals. Instead, a transmission sent from Krypton, just after it jettisoned Superman, landed on Earth last year with a whole set of "attainable and measurable goals". This pretty much means more work for us as we decide what we can attain and measure in 6 months when we meet with the boss to see what was attained and measured. It's not like the old days when our goals were determined for us. My goals were pretty straightforward:

1. Bryan's toenail clippings shall land no more than 5 inches from the trash can.
2. Bryan shall remember that he is a (barely) licensed professional and not come to the workplace with mustard stains on his forehead.
3. Bryan will strive to directly teach his students at least for 20 minutes a week using district-approved materials at least in the morning.
4. Bryan shall refrain from psychological torture by exposing the students to goofy Stan Freberg comedy bits.

    No, seriously, the real goals were attainable and occasionally measured. The problem was, they were often measured at "off" moments. My first few years as a teacher probably had more off moments than a dead cell phone. Face it, teaching is not a profession that a "Dummies" book can help one master, although between 2002-2005 I probably could have used one.

   The California college system had some strange methods of teaching the educators-to-be. Instead of practical advice and knowledge that would help us to immediately know what to do upon signing our first W-4 forms as teachers, they strove to make us independent thinkers, to "think outside the box" in order to be stellar teachers who would rise to fame and receive international acclaim as universal geniuses at teaching 50 different ways to add 2+3.

   The problem here is that those methods turn the brain into a bowl of moldy currant jelly. We attended these classes at night, many of us working jobs in the daytime as well. Our brains were already jelly-like in terms of the high carb counts needed to keep us awake past 7! What we needed were classes such as:
Ed 101: Staying out of rehab until mid June
Ed 102: Planning field trips to Nolde Forest for most of the elementary years  and not make them seem like retreads
Ed 103: How to become a fun yet useful teacher the kids will remember
Ed 104 How to make watching "The Electric Company" a vital phonics program

   Instead we got things like,

Ed101: How to spend hours designing a 15-minute lesson
Ed102: Taking the fun out of using textbooks by removing them altogether and making you find the materials and copy them when there isn't a working copier for miles around
Ed103: The facts of education: say goodbye to a regular sex life
Ed104: Guilting your former ideas of teaching away

   Getting the picture? When I finally got out of northern California like Luke and the gang from Jabba's exploding stronghold, and into Las Vegas with a school already assigned to me (er, vice versa on that one) and an apartment waiting for my farts, I was virtually clueless about what to do first. Despite 3 days of orientation (during which I was interviewed on TV for the 6:00 news), I learned nothing about being a teacher and more about desert skin survival for women and cute little crafts that my lefty nature has no way of accomplishing.

   What I came to realize after a few years was, the orientation crew had no idea how to make us feel like teachers because they'd probably screwed up meeting their goals as well. They don't do that fancy schmancy orientation crap anymore probably because the district realized they were screwing up the plebes far too early. When I got to my assignment, I noticed a lot of cliqueyness among the veterans. I realized later that it wasn't out of a lack of friendliness, it was survival instinct in a war zone...and as I wasn't ever in a clique, I was pretty much alone in that zone...and had no clue as to proceed. Putting me on the 5th grade front lines 2 years later was like putting Klink on the Russian front on "Hogan's Heroes".

   Despite ups and downs in a normally up and down profession, I've come to a point of semi-comfort in my career, maybe too semi-comfortable. That's why we have to make these goals...comfort leads to complacency and complacency leads to a smugness that is dangerous in terms of having embarrassing "off" moments, often happening when scheduled for an observation.

Observation (noun): a random moment when your supervisor comes with with an iPad just as you finish telling about a dark era called "corporal punishment" to the kids, merely to let them know how lucky they are to live now...and the supervisor then types everything you say, notes every eye twitch and sweat stain on the armpit...and you have to justify every sweat bead and connect it to a learning standard during a later conference.

In conclusion, my real inner goals are to be the best teacher I can be and for my kids to remember me fondly, something I can positively predict as reality more than 10 years ago. On paper, it's more specific, but pretty close, just in "edu-speak", a language also originated from a  Kryptonian ship...now if you'll excuse me, I'll finish typing up my goals, then see if Betty Ford has a June 15 opening...that is if my food stamps application is turned down!

New/Old America...I always like oldies but goodies

   So once again I was listening to AM radio coming home from work. You may say, "Bryan you are becoming an old fart, listening to that garbage!" As I fart in response, I also point out that FM radio has become its own corporate joke. I once enjoyed the oldies station because there was a range of oldies years, at least 20 years ago. It was once 1955-75. As time went on, the early base got later as did the recent cap. Now I am lucky if I hear any late 60s and if I do it is all repetitive. It all is. Even when my wife puts on the metal station, I hear a lot of the same songs, some old, some within the last ten years. Rarely do we hear a plethora of the new...so generally when my wife is in the car, her music is played on the phone. If it is just me, I play AM talk.

   It is indeed nothing to get riled up over, but I do get some tidbits that the regular news leaves out, and as a lot of my FB friends post the extreme left or right repetitive shares about the evil right or evil left, AM talk is my source for items of interest. 20 years ago I listened often to Rush Limbaugh before I realized the Emergency Broadcast System had a higher IQ, and he was so far on the right his views were even out of my right-side peripheral vision. In fact, I think he contributed to me supporting Clinton because he tried to argue every good thing Clinton was doing was bad because of the ongoing scandals. Like Limbaugh's party had a clean record! So, I left AM radio for quite a long time.

   In the past few years I've picked it up again. One station has a lot of good local talk and it is not one side or the other, it criticizes pretty much everyone who does or says something boneheaded....which is pretty much anybody in a position of national power anymore. I don't take their word as the truth, I do look up what they said before I stick my neck out...but then hours later I share a scam post that my wife's uncle shared, so you know my research brain cells are selective.

   Sadly, what I get from all the talk is that we are in a new America, and I don't like it much. I am not quite sure when we evolved into this monster, but I think 9/11 was the culprit. Change always happens: I see different classes every year, businesses come and go, as do colleagues and, sadly, friends, either by death or plain old time and distance. I accept all this as life in motion. But there is a darkness now that is scary, and it has spread into all facets of American life.

Education
 In the days of film projectors and ditto machines, school was a place where we learned the basics, and we learned them with regular sunshine, semi-decent lunches, rough recess, and teachers who had a say in how they taught the material. Coming from the receiving end to the giving end, I have seen the "Central Committee" in D.C. put their politicized hands into matters they have no idea about. Granted, something happened between 1991 and 2002 that made these disasters come about. First there was "No Child Left Behind", a political measure designed to drive teachers crazy and then out of the business altogether. The basic concept, as I understood it, was to have teachers promote their kids all the way up to 5th grade despite the fact they couldn't read even "Curious George" all the way through by 4th grade. It was then my job to bring them up 5 grade-levels in reading and math before they joined their middle school gangs, or I was considered an ineffective teacher.

Then they brought about the Common Core, which was in theory a way to combine all extant teaching standards into a consolidated and doable yearly teaching plan. The reality was, they wanted to twist all accepted math and reading teaching methods into a undecipherable mix of gob and blob that when microwaved turned into an Obama bobble-head toy. And somewhere in the mix, teachers had to explain why their kids weren't getting it. Yes, parents are only responsible for over-sugaring their kid and giving them technology too early, but not responsible for reading to and with their kids.

Food 
At one time, we ate and drank whatever we wanted, got our exercise, then dumped whatever we ingested. The system worked. I downed quite a load of sugar in the form of crumb buns and Tastykake jelly krimpets, and nitrates in the form of hot dogs on a daily basis. Of course, I also played with my friends and rode my bike often so I worked off what I ate, at least in the younger years.

Along the way, some strange things happened. Butter became evil and vegetable oil-based margarine became healthy. Low-fat snacks with enough chemicals to create the Joker many times over were considered to be healthy between-meal treats. And then people named Atkins, Oz, Scarecrow,Tin Man, and South Beach all came forward telling us how to eat right. It was all, and still is, confusing. Butter came back into vogue and bacon got popular for some reason. I honestly don't know what to make of it.

Fear
Simply said, there was one thing we as Americans used to fear, and that was Communism. Growing up in the 80s, we as kids didn't really understand what is was, we just "knew" it was what the evil Soviets practiced, and anything Soviet was bad; that is, until Reagan "tamed" them and their benevolent leader Gorbachev. When the Berlin Wall fell, and likewise the Soviet Union 2 years later, we felt victorious. However, that victory was shadowed by Saddam Hussein the year previous, when gas shot up over $1 a gallon for the first time in forever. As time moved, so did villains that were subdued under the Soviets. By the time the new century/millenium was in full gear, we encountered the greatest challenge yet: Survivor! No, seriously, it was 9/11/2001, when a terrorist attack on U.S,. soil stunned us beyond belief. Since then, we as a nation have gradually become afraid of offending anyone, lest they hurt us individually or as a nation. The trouble is, even if we walk on eggshells, we are in no less danger. We also seem to be afraid to rise against offensive government acts that take away our basic freedoms in exchange for "safety". I feel no safer after 14 years than a Prius on the Autobahn!

I prefer the old America, although my eyes are more open to the old realities now. As kids we cared only about TV cartoons, biking in the neighborhood, the newest Atari or Coleco game, and when the newest Star Wars, Star Trek, or Indiana Jones movie was coming out. I'd go back and invest in sure-fire companies like Coca Cola and Apple, to make sure my family was financially secure. Who knows, maybe I'd even start my own AM talk show and discuss our basic freedoms...life, liberty and the pursuit of "Sea of Love" on the oldies station once in a while!

58 Minutes

Let's see, this week my mornings will be taken over by another class as I work to renew my license (teaching) by November's end. How to spend my Monday as my wife watches a show about botched plastic surgeries? That's right, it is time for me to review another book used "loosely" as movie script fodder.

Today's dish is "58 Minutes" by Walter Wager. Who? What? How much time? you all ask. "58 Minutes" is the loose basis for Die Hard 2, and I do mean loose. How loose? Take a premise involving a terrorist group who destroys a major airport's air traffic  control system  on a snowy night and then the airplanes above losing fuel and the rest is open.

In this book, NYPD Captain Frank Malone is on his way to Kennedy Airport for two reasons: one is to take part in a security exercise and evaluate its effectiveness; two: pick up his little girl who is flying is from southern California. Frank is separated from his wife and is haunted by the memory of his slain police dad "Big Mike" Malone. Frank is focused on the job, respected by most everybody if not completely liked, and feared by the bad guys.

On the bad guy spectrum is a West German national named Willi Staub (the movie's equivalent was Colonel Stewart). Staub is respected by the world terrorist community and has banded together a small group of dedicated followers to strike a blow inside the United States. They do this by permanently knocking out Kennedy's microwave relays as well as Newark's and Laguardia's and totally obliterating the landing systems for all 3 airports. They also set up two jamming systems to interfere with control tower radio traffic: one is in a clothing factory in Queens and guarded by a Japanese terrorist, the other is in the cab of a truck driven by a Lebanese terrorist, both of whom work for Staub.

**SPOILER TIME**

It all lays out methodically as opposed to the twists in a John McClane film. Malone is in the control tower cab seeing to his security exercise when everything goes haywire. All communication with planes is jammed and the landing system is nonfunctioning. Within a fairly short amount of time, the female cab supervisor and a former love interest, Annie Green, who is now bitter toward Malone (passe I know) comes up with a plan to use the Coast Guard's search and rescue helicopter to locate the jamming source. Malone also contacts the Pentagon with a little PR blackmail to get a highly classified jet in action from Langley. He also contacts the FBI using a recorded tape of Staub's voice to learn who his adversary is.

When Staub called, he demanded the release of 7 terrorist prisoners, one of whom is merely a greedy arms merchant set to testify on matters such as Staub's employer. Staub gives no shit about 3 of them, held in New York, but the other 4 Federal detainees are who he is focused on.

In the air, a glimpse of a few of the planes is briefly exposed, such as a venerated British UN ambassador, an Arab Prince, a jackass kidney transplant supervisor, and of course Malone's daughter. A glimpse or two of the pilots is also given just so we know they are human.

Malone actually comes into contact with Staub, who is posing as a priest but thinks nothing of it. Staub later comes into contact with a priest in the men's room and a slip of the lip forces Staub to stab the man viciously and hide him in a stall. When his body is found and reported, Malone puts it all together. Another report of an abandoned police car, two dead cops, and a destroyed microwave relay makes Malone realize that Staub, who identified himself as "Number 1" on the phone, had always intended for the planes to crash, killing all of the lives up above, as a strike against America.

Soon, the Coast Guard, on a dangerous mission in the blizzard, locates the source of the jamming in Queens. Malone and a team of cops storm the factory, kill the Japanese terrorist, and destroy the jamming antenna with no lack of difficulty. Within minutes, they also find the truck with the second jammer and Malone kills the Lebanese driver with two shots from a flare gun.

Back to the airport, Malone learns that the true target Staub wanted, the arms merchant, was killed by the FBI after trying to escape following a car accident. No matter, the prisoners board the DC 10 that Staub demanded. Malone catches up to him at the plane and informs Staub that he has no leverage to make demands. Staub panics, tries to escape, and is killed by Malone and an exploding grenade in his own hands.

After that, the plane with Malone's daughter has a bumpy but safe landing thanks to the plane from Langley that he demanded (actually blackmailed) from a Pentagon general. Unfortunately, two of the planes had a midair collision due to bad visibility, so the story is not completely happy at the end. The preserved kidney, the British ambassador and his adoring assistant, the Arabian prince, and Malone's daughter come safely into the airport to see lots of media attention. Malone gets his daughter and makes a lunch date with his former love.

**SPOILER END**

Overall I enjoyed this story. It seemed a little simple at times, but Malone was fun to read about, hard as steel with the mission to get the job done despite his demons and the love for his daughter. The former love interest angle was just to give drama when it was not needed, there was enough tension in the book already. Hamilton, the Port Authority cops leader, is an able assistant to Malone in the airport. Staub was in some ways a cardboard cutout of every terrorist cliche involving hatred of everything American. He loves killing and death, and admittedly more than women or sex. A brief glimpse into his abusive childhood gives some clue as to why he is what he is, but the book doesn't bore us with a complete psych profile. This book is about action, pure and simple.

All right, all right, it's time for the movie comparison/contrast. Apart from the premise there are many differences.

Die Hard 2                                 58 Minutes
John McClane                            Frank Malone
Dulles Airport                           Kennedy Airport
Colonel Stuart                           Willi Staub
Leslie Barnes                             Annie Green
Carmine Lorenzo                        Ben Hamilton
Trudeau                                     Pete Wilber
General Esperanza                     Arnold Lloyd

All right, those are locations and names. In the book, Malone gets along with pretty much everyone. Even Annie Green works with him despite animosity over their previous relationship. We all know John McClane clashes with almost any authority he comes into contact with, that's the fun of the movies.

Also, McClane haphazardly learns of Stuart's evil plans via two of Stewart's men who McClane follows into the luggage area. Malone is right in the tower when the shutdown happens. Stuart has a whole squad of men, including reinforcements led by the turncoat Major Grant, while Staub has a team of 4. Malone methodically creates a plan to capture the terrorists and save the planes while McClane more or less Forrest Gumps his way to beating them.

The end fight is brief and logical: Staub tries to escape to fight another day but is shot by both Hamilton and Malone, while McClane does his "Yippee Ky-Yay Mother-Fucker" cliche as he sets the plane on fire via gas ignition...after being thrown off the plane by a physically superior Stuart.

Once again, the source material more pure and believable even if it is fiction. I highly recommend this book as a great action story!

Summertime Summertime Sum Sup Suppertime

   Looking at my blog stats, I saw one lone view last Saturday. That's one more than I ever expect, so I'm ahead expectation-wise. It has been quite some time since I posted, and now that family emergencies seem to be over (knock on particle board) and I am in a lull between summer classes, it is time.

   Time for what? Seems between class activities I have plenty of time for a lot of nothing. It's high heat in this desert, some days it's too hot to even get in the pool! For several years between 2003 and 2010, I didn't really have a summer, since I was in a year-round hell at my then-center of employment. Summer consisted of the last part of June to mid July, usually 3 weeks, just enough time to take a short trip to San Diego.  As fun as that was even after getting married, summer was once a dream.
 
   Whoa! I feel like I'm in water, everything is all wavy and steamy, like an old Hall's cough drop ad. Oh yeah, must be flashback time! Let's see now, the farthest back my mind goes is 1977. That works because it was my first real summer vacation. Nursery school had ended. We took 2 vacations that summer. One was exploring Virginia. I don't remember too much about that, except we saw Monticello, I rode a horse, we stayed at several motels, and visited an Air Force museum in Norfolk. There was also a trip to Michigan that my dad did not go on, but my aunt and baby cousin flew from California to drive there with us. I always liked going to Michigan, no matter what age I was. Other than that, I played with Andrew Kirkner, Cindy Meckley, and Cindy Hewing, all of whom lived on my street. It was the way then, your friends were your neighbors when you were 4.

1978: We took a major trip to Disney World via train. I remember my dad psyching me up for weeks about it. We took a small train to Philly, then caught a big Amtrak to Orlando. Shortly after the train left, it had to stop in Washington D.C. to get the AC fixed! I don't remember much about Disney World itself, since there were a lot of rides like Space Mountain I was too small for at 5 1/2. Apart from that, I did some summer school activity enrichment. We also played with the Jenkins kids who stayed with us during the day while their mom worked. We watched TV and hung around outside. I vaguely remember this being a great summer!

1979: This was a summer of transition. Right after school let out, we moved to Wilmington, North Carolina. We moved into a brand new house that sat on a lot of sand. My dad tried to get a lawn going, but to no avail. It's tough moving someplace new away from your friends, and there were only a 4th and 5th grade sister team near us at first. I just played in my room, watched TV, and went wherever my mom needed to go. I was introduced to the 7-Eleven Slurpee that summer, and a new mall. Apart from that, just dealing with change.

1980: This was our final summer in Wilmington, and it was a big 180 from 1979. I had two friends, Mark and Tim Simpson, just down the street. We played and fought like boys do. I also played T-Ball, that was a fun time. Add the YWCA pool on top of that, and you have the makings of a great 3 month break. We didn't see my dad much, he had decided moving down south was a mistake job-wise and had begun working back in Pennsylvania, coming home every few weekends. It was tough on my mom and us kids. At summer's end, we made a trip to PA so my parents could do some house-hunting and stayed with the Kirkners. I remember the reunion being fun.

1981:Wow, talk about 3 very different summers three times in a row! We were now in our new home in Whitfield. Summer started sadly, with a trip to Michigan as my Nana Moore had died. Kristin and I stayed mostly with my mom's parents so we wouldn't have to deal with the adult drama. I was 8, and glad to not be part of that. It was my first brush with death. We took two more trips to Michigan that summer. One was an actual vacation to do things, such as visit Battle Creek to see the Kellogg's factory and visit our family friends the Badalucos. Apart from that, I played in my room and watched TV...a little too much at times.

1982: I was more active this time around. I joined the playground/park youth activity group, which had morning and early evening activities. I also played with my friends Eric and Jeremy a lot. Vacation-wise, we took a trip to Washington, D.C. That was fun...also hot!

1983: More playground group, playing with Eric and Jeremy. We went to Michigan, yay! I remember this summer being pretty fun. Oh yeah, played on my Atari a lot as well. Good movies that summer.

1984: Playground group, lots of bike-riding, week-long Boy Scout camp. I remember being homesick at camp since I'd never been away that long before. We also hosted a French exchange student and went to Michigan. This summer I hit a growth spurt and my voice began to change. More good movies as well.

 1985: Not sure I did the playground group this time around. Scout camp again, this time it went much better. My dad was away a lot starting this year, as his home base was running out of work and sent their engineers off to other states. This particular summer he was in Crystal River, Florida a lot. He brought Kristin and I down with him on one of the trips to bind...yeah, my sister and I pent up in a motel room all day was recipe for war. We also did Michigan, always fun.

1986: One more scout camp. Also another excursion with my dad for bonding...did he ever learn? This time it was to the Bay Area in California, my first time in that state! We saw San Francisco a lot and ate at some pretty neat restaurants. We also did a 24 run to Yosemite...one should never rush that park, there is too much to see. When we returned, it was just me and my dad, my sister had flown down to San Diego to hang with my aunt. As it was summer, I stayed up late to watch "The Edge of Night" every weeknight.

   This summer of 1986 is notable also for being extremely long! Why? Our teachers, at least most of them, went on strike and did not resolve/cave until early October. I suspect it was a cave, since our junior high teachers were unhappy most of the year.

1987: We started late as the year ran late due to snow days and playing catch-up after the strike. Watched lots of "The Edge of Night", rode my bike a lot of times, and hung with friends. Trip-wise we as a family went to Yosemite for about a week. We got to do lots of hiking, some horseback-riding (yuck), and driving. The end of that trip was memorable as our flight from Minneapolis to Newark was canceled and we had to take a flight to Chicago and another to Newark. Running stressed through O'Hare is an experience! Near the end, I also flew solo to Michigan to hang with my mom's folks and my now-10 year old cousin Erica. As summer wound down, I began taking Tae Kwon Do classes.

1988: This summer's highlight was a long trip to Los Angeles. We got to be in the audience on a low-budget sports trivia show (we still have the tape) and took an excursion to Las Vegas. My impression of L.A. then: crowded! Hasn't gotten better since then. Apart from that, friends, bikes, Tae Kwon Do, "Edge". A sadness occurred that summer also. My grandfather had been stricken with cancer. My mom and I went out to see him when he was in the hospital. That was tough for me. Terry and Erica rode back to PA with us on Labor Day weekend, just before high school was to begin for me.

1989: A big change: I GOT A JOB! It was McDonald's but a job is a job. Apart from that, friends and biking around. We went to Michigan I think because we had no better plans. That trip wasn't all that fun as I recall. In fact the whole summer seems blah in terms of memories. No more "Edge", that had ended in January.

1990: A much more active summer. The problem was, I was smitten with Amy Erb. Yeah, she told me plainly it wasn't reciprocated months prior, but I was a slow learner. I spent much of the summer riding my bike into her neck of the woods and riding past her house . Amy, if you're reading this, just know I lost some good poundage off the gut riding up Green Valley Road's steep uphill climbs, so the rides weren't entirely wasted! We also traveled to Michigan for the last time for my grandma's wedding. That wasn't the only trip, I also went to Wildwood with the church youth group, I remember that being pretty fun. Towards summer's end, I got a job at Ponderosa Steakhouse.

1991: Graduated from high school, I quickly took a job at Gilbert where my dad worked. I was on the outdoor maintenance crew. After a shaky start, I got the hang of things and it ended up being a fun job. I didn't have much time for friends or anything else that summer. In fact, often I came home, ate dinner, and went to sleep early.

1992: Another major change: we were now in San Diego. I actually arrived there from West Virginia where I'd attended college for a year. This was like North Carolina, a transition time. I didn't have a car for the first few months. My mom and I both took extension classes at UCSD, she in learning to be a paralegal (which she never did go into) and me in screenwriting. My dad and I took a trip out east to get my sister's things from PA and her car from North Carolina and bring them to CA where she was in the Navy. Even though we were in a slower-than-normal-traffic in a Hertz rental truck, I saw some great country, especially the Rockies.

1993: Taking classes at Miramar Community College. That actually took up most of my time as I took 12 units. I also wrote stories at home on the computer. Hadn't really met any friends yet.

1994: Still taking community college courses and doing writing, and hanging with one or two people.  Still lonely. My dad and I took a drive to Rohnert Park for orientation at Sonoma State University and on the way back saw a naked guy running on I-580 in Oakland,  not to mention Big Sur.

1995: Parents were divorced now (no big surprise, but that's another post). Split my time between my dad's house and my mom's apartment. All that time, I worked at the Ticketmaster phone center. Got to see my toddler nephew Ian quite a bit!

1996: This summer, I stayed in Rohnert Park in an apartment I rented with my buddy Scott and worked as a dorm painter on campus. We took a cool drive up to Oregon one weekend. That was a fun summer. Toward the end, I flew to Washington to see my sister and her kids...mostly her kids, she and I never did have a close bond.

1997: Besides graduating from college at last, I am not too proud of this summer. Scott and I moved to an apartment in Santa Rosa. I spent a lot of this time going out to lunch, sleeping in, and watching a LOT of TV. In a nutshell, I was depressed., ate a lot of crap and gained weight.

1998: Worked temp jobs mostly, nothing special. Life was in a rut, really.

1999: Worked a cool temp job at OCLI on 12-hour shifts, that took most of the summer. Life was good.

2000: Between semesters back at Sonoma State in the teacher credentialing program. Also back at OCLI, this time on the 12-hour NIGHT shift! That took my sleep schedule and turned it upside down. Also took a brief trip to PA...it wasn't the same and that depressed me a bit.

2001: After getting my teaching license, it was major depression. Watched a lot of TV, slept in, didn't really look for a teaching job. It wasn't until the fall that my grandma kicked my ass into gear with one scathing email. She felt bad about it, but I thanked her profusely...she really saved me from myself.

2002: This summer was spent getting psyched to move to Las Vegas and start a new life as a teacher. My mom and I took a trip to Vegas to get me an apartment and check out my school. In August my dad helped me with the move and until school and trainings began, I was getting acclimated to my new home and truly being alone fir the first time.

   And that ended summer vacations as I knew them until 2011. I cannot go back to year-round without a loaded gun being pointed at me. Oh don't mind the title, I was going to mention good summer barbecues but it got long as it was.

Death Is A Rarely Splendored Thing

   I have to say, my brushes with death over the past 42 1/2 years have been fairly second-hand. My Nana Moore died when I was 8. My sister and I came to the viewing and to the funeral, but were uninvolved with the family gatherings and what not. My mom's folks took good care of us during most of it. I knew Nana had been sick for a long time and that her passing was indeed a blessing.

   Almost 6 years later, my Bompa Moore died the day after he turned 75. I was 14 and going through an awkward time. The viewing really affected me, but the funeral wasn't too bad. Once again, my mom's folks took time with me and my sister. Also, my Aunt Terry and cousin Erica were there, so I was well occupied. I got a little more involved 2 weeks later when my dad and I took a truck out to Michigan to get a lot of Bompa's trains, basement bar, etc.

   A year and a half after that, my Grandpa Fitz died fairly quickly of cancer. My mom and I went to see him in the hospital. It was then that I realized I have a hard time seeing others in pain. His death and funeral were 2 months later. This time it didn't affect me too badly since I knew he was out of pain.

   A little over 14 years later, my Grandma Jo's 2nd husband passed. As I didn't really have an emotional connection to him, it really did not affect me and I was just there for the service and emotional support.

   Grandma Jo herself passed 8 years later. It was a tough time for me professionally and I was in therapy at the time. However, her death was not a surprise, we were just sad that she died before turning 90. We were grateful that she got to know little Natalie before she went to meet Jesus.

   And now we come to present time. I am no longer the observer, I am full emotional support and assistant in decision-making for my father-in-law. There are times when I want to step in and spare Vickie the pain, but I know that this is not my job. All I can do is listen to her and offer my opinion when asked for. I can comfort her, take her where she needs to go, and just stand by. There are times when this does not seem like much. However, I have come to learn that just being there and doing what I've been doing is what she needs.

   We spent a week in the Salt Lake City area, starting with a late night drive up there for Vegas after a full day of work. Coffee helped a lot, but the last 20 miles were killer on my senses. I could have had a caffeine IV and it wouldn't have helped  much north of Provo. Luckily we made it to the Midvale Super 8 in one piece. For the next few days we alternately watched TV and hung out on the ICU floor at the hospital in Murray, meaning Vickie was with her dad and Natalie and I hung out in the waiting room. This was tough because Natalie wanted to see her grandpa and was also getting bored. She was delighted when other kids were there to play with her...and crushed when they left, a very tough time for a 5 year old.

   On Monday, our fourth day there, I was ready to head back home, albeit uneasily. I had planned to be out from work only through Tuesday, but the situation was not changed, and I knew Vickie would just want to come back up soon. However, on that day she made probably the hardest decision of her life: her father would go off of medication to die peacefully. I understood this decision completely. He had become unresponsive to her and his afib had gone in and out...he was done fighting. He was taken to the palliative ward on another floor. As we had checked out of the hotel, the hospital room was our only place to stay and Vickie did not want to leave him.

   The next day, a physical therapist came to see Alan. It seemed a little strange but apparantly it was a leftover follow-up from the ICU stage. The guy had her father sitting up and uttering a few small words and looking at us! It was brief, but very good to hear him speak one last time. Also a hospice adviser spoke to us and we arranged to get Alan into an actual hospice for the remainder of his time. It was a short run. He went into hospice at about 2:00p.m. and died at 6:15p.m. We were originally going to stay there at least one night but after the funeral home took Alan away, we were politely asked to vacate the room. It was probably for the best, but it also meant we had to find a place for the night.

   On Thursday we met with the funeral director to make arrangements. This was a definite first for me, but the process was made simple for such a tragic event and was not creepy like many would expect. Actually the man was very pleasant and open about everything, including himself when asked why he chose his profession. After that (the visit, not his life story), we headed home.

   It is not over by a long shot. There is still the funeral in the Midwest and settling Alan's estate, such as it is. I will continue as always to be there for my wife and child. Has this taken a toll on me? Well, everything takes a toll on everyone in some way or another, be it a harsh lesson, exhaustion, stress, or simple life experience. I think this is a combination of everything for me and I come out a better person for it in the long run.

   And for you faithful (or lost) readers, thank for for reading my 50th entry!

  

Catcher In The Rye...My Views

Holden Caulfield.  This is one tormented guy who goes through much in a three day period! He’s a rebel. He’s an outcast. He also seems to be the hero of assassins or failed assassins in real life. This part I do not understand, but that will come later.

“The Catcher in the Rye” is a very good read. For some strange reason, my high school and subsequent colleges never assigned this book. Aside from liberal use of the word ‘godamm’ and a few ‘fuck’, they are nothing an average American teenaged boy hasn’t uttered a thousand times.

To sum up the story, college screwup Holden Caulfield has failed to achieve at yet another high-level college. Instead of waiting until his last day, he decides to leave four days early after a nasty brawl with his roommate. He ends up in his home town of New York City. After a clumsy attempt to pick up women, he agrees to a short tryst with a hooker. The tryst is a disaster and he has a somewhat violent run-in with her pimp. The next day arranges a date with an old female friend but he messes that up, too. Holden ends up going home and has a talk with his beloved younger sister Phoebe, including a fantasy about being a catcher in the rye, catching all of the children before they go over the edge. He then leaves and is going to spend the night at the home of one of his old teachers. After Holden wakes up to hind the man gently tousling his hair, Holden panics and runs out. Later on, tells Phoebe that he is running out west to become deaf and dumb and live in the woods. She wants to accompany him, but he refuses, then changes his mind about going when he sees Phoebe is upset. At the end, he is happy watching her ride the carousel in the rain.

Overall, the story works quite well as it explores Holden’s angst over three days. There is also much open to interpretation. For example, I can see possible homosexual repression in him. His awkwardness with the few women in the book, the way he runs from the hair-tousling teacher, they are all possible signals. Or, Holden could simply be a disaffected youth who refuses to fall into the categories of acceptable society. 

Actually, I take that back about simply, because that in itself pigeonholes Holden into the larger realm of society’s outcasts. Back in the early 1950s, outcasts of society had a tendency to be institutionalized if they were feared in any way (read “Girl, Interrupted” or “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” for 2 great examples of that time period).

So where does this fit in with murderers of public figures? Mark Chapman, John Hinckley, and Robert Bardo were said to have been carrying or owning copies of “Catcher In The Rye” and that somehow it influenced them to kill John Lennon, ATTEMPT to kill Ronald Reagan, and kill Rebecca Schaeffer, respectively. Am I to understand that Holden Caulfield is a symbol for society’s outcasts and he influences them to kill? Holden kills NOBODY, he just beats up on himself. Is it perhaps his fantasy of being the poetic catcher and rescuer of the children before they go over the edge that inspires them? Whatever it is, those people were sick to begin with, and using a book to inspire them is just plain madness as well. John Lennon had supposedly gone over the edge before he left the Beatles, Reagan was way beyond the edge on many levels (but I love the guy anyway!) and Rebecca Schaffer had supposedly gone over by becoming “another Hollywood whore” in Bardo’s eyes. Well, Hollywood is filled with them, males AND females, so why focus on her? It makes no sense. The way that MIGHT have made sense based of the catcher theory was to kill Lennon in 1968, Reagan in 1966 before he became governor of California, and I won’t even go into Rebecca Schaeffer, her career was still only a few years in the limelight. Do not mistake that into thinking I condone these people, it’s just a take on the catcher fantasy.

Holden is a lost soul in post-war America. He is struggling to find himself and figure out where he belongs in the world. I suspect there was a lot of that in the late 1940s, early 1950s youth who felt out of place, those in a somewhat opulent family life who weren’t badly hit by the Depression. Where do they fit in? Holden is not a jock, not a deep intellectual, apparently 2 categories that one could make a life on. He doesn’t even click with other misfits like fellow dormmate Ackley, who suffers from acne and badmouths Holden’s roommate Stradlater even though one senses Ackley wouldn’t dare fight Stradlater if the opportunity came up. Unlike “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer”, in Holden’s world even outcasts resent other outcasts.

I think in one way or another I am like Holden. I didn’t really fit into a particular category growing up. There were the jocks, semi-jocks (water polo, bowling, and golf), bandheads, and smart nerds among the guys, and athletes, bandheads, cheerleaders, and “the clique” among the females. I used to clash with the jocks in junior high, but developed a decent acquaintance if not direct friendship with some of them by high school. The clique of girls didn’t have any particular skills except to gossip about others, discuss fashion and music, and rag on my ass for no particular reason. In some ways I hated them more than the jocks, but not all of them, every group has their anomalies. I tried flute in 4^th grade but sucked at it, so bandhead was not a future for me. Some of them were snobbish in their own way as well. I sort of took part in some intramural volleyball in 10^th grade and spent my spare time in the high school TV studio, but apart from that I was a lost soul who completely sucked in my dealings with females. I also tried to avoid conflict and didn’t really fight anyone even when a few of them could have improved from a black eye or bloody nose or both. The reality was, I’d been around what I then considered to be the same assholes for 10 years and I just wanted to graduate and get the hell out… problem was, I felt that early in the 11^th grade. On the homefront, there were problems as well, but that’s a whole can of worms not needed for this article. A question here is, if I had read “Catcher in the Rye” during those dark times, might I have become a homicidal maniac? Thinking of myself back then from a current seasoned age of 42, I don’t believe so. In fact I think I may have been happy to finally read about someone I could identify with, but nothing more than that.

In conclusion, “Catcher in the Rye” is a must-read for anyone who’s felt disaffected by the world and expectations of them. It could also be an assigned read that high-schoolers and/or college freshmen groan over because they want to go party instead of write a literary response. Either way, it deserves its place as a classic.