Holden 10 Years Later Essay Example
Holden 10 Years Later Essay Example

Holden 10 Years Later Essay Example

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Holden, Ten Years Later "Allieeeee, Allieeeee, please, don’t go, come back to me, don’t go, I’ll play with you, I promise, pleaseeeeee". I guess it’s another one of those nights.

When are these goddam nightmares going to stop? I dream about Allie about twice a week and I have no idea why. It’s basically the same dream every single time, and quite honestly it’s becoming a true pain. We are both on this vomity looking colored boat, and Allie jumps into the waters and as he is being enveloped by the tides, I just scream "Allieeeee, Allieeeee, please, don’t go, come back to me, don’t go, I’ll play with you, I promise, pleaseeeeee".Like screaming is going to do any good. I can never bring myself to actually jumping in those cold wa


ters and pulling my brother from the fierce grip that is taking him away from me.

I can’t believe how cold hearted I can be sometimes. I mean I loved him and all, and I really want him back, but, I don’t know. I really don’t know anything anymore. Once you have failed in as many aspects of life as I have, you’d understand.

I mean, I can imagine myself walking into a pub and going up to this beautiful 26 year old woman named Barbara or some other intellectual name, who probably graduated from college with a 4. GPA, went to Africa or India to help the poor, and now is working on a cure for cancer. She’d be reading a very heartfelt letter written to her by one of the people she helped, and I’d go there and say something stupid like

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"Hey there, my name is Holden Caulfield, I’m a 26 year old college drop out, who barely finished high school, I work part time as a lifeguard and part time as a fire fighter, I live alone in a 400 square foot apartment, I’ve been to a mental rest homes and by the way I’m a great lover”, and all this time she’d be looking at me with complete disgust, trying to avoid me.You know, and say something like, "Listen, you seem like a really nice guy but I’m sort of going out with somebody else.

That just kills me. These phony girls would rather have you lie to them and say you’re a goddam lawyer, with 100,000 dollars in your bank than a hardworking lifeguard and firefighter who save lives everyday, such as me. The goddam movies. They ruin you. I’m not kidding. I usually get out of bed, smoke a few cigarettes, and just think of how I got to this point.

Sometimes I think of the times I had in New York and even hough it was about ten years ago, everything is still fresh in my head. Believe it or not, I still got old Jane Gallagher on my mind again, and once in a while I give her a buzz and chew some fat with her. Not in the middle of the night, of course but when I get home from work. It takes me about an hour to go back to bed and wake up to another miserable routine. However, on this particular night, I simply sat there and stared at the letter addressed to me by old Jane

Gallagher’s mother. To tell you the truth, for some reason I was really scared to open the letter.

I’m a real mad man sometimes. There was something that kept telling me to not open the letter. Why did her mom send the letter? Why a letter? Why not a phone call? But nonetheless I opened the letter. I thought if I read it out loud it would make it easier to read, like someone else was listening, like I was not alone, as though the walls were my friends.

I can almost picture them caressing me, and being one with me, trying to satisfy my need for a companion. It read: Dear Holden Caulfield,I regret to tell you that Jane Gallagher has committed suicide due to her inability to cope with the death of her youngest child, Arthur Gallagher. Jane always felt that she was responsible for the death of her son, and at last, her guilty conscience was too much for her to deal with. I am sending this letter along with my deepest regards and hope that you can make it to the funeral on Friday, March 3 at the Dardanian Graveyard. Mrs.

Gallagher I couldn’t believe it. You could tell that the letter was copy printed 300 times and each person got the same exact letter, and all they did was change the name on top.Like when you send a letter to a big goddam hotshot, and you take 4 hours writing the letter and trying to impress them with big words, and then you wait 2 months only to get a letter that says some bullshit like " Thank you for the

letter. It’s young people like you who can make a difference". And then at the bottom it’s the person’s signature that was actually a stamp.

I was much closer to Jane Gallagher than all these other people who got the same letter. I deserve a sincere letter that was written to me because I knew old Jane. No one else knew her the way I did.I bet not even her husband knows her better, whoever he may be. Jane always kept that away from me.

And then all of a sudden while I was thinking about all this stuff, I realized that Jane was dead. SHE WAS ACTUALLY DEAD. There I was worried about the type of letter sent to me, but Jane was dead. I’m a mad man. I really am.

Why hadn’t she told me about her son’s death? Why did she keep so much away from me? I could have helped her. Couldn’t of I? Then I just began to cry, and I think I cried for about 1 hour before I realized that it was three a clock in the morning and had a long day ahead.Tomorrow I would have to go and pay my regards. As I went to bed I started to imagine what it would be like if I didn’t get the letter and I kept calling her, and she would never answer, and the more I though about it, the sleepier I got.

I woke up to the annoying sound of the alarm, got dressed as best as I knew how, smoked a few cigarettes and walked out of the door. The news said that it was

going to be a rainy day so I decided to take an umbrella with me just in case. I got on the first cab I could and boy did it smell like he had just eaten an old ham-n-cheese sandwich.The guy’s name was Gary, and rest assured, he was not a pleasant person to see or talk to. I stayed quite the entire time, until we got to the graveyard, 30 minutes later. When I got there, there was a big sign that read “The Dardanian Graveyard", with this good looking guy, I might add, smiling down at me.

What a witty guy, huh. There were already a lot of people there, and I tried to get as close to Jane as I could. I wanted her to know I was there. It sounds weird but I felt like she might know who was there and if she didn’t see me, she might be upset.They went on with the usual proceedings, I guess, I mean I wouldn’t know or anything, but it seemed right.

Anyway, I was really sad. I was. But I couldn’t force another tear out. Then they asked the husband to make a small speech. Boy was I curious to see who he was. I was practically jumping in the air to see.

The shock that ran through my body was like a never ending electric current that went straight to my heart. There he was. The friendly enemy. The sexy bastard. Stradlater. The second I saw his face, I knew it was him.

I had not seen him in over ten years, but it was him all right.How could Jane have

married somebody like Stradlater? I bet he didn’t even care that Jane died. He had everything in life. Why did he have to take Jane too? I looked down at the coffin, and told Jane a million times that I loved her. I couldn’t stand Stradlater’s fake tears so I just took myself away from it all, with the hope of moving on.

As I waited for a cab to take me back home, this old man approached me and asked me a very interesting question. "What do you live for? " he said, and for a long time I could not come up with an answer.He was one of those old people who preach the word of God, and do nothing all day but think about the wonders of life. Boy, that old man depressed me. I could not find a reason for my life.

There was a phone booth about 50 feet away and I decided I should chew the rag a little with old Phoebe. Even after all these years, she was still the best person to talk to when you feel depressed. Old Phoebe, boy did I miss her. Luckily she picked up after only three rings and I just told her everything. I mean everything. I felt bad about putting so much on her shoulders but I needed someone.

Then she asked me.She said " Holden, remember when you told me that the only thing you ever wanted to be was a catcher in the rye. That you could do that forever. " All of a sudden I remembered it all. And I understood what she meant. I was a

catcher in the rye.

The number of children that I saved and continue to save as a firefighter and as a lifeguard is staggering. At last, I was content with my life. I could tell you about how I went back home and fixed myself a nice dinner, and how a year later I would marry a woman named Joanna Crimson, but that isn’t important. What’s important is that I’ve found myself.

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