Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Song Reflection
I have always been interested in writing a song, but never had the time or initiative to complete one. This project gave me an opportunity to do this. It was the same with the short story - I had wanted to work on my creative writing since it seemed that the stories I had written previously were missing something. I think I was successful in adding humor to my fairly heavy story, which was what I wanted to do.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Final Song & Story
Liberty
Looking back on all those nights
The ones I spent with you
I've got to say good-bye
Listen to me
I got my own pair of shoes
To walk the hard road
Between what I must do
And what you would -
Pin me to the wall
And would make me do
But you know, I don't need you
You want me talking like any other
You got me feeling that I'm your mother
You got me coddling you all day and night
I think it's time to fight
Listen to me
I got my own pair of shoes
To walk the hard road
Between what I must do
And what you would -
Pin me to the wall
And would make me do
But you know, I don't need you
I won't be crawlin' to your side when you get cold
Won't be makin' you breakfast when we get old
How many times must I say "leave me alone"
Well, today I'm done
Blame it on the Catholics
Someone once told me to live my life to the fullest, experience all there is. I doubt that he intended what happened, since it was only years later that I had my revelation. However, I appreciate his advice, and wish him well, wherever he may be, with all my heart.
As a Catholic born and raised, I had a strong sense of duty. Routine ruled my days; get up, go to work, come home, eat dinner, read, say my prayers, go to bed. Some days were augmented with work at the church or homeless shelter after work, and Sundays I stayed home after attending mass. I was an obedient child due to my upbringing. I followed the plan set by my parents – get good grades, go to a good college, find a well-paying job – and never wondered for one second if I should stray from the path.
The revelation I had occurred at the strangest time – while I was happily petting my cat Dusty. It had been one of those ordinary days, the ones where you wake up the next morning and might wonder if you did anything productive at all the day before. Or, perhaps you don't even think about it because that day had been so inconsequential. That day, however, I felt a weight settle on my shoulders. The weight began to grow until suddenly I felt like a stale potato chip. What had gone wrong? I was perfectly content until that point, and now I longed for that mysterious shimmering thing I could barely see on the horizon. I would have thought some of those Sunday school lessons about greed and constancy in church that would have stuck – but no, at that moment I felt the driving urge to pack up and go to Luxembourg just for the heck of it. Dusty gave me a glare that seemed to say, Well, if you're going to stop petting me and jet off to a random European country, I might as well leave, and promptly jumped off my lap.
Why couldn't I be more like that? Was my thought as I stared at my cat stalking away. As most unfavorable things in life happen, this caught me at a bad time. The next day was a Sunday, and though I usually enjoyed church, the monkey on my back wouldn't let me alone. Can't you see this? I felt like crying out to the congregation, Have you ever wanted more from life? What is it that I want anyway? The sermon held no divine answers – only warnings of damnation should one leave the well-trodden path of Christian righteousness. At that moment, my monkey seemed to hit the right part of my head, and I realized the inconsistencies of my faith. I should love my neighbor and yet condemn those who do not belong to the church. God is everywhere and in everything, but one cannot seek Him everywhere and in everything. And taking a page out of Douglas Adams' book, some claim to know that God exists, but to know He exists would negate His faith-based existence. Despite the abruptness of this decision I was about to make, I felt deep within me that it was right. I would no longer follow a religion.
I would now like to interrupt this tale to tell my reader about my childhood priest. He was my friend. Now, I know catholic priests get a lot of bad press, but you must understand that this one did not belong to that particular group. He was the nicest old man you ever did see. His eyes radiated the good humor that had carved wrinkles around them long before I had met him. That same humor had set twin lines beside a quick-to-smile mouth. As a young catholic child, it was he I came to with all of my troubles, sins, and questions. When I was a teenager and seeking advice, he always lent an ear. It was during one of our conversations during my adolescence that he gave me that vital piece of counsel. When I asked him if he ever regretted joining the priesthood, he gave me an earnest look. "My dear, I don't regret it for a moment," he said, "But I did quite a few things before I took my vows. Always remember, if you haven't eaten Roman pizza, learned to tap dance, or fallen completely in love with something, you haven't lived."
Propelled by the jetpack memory of his words, I made my way to the nearest payphone. I was going to call my parents to tell them of my revelations, and for some inexplicable reason I did not want to do that from my apartment. My mother was the perfect wife, devoted, omniscient, a person who could anticipate her husband's every whim. My father was a stern, tall man who, despite his academic pursuits, had not lost his faith. How was I to approach this godly pair with the news that I would not live up to their expectations? I slowly and deliberately pressed one number after the next. My father picked up, "Hello?"
"Hi Dad, how are you? May I talk to Mom, please?"
A grunt. Could he tell what I what was coming? I hoped not.
"Darling!" was my mother's greeting, "How are you?"
I winced. "Pretty good, Mom," I said. The feeling of being a stale potato chip had evaporated only to be replaced with anxiety. "I have something to tell you," I proceeded to recount my two revelations, the one during the previous night and the other the following morning. I told her of my decision to renounce Catholicism.
There was a long pause before she said, "Honey, can't you see this is a test? You're not doing so well now, but you can still prove the strength of your faith to God." My mother's voice colored with disappointment.
After taking a deep breath I said, "Mom, if God loves me no matter what, I shouldn't have to prove my faith. He should accept me as is, especially since He made me that way."
"I will not let a daughter of mine speak that way," she said, "The only true way to God is through the church. Any other will lead you to the devil, and I will not let you surrender your immortal soul to him."
I wanted so badly for her to understand, but it seemed she was unwilling. Even knowing she was trying to look out for me did not stop the angry words that came out, "If God would damn me for wanting to explore the world He created, I'd rather go to hell than spend eternity with Him." I slammed the phone into its cradle. Shaking, I realized I'd been making quite a scene, what with raising my voice and all. Thankfully, my only witness had been a pigeon. The area was so empty and still I expected a renegade tumbleweed to dance into view.
Getting angry always made me hungry. I got a soft pretzel from a nearby shop, chomping it down as I made my way to the park. Seated on a park bench, I realized how completely exhausted I was. Emotionally, I felt like someone with the delicacy of a rabid bear had made his way through my inner workings. I gave a brief thought to my mother as I slipped into the land of Nod. She would have been shocked at my audacity to fall asleep on a public bench. Oh well, at least I don't look homeless.
I woke up knowing what to do. Now, three months later, I sit on that park bench's French cousin in the Jardin du Luxembourg (I haven't made it to the country yet). I haven't talked to my parents yet, and though I feel bad about the way I spoke to my mother, my view of the Statue of Liberty reminds me not to regret it. I have found myself in losing what I had always known. In truth, I do not wish for any other epiphanies; despite their benefits, they seem to cause as much trouble as ruby slippers in the Land of Oz.
P.S. I do not mean any offence with this piece. I bear no ill will to those who are Catholics, Christians, or spiritual in any way. I also did not intend for the story to be so long, it just happened that way.
Looking back on all those nights
The ones I spent with you
I've got to say good-bye
Listen to me
I got my own pair of shoes
To walk the hard road
Between what I must do
And what you would -
Pin me to the wall
And would make me do
But you know, I don't need you
You want me talking like any other
You got me feeling that I'm your mother
You got me coddling you all day and night
I think it's time to fight
Listen to me
I got my own pair of shoes
To walk the hard road
Between what I must do
And what you would -
Pin me to the wall
And would make me do
But you know, I don't need you
I won't be crawlin' to your side when you get cold
Won't be makin' you breakfast when we get old
How many times must I say "leave me alone"
Well, today I'm done
Blame it on the Catholics
Someone once told me to live my life to the fullest, experience all there is. I doubt that he intended what happened, since it was only years later that I had my revelation. However, I appreciate his advice, and wish him well, wherever he may be, with all my heart.
As a Catholic born and raised, I had a strong sense of duty. Routine ruled my days; get up, go to work, come home, eat dinner, read, say my prayers, go to bed. Some days were augmented with work at the church or homeless shelter after work, and Sundays I stayed home after attending mass. I was an obedient child due to my upbringing. I followed the plan set by my parents – get good grades, go to a good college, find a well-paying job – and never wondered for one second if I should stray from the path.
The revelation I had occurred at the strangest time – while I was happily petting my cat Dusty. It had been one of those ordinary days, the ones where you wake up the next morning and might wonder if you did anything productive at all the day before. Or, perhaps you don't even think about it because that day had been so inconsequential. That day, however, I felt a weight settle on my shoulders. The weight began to grow until suddenly I felt like a stale potato chip. What had gone wrong? I was perfectly content until that point, and now I longed for that mysterious shimmering thing I could barely see on the horizon. I would have thought some of those Sunday school lessons about greed and constancy in church that would have stuck – but no, at that moment I felt the driving urge to pack up and go to Luxembourg just for the heck of it. Dusty gave me a glare that seemed to say, Well, if you're going to stop petting me and jet off to a random European country, I might as well leave, and promptly jumped off my lap.
Why couldn't I be more like that? Was my thought as I stared at my cat stalking away. As most unfavorable things in life happen, this caught me at a bad time. The next day was a Sunday, and though I usually enjoyed church, the monkey on my back wouldn't let me alone. Can't you see this? I felt like crying out to the congregation, Have you ever wanted more from life? What is it that I want anyway? The sermon held no divine answers – only warnings of damnation should one leave the well-trodden path of Christian righteousness. At that moment, my monkey seemed to hit the right part of my head, and I realized the inconsistencies of my faith. I should love my neighbor and yet condemn those who do not belong to the church. God is everywhere and in everything, but one cannot seek Him everywhere and in everything. And taking a page out of Douglas Adams' book, some claim to know that God exists, but to know He exists would negate His faith-based existence. Despite the abruptness of this decision I was about to make, I felt deep within me that it was right. I would no longer follow a religion.
I would now like to interrupt this tale to tell my reader about my childhood priest. He was my friend. Now, I know catholic priests get a lot of bad press, but you must understand that this one did not belong to that particular group. He was the nicest old man you ever did see. His eyes radiated the good humor that had carved wrinkles around them long before I had met him. That same humor had set twin lines beside a quick-to-smile mouth. As a young catholic child, it was he I came to with all of my troubles, sins, and questions. When I was a teenager and seeking advice, he always lent an ear. It was during one of our conversations during my adolescence that he gave me that vital piece of counsel. When I asked him if he ever regretted joining the priesthood, he gave me an earnest look. "My dear, I don't regret it for a moment," he said, "But I did quite a few things before I took my vows. Always remember, if you haven't eaten Roman pizza, learned to tap dance, or fallen completely in love with something, you haven't lived."
Propelled by the jetpack memory of his words, I made my way to the nearest payphone. I was going to call my parents to tell them of my revelations, and for some inexplicable reason I did not want to do that from my apartment. My mother was the perfect wife, devoted, omniscient, a person who could anticipate her husband's every whim. My father was a stern, tall man who, despite his academic pursuits, had not lost his faith. How was I to approach this godly pair with the news that I would not live up to their expectations? I slowly and deliberately pressed one number after the next. My father picked up, "Hello?"
"Hi Dad, how are you? May I talk to Mom, please?"
A grunt. Could he tell what I what was coming? I hoped not.
"Darling!" was my mother's greeting, "How are you?"
I winced. "Pretty good, Mom," I said. The feeling of being a stale potato chip had evaporated only to be replaced with anxiety. "I have something to tell you," I proceeded to recount my two revelations, the one during the previous night and the other the following morning. I told her of my decision to renounce Catholicism.
There was a long pause before she said, "Honey, can't you see this is a test? You're not doing so well now, but you can still prove the strength of your faith to God." My mother's voice colored with disappointment.
After taking a deep breath I said, "Mom, if God loves me no matter what, I shouldn't have to prove my faith. He should accept me as is, especially since He made me that way."
"I will not let a daughter of mine speak that way," she said, "The only true way to God is through the church. Any other will lead you to the devil, and I will not let you surrender your immortal soul to him."
I wanted so badly for her to understand, but it seemed she was unwilling. Even knowing she was trying to look out for me did not stop the angry words that came out, "If God would damn me for wanting to explore the world He created, I'd rather go to hell than spend eternity with Him." I slammed the phone into its cradle. Shaking, I realized I'd been making quite a scene, what with raising my voice and all. Thankfully, my only witness had been a pigeon. The area was so empty and still I expected a renegade tumbleweed to dance into view.
Getting angry always made me hungry. I got a soft pretzel from a nearby shop, chomping it down as I made my way to the park. Seated on a park bench, I realized how completely exhausted I was. Emotionally, I felt like someone with the delicacy of a rabid bear had made his way through my inner workings. I gave a brief thought to my mother as I slipped into the land of Nod. She would have been shocked at my audacity to fall asleep on a public bench. Oh well, at least I don't look homeless.
I woke up knowing what to do. Now, three months later, I sit on that park bench's French cousin in the Jardin du Luxembourg (I haven't made it to the country yet). I haven't talked to my parents yet, and though I feel bad about the way I spoke to my mother, my view of the Statue of Liberty reminds me not to regret it. I have found myself in losing what I had always known. In truth, I do not wish for any other epiphanies; despite their benefits, they seem to cause as much trouble as ruby slippers in the Land of Oz.
P.S. I do not mean any offence with this piece. I bear no ill will to those who are Catholics, Christians, or spiritual in any way. I also did not intend for the story to be so long, it just happened that way.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Final Sonnet and Analysis
An Ode to Spring Beauty
The world is kind to you and I, my dear
The newly sprung green sapling looks like we
Their moving leaves make music sweet to hear
The melody leads all to dance with glee
As bees are drawn to apple blossoms fast
You mesmerize me with your sweet, sweet smile
And love for you sees me o'er seas vast
To me you are the sun and flower isle
Your fresh petals to bloom during this spring
My soul longs for the warm and verdant growth
Relief from thee eternal winter bring
Without you, dear, I will not plight my troth
but human's penchant for much pain will lead
me to extend this frost until I'm dead
Sonnet Analysis
This sonnet focuses on the spring, as indicated by the title. It's written from the perspective of someone who is in love with another person. The object of their affections is in love with him as well, but is currently away or is not in a relationship with him yet. The author associates the person he loves with the spring and the good things that come with the spring. Each four-line stanza will get a paragraph of analysis.
The sonnet opens with "The world is kind to you and I, my dear". This could mean that the world is kind for giving them the opportunity to love each other, ending the solitary winter that they had been enduring. "The newly sprung green sapling looks like we" indicates that their love is young and thus could be very fragile – one storm or dry season could kill it. The theme then focuses on music, mostly about the sounds that leaves make when they move. Music in the spring evokes a visual of a May festival and leads to "The melody leas all to dance with glee." This makes me think of woodland magic and the perfect, happy peace of the spring, which is the state that the two lovers now inhabit.
The lines, "As bees are drawn to apple blossoms fast, you mesmerize me with your sweet, sweet smile" speaks of the attraction he experiences toward her. He also compares her to the apple blossom, creating an image of a fair and delicate person. He continues with a proclamation of his dedication to her, saying, "And love for you sees me o'er seas vast". Whether they be real or figurative seas, the thought of the author's lover would enable him to overcome any trials that he might meet while traveling because he wants to see her again. "To me you are the sun and flower isle," continues the comparison to a flower, but adds a comparison to the sun. I take this to mean that the author feels the nourishing light of the sun when he is around the one he loves, as well sanctuary in their love when he is amid a sea of troubles.
The author's lover grows more beautiful when his love for her grows as shown in "your fresh petals will bloom during this spring." He wants her to grow in the light of his love and admits his desire to feel loved himself when he says, "my soul longs for the warm and verdant growth." The next line, "Relief from thee eternal winter bring," could be taken two ways when heard; it could be heard "thee" which would indicate that the author would relieve his lover from being lonely, or it could be hear "the" which would follow the theme of the author's lover being his salvation, and that she would be the one to rescue him. The stanza ends with an exclamation of eternal love, "without you, dear, I will not plight my troth." To plight one's troth means to get married, and thus the line means that the author will not get married unless it is to his lover because he is so in love with her.
The final couplet is rather bitter. "But human's penchant for much pain will lead me to extend this frost until I'm dead," exemplifies the human race's masochistic and backwards nature. Despite his great love for this person, he won't enter into a relationship with her. Who knows whether it's to leave this perfect love unsullied with the pain and bad feelings that one inevitably encounters in a relationship or if it's to gain the glory of an unrequited love. It is much like irony of setting up national parks to preserve the natural beauty of a place while outside these areas, the world is becoming more and more polluted.
Though I wrote this analysis about love, it could easily be about an idea or belief in God, or any number of other things. It is about the fragility of the newly established, but also about the joy in experiencing it in the beginning. It is about the attraction to something, the dedication that something inspires, and the good feelings of love and sanctuary when one embraces it. It is about wanting the best for the thing that one loves, and one's eternal devotion to it. And finally, it is about human folly in our complacency with ignorance, preferring to live without the pain that might come with something, and instead enduring the pain that comes from living without it.
The world is kind to you and I, my dear
The newly sprung green sapling looks like we
Their moving leaves make music sweet to hear
The melody leads all to dance with glee
As bees are drawn to apple blossoms fast
You mesmerize me with your sweet, sweet smile
And love for you sees me o'er seas vast
To me you are the sun and flower isle
Your fresh petals to bloom during this spring
My soul longs for the warm and verdant growth
Relief from thee eternal winter bring
Without you, dear, I will not plight my troth
but human's penchant for much pain will lead
me to extend this frost until I'm dead
Sonnet Analysis
This sonnet focuses on the spring, as indicated by the title. It's written from the perspective of someone who is in love with another person. The object of their affections is in love with him as well, but is currently away or is not in a relationship with him yet. The author associates the person he loves with the spring and the good things that come with the spring. Each four-line stanza will get a paragraph of analysis.
The sonnet opens with "The world is kind to you and I, my dear". This could mean that the world is kind for giving them the opportunity to love each other, ending the solitary winter that they had been enduring. "The newly sprung green sapling looks like we" indicates that their love is young and thus could be very fragile – one storm or dry season could kill it. The theme then focuses on music, mostly about the sounds that leaves make when they move. Music in the spring evokes a visual of a May festival and leads to "The melody leas all to dance with glee." This makes me think of woodland magic and the perfect, happy peace of the spring, which is the state that the two lovers now inhabit.
The lines, "As bees are drawn to apple blossoms fast, you mesmerize me with your sweet, sweet smile" speaks of the attraction he experiences toward her. He also compares her to the apple blossom, creating an image of a fair and delicate person. He continues with a proclamation of his dedication to her, saying, "And love for you sees me o'er seas vast". Whether they be real or figurative seas, the thought of the author's lover would enable him to overcome any trials that he might meet while traveling because he wants to see her again. "To me you are the sun and flower isle," continues the comparison to a flower, but adds a comparison to the sun. I take this to mean that the author feels the nourishing light of the sun when he is around the one he loves, as well sanctuary in their love when he is amid a sea of troubles.
The author's lover grows more beautiful when his love for her grows as shown in "your fresh petals will bloom during this spring." He wants her to grow in the light of his love and admits his desire to feel loved himself when he says, "my soul longs for the warm and verdant growth." The next line, "Relief from thee eternal winter bring," could be taken two ways when heard; it could be heard "thee" which would indicate that the author would relieve his lover from being lonely, or it could be hear "the" which would follow the theme of the author's lover being his salvation, and that she would be the one to rescue him. The stanza ends with an exclamation of eternal love, "without you, dear, I will not plight my troth." To plight one's troth means to get married, and thus the line means that the author will not get married unless it is to his lover because he is so in love with her.
The final couplet is rather bitter. "But human's penchant for much pain will lead me to extend this frost until I'm dead," exemplifies the human race's masochistic and backwards nature. Despite his great love for this person, he won't enter into a relationship with her. Who knows whether it's to leave this perfect love unsullied with the pain and bad feelings that one inevitably encounters in a relationship or if it's to gain the glory of an unrequited love. It is much like irony of setting up national parks to preserve the natural beauty of a place while outside these areas, the world is becoming more and more polluted.
Though I wrote this analysis about love, it could easily be about an idea or belief in God, or any number of other things. It is about the fragility of the newly established, but also about the joy in experiencing it in the beginning. It is about the attraction to something, the dedication that something inspires, and the good feelings of love and sanctuary when one embraces it. It is about wanting the best for the thing that one loves, and one's eternal devotion to it. And finally, it is about human folly in our complacency with ignorance, preferring to live without the pain that might come with something, and instead enduring the pain that comes from living without it.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Monday, March 3, 2008
Poems of Grief by Holden, Mrs. Caulfield, Phoebe, and Jane
Him/Me
By Holden Caulfield
Sitting in the shining
New red car smelling
Like the musk
Of his mitt
Gripping painfully,
My knuckles glaring
White against the black –
I am a ghost
Windshield splitting
The world into two parts.
I am lost in the rift
Of what could have been
Revelation slips into
My heart, it is caught –
Blazing against the dark
Abandonment
I will forget everything –
Break this glass box
Holding me to
The life I do not want
Faith
By Mrs. Caulfield
Oh God, it is finished. How could you…
be so cruel? My heart broken, my life ending,
The pale death mask has not my dear son,
Not even gold could capture him
For love, my husband lost his faith,
For love, I shall lose mine to protect the rest
My children shall not know your face
Nor the protection you promised that proved a lie
But there is no strength in me left, my mind
So erratic, unpredictable. I am not me.
I am lost without the joy and passion of new life
I will try to make myself anew
Dear Allie
By Phoebe Caulfield
Dear Allie,
I know you're in a better place,
It must be nice.
Holden is angry, Mother is sad,
They loved love you.
We seem to drown in silence,
You wouldn't like it.
I hope you're having fun there,
Playing baseball.
I'm glad you're not hurting now
I'll miss you.
Reading
By Jane Gallagher
He doesn't know it
But I see the sadness in his face.
From the back row
Even my kings can tell it's wrong.
Maybe he's scared –
Or scarred from the quick parting,
Holding back,
Protecting himself with reserve.
The tragic prince
Loaded down with baggage galore
The perfect luggage
Holding his secrets perfectly safe
I see his story there
Carved into every movement
His devastation
The exact mirror of mine, mistrust
I'm glad that I help
Alleviating the hurt is my intent
He is my friend
All I want is for him to be happy
Analysis
These poems were written by Holden, Mrs. Caulfield, Phoebe, and Jane Gallagher. They explore how Allie's death affected their lives. Holden, Mrs. Caulfield, and Phoebe's poems were written right after the loss, possibly in the deepest part of their grief. Jane wrote about how Holden's deep-rooted sadness had affected him as well as making an impact on her life.
They are writing in journals and diaries that they have in order to get their feelings out. Holden wrote his as he was sitting in his family's car before he punched out the garage windows. He thinks that he should have died instead of Allie, and the disillusionment and unhappiness that had started with adolescence was magnified when he lost one of the only people he truly loved. Mrs. Caulfield writes about loss, the loss of her child, her faith, and the person she used to be. Now she is unsure of her path because her perfect plan for life did not include one of her children dying of leukemia. Phoebe writes in the supreme innocence of a child. She thinks that writing to Allie will make him feel less lonely in heaven. In Jane's poem, she speaks about her sympathy for Holden and a desire to relieve him of his emotional baggage.
Holden's poem is based on the story he tells about how his hand got injured. He says, "I slept in the garage the night he (Allie) died, and I broke all the goddam windows with my fist, just for the hell of it. I even tried to break all the windows on the station wagon we had that summer, but my hand was already broken and everything by that times, and I couldn't do it." This gives support for his anger, being in the car, breaking the windows of the garage, and the car being a new one.
Mrs. Caulfield's poem is based upon what Holden says about his mother's nervousness and his father giving up Catholicism for his mother. Holden says when he meets the nuns, "…my father was a Catholic once. He quit, though, when he married my mother." When he talks about not wanting to be home when his parents get the letter notifying them of his expulsion he says, " My mother gets very hysterical. She's not too bad after she gets something thoroughly digested, though." Before he meets the nuns Holden talks about his parents, "[My mother] hasn't felt too healthy since my brother Allie died. She's very nervous."
Phoebe's poem is a great example of her youth and innocence. Holden says that he would not want her to attend his funeral because she is so young. He says, "You never saw a little kid so pretty and smart in your whole life… She's only ten." That means that she would have been extremely young when Allie died. He also said, "she's a little too affectionate sometimes. She's very emotional, for a child." Her parents probably told her that Allie went to an extended summer camp to spare her the sadness, but because she's so smart she probably figured out that he died.
Jane's poem is about sympathy. Holden feels sympathy for Jane after the incident with her stepfather and cigarettes. When he sees that she was trying to hold back tears he said, "I don't know why, but it bothered hell out of me." I think that Jane was fairly perceptive and must have reciprocated the feeling. Holden said, "She was the only one, outside my family, that I ever showed Allie's baseball mitt to, with all the poems written on it. She'd never met Allie or anything, because that was her first summer in Maine – before that, she went to Cape Cod – but I told her quite a lot about him. She was interested in that kind of stuff." She understood his grief and relates it with her own.
Each of these poems has deeper meanings and links to other people's lives. Holden's poem shows several stages of grief. Mrs. Caulfield's poem voices questions that we all have in our lives when life doesn't go our way. It shows the difficulty of parting with hopes and dreams, and facing reality. Phoebe's expresses the innate human desire to comfort those we love and hope that they are happy. Jane's also deals with the desire to comfort as well as the theory that people who are similar gravitate toward each other. It supports that people do not like being alone and that it is heartening to have someone to commiserate with.
By Holden Caulfield
Sitting in the shining
New red car smelling
Like the musk
Of his mitt
Gripping painfully,
My knuckles glaring
White against the black –
I am a ghost
Windshield splitting
The world into two parts.
I am lost in the rift
Of what could have been
Revelation slips into
My heart, it is caught –
Blazing against the dark
Abandonment
I will forget everything –
Break this glass box
Holding me to
The life I do not want
Faith
By Mrs. Caulfield
Oh God, it is finished. How could you…
be so cruel? My heart broken, my life ending,
The pale death mask has not my dear son,
Not even gold could capture him
For love, my husband lost his faith,
For love, I shall lose mine to protect the rest
My children shall not know your face
Nor the protection you promised that proved a lie
But there is no strength in me left, my mind
So erratic, unpredictable. I am not me.
I am lost without the joy and passion of new life
I will try to make myself anew
Dear Allie
By Phoebe Caulfield
Dear Allie,
I know you're in a better place,
It must be nice.
Holden is angry, Mother is sad,
They loved love you.
We seem to drown in silence,
You wouldn't like it.
I hope you're having fun there,
Playing baseball.
I'm glad you're not hurting now
I'll miss you.
Reading
By Jane Gallagher
He doesn't know it
But I see the sadness in his face.
From the back row
Even my kings can tell it's wrong.
Maybe he's scared –
Or scarred from the quick parting,
Holding back,
Protecting himself with reserve.
The tragic prince
Loaded down with baggage galore
The perfect luggage
Holding his secrets perfectly safe
I see his story there
Carved into every movement
His devastation
The exact mirror of mine, mistrust
I'm glad that I help
Alleviating the hurt is my intent
He is my friend
All I want is for him to be happy
Analysis
These poems were written by Holden, Mrs. Caulfield, Phoebe, and Jane Gallagher. They explore how Allie's death affected their lives. Holden, Mrs. Caulfield, and Phoebe's poems were written right after the loss, possibly in the deepest part of their grief. Jane wrote about how Holden's deep-rooted sadness had affected him as well as making an impact on her life.
They are writing in journals and diaries that they have in order to get their feelings out. Holden wrote his as he was sitting in his family's car before he punched out the garage windows. He thinks that he should have died instead of Allie, and the disillusionment and unhappiness that had started with adolescence was magnified when he lost one of the only people he truly loved. Mrs. Caulfield writes about loss, the loss of her child, her faith, and the person she used to be. Now she is unsure of her path because her perfect plan for life did not include one of her children dying of leukemia. Phoebe writes in the supreme innocence of a child. She thinks that writing to Allie will make him feel less lonely in heaven. In Jane's poem, she speaks about her sympathy for Holden and a desire to relieve him of his emotional baggage.
Holden's poem is based on the story he tells about how his hand got injured. He says, "I slept in the garage the night he (Allie) died, and I broke all the goddam windows with my fist, just for the hell of it. I even tried to break all the windows on the station wagon we had that summer, but my hand was already broken and everything by that times, and I couldn't do it." This gives support for his anger, being in the car, breaking the windows of the garage, and the car being a new one.
Mrs. Caulfield's poem is based upon what Holden says about his mother's nervousness and his father giving up Catholicism for his mother. Holden says when he meets the nuns, "…my father was a Catholic once. He quit, though, when he married my mother." When he talks about not wanting to be home when his parents get the letter notifying them of his expulsion he says, " My mother gets very hysterical. She's not too bad after she gets something thoroughly digested, though." Before he meets the nuns Holden talks about his parents, "[My mother] hasn't felt too healthy since my brother Allie died. She's very nervous."
Phoebe's poem is a great example of her youth and innocence. Holden says that he would not want her to attend his funeral because she is so young. He says, "You never saw a little kid so pretty and smart in your whole life… She's only ten." That means that she would have been extremely young when Allie died. He also said, "she's a little too affectionate sometimes. She's very emotional, for a child." Her parents probably told her that Allie went to an extended summer camp to spare her the sadness, but because she's so smart she probably figured out that he died.
Jane's poem is about sympathy. Holden feels sympathy for Jane after the incident with her stepfather and cigarettes. When he sees that she was trying to hold back tears he said, "I don't know why, but it bothered hell out of me." I think that Jane was fairly perceptive and must have reciprocated the feeling. Holden said, "She was the only one, outside my family, that I ever showed Allie's baseball mitt to, with all the poems written on it. She'd never met Allie or anything, because that was her first summer in Maine – before that, she went to Cape Cod – but I told her quite a lot about him. She was interested in that kind of stuff." She understood his grief and relates it with her own.
Each of these poems has deeper meanings and links to other people's lives. Holden's poem shows several stages of grief. Mrs. Caulfield's poem voices questions that we all have in our lives when life doesn't go our way. It shows the difficulty of parting with hopes and dreams, and facing reality. Phoebe's expresses the innate human desire to comfort those we love and hope that they are happy. Jane's also deals with the desire to comfort as well as the theory that people who are similar gravitate toward each other. It supports that people do not like being alone and that it is heartening to have someone to commiserate with.
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