Why Holden Caulfield Thinks Social Media Jobs are Phony

This title was devised with the help of Portent. The story is true, that the girl quoted Salinger in her second or third letter to me. I thought I was lucky I got that far, because in the Y2K era snail mail was already rare.

I’m the most terrific liar you ever saw in your life. It’s awful. If I’m on my way to the store to buy a magazine, even, and somebody asks me where I’m going, I’m liable to say I’m going to the opera. It’s terrible.

– J. D. Salinger The Catcher in the Rye. Holden Caulfield in Chapter 3, in the wake of deceiving.

    When I was in my early twenties, a little ahead of Y2K, I think, I paid a visit to Kingston, Ontario, where I noticed a girl, dressed like a punk rocker, sitting up on the curb, asking passerby’s to spare change.  She was pretty, if I do say so myself, her hair dyed bright blue that matched the fishnets not doing a whole lot to keep her legs warm in the winter night, petite, and completely on her own.

    I thought I would say hi to her.  She must have seemed out of her mind to most everyone else, or perhaps just innocuous, but Kingston is a college town, and there are bright young girls everywhere.  I think this particular girl was a singer in a band, or would be soon.

    We chatted, we watched the street, we met a couple people.  I would have liked to get off the streets, but where were we going to go?  I’d just met her.

    It took every ounce of confidence I had to keep up what I was passing off as charm, given the circumstances.  It became a sort of a nice time.  I probably should have taken her to the arcade up the street.

    By morning I got from her an address for her mom, in Scarborough, from where I suppose it counted she had run away from, and although there weren’t even all that many letters from her, I think it was probably the second one from her to me where she put in ink the above quote from The Catcher in the Rye.  All I could think when I got that letter was that the girl probably literally was a liar.  Almost everybody lies, except maybe devout Buddhists, or others with that kind of mindset.

    Since The Catcher in the Rye, Holden Caulfield has become a symbol for insubordination and tension and now remains among the most significant characters of twentieth-century American writing.  The excellent TV character Jughead, in Riverdale, mentions in Season 4, Episode 8 The Catcher in the Rye, to Mrs. Burble.  Following Archie’s lead, Jughead likewise hasn’t applied to any schools, and when he stops by Riverdale High to get his transcript, he gets a meeting with Mrs. Burble, regardless of his “Holden Caulfield stance on phony small talk.”

The CW Network

    I wonder how Holden would feel about Facebook if he were an adolescent in the year 2020.  Well, actually, I guess I know–he would hate it.  Possibly if the issue was working it, he would abhor how Generation Z doesn’t have a similar eagerness for it that Millennials have.

    Millennials are youthful enough to feel strong and astute, and they’ve been on the internet since right back when they were youngsters.  Would Holden hate the specific act of asking a street girl how she was doing given that she might experience distress?  Even that I guess he would, for the suffering that young girls go through when they run away, for an economic system necessitating that some young girls go on the run, for the fact of a college town itself even existing given that the tools of education are extensively available.

    I am certain the young lady would have liked herself on Facebook if she met herself as another, and I am certain the girl felt as brilliant as those strolling past her.  It didn’t appear to get her down.  She had good karma.

    I believe being a runaway underground rocker was what she needed to be, notwithstanding that it was unthinkable, I assume.  I finally cried when I returned home the following day, as it truly seems to be a merciless world.  Nothing was wrong, though, other than that twenty years later I’d be writing the story in a post inspired by Portent.

    I’d had a comforter in my backpack.  When I noticed the cold, I let her wrap it around her shoulders.

    We went into the Burger King with that around her.  There were muddy tracks on it from the slush on the restaurant floor when we left.  Those mud stains came out in the wash.

    In the nineteen nineties, we didn’t have Facebook.  However, I wish I’d considered PCs in the school other than the negligible business I learned when I got around to signing in my last time in a study hall.  It took me years beyond the nineties to cross that finish line, by the way.

    Years later, while it was appalling that the confidence everybody had, to translate their lives into Facebook status posts and business page numbers, ended with what happened between the White House and Cambridge Analytica, I think the popularity of Facebook will return.  The Wall Street Journal ran an idiosyncratic feature for its tech segment this week.

Joanna Stern

    At least one American journalist is trying to rekindle the same enjoyment we had with Facebook up until the present administration in the White House.  I am a modest Canadian, yet I needed to reproduce the experience for the individuals who see this.

Christmas Eve 2019

My nephew’s twenty-first birthday was five days ago–he let my mom and dad know he was getting by.  I wish him all the best.  

The family business where I’ve been working has a Facebook page:  https://www.facebook.com/LouthUnited

FOWC–Collaborate

I follow a blog called Fandango, which keeps the custom of single-word prompts bursting at the seams, with the single word prompts WordPress once presented, having reached a conclusion around the time I began composing these.  Tonight I looked in thinking I might benefit from such a suggestion, and I saw that Fandango’s word tonight is the word “collaborate.”

    The word means work jointly, or, alternatively, cooperate traitorously.

    I was taught both connotations to cooperate when I was in college.  In the sense of collaboration with a distinguished painter, I learned that in Film 101, and in the sense of collaboration with the colonizers, I studied that in business law.

    Film 101 identified for me a few ideas which had interested me since I was a child, like why did names of people run up the screen at the end of a movie.

    That film professor was a young, tall, handsome man, who explained that those end credits identified that the film was the collaboration of those people’s work.  He told us in the school auditorium that the film wouldn’t have been finished without the help of all of those people.  I’d once inaccurately assumed that the most renowned people with their names on a film were the ones who chiefly ran the show.

    Until college, I don’t think I’d considered that all of those people were important, not just the ones with star power.  It was an advantageous exercise.

Photographer:
One Idea LLC

    It is too bad that schools everywhere have closed their doors at present.  Although I personally was only an average student, I think of the problems in the future created simply by making school unavailable at the present time.  I have heard of school debunked, of course–Gary Vee, for one, I’ve heard on video overlooking school in favour of an entrepreneur getting started making a living.  I’ve heard him say on camera, as he says so many things, that if a young person’s parents do pay for that individual to go to post-secondary, that person had certainly better make the most of it if it is at the expense of the parents.

    In fact, I wouldn’t mind hearing what Gary is saying about the present catastrophe.  I have seen GaryVee video titles on YouTube recommending that business enterprise on the Internet is as yet a practical road for what’s to come.  Good luck to the young people of today, then–they need it.

    My college business law class took some of the wind out of my sails at the time.  There were a lot of definitions run past us that seemed important yet awfully complicated for beginning young people.

    In a day in the classroom, the gentleman who taught us gave us a TV recommendation, of all things.  “Watch Law & Order,” he said to us.  For a long time I did, not having had such a title dropped on me in a setting like that previous to the day he did.

Photographer:
Leeroy

    He was joking about the difficulty he was imposing on us.  Thanks for that, I think now.  Although for a while I was a fan of the show, you know you don’t get the time back.

    There was just so much of it–when did I ever find time to work?

    The synonyms for collaborating, both join forces and fraternize, were thus equally handled by the well-meaning but slightly eccentric business law teacher.  Some business education is important.

    I appreciate Fandango’s prompt tonight.  Good luck with staying safe.

You’re welcome to follow or to comment.  Remember to respect the space of everybody in it.  A lot is counting on it!

https://fivedotoh.com/2020/03/20/fowc-with-fandango-collaborate/ #FOWC

A Difficult St. Patrick’s Day

On St. Patrick’s Day, everyone is Irish.  My family is Irish, and in the town up north, where my mother’s mom grew up, and so did Cathie, she, with the help of a few other lovely people, put together over time a pretty comprehensive account of the Irish my mother’s side of the family has in them.  It is interesting, although I only have a passing familiarity with them.

    It looks like this St. Patrick’s Day, 2020, I’ll be a little less Irish.  It looks grim.

Photographer:
Tiago Almeida

    I wish a lot of things were different, but I never would have chalked up this catastrophe to something I would see in my lifetime.  I hear of environmental warnings, like that there could be, say, eight years until the damage to the planet caused by humans becomes irreversible, or that global warming will cause sea levels to rise, however active God is, on the picture at large.

    To consider attacks between warring groups the world over, hellbent on decreasing each other to iotas, to very small pieces, I think also of various police forces unfairly treating peaceable citizens, because they loathe the skin colour or some addiction that isn’t completely the fault of the party in question, for behaviour that doesn’t toe the line for the safety of the public.  I think about these now and again, yet I hadn’t thought of what really descended this spring.

    I always do my best to enjoy St. Patrick’s Day, as so many do with aplomb and style.  Here now we are called on to be, as I believe it is spelled in a phrase, not Godfearing, but socially distant.  Good on us all the same, that we would find solidarity in separating from one another, in a fashion that, like the lot of the unlucky addict, is no fault of our own.

Photographer:
Peter Hershey

    We will have to come up with new measures to survive a crisis that isn’t manmade, and we have to do it at a time when I am sure many of us in the West would be happier celebrating St. Patty’s in the usual fashion, wearing the colour green, so to speak.  We’re told to stay out of bars and restaurants and nightclubs and still young people want to.

    I want to be young myself, but not to the extent I want to risk sacrificing getting old.  I attempted to think about a superb St. Patrick’s Day I could recollect and say something regarding, and although I recall it every year, I don’t know I could say that any March festivity was better than some other.  A number of them were beautiful.

    I barely care about 1998, when I turned twenty-one years of age.  However, against how this spring is going, I don’t think the excitement of taking a visit back in time is going to especially cause me to feel better. St. Patty’s this year is sullen, even heartbreaking.

    I like to enjoy letting give a kind word at certain times, because a little kindness sprinkled liberally, while not reversing the uncertainty that we’re facing, does help temper the darkness.  I would like to wish you a happy St. Patrick’s Day, dreadful or not.

    You may be savvier to nurture your home, given the alerts about staying far off from each other, yet St. Patrick’s Day isn’t to be overlooked, obviously.  Go with the luck of the Irish!  Don’t be foolish, but don’t forget to fool, I’m saying.

Let’s have a safe spring!  You’re of course welcome to comment and to follow.  All the best to you, and your loved ones.

#lifelesson A Monkey on Your Back

I’m looking forward to the weekend, as Sunday is the Ides of March, a day I’ve before celebrated, and to get serenity I needed to utilize a little ingenuity. Many individuals like this season. Of course, this year is upsetting for reasons I am sure that you know, from the news, but my father pointed out something to me, and coming to an understanding about this, I found myself wanting to add the idea.

I tuned in to what he said, two or three weeks prior, in his truck as we drove up the road, and I had a morning doughnut. In the next few days, I thought to compose this essay. This is how I would represent his idea–it isn’t all that much work. You’re welcome to make of it what you will.

My dad Peter is typically a calm man. The nature of our business is a cemetery, which we’ve operated together for eight or nine years. My dad managed a municipal cemetery for many years before he retired from there.

He decided he loved Maple Lawn when he learned its board of trustees no longer desired to maintain it. A week and a half ago, Dad unexpectedly gave me a life lesson, something that had moved him during his career with the city. He said a business speaker ignited a connection for him, a long time previously, something I didn’t think about him.

The speaker discussed a monkey, an issue, which I deduced implied a method for dealing with stress.

The speaker had said that another individual might bring you a monkey on the back. That person already has his or her monkey on the back, and sharing that load with you is reduced in intensity for the person being unburdened, but the problem remains, now shared with you. Now there are troubles for you, for you to bear yourself.

My dad said the message stayed with him. The story reminded me of the late Wayne Dyer, the writer of numerous books about otherworldly thinking, spiritual issues, that is, like negativity, to which I am occasionally subject. My father was venturing to propose I compose this essay, which I figured I could do, keeping in mind Dad’s convictions.

The disbanded church at our cemetery

Dad cautioned me not to let the burden, of letting a monkey take hold on my back, ruin what I have, for myself, in my life. I felt for an instant pity wash, like bathwater, all through me, and I needed to take a quick glance out the window not to surrender to tears. I feel like that when I take a gander at myself in a light that I will never again find sensible.

It’s March now, and spring will break in about seven days. My birthday is on the Ides of March. This year it follows two days after Friday the 13th, today’s date, seldom real lucky in anyone’s book.

I will check whether I can slip this on. I unquestionably want to.

When my Uncle Rick’s brother, the artist, was alive, he hung a toy monkey on a store mannequin. The man who thought of that was a craftsman, and dress store administrator. My grip doesn’t quite coordinate the same energy.

Craig’s mannequin, with a monkey on its back

Be that as it may, I discovered his craft intriguing, after his passing. My father said I should refer to the non-literal monkey. I tried to value the proposal.

Don’t let a monkey hang off of your back. I am a flawed human being, but I believe that you need to take care of yourself before you can do much for anyone else.

http://maplelawncemeteryorg.ipage.com/oldchurchcemetery/24701.html

https://www.facebook.com/LouthUnited