For Seymour Glass- Where Ever You May Be

My Favorite living author in the world- J. D. Salinger, has died this afternoon, at the ripe old age of 91. I am too gutted to write an obit- a beautiful one is here- and I have been working for months on a piece about Bananafish.. but I wanted to share my most favorite piece by J. D. Salinger with my readers, in hope they will like it too.

I always identified with Seymour Glass, maybe too much so.

From "Raise High The Roofbeam, Carpenters,":

"I have scars on my hands from touching certain people. Once, in the park, when Franny was still in the carriage, I put my hand on the downy pate of her head and left it there too long. Another time, at Loew's Seventy-Second Street, with Zooey during a spooky movie. He was about six or seven, and he went under the seat to avoid watching a scary scene. I put my hand on his head. Certain heads, certain colors and textures of human hair leave permanent marks on me. Other things, too. Charlotte once ran away from me, outside the studio, and I grabbed her dress to stop her, to keep her near me. A yellow cotton dress which I loved because it was too long for her. I still have a lemon-yellow mark on the palm of my right hand. Oh, God, if I'm anything by a clinical name, I'm kind of paranoiac in reverse. I suspect people of plotting to make me happy."

It goes in twos, not threes

It's obvious when I worked in the newsroom I researched and wrote obits.

Breaking over the wires this past hour, Dominick Dunne has died, at the age of 83. Coming on this morning's death of Senator Ted Kennedy, it is like deja vu on the death of JFK. People forget that Aldous Huxley died the same day. Kennedy's death overshadowed the great writer of "Brave New World".

To many Dominick Dunne was simply the father of the "Close Encounters" actress Dominque Dunne. He started writing for Vanity Fair magazine in March 84, covering the trial of the man accused of his daughter's murder. Before he started writing, he was known as the producer of such films as The Boys in the Band, Panic in Needle Park, Play It as It Lays, and Ash Wednesday.

A lovely paragraph from his obituary on the Vanity Fair website

But by this time drugs and alcohol had become an unmanageable part of his life, and in 1975 he drove himself up to the woods in Oregon. Living alone in a cabin, he became sober and began, at age 50, to write.

Dunne was also a best selling author and had done some shows for Court TV.

The entire obit is here .

The End of Camelot

Weird that I am crying over the death of Senator Ted Kennedy. Does this mean I have a good heart, or I am just forgetting about
Mary Jo Kopechne?


Or is it the end of my life in a weird, round circle, I was born under Camelot- i am going to die now that Camelot is over?

My brain is going weird. I once got a phone call from my sister who was over the moon, she was walking down the street near Wall Street, and she saw JFK Jr. buying a hotdog from a street vendor. The ex's story about when he was a small boy his parents drove all night so their children could see JFK and Jackie. How my parents loved RFK, and the first time I ever saw my mother cry was the night RFK died, I heard her cry and sat in the bed with her for a bit.

I thought about volunteering on the Kennedy 84 campaign, but decided against it- feeling he had too much baggage, and the death of Mary Jo Kopechne just didn't make me comfortable.

With the previous post on Carl Sagan and Dust in the Wind, I know we are just specks of dust in a cosmic universe.

But-

Don't let it be forgot / That once there was a spot / For one brief shining moment / That was known as Camelot!

RIP Ted Kennedy. Peace to your wife and children.

ETA:There is one child left as of this writing from Joseph and Rose's marriage. Jean Kennedy Smith. William Kennedy Smith is her son. In 1991 he was aquitted of rape in a very high profile case.