Eitan Does Kumon - Jet Lag - Catcher

And so here we are again, Friday morning. I return home on yesterday's red-eye and, just like that, on the other side of the planet. From Heathrow, the motorway jammed by rush-hour so my driver takes the side roads which, I can assure you, less then inspiring on a grey, damp London morning. I have learned, post long-haul, to power through the day and avoid aggravation. Like work. Or talking to other human beings. JD Salinger. All of us wish to believe we are Holden Caulfield a little bit. I read "Catcher" in tenth grade, as did many of us, selected then I suppose for its impact on our forming psyches. In many ways Holden's dis-association, his isolation, what we crave - a fantasy of independence free from others stupidity. Free from government. Free from taxes and stupid wars, adults and everything else. Who hasn't found himself wandering a late-night urban scene after being dumped by a girl or feeling without a friend in the world? Such lovely self-pity. I know I've been there and happily can report: like many things, a passing phase.

Me: "Madeleine, please put that away."

Madeleine forgets, walks out of the kitchen.

Me: "Is that what you kids call 'cleaning up'?"

Eitan: "That's the way it is, Dad. Kids are slobs."

I tell Eitan to button up his pajamas; dry his hair; put on socks.

Me: "What I am saying is, like, Eitan I want you to feel good. Not be sick. Here is what you hear: blah-blah-blah-blah-blah."

Eitan: "It's like the sound of a tape recorder. On fast-forward."

Madeleine: We will be needing that computer after dinner."

Me: "Why don't you try saying that again, but more elegantly."

Madeleine: "We will be needing that computer after dinner please?"

Holden: "You know that song, 'if a body catch a body comin' through the rye'?..."

Phoebe: "It's 'if a body meet a body coming through the rye'!.... It's a poem. By Robert Burns."

--JD Salinger