J.D. Salinger died today. He passed away in his home in New Hampshire at the age of 91.

Seems appropriate on a day like this. I'm not sure what the whether is like in New Hampshire today, but in Massachusetts today, it was a still, soft snow that left all lines-- tree limbs, wires, and fences -- iced as if designed. As usual, it was cold, but unlike the wind what one pictures biting in Manhattan in December of '51, it wasn't bitter.

To most of the world, Salinger had been dead for a long time-- almost mythic in his decades-long seclusion, which almost appeared to be in resonance with his most well-known character, Salinger had thrown off the world. It is wrong, however, to embody our antihero is his creator; Holden will always be sixteen and confused and disenchanted, and in love with the world, and this is why we hold onto him. There's more than one reason why I re-read Catcher in the Rye in December.

In all likelihood, Mr. Salinger you will not want much made of his passing, and this blog will not join the myriad obituaries. So many of us never got a chance to thank you for your creation and your inspiration that touched that part of our mind who has no patience for irreverence or selfishness or selling out. Thank you for displaying beauty and agape in a broken young man. Thank you for making the worst student in my class part of my conscience.