Chapter 5- The Catcher In The Rye

After reading chapter 5 of "The Catcher In The Rye," I kind of saw Holden in a different way. When he starts writing the paper for Stradlater's English class and he starts talking about his younger brother, Allie, and his baseball glove, I almost started crying. Usually Holden kind of puts up this wall, and talks about how much he hates people or how many people are morons, but when he starts talking about Allie, you could swear that it was a different person talking. He gets so sincere and passionate and when I was reading it I could almost hear a random guys voice in my head, who had this soft tone talking about his little brother, I could hear Holden start to get a little worked up but he was trying to hold it back.

I believe that he handled his grief in a good way, because he was think about the little things that his brother did that made him a good person. Like how Allie got good grades and how all his teachers would tell his parents how amazing he was. Or how he remembered his red hair.
" People with red hair are supposed to get mad very easily, but Allie never did, and he had very red hair. I'll tell you what kind of red hair he had...I was around twelve, teeing off and all, and having a hunch that if I turned around all of a sudden, I'd see Allie. So I did, and sure enough, he was sitting on his bike outside outside the fence-there was this fence that went all around the course- and he was sitting there, about a hundred and fifty yards behind me, watching me tee off. That's the kind of red hair he had."
Just by reading that you can tell that he remembers every little memory he had of his brother. Especially the memories of his baseball glove. How he was left-handed, so he had a left-handed glove and he wrote poems all over it with green pen so that when he was out and no one was up to bat he could read something so he wouldn't get bored. Like, that is so cute! And it is even cuter that Holden remembers that!

I can relate to Holden because when I was little I lost my best friend, and I grieved for about 3 months. His name was Lorren and he also happened to be my Great Papa. In about 2003, he was too weak to live on his own so my family and I had to put him in a "Senior Home." I was against the whole idea from the beginning. I didn't want him to be in some crumby old folks home all alone. So I tried to visit him as much as I could. However one week I went to go visit him and he was fine. We had ice cream and we sat in the park and watched the geese fly on and off the lake and then after our day was over he went back to his "home," and I went back to mine. And I was unfortunately informed about two weeks later that he had pasted away. I cried for weeks and excluded myself from everyone for months. After a few months I started socializing again and I could come to the fact that my best friend past away. When I think about it today, of course I get a little worked up, but I also think about all the good times we had together. I went through my time of grieving, and still in a way I think I am still grieving but just in a different way. Yeah, I miss my Papa, but he is in a better place now. :)

^ This is My Best Friend Lorren :) ^