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"So you want to be a teacher?"

"Yes." I glanced at my father, who had the look of a dutiful monk bringing a new recruit.

"Public school?"

"I don't know. I guess so." Damn, I knew I had blown it. This was a test. Holden's private school, Pencey Prep, was phony. Public school was the only choice.

"That's great. My two children are still in school. They went to public school in Plainfield and Hanover but now are in private school. I struggled with that, but it's easier." Again the nod, long before the bobble-head doll had become a fad. What was he saying? That compromise was OK? That Holden would finally have to make his peace and wed realism with idealism?

I looked over at my father and wondered if he were having the same intellectual eruptions and plumbing the same depths of this enigma. How could he? Sixth grade education? Lempster, N.H.? And yet, he brought me here. He knew J.D. He was contentedly sipping his beer, and he was talking to J.D. right now about the drapes and what color was right and what kind of awning would be best. I could not hear every word. Maybe they were exchanging details of their World War II service in Europe, J.D. in the Army and my father in the Navy. So much for my aspirations for a great literary bond.

We finished our beers and went back down the stairs through the garage to the truck. "Well, Wilbur, I'll call you next week about those drapes. See you. Nice to meet you, Steve."

Slowly the International backed down the drive to a spot where we could turn around. "So, how did you get to know him?"

"He just came into the store one day. I waited on him, and now I'm the only one he wants to deal with at Bourdon's."

"Dad, do you realize how many people would give their eye teeth to meet that man? He's one of the greatest writers of all time. Why do you think he trusts you?"

"Probably because I don't carry on about him like a lotta people do."

"Yeah, but he's J.D. Salinger."

"He still needs furniture and curtains."

Over all the years since that day, all the reminiscing at family gatherings, all the quiet boasting to students and colleagues down through my 37 years of teaching from Australia to New Hampshire, my modest attempts at writing, the small irony of their both passing within the last year—over all those years little did I realize that the story was really more about my father than about J.D. Salinger. The priest at Trinity Episcopal Church in Claremont once said about my father that he had a "genius for people—he could connect with anyone." I think J.D. would have agreed. ~

Stephen Hodgman '74

Steve Hodgman '74 was born and raised in Claremont, N.H., and majored in English at UNH. After a 10-year stint of teaching in Australia, he has been teaching drama, English and Latin in New Hampshire for the last 26 years, currently at Souhegan High in Amherst. He lives in Bedford with his wife, Isabelle, who is also in education. They have two children: Mark, a graduate of Marymount Manhattan, and Caitlin, currently a junior at Keene State.

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