January 9: Jane Gallagher, a Dancer, a Daughter

"She's a dancer," I said.  "Ballet and all.  She used to practice two hours every day, right in the middle of the hottest weather and all.  She was worried that it might make her legs lousy--all thick and all.  I used to play checkers with her all the time."

Holden has just found out that his roommate, Stradlater, is dating a childhood friend of Holden's.  Jane Gallagher, the girl Holden will obsess over for the rest of the novel.  Jane comes from a broken home.  If I remember correctly, her father is an alcoholic and gets a little physically violent with her.  But Holden's relationship with Jane has a purity to it.  Two kids from broken families who play checkers together during the long summer months.  The fact that Jane is Stradlater's date drives Holden crazy.  Stradlater is a womanizer, and, even though Holden hasn't seen Jane in quite some time, he wants to protect her from his roommate's attentions.

Today is Worry Wednesday, and I have a big worry.  My daughter is attending her Winter Formal Dance after school today.  It is also formal day at her school, so, when I dropped her off, I saw all these middle school girls trying to look like high schoolers.  The guys were slinking around in dress pants and ties, looking like they'd rather be running laps in gym.  My daughter looked gorgeous, all grown-up with eye shadow and blush and pink lipstick and curly hair.  I didn't want to let her get out of the car.  My only consolation is that there aren't too many Stradlaters in middle school.  She's safe.  For the moment.

I know I can't stop my daughter from growing up, just like Holden can't stop Jane from hooking up with his phony bastard dorm mate.  My daughter will get crushes.  She will go out with boys.  She will do things I don't want her to do, and it won't involve playing checkers with the neighbor boy.  She will have her heart broken.  I won't be able to stop that from happening.  (Unless she joins a convent. I can always hope.)

At the moment, the best I can do is take pictures of her in her Winter Formal outfit and hope all the boys are too chickenshit to ask her to dance.

Saint Marty is standing by, ready to pick up the pieces of his daughter's broken heart.

My little Jane