Long After Salinger Sent Me Away, I

Not Only Did I Avoid Speaking Of Salinger; I Resisted Thinking About Him. I Did Not Reread His Letters To Me. The Experience Had Been Too Painful.

A Good Home Must Be Made, Not Bought.

Growing Up In The Fifties And Sixties, I Can Only Remember Knowing One Child, Ever, Whose Parents Got A Divorce, And Hardly Any Whose Mother "worked" At Anything Besides Raising Her Children.

No, I Said. I Didn't Remember That. There Was So Much To Remember, Sometimes The Best Thing Was To Forget.

If I Told You About All The Stories I Don't Tell, I Would Be Violating The Very Boundaries I Set For Myself.