For Christmas this year, my mother gave me a first edition copy of J.D. Salinger’s Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters and Seymour: An Introduction. When I was a younger, angrier, more confused man (or, ever since I discovered The Catcher in the Rye on my mom’s bookshelf when I was a fifteen), I was a die-hard Salinger fan of the type he would probably have deplored. So I’ve read Raise High probably a half dozen times, at least, but not once in the last half-dozen years. Since Dana and I were on the road (literally) over the last week or so, I took the opportunity to read it again. Salinger’s command of language still brings me great joy, even if, philosophically, I feel like I’ve moved on from him. And something in Seymour still inspires, still helps me overcome my own personal and professional slumps.