Less the American Dream, and more the particular dreams of a particular American family. So much has been said and written about this landmark play that I really only want to focus on a few minor moments I’ve only recently come to understand. The first is a line in the famous first stage directions: “On a shelf over the bed a silver athletic trophy stands.” I always knew this trophy represented Biff’s youthful glory, Willy’s expectations and the like, but I always glossed over the fact that it is silver (i.e., second place). And as we know in America, coming in second means losing. And perhaps it is because I recently blogged about Oedipus, but line 28, after Linda reminds him he never went for his glasses, Willy says: “No, I see everything.” Of course this is ironic, but it is also a tragic moment of admitting he really believes what he sees, including his past and his dead brother. Thus, a few lines later where he describes his long drive back into the city: “But it’s so beautiful up there, Linda, the tress are so thick, and the sun so warm. I opened the windshield and just let the warm air bathe over me. And then all of a sudden I’m going off the road!” As we later find out, they no longer even have a car with an opening windshield, but that is irrelevant because it is truly what he “sees.” And it is this error — this longing — that sets the play in motion. Finally, I’ve always felt like the play belonged to Biff. He is the one who finally recognizes who he is (”I’m a dime a dozen,” “I’m a nothing.” Then why isn’t the play called “Life of a Salesman’s Son?” Well, I think the beauty of the actual title is it works for both Willy and Biff. After the humiliating visit to Oliver’s office, where Biff steals his pen, Biff finally recognizes (and admits) “Who ever said I was a salesman . . . I was a shipping clerk . . . I was never a salesman.” Here, too, is the death of a salesman; the death of Biff’s false sense of self. For him, there may still be time. For Willy, not. Already “the woods are burning.” The same woods that Willy “saw” out the open windshield as “so beautiful . . . so thick.” And yet, even if they are a dime a dozen (the 10 of 12), that means they are the same. Or if they are the the lucky and unique pair out of that dozen (the 2 of 12), they are still the same. Either way, it is both a comfort, and a tragedy.