From adventofreason’s Xanga Archives . . .
|I will probably always remember those days with the bittersweet sepia color of a gracefully aging photograph. Bitter because I saw that truth doesn’t always win and that ignorance and poverty can turn anger into hate. And, yes it was also sweet. Sweet and fragrant like the camellias of my childhood that dripped their snowy petals onto the sun-dappled lawns.
I found, if not friendship, something akin to it in the most unlikely of places. Not too many summers after we met, he died. We all paid our respects to him, but were mindful of his shy ways.
Many years later, Father retired from law and continued to hold at bay the never-ending requests that he run for public office. I remember that the only time I ever saw him cry, was the day that a misguided man ended the life of another; one who had a dream. Even my brother, ever the grown up, coughed into his hand and took several passes across his eyes with his handkerchief.
He, my older brother, his hopes of being a football hero dashed, followed in our father’s footsteps and may one day run for governor. We all believe he will succeed.
The sweet friend of my youth never did marry me, though he continues to flit in and out of my life, bringing with him his odd mixture of pathos and humor. He is part flamboyant thespian, part wounded spirit.
In the years closely following that summer, we began to see past the facade of our own genteelness and saw an ugliness that we became ashamed of. I think we became better people that summer; all of us. I believe we did learn, after all, how to climb into another person’s skin and walk around in it.
*Although this piece is an original piece by me, and created from my imagination, it is based on the incredible characters created by Harper Lee in her breathtaking novel, To Kill A Mockingbird. This is what is referred to as metafiction, whereby I have inserted thoughts into characters created by someone else