Taking a swing with Atticus

Anticipating the sixth annual United We Read event, I recently decided to reread Harper Lee's seminal (and only) novel, "To Kill a Mockingbird."

OK, I'll be honest, I didn't exactly read the book. I checked it out on tape from the library and listened to actress Sissy Spacek read it to me over two drives to St. Louis and one to Carbondale, Ill.

I last read "Mockingbird" as a ninth-grader in English class and remembered liking it. The characters seemed real to me; the story seemed urgent and true.

It's rare that a novel can muster even one character who captures my imagination, but somehow this one has four. There's the tomboy Scout Finch, the mischievous midget Dill Harris, the shut-in Boo Radley, and of course the saintly lawyer Atticus Finch.

As I listened to the book, each of the characters stepped out of the sepia of my mind and effortlessly pulled me back to Maycomb, Ala.

But even as I enjoyed this sentimental journey, I realized there was something from my first reading of "Mockingbird" that I missed now.

Back then I saw it as a controversial book. A book that shocked us with its brazen use of the N-word. A book that challenged our ideas of race, class and mental illness.

This was a brave book.

But returning to it as an adult, I wasn't shocked or impressed by much of what I heard. I now saw Lee's portrayal of the South as rose-colored. I saw her description of blacks as paternalistic. I saw her plea for poor Boo Radley ("don't shut him in") as simple fare, low-hanging fruit.

Lee's message now seemed less brave and less important than I remembered it.

But as I mulled over the story a bit more, there was something there that still pricked. And it was something I probably didn't pay much attention to in ninth grade.

When Atticus sits with Scout on the porch swing and tells her, "you never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view -- until you climb into his skin and walk around in it," Lee is paraphrasing what is probably one of the oldest adages around.

"Try walking a mile in his shoes," the saying goes. It's trite, and we've all heard it.

The question I found myself asking was: "But do we live it?" Looking around America today, I'd have to say no.

We judge men -- their character, heart and soul -- without as much as a second thought.

An 11-year-old is kidnapped and held for four years before being rescued. "Well, why didn't he try to run away?" we ask. "I know I would have run," we assert.

Elections come, and we judge the candidates, but not on their merits. We know John Kerry. "He's that elitist flip-flopper." We know George W. Bush, too. "He's that brain-dead son of privilege."

A war drags on, and we judge its victims. "Why don't those Iraqis want our help? They must be ungrateful," we hiss.

Yes, when it comes to race, class and mental ability, we've come a long way since the days of Atticus Finch. But when it comes to passing judgment, I think we could all benefit from sitting on his porch swing for a spell.

TJ Greaney is a staff reporter for The Southeast Missourian.