To Kill A Mockingbird

On July 11th, 1960, the book To Kill A Mockingbird, by Harper Lee was first published. It has never gone out of print. It is considered one of the seminal works of American literature, though the only book Ms. Lee ever published. She is still alive but has shunned publicity and has had few comments about the book's impact on racial relations. It has been credited with being one of the factors of the revolution of racial equality that began in the 60's.

The picture of Southern life, set in the 30's, could have easily been translated into the 50's, which is thought to have been Harper Lee's source for much of the material in her book. The characters were similar to her upbringing in rural Alabama, including a father (Amasa Coleman Lee) who represented two black men accused of murder in 1919. Atticus Finch in the novel represented a black man, Tom Robinson, who was accused of raping a white woman. The relationship of Scout and her friend and next door neighbor, Dill, was not unlike that of Harper Lee and her real next door neighbor, Truman Persons (later Capote).

To Kill A Mockingbird was a realistic depiction of Southern life in the early to mid-20th century, with brilliant characterizations that clearly displayed the social DNA within all of us to fear and hate those who are different from ourselves. My own Southern upbringing was idyllic in many respects for its simplicity and reverence for a Mighty God. It was also, however, fraught with the distrust and dislike of the Negro. It was fine for them to work in the yard or to iron our clothes but that was the subservient position where they belonged. My home was one that had guns at the ready for the coming racial war in America. Martin Luther King was a troublemaker, the race riots were proof-positive that the Negro was ape-like (though we dismissed Evolution) and our best bet was to ship them all back to Africa.

If it were only true that we have outgrown this bitter legacy. But, we know in our heart that bigotry is not regional, nor is it the province of the uneducated, the irreligious or any particular political group. It is in every human heart, to some degree or the other. There is no moral high ground but the simple realization that we all experience, from time to time, contempt for others who we either don't understand or can't identify with. Accepting this truth, we can at least accept that we are all flawed creatures and try to extend the grace and love that has been extended to us by our Creator.

Most of my adult life I spent building a belief system that accommodated my prejudice and rationalized my bitterness. As difficult as it is, somewhere deep down inside I know that by freeing myself of this cancer, I can begin to live more fully and at peace. At least it's a start.

I Need A Scorecard...

The last 30 days have been a whirlwind of death. Maybe it's just getting older that one notices the passing of so many. Before my Dad's passing, he told me that the worst thing about being old is that everyone you knew is gone. He quit going to funerals two years before his own death. There were just too many to attend. The famous get the press when they die and it seems that lately, each day reveals that yet another of them has moved beyond the veil.

Michael Jackson's passing came while we were in Maine. The reactions in the house were as varied as the general population, I'm sure. The golden agers couldn't believe some in our party actually were shocked. One in our group basically said that they were glad the pervert was gone. The balance, however, agreed that despite his personal life, someone who changed music forever died prematurely. My personal view was that I was shocked, due to his age, but not so much due to his rocky life.

When I was baby-booming through my adult life, I first thought when hearing the Jackson Five, and specifically Michael Jackson perform, that here was just another kid with a decent voice. I wasn't the least bit interested in bubble gum music, like the genre that produced the Osmond Brothers. Over time, though, it became apparent that this kid wasn't just another Osmond. As he went out on his own, matured (a little) as an artist, it was hard to dispute that he had talent. Not a fan of choreography, I had to admit that he had a gift of movement that astounded even his detractors. His video pieces transformed the music video world. Eventually, his music captured the attention of the most diverse group of fans, not only in America, but around the world. I even found myself, mockingly of course, ahem, enjoying some of his work. The kid was truly a one-of-a-kind phenomenon.

Which brings me to my point. The one thing that irks me the most about famous people is that we have a culture that idolizes those with artistic talent to the point that it becomes a cult of adoration. My opinion is that we should take the artistic creation of an actor, musician or sculptor on its own merit, forgetting about the artist's private life. I truly don't care what their political views are, or what a mess they make of their personal lives. I try to weigh their artistic creation on its own. But I must confess that having said that, I'm a hypocrite. When Brad Pitt moved into New Orleans (my wife's hometown) and began a project to rebuild part of the city, I became a fan of his. Using one's fame to promote something positive, to me, is the one exception to the rule - if you're going to admire a famous person outside of their body of work - look to the good that they do with that power.

The Lightning Rod

Robert McNamara died this morning at the age of 93. He was active to the end, a member of over 50 boards and foundations. Though it is unlikely that save historians, no one under the age of 50 will remember this man, he was the quintessential technocrat, the poster child of pragmatic, unemotional analysis. He was a patriotic soul, pushing himself into WWII despite the problems with his eyesight. He shunned publicity but placed himself among the most powerful and influential people on the planet.


He was an avid fan of statistics, bringing his team from the military to the Ford Motor Company after the war. He moved up quickly over 15 years and became the first non-Ford family member appointed as President of the company, 3 months before President Kennedy moved into the Oval Office. His reputation was such that Kennedy asked him to become a member of the "Best and the Brightest" as Secretary of Defense. And though we botched the "Bay of Pigs" operation that would have defeated Castro, McNamara's advice during the Cuban Missile Crises contributed to our being able to avoid a nuclear war with the Soviet Union. His pushing and shoving the military brass to accept a streamlined military complex improved the armed forces' efficiency and shared weapons systems. The one thing he is remembered for by most, however, is not so laudatory.

Robert McNamara will forever be known as is "the architect of the Vietnam War." The fact is, McNamara began to have his doubts as early as 1964 about the war being winnable. In his own words, he said that he "lacked the courage" to push the Johnson administration, chiefly Lyndon Baines Johnson himself, into accepting the reality that the United States had gotten itself into what was an unwinnable civil war. This was, as he reflected, not a classic test of conventional forces, much less a war by proxy to contain communism. When he finally had the opportunity in November 1968 of being able to fully illustrate the futility of the war effort, he was pushed out. Nevertheless, President Johnson, 5 months later in March of 1969, came to the same conclusion and went on television in the famous "I will not seek, nor will I accept, the nomination of my party for another term as President" speech.

McNamara left the Pentagon and joined the World Bank where he spent 13 years pumping up the Bank's aid to the poorest nations. Accused by his detractors that his efforts were an atonement for the atrocities of the Vietnam War, a tagline he vehemently denied, he coddled and pushed developed countries to increase their funding for his efforts.

McNamara did visit the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington one time. He stood silently before it and when asked by a reporter what he was feeling at that moment, he tersely replied, "I have nothing to say."