A Little More to Learn

I was waiting for my brother to emerge from inside our house so we could make our way to school. The summer morning sun's beam made our town glow and it reminded me that we were getting our holidays from school that following week. And Summer meant Dill. He would be a wonderful source of entertainment, as Jem was no longer interested in playing games with me. My brother was getting later and later each morning for the past few months, whereas before I'd have to get up an extra 10 minutes early to be on time with him. He was getting' grumpier too, but Atticus and Calpurnia had told me to put up with it for a little while – it was a phase all boys go through as they got older. "Don't swing on the gate Scout, you're getting too big for that now," came my father's corrective voice as he came made his way towards me, "I'll see you in the evening." It was already 8.00 and Atticus was leaving for his office in town. I slid off the gate while watching him exit our garden and his square frame make its way down the dry, dusty street. I was to meet him again at 5 o'clock as he returned, customary every day after school.

Jem emerged soon after with a sour expression, pushing the screen door wide open and stamping his way down the steps. At least he had managed to acknowledge me with a grunt this particular morning as opposed to his usual giving out to me. I dared not say anything as we made our way down the familiar path to school. By the evening, Jem would be in a much better mood, and be back to his old self, bossing me about. Until then, however, I took my father's helpful advice as I could hear his rich voice tell me to 'leave Jem be'. Atticus was an encyclopaedia of information when it came to dealing with Jem lately. Then again, he knew practically everything about how to deal with anyone and anythin'. In the past short while, I was only beginning' to appreciate my father's unique nature. I had come to the realisation he had taught me just about everything there was to learn. Well, nearly everything….

Though growing up on a modest cotton plantation, Atticus Finch was one of two brothers to break from Finch tradition and leave the family business. Whilst cotton had never exactly interested him, the industry was slowly in decline in the early twentieth century - by the time it came for him to make a career decision, cotton was hardly worth trading. His older sister Alexandra Bernadette Finch had married James 'Jimmy' Hancock and kept tradition by remaining on the ranch, whilst he had trained as a lawyer in Montgomery. The youngest of the Finch household, John Hale Finch, or my uncle 'Jack', left for Boston some 10 years later and practised medicine.

This bare factual information had been enough for my previous youthful knowledge on my family background. Only recently my brother Jem and I wonder about our father's childhood. When asked of his upbringing the other night, Atticus' answer was that he didn't remember much, but it was satisfactory.

Our neighbour Miss Maudie Atkinson grew up on Finch's Landing and went to school with Uncle Jack. During one of our usual visits, Jem and I thought it might be helpful to question her on the matter. As expected, she offered a little more insight into the generation before ours. Atticus' parents had been good-living people and he was especially close to his old grandmother.

Miss Maudie talked fondly of her, telling us how Louise Ann Finch was the best dressmaker that ever lived South of the Mississippi. A severe bite from one of the working horses put an early stop to her art, but she 'sure was a character'. She had a sharp but kind manner

. Atticus' Grandfather had died just before Miss Maudie was born, and she remained on the ranch with her son Eldred and his family. Because he was the eldest grandson, my Great-Grandmother had a soft spot for Atticus. He was the one in which he turned to for advice and from whom he learned. I said I couldn't ever imagine him needin' answers or help from anybody, but Miss Maudie told us she supposed he was a young boy once too.

Because he was near 10 years older than her, her memories are that of him as a young man working in the evenings after a day's schooling. He was quiet even quiet back then. "Din't he talk to anybody, Miss Maudie? Was he like Mr Arthur?" My question brought an amused smile across our neighbour's face, "'Course he talked to people Scout, he was quiet, but not exactly shy." She said he was always courteous to everybody and was as much a gentleman then as he is now. He was always called to neighbours to help out with tasks and done so cordially; this was with our Grandmother's influence. "I remember my Ma telling' us at home 'bout the time when yo' Grandmother's friend had broken her leg. Yo' daddy was seven years old and he stayed with her for a whole 2 weeks! When his time was up, he still called in every evenin' after school until she died 2 years later." This was one of many stories she had been told about the 'kind Finch boy down the road'. It was hard trying' to imagine Atticus as a young boy. This all sounded so alien to me and I looked to my brother for some sort of familiarity. Jem was at first quiet, but then muttered that he doubted Atticus would have been so diligent if it was old Mrs. Dubose he had to help!

No one could have been surprised than I to hear when he got a little older, our father was highly sought after among the young female population in the area. "My cousin Petunia was convinced she was gonna marry him!" Miss Maudie laughed, more to herself than us, "Though he didn't care for socialisin' too much, the girls all knew of him." For the life of me, I simply couldn't picture it. It was my father! He was old and only ever read. Maybe the women mighta liked him bein' able to shoot so well, but how would they know? I didn't think he'd purposely go out of his way to impress them. Only last Summer I was showin' Dill how I could skip way better than he could when Atticus called me and told me not to show off. "Why did girls like him, Miss Maudie?" Her breezy answer sounded like it had been learned off-by-heart, 'Atticus Finch had a strong build and broad shoulders. His hair was twice as black as the Radley's windows and his eyes were prominent.' She told us that every girl committed the sin of wanting to take his glasses off once he got them at sixteen.

Miss Maudie looked down at me before then bursting into laughter, tossing her dark curls as she shook her head, "Oh, if only you saw the face you're pullin' Jean Louise! You never thought girls would like your Daddy?" My face was getting' tired with all the furrowing I done with my forehead. That happened when I didn't understand something. "Well Miss Maudie, I reckon he's nice, and he's the best Daddy I got," I defended, "I like him an' from what I gather, I reckon other people like him too. But I never guessed Atticus had girlfriends!" "Aw hush Scout!" was my brother's sudden remark. I didn't know if he agreed or disagreed with me. He had remained quiet sitting at the other side of the table, seemingly only interested in the slice of freshly baked apple pie that he was eating. At home, Cal never made pie, so Jem paid Miss Maudie a convenient visit every time the sugary smell of warm fruit wafted across to our house. Atticus told me once that it's the quiet people who listen and I guessed that's what my brother was doin' while keepin' quiet at the table. I was about to challenge his sudden reply but I remembered Atticus' warning – Jem was still goin' through a phase. "Hush yourself, Mister Jeremy Finch!" Miss Maudie amicably dismissed him, straightening up on her chair, "How'd you expect he got married?"

She had us there. I had to ponder before I attempted an answer, "'At's different, everybody's has to marry……" She was barely able to stop herself from another fit of laughter but succeeded in keeping a near straight face. She never laughed at our comments when there was danger we might feel stupid, and always made sure not to hurt our feelings, "Nobody has to marry dear, when we get married, we marry for love." After seeing my puzzled face again, Miss Maudie continued further, "Your father loved your mother very much. And I'm positive he still does. You'll figure it all soon enough Scout. When we grow up, us girls see boys in a very different light. And believe it or not, the day will come when boys are gonna stop tellin' you they don't want you around – in fact, they'll really want to be in yo' company! I suspect Mister Jem here might already know what I'm talkin' about!" My brother was quick to respond, sheepishly wavin' his arms, "Aw, don't say that, Miss Maudie! Girls are always gonna be annoyin'. They smell of soap and never quit their gigglin'!" He threw his eyes to the sky as Miss Maudie placed another slice of pie on his plate, "And what might you think the girls reckon of you boys then?" she asked dangerously. Once again, she had poised a valid question. He answered by biting of a piece of the crispy crust of his pie.

There was a noisy silence until our neighbour spoke. It wasn't an uncomfortable quiet because I hardly noticed it – I was too busy thinkin' about what she said. Again, she broke it down, "Maybe you both don't understand yet, but you will. I had said the exact same thing once upon a time. I never thought girls could love boys. But then the day came when I met the right man and got married. My husband was Bill Atkinson from right here in Maycomb town and I certainly loved him!" I noticed Jem becoming much more attentive as she told us about her husband and his life in the army. He had gotten killed when he went to help the sheriff up in Gadsville. "Did he get shot?" came my brother's enthusiastic question, perhaps not as subtle as it should have been. I looked at Miss Maudie's now paused face. He saw his mistake and lowered his head as he did when he felt ashamed. He lifted it slightly, "Sorry ma'am, reall….." "Oh, it's perfectly alright," she kindly replied, removing the awkward air around Jem. The playfulness we had seen in her earlier was gone. She spoke in a soft tone now as she sighed her answer, "He did get shot, Jem. He and a lot of his friends died that night. 'twas cold. Even here, in the dead of autumn, I felt a queer chill. The culprits were some bigshots from up north. They were tryin' to raid a small settlement to get some land to set up a business." As she was explaining, a gentle, lonely smile appeared on her face. She did not look at us as she spoke, but to an empty spot to my left. She gently rocked whilst she talked, "My Bill held out to near the end. But not long enough… I still reckon he returned home, but it just wasn't in Maycomb." It took me a minute to figure what she meant, but I eventually understood when I remembered Atticus using a similar term to describe my mother's whereabouts. The silence then returned. Her head fell and we did not know what to do. We edged closer to her, ready to put our arms around her slim frame in comfort. Jem was about to speak as he leant forward, but Miss Maudie raised her head. A brave wide smile crossed her face, "Governor Brandon sent a commemorative medal – would you like to see it?" Jem seemed extra happy now as he assured her it'd be an honour.

I could nearly see my reflection in the sunny medallion. It was heavy and much bigger than school's old spelling prize medal Boo had gave us. "My Bill was a good friend of your Uncle Jack's, y'know. Jack had always said he wanted to marry me." I already knew this trivia – every Christmas when he visits, he shouts across the road to her, declaring his undying love. It was a peculiar display. I asked Miss Maudie why she never said yes, and she reckoned Bill was the quieter of the two and that suited her much better better. "They had played football together when they were little boys." She had cheered up as she then recollected pranks they used to play on each other and just about any victim they could find. "I swear, Jack Finch was worse than any devil, let me tell you! Gettin' into every sort of trouble, leadin' my Bill astray!" Her eyes came back to life again and the sing-song laughter returned in her voice, "Yo' Daddy had to pull those two and yo' cousin Joshua out of the lake behind the Finch house way back. The boys musta been around nine and had read one to many pirate books. Sweet Lord, they had such an imagination!" Jem had often played 'Treasure Island' with Dill and I, so I thought they must have had right old fun. "If you Daddy hadn't been out in the garden readin', he wouldn't have heard them screamin'. Turns out the raft they built collapsed and they nearly drown…." "Atticus can swim?" Jem interrupted, leavin' his mouth quarter open. I was also surprised. Picturing Atticus doing any sort of sport required more imagination than Uncle Jack, Bill Atkinson and cousin Joshua all put together. "Oh, he was a mighty fine swimmer. With shoulders like his, he could easily have been a champion. His teacher at school always wanted him to enter the state championships, but he was never interested in trophies. Only last week I asked him why he never bothered and he said his rewards did not come in the form of a medal or statuette." Miss Stephanie Crawford once commented on my father as being 'right dry sometimes', and I was beginning to agree, "Well if he didn't like winnin', how come he wants ta win at court?" "That's different Scout! Have you ever seen him bring an award home after winnin' a case?" Jem asked sharply, "It ain't the same. Winnin' prizes just for to be better'n somebody is different to winnin' because you know it's right." His voice trailed a little at the end, like he wanted to put it into a better context. He wasn't sure if he fully understood what he had just said, and I wasn't sure if I knew either, "But when Atticus took the Tom Robinson case, he said he knew he'd lose……."

Miss Maudie returned to her seat, sitting down slowly as she readjusted her floral dress. The skirt spread across her knees as a blanket on a bed. Her hands lay on her upper leg as she delicately fiddled with the fabric before putting the answer in better light for us both, "That's what your brother meant, Scout. Atticus knew it was right to defend Tom Robinson because Tom was innocent, but others thought of him as guilty for bein' black. There was nothin' your father could have done to win. He wasn't doin' it for himself an' not exactly for Tom either, but for us all and the future. The rewards yo' Daddy was talkin' about were the real things in life. Though the case was a mild stepping stone, it was at least a step, it was rewarding for that alone. What happened to Mr. Robinson was a sin but from the day that young Ewell girl opened her mouth, it was gonna happen some way or another. He was….was like a Mockingbird. But sometimes, they get shot. A lot of them had to die before people realised they were harmless and a blessin'. The victory for Atticus and us all was the slight awakening to this, and applyin' it to Negroes. Most of 'em are like mockingbirds in human society." She tightened her mouth into a small round circle as she pondered as to what to say next. She had little to add, but Miss Maudie had said more than enough, "You're a bright girl Scout, but you don't fully understand just yet…." I felt my head automatically nodding as things became clearer. It was as if a 'snap' suddenly occurred in my mind as a smile formed across my face, "I sure think I might, Miss Maudie, I think I might…….."

It was hard to believe almost a year had passed since the Tom Robinson trial excited the world of Maycomb. Though I didn't feel it as it happened, a lot of things changed since those honey-lit afternoons of last August. It took a lot of thinking and talking to my father, and an occasion with Miss Maudie, but I finally figured stuff out. Looking back, I notice the town wasn't filled with the know-all people I had thought it was. The people I had thought wrong were right. Boo Radley across the road was not the crazed maniac I had been so often told. Mr. Dolphus Raymond was not the one who didn't know what he was doing – if anything, it was the common townsfolk who I no longer understood. When an adult said something, I had always accepted it, but I figured they had as much to learn as I had. The other children at school didn't seem to bother me so much now either – I more felt right sorry for them. Our street no longer stimulated my imagination and it was harder to entertain myself with Dill being gone. It was a long time since Jem played games with me – he was getting older by the minute, but so was I. I could no longer fit on my father's secure lap. Atticus remained as he had, but my new understanding of things made him a whole new person in my eyes.

He was not just satisfactory as my father, but a person who exceeded past anyone else I knew. After learning so much more about him from Miss Maudie, I see him now as not only an old man, but he has lived a wonderful life. He was the same as me once, and I want to be the same as him now. I often think of him jumping in the lake after Uncle Jack, Mr Atkinson and cousin Joshua. The displayed courage was admirable, but he maintains it today on a much deeper, stronger level. I knew little about my mother, but on numerous occasions, I have heard it was hard for him to loose such a 'lady'. He kept going for us. His educated view on the world helped me cope with all the problems and questions I had after the trial and the Bob Ewell incident. Not only that, but gave me quite a head start in life. I remember the night Aunt Alexandra sent Atticus into Jem and I to speak about the Finch family line. The only piece of the conversation I had retained was when he said Finches weren't 'run-of-the-mill' people. This is true in the regard of my father. I now know why people called him 'right dry'- they're not as decent as he is. I prefer to think of his temperament as 'self controlled' or 'strong willed'. I'm proud of his tolerant and empathetic nature. I'm proud of his noble and honest morales. This is what I see at 5 o'clock every evening instead of my tired, aged parent making his way towards me. I'm proud of him. I'm proud to be Jean Louise 'Scout' Finch, the daughter of Atticus Gregory Finch.