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Slice 45 of 365

Watching Atticus Finch (To Kill a Mockingbird) as I write this. Talk about the ultimate single father. Gregory Peck’s portrayal was simply magnificent.

His honor and silent heroism are what every actor should be striving for. Hell not just actors, every human being. The lessons he passes down to Jem and Scout are timeless and just so wonderfully interwoven into the story.

I think my favorite scene is when little Scout Finch, outside the courthouse, makes an angry group of white men disperse without even trying or knowing she did it.

Parts of it remind me of of my childhood. Not that I grew up in a small southern town during the depression. Regular kid things, like having a house on our block we were afraid of. And the one old person who would yell at you on your way to school if you disturbed one blade of grass.

The scene that really rings true, for me at least, is when Jem is showing Scout all the things Boo left for him in the tree plus his other treasures. I had several boxes like that filled with my special stuff. My grandfather was a cigar smoker so I had access to lots of cigars boxes, wooden and cardboard alike.

They housed baseball cards, coins, matchbox cars and rocks just to name a few. I shared a room with my younger, brother so I was always changing my hiding places. Funny thing though, unless there was money involved I don’t think he really cared about my little trinkets anyway.

All those treasures are awash in the wind somewhere now, given up for the wrong person.

There are some new ones with their own sense of sentimentality but none of them will ever be the same as being able to sit on my bed, open the golden latch on that wooden cigar box (with notched edges to boot), lift the lid to that tobacco scent and see the items that meant most to me in the world.

Until tomorrow…