Feeling some nostalgia about those who live(d) with dignity and honor

Reading about Atticus Finch this morning and got me nostalgic about my daddy.

My favorite book is To Kill A Mockingbird, by Harper Lee.  Just plain and simple.  One of the BEST BOOKS of ALL TIME, in my humble opinion.

Seriously - Atticus doing his thing.
  In Seersucker, no less. 
My dad had that same suit, no joke.

Me and millions of other people, of course, but as a young girl, I truly felt I WAS Scout.  I felt it in my bones, growing up in a small community in Southern Indiana, much like Scout's small town and being the outspoken tom boy that often got herself into trouble by speaking her mind.  Just like Scout.  More than that, I felt that I was Scout because, in my mind, my father WAS Atticus Finch.  Plain and simple there - my dad was about the most moral and honorable man I ever met.

Dad was the editor of a small town paper.  Mild mannered and not at all macho in the traditional sense, and he often took on issues that were not so popular with the public, but needed to be addressed, sometimes critically so.  Sometimes at the expense of the safety and security of his family.  He stood up for things because it was right and he said things because they needed to be said and that was just the way it was.  My father was always involved in the community, supporting the arts, sports and growth of the local community.

He had flaws, major flaws to be certain, as we all do, but that didn't stop him from endeavoring to do the right thing all throughout his life.  As an adult, returning to my hometown to help care for him in his final illness and eventual death, I learned so much more about his character.  Mainly the many ways I never knew about where he was active in the community, supporting neighbors in need. 

Countless people came up to me at his funeral service and various memorials and told me stories of how he helped them professionally or personally in times of need.  Mentoring people at the early stages of careers, plucking hard workers from dead end jobs and training them to work in the field of journalism, giving them a chance at a career instead of just a job. Offering guidance and a sympathetic ear to folks who had hit hard times and needed support.  He was there for his community.

Most touching to me were two stories in particular - a man who had done some carpentry work for my dad, then 6 months later, fell and broke his back working for someone else.  While laid up for months, the carpenter received a check from my father with a note stating that he was sure that he had not fully paid the man's invoice earlier in the year (he had) and wanted to clear the books and was including interest to cover the error.  My father knew the man would never take 'charity' so invented a lost invoice to pay off.  A decade later, the man was brought to tears telling me the story.  I never knew.

The second story was about an elderly gentleman who worked at the paper for decades and was known almost like a grandfather to me.  When he died, my father continued to pay his salary to the elderly widow for many years until she too passed decades later.  Never mentioned a word of it to me or anyone I knew.  So many instances of people coming up to me and telling such stories, that I was shamed and humbled by my comparatively selfish and insular life.

I decided then and there to attempt to change my life and become a more helpful and caring person.  A difficult task to accomplish without giving in to my tendency for raging co-dependency.  I wanted to take the moral road more often, even when it is more difficult; to reach out to my neighbors to help, even when no one asks for help and to speak out and stand for things that are right and honorable, even if that path is uncomfortable and difficult.

I fell in love with and married a man, not like my father in many ways, but in other ways, he walks in my father's footsteps as an honorable and decent man. His parents and family are also committed to being just downright good people. Unassuming, quiet lives, but just doing good things in their day to day life. They inspire me.

My guilty confession - I am petty and selfish and sometimes just outright tired, but I try to be a better person every day.  Today, reading this blog about Attius Finch and the Art of Manliness has made me want, once again, to re-double my efforts to be a better person.  Not only did my father strive to make me a moral person, he walked the walk, far longer and far better than I have done and taught me lessons in morality, even after his death.

Me - I try.  Sometimes I succeed, but often I fail.  But I am still trying.  I only hope I can do enough and walk the walk long enough to make my children follow in the footsteps of their ancestors.  I would consider my life a great success if I raise my daughter to be a Scout, and turn my son into an Atticus.

Thanks Dad.