It is the destruction of the illusion, a revelation that
there is a duality in each of us, good and bad both pulling to emerge
triumphant.
I remember as a child growing up worshipping a major league
baseball player, only to later learn he was but a small, troubled man,
full of faults and demons. Atticus Finch, an idealized hero to so many,
now has suffered his own terrible fall from grace. We grieve for our
loss.
As we watch the Confederate flag come down and wait for the
next Atticus Finch to lead the South, to lead all of us to a better
day, "Watchman" sends an ominous note of warning. On an occasion when we
celebrate our possibilities, we are duly constrained. For if Atticus
does not exist, who is left to bring us into the light?
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