For the last month I have been pondering a novel. To Kill a Mockingbird is a standby on the syllabi of high schools across the nation, and has been discussed  in those classrooms for sixty years. The characters themselves have become almost alive, with an uncalculable number of boys named for the mild mannered attorney over the last half century. As a sub for sophomore English, the happenings of this rural Alabama town have been on my mind. 

 

There is a curious similarity to present circumstances, in that the citizens of Maycomb are trapped by their own version of communicable disease. Prejudice travels quickly in the Depression era south, and while the tendency is itself as invisible as a virus, the results are not.

 

One of the characters scarcely leaves his own house. But he does sneak out when no one is looking to leave small offerings in the knot of a tree for his neighbors. My own deck table has been the launching pad for exchanges of masks, food, and sewing supplies. 

 

In another scene a rabid dog stumbles through the streets, forcing the inhabitants to shelter behind closed doors. Fear has had an uptick of late, as the possibility of infection keeps us more than an arm's length apart. 

 

Yards are a theme in the story. The snowperson, bushes of camellias, the crowd gawking at a house fire are all set in the front yards of Maycomb residents. It seems that some of us are spending time on our own lawns in a way we haven't in many years. People park their folding chairs and chat with neighbors, or create distanced picnics. 

 

But the crux of the book is the racial inequity that cleaves the town. No amount of wishing by its millions of readers can budge the verdict of guilty for a good hearted man who was falsely accused. Current society has its own version of division, both deep and hostile. In a surprising twist, the most misunderstood character in the book ends up as a hero. He who was easily dismissed stepped into courage. 

 

I have often found it curious that the word cleave can carry opposite meanings. It describes a definitive chopping apart with a sharp knife. Yet it also carries the longing of two halves to reunite. 

 

Is it possible that we too will discover unexpected bravery within ourselves, and each other? Which version of cleave will we be living when this scourge has passed?