A Letter to Miss Harper Lee- Draft #2

Dear Miss Lee,
As a student, and a teenager, being forced to write this letter, on cue, I begin to complain. I begin to think that forcing anyone to do something they don't want to do is unfair and unrealistic if you want them to have a passion for it. It is at these times that I feel a connection with one of my favorite characters, "Scout" Finch.
My father made me read To Kill A Mockingbird at the age of seven. I was a rebellious tomboy rejecting every dress and any glimpse of womanhood. Returning home with scraped elbows and permanently grass-stained jeans, I enjoyed my life. Growing up with a single father, all I wanted to do was be like him. However, that did not include his passion for reading. I loved to be outdoors; singing in the yard, creating my own world, or discovering treasures in the woods, the indoors were merely where I ate and slept. But even with all of my resistance, there were a number of books that my father insisted I read. Among them were Anne Frank, The Alchemist, The Little Princess, and To Kill a Mockingbird. They all contained a purpose or a lesson that my father wanted me to learn. Anne Frank taught me to appreciate everything I have and to be eternally thankful, and The Alchemist taught me to explore and observe the world around me. As my father's little princess, The Little Princess showed that the love between father and daughter can conquer all, a bond that my father and I share. To Kill A Mockingbird deepened for me the other connection my father and I share, that of teacher and student.
My father lived the dream childhood. As the son of an army man, he lived and traveled around the world. He also grew up with my strong willed grandmother, a favorite relative of mine. After high school, he followed the path of most all relatives before him, he joined the army. There he became a master of linguistics, becoming nearly fluent in Russian and Korean. This skill took him to Korea; atop the mountains along the border between the two Koreas, he intercepted and interpreted the messages of the North Koreans, my own real spy. It was his love of languages that helped him find a mom, another army student of Russian. They fell in love along the coast of northern California. And nine months after their wedding in December of 1992, I was born.
I almost come to tears when my father describes the feeling that overcame him when he first held me in his arms. I became his life, anything and everything revolved around me. After my parents seperation, my father struggled harshly. He would often arrive at my grandparent's house with me on his arm, a car seat in his hand, a a bag of laundry over his shoulder. My grandmother often reminds me of how much he struggled, however I could never recall anytime of happiness. Even though the only money coming in was an extremly small amount from his failing medical publishing company, all I can remember are the times of perfect content; late mornings, Chocolate Chip Chewy Granola Bars, classic movies of Gene and Audrey, and a house overflowing with love. Over the years, my father has taught me many lessons, some forced and some not, but one lesson I embraced with an open heart and mind was the lesson of a love for music.
Life without music is no life at all. My father's life is proof of this; his best friends today, the men I call uncle, and the men who will be at the door when my first car date arrives, were his high school rock bandmates. The prep, the rebel, the biker, and the foriegn come to create The Statement. The band not only made great music, but an everlasting bond between men. As my friends croon to the music of Chris Brown and dance to the beats of JT, I daydream to the now unknown Frank Sinatra and the ever powerful Ella Fitzgerald. This love of music has helped me through times of good or bad, happy or sad, it was always there for me. Music is and will always be one of the two constants in my life. The other, is my father.
Atticus Finch is detail oriented and socially challenged due to his philisophical genius. This is a perfect description of my father. Atticus believed in not only loving and providing his children with all that he could, he believed in teaching them life lessons that although seem meaningless at the time, provide a deep knowledge of the which the norm is unknowingly lacking. Although I know I am nowhere near done learning, so far in my life, my father has taught me four lessons that are forever etched into my mind. The first, and the one first taught, is "action, reaction". This was demonstrated by my father hitting one fist, and the other reacting immediatly. This lesson can have meaning in all forms or manners of life, which was exactly his purpose of teaching it. The second taught was that of "tanstaafl", or theres' no such thing as a free lunch; abbreviations were big in our house. This meant that no matter what you give or get in life, even if that the time it was completly free, everything eventually has a cause and is needed something in return. The third was "the map is not the territory", this entales my father's love of country and freedom. As an avid admirerer of Winston Churchill and the Bill of Rights, my father believed that teaching me my rights was the most important thing I was to ever learn. No matter what the consequences, I always have my rights, and I was never to forget that. "The map is not the territory" details a portion of what my father views as his rights. It contains his belief that no matter what something says or states, whether on paper or computer, if it is not acted by all those who follow it, it is merely writing containing no meaning or truth what so ever. The final lesson taught was that of a realistic sense of how the world works.
"Courage is not a man with a gun in his hand. It's knowing you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do" (Atticus Finch: To Kill A Mockingbird, Harper Lee). No matter what any parental books may say, or how many people may have shook their head, my father never hid anything from me. I was introduced to guns, war, and all of the consequences of the world before I learned to tie my shoes. My father protected me from real pain, but showed me willingly the problems of the world. No matter how frowned apon, my father always kept a loaded gun in our house, it was legal, but many feared such a weapon in the house containing a child was poor parenthood. I look at those parents now and laugh, for as many kids, my age there are today, many of them flinch in the presence of a real gun. I will never run.
No awards hang on his walls. There are no books that contain his name, and when he dies, many will never know who he was. And however unrealistic and movie-like our story may seem, my father is a real man whose mind is only recognized by those who truly love him. Atticus Finch was a hero to many and an inspiration to all; his words detailing a deep knowledge of real common sense. Although not as eloquent, not as outspoken, and nowhere near as handsome of Gregory Peck, my father is a hero. My hero. To Kill A Mockingbird made me appreciate the type of man he is, and as the creator of the famous version of my father, I would like to thank you. You brought this form of philosophical geek to a level of great recognition, that, even though he won't admit, my father deserves and contains.

Thank you, and ever appreciative,
Sarah Robinson
Charlottesville, Virginia