My Western Sky

My admiration for To Kill a Mockingbird began in high school. It was one of the first books that made me fall in love with the rhythm of words. My love grew to obsession when I had to teach the novel year after year to my students in English II. Rather than analyze characters and plot elements, I used TKAM as a way to teach LIFE--to focus on the value of courage, equality, innocence, justice. Like many well-meaning teachers, I placed Atticus Finch on a pedestal as the literary hero who emulated all of these qualities. I would often tell my students: Be Atticus. I would often ask myself: What Would Atticus Do? As a teacher, I've read TKAM an estimated ten times, but it's also imprinted on my writer DNA. I have parts of it memorized. When I'm stuck in the mire of my own writing, I open to a random page and let Harper Lee's words remind me of why I string words together to make a sentence-- a paragraph--a page--a book. Like so many fans, I was THRILLED when I hea

"Are you really going to wear that?"  Tracie, my roommate, asked me as I slipped on sweat pants and my favorite worn hoodie. "Yes. Why?" She raised her eyebrows in disapproval. "No reason." I brushed off Tracie's scoff at my clothing choice. My brain felt fuzzy from the lack of sleep after pulling another "all-nighter," which became customary as I finished my last semester at Texas A&M University. On that early December morning in 1997, I threw on sweats to turn in my last paper of my undergraduate career, and then I would take a nap. Little did I know what the day held. After I turned in my paper and yawned my way through the last lecture of class, I met Jason near the library. We had been dating for over two years, and I knew he was "the one." Instead of his usual athletic apparel (he was a kinesiology major), Jason wore a button-up shirt (ironed!), Wranglers, and boots. I eyed his fancy attire suspiciously. "Why