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2010: Bob Ewell Goes To Washington

By       Message Mark Sashine     Permalink
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- Robert E. Lee Ewell!

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In answer to the clerk's booming voice a little bantam co*k of a man rose and strutted to the stand the back of his neck reddening at the sound of his name. When he turned around to take the path, wwe saw that his face was as red as his neck. We also saw no resemblance to his namesake. A shock of wispy new- washed hair stood up from his forehead; his nose was thin pointed and shine; he had no chin to speak of- it seemed to be a part of his crepey neck.

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Harper Lee

To Kill A Mockingbird

Ever seen him lately? He is everywhere nowadays. His names are Glenn Beck, Sarah Palin, Newt Gingrich, Michelle Bachmann etc. They all have the same face- the face of Robet E. Lee Ewell. The incestuous bastard who attempted to murder two children. That's who we see. And he is going to Washington.

Remember when you met him. He appeared on the pages of the book we all read at school. The book is a classic and there is also a movie. Remember that bum who spit at Atticus Finch? That's our guy, Bob Ewell all- right. He hadn't changed much since. You can see him spitting, drinking bad beer and carrying obscene slogans about the utmost desire to be left alone. Only that is a lie. He does not want to be left alone. Bob Ewell never wanted to be left alone. He wanted the entitlement. He wanted to be taken care of.

The main feature of Bob Ewell was envy. He lived with his brood on the outskirts of Maycomb- stupid, moronic, incapable of earning a decent living. He was named after the famed Southern General and he lived in the South. And he was white. In his sick mind that should have been enough. White folks were supposed to take care of their own. If it was the 19th Century Mr. Ewell would have become a slave-trader or an overseer. But he was born too late and the black people were free. They knew their place, they still were miserable and poor but that did not produce any benefit to the white fellows like him anymore- he was poor too, dead poor and no one helped him.

Black people helped each other. They donated food and money to their people in need. White folks never donated anything to him; instead they demanded for his children to go to school. They tolerated him, the white folks but they did not invite him to their parties and did not offer him jobs. Instead they hired black people. He was left alone and no decent woman would come close to him. He had to assault his own daughter for Chrissake.

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Mr. Ewell envied. He envied everyone. He envied the town elite, those Atkinsons, Levies, Finches and Tates. He was named after the greatest Southerner ever but he did not live up to his name. The elite ruled the town, it set the rules. Yes, black people would still call him Sir but that was it. They could earn the living and elite allowed it. They had their own Church and elite allowed it. They could go around singing, have families and feel happy and elite allowed it. They, the elite cared more for their black homemakers than for a white brother of theirs falling down in poverty. They would tolerate that white guy Raymond living with a mulatto woman but they prosecuted him, Bob Ewell for any little indiscretion he made. Those lawyers, those judges, those businessmen, he envied them all.

When he saw Tom Robinson and his daughter kissing he rejoiced. He thought his time had come. Now he will show them all who he really was. He concocted a story about rape, shallow as Hell so that it could only work if the whole town becomes his accomplice. He was anticipating fame and glory, articles in the newspapers about a white man who stood for his daughter's honor against the dark menace. He even washed himself before going to court. He forgot the actual truth; in his testimony he truly believed what he said. That psychopath really was on top of the Hill.

The more painful was the fall back into the pit. Yes, the elites did their job- Tom Robinson was found guilty. But Bob Ewell got nothing. No glory, no fame, not even a good meal. Back he was sent to the trash heap he belonged. No one even shook his hand. He was devastated-;not only it was all in vain but now he had a daughter officially deflowered by a black man.

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The writer is 57 years old, semi- retired engineer, PhD, PE, CEM. I write fiction on a regular basis and I am also 10 years on OEN.

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