Birthday is shared with 16th president

Happy birthday, Abe Lincoln. Oh, wait, all the presidents’ birthdays have been lumped together and this year are celebrated on Monday, Feb. 19. Poor Abe has lost his own special day, although it is still marked on most calendars.

Abe was born way back in 1809, in, or near, Hodgenville, Kentucky. We stopped by there once. I was struck by how beautiful and peaceful the area was. The legend is that he was born in a log cabin. This story is told to illustrate that he was a man of the people, an ordinary person and not some rich guy who was unable to relate to the rest of us. Being born in a log cabin was not unusual in those days. My own grandmother and most, if not all, of her many siblings were also born in a log cabin. None of them ever ran for office.

Once we get past Lincoln’s actual birthday we are faced with Valentine’s Day. Personally, I think valentines are for children and maybe young lovers. The rest of us know the day after Valentine’s Day is even better as leftover candy goes on sale and the first hollow chocolate bunnies put in an appearance.  Even better than chocolate is the knowledge that February is half over.

 I firmly believe that February is the longest month of the year. I know it has the fewest number of days, but as good old Albert Einstein said, “time is relative.” The cold, gray days of the second month of the year seem to go on forever. We all know that any bright, sunny and, more importantly, warm days are just teasing us. Cold weather doesn’t give up easily.

Sometimes I miss the days when Lincoln’s birthday was celebrated by coloring pictures of him so the teacher could hang them in the classroom window. We read stories and scribbled essays about our 16th president. We learned the terms “rail splitter” and “Emancipation Proclamation.” We struggled to understand how a person could belong to another person. We, in an all-white country school, did not, could not, understand how anyone could justify slavery. The gangly guy in a tall top hat who tried his best to hold our country together was our hero.

Even though we held Lincoln in high esteem, once all the pictures blanketed the windows and the essays had been graded, Abe faded into the background. The focus shifted to making lacy valentines for our folks. Hearts were everywhere. We cut them out of construction paper. We made chains of them. We used enough paste to make a mess all over our desks.

Colored hearts replaced Lincoln’s pictures in the windows. Tissue boxes were decorated to hold the valentines we had bought from the five and dime. Giving every classmate a card was mandatory. Nobody was left out.

Once we got a little older, we still revered Lincoln but coloring was reserved for the younger kids. Our sixth grade teacher made us memorize the Gettysburg Address. As memorization is almost impossible for me, I can only recite a few sentences today.

Lincoln’s birthday quietly slid into the background, as did Valentine’s Day. These days, I buy cards with hearts on them for our daughter and grandchildren. Nobody but me and my family notices Lincoln’s birthday. I always remember because it is my birthday, too.

Happy birthday, Abe. I’m proud to share a birthday with you.