Lunch with Abe Lincoln

LUNCH WITH ABE LINCOLN

Holding tight to the crown of his stovepipe hat, Abe Lincoln
accelerated through the universe faster than the speed of light.
Carried on the back of an angel, he skirted around huge star systems,
dodging planets and their satellites, meteor showers and other
celestial debris.
Flaring his wings as far back as possible, the angel Gabriel broke hard
before reaching the earth's solar system, not wanting to bypass his
destination. Approaching earth, he relaxed his wings, as the earth's
gravitational orbit circumnavigated them without much effort of their
own. After a few relaxing loops around the planet, Gabriel descended
towards the earth's atmosphere, eventually plopping Abe a little harder
than he meant to, upon the sticky cushion at a McDonald's restaurant.
At the table across from him, sat a young, bright-eyed high school kid,
with a baseball cap sitting askew on top of his head.
"Hello Mr. Lincoln, I'm glad that you could find the time to meet with
me-you being dead and all," the boy said excitedly.
"Well," said an obviously crumpled Lincoln while doffing his stovepipe
hat, "I must admit, this was an unusual request. I wish the Man
upstairs would have consulted with me first."
"I hope you'll forgive me sir, but I couldn't think of anybody I'd
rather spend lunch with. My homework assignment is to write an essay on
a historical figure whom I'd like to meet-living or dead. So, I pulled
some strings with an angel I know and?here you are."
"You know an angel?" asked Mr. Lincoln, quite surprised.
"Yes sir. His name is Gabriel. He said he was supposed to watch over
me and make sure I didn't stub my toe or something."
"I happen to be intimately acquainted with Gabriel," said Lincoln, as
he brushed some celestial dust off his black coat. By the way, aren't
angels supposed to be invisible down here?"
"Well," the boy said, "like the 'Good Book' says, 'we sometimes
entertain them without even knowing it'. But I knew Gabriel was an
angel right from the start. He forgot to retract his wings one day
after he saved me from being creamed by a speeding car. You should have
seen how red faced he was."
"Ha!" laughed Lincoln. "It comforts me to know that even angels suffer
from an occasional faux pas."
"Are you hungry, Mr. Lincoln? They have excellent cheeseburgers and
fries here."
"No thank you," said Lincoln, as he assessed his surroundings, "The
trip here made me a little queasy. I must say though, things sure have
changed since I departed this fair land."
"Oh, you haven't seen the half of it. We now have computers, TV's,
phones, jet airplanes, music CD's, rap, rock and roll, automobiles,
rockets to the moon, and a zillion other things invented since
you?well, passed away."
"Get your history straight, son. I was murdered-shot in the head.
Assassinated, they called it."
"I'm aware of that Mr. Lincoln. I just didn't want to bring anything
unpleasant up."
"Well, it was inevitable anyway," sighed Lincoln. "Considering the
times, it was bound to happen sooner or later."
"What do you mean?" the boy asked curiously.
"Lot's of southern sympathizers hated the very ground I walked on.
They hated me for freeing the slaves and fighting to keep the Union
together."
"But wasn't that a good thing?"
"I believed so, and so did so many others. But you can't please
everybody. So, what was it you wanted to talk about?"
"Well, for starters, why did they call you Honest Abe?"
"Well son, in politics there's no shortage of dedicated people who try
and create images with endearing appellations, usually without any
influence from the recipients. At least I can speak for myself. In
short-I had nothing to do with it. But, the name partly achieved
success towards my election as President of the United States. In
truth-I was honest about how I felt on certain issues; sometimes
passionately honest, but was I ever untruthful? What mortal man hasn't
been?"
"Yes sir, I know what you mean. My mom always said, 'if you tell the
truth, you'll have less to remember later."
"Your mother sounds like a wise woman," smiled Lincoln.
"Yes sir. Maybe you can come over to my house and meet her."
"I'd like to son, but you only have me for twenty 'earth minutes.' The
Boss is working on a speech and needs my services. Not that He really
needs anything from me, but was so impressed by my Gettysburg Address,
He asked me for my input."
"That was one of the greatest speeches ever made, Mr. Lincoln. Some
say, a masterpiece."
"Well thank you son," Lincoln said with genuine humility. "But it
wasn't that way at first. The newspapers said my speech was
contemptible. 'Not enough substance', they said. I was railed for not
giving the event enough 'flowery praise'. Little did they know, I
poured my heart and soul into every word."
"Is it true you wrote the speech while on the train to
Gettysburg?"
"Yes. But it wasn't easy. How do you dedicate a piece of ground to the
brave dead who fought there? It certainly does nothing for the dead.
And how do you justify it to the living. Fifty thousand young men were
slaughtered there in three days of fighting. My speech had to be
carefully constructed, considering the monumental occasion. It was
necessary to give honor to both sides for their devotion, and loyalty
to their cause. Even though I believed in my heart and soul that the
South's cause was wrong."
Lincoln had a tired, sad look in his eyes, appearing more burdened
than when he first sat at the table. The boy took notice of it. "Mr.
Lincoln, is it hard for you to speak about the war?"
Lincoln nodded. "Yes it is. You see, my administration at that time
was perilous at every turn. I was hated and vilified by the North and
the South. After the 'Emancipation Proclamation', the southerners put a
price on my head, and many northern soldiers refused to fight in order
to free 'a bunch of black slaves'. Plus, I had some of the most
irresponsible and inept Generals in the battlefield, which did more
fighting amongst themselves than with the enemy. Battles had turned
into bloodbaths, thousands were deserting, and cities were rioting when
I enacted the draft. There seemed no end in sight for the war; year
after year it dragged on, and the people were becoming disgruntled.
Then I lost my son Willie to 'bilious fever."
"I really sorry sir," said the boy.
"No need to be. He's up there now," said Lincoln as he pointed
upwards, smiling contentedly.
"That sort of leads into my next question sir. In fact, it's kinda
personal."
"Go ahead and ask. My life's an open book."
"Some historians say you were a skeptic, or even an atheist. Were you
a religious man?"
"Well I've been keeping company with angels for the last hundred and
thirty five years, so I must have done something right. I admit, at one
time I had my own religion and didn't belong to a church or
denomination. The code I lived by was 'When I do good, I feel good, and
when I do bad, I feel bad'. That was about the extent of my religion. I
was very skeptical of dogma, but guided by the nobility of the Bible.
Yet, when my beloved Willie passed away, a transformation took hold of
me. My earnest desire was to know the will of Providence."
"I'm real glad you did, or this lunch wouldn't be possible. Now sir,
everybody today knows slavery was a bad thing, but could tell me what
it was like from your experience?"
Lincoln reflected for a moment and said, "I can only speak as an
observer of course. But I can tell you this--it was a detestable
institution.
My first experience was as a child, seeing them paraded down our road
in chains, on their way to the auction blocks. Men, women, little
children-led away like droves of chattel, while some drunken brute lead
the procession swinging a cat-o'-nine-tail with relish. He boastfully
mentioned to my mother they were of good stock, and, would she care to
purchase any of them? While my heart pitied the poor creatures, my
mother spoke forth a liberal portion of righteous wrath upon the brute,
to which I'm sure he feared a bolt of lightning might strike him dead
if he didn't pick up his step. Little did I know then, that I would
someday enact a proclamation that would set them free."
"Mr. President?I mean, Mr. Lincoln, why did you believe so fervently
in preserving the Union?"
"Well, if I may paraphrase the proverb, 'A house divided against
itself, will not stand.' I believed in keeping the states together as
one great nation; powerful and mighty, as a light of freedom to the
world-not as a fragmented, autonomous ragtag of rebel states. Our
forefathers gave up their lives, families, and reputations for our
freedom-hoping we might exist as one; united together as a nation. I
wasn't about to let southern secession destroy all that they had fought
to create."
"Wow, this is great stuff Mr. Lincoln. But, most of the things you're
saying are written in the history books. Is there anything you can tell
me that history hasn't already recorded?"
"I don't believe so. Everything about my life, my family, or the civil
war has been analyzed, dissected, supported or debated, and has been
catalogued on the pages of history. Now, I hope our little interview
was helpful, but it's about time for me to return."
The boy was about to protest when Lincoln winked at somebody behind
him. The boy spun around and saw Gabriel finishing off a Big Mac.
"Are you ready, Gabriel?" asked Lincoln, pulling his hat tight upon
his head.
"Ready when you are Abe." After wiping catsup off his mouth, Gabriel
was prepared to deliver him back home when he was abruptly
halted.
"Wait one second Gabriel. There's something I want to give to my young
friend here before we leave." Lincoln reached into his frock coat
pocket and fished around for a moment. "Oh yes, here it is," he said,
retrieving a wrinkled piece of paper and then handing it to the boy.
"It's yours?to keep."
The boy, squinting at the yellowed, faded writing, was momentarily
stunned. "Mr. President sir?why this is-gulp?a rough draft of the
Gettysburg Address. How did you?I mean where did you get it"?
With a melancholy twinkle in his eyes, Lincoln said, "The Boss has His
ways. You can thank Him. Now, it's been a pleasure meeting you, but
it's time for me to leave. Good luck on your essay. Keep your nose to
grindstone son. Education is the key."
The boy, tearing his eyes off the draft, began to thank him, but Abe
was already hurling trillions of light years yonder, spirited away
towards the Celestial City for an eternity of a well-deserved
rest.

The End