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My hero? Easy. Abraham Lincoln. Always and forever.
I admire his ambition to better himself, to learn to read and write
when so many of the population did not. To overcome the loss of his mother at
an early age and bond so readily with his stepmother. When his ambition led him
to run for office and eventually the Presidency, the country could not have
picked a better man during the worst time in this country’s history. It was a
place in time that required someone exactly like him.
Providence maybe?
 |
| Feb 1861 |
In four years, from 1861 to 1865, he aged from a hearty,
mature man in his best years to a bent scarecrow. Worries ate at him until his
bones showed through his skin. Too many decisions, too many against him. Vitriol
lashed him from political enemies and sometimes his generals. The deaths of his
sons, the loss of so many on the battlefields. How could it not weigh on his
mind?
 |
| March 1865 |
In the end, he might have felt the approach of death. Other
assassination attempts on his life had failed but Hate can manifest into something
almost visceral, an indescribably horrible burden.
Yet, he continued. Only by his will did he stand erect. Because surely the ambition of his younger days was long
gone.
Abraham Lincoln gritted his teeth and continued. Prevailed.
And
when he was killed, he truly “...Now belongs to the Ages.”
