Lincoln a photo biography russell freedman
Lincoln: A Photobiography
April 18, 2017
If you ask an American if they have a favorite U.S. President and they answer "Abraham Lincoln," then you have probably learned two quick things about that person: they hold social justice as a higher ideal above all others, and they believe that THEY love President Lincoln more than anyone else has before them.
Lovers of Abraham Lincoln are possessive and defiant. They KNOW that their relationship with him is deeper, stronger and more intimate than yours. The day he died, he became our communal property; he has, ever since, belonged to all of us who love him.
The writer of this Newberry-winning biography, Russell Freedman, is no exception, and neither am I.
Mr. Freedman reminds us that Lincoln was a man of humble beginnings; he knew poverty through most of his early life. But he also lets his readers know many other tidbits that they may or may not have known.
Some examples:
Did you know that Lincoln had buried his mother by the age of 9 and his only sibling by the age of 18?
Did you know that he was crazy in love with his wife?
Did you know that he had a vibrant energy about him, a combination of a warm, playful sense of humor and a deep, intense ability to empathize with human suffering?
Did you know he was famous for his story-telling and a friend observed that "He relied on his yarns to whistle down sadness?"
Did you know that he buried 2 out of 4 of his sons?
Did you know that, when he was assassinated, he was wearing "a pair of gold-rimmed eyeglasses he had mended with a string?"
I swore I wasn't going to cry again at the end of another book about Lincoln, so instead I spread it out by crying in jags throughout the book.
I cried at the image of Lincoln, sitting alone before a debate with the great orator, Stephen Douglas. Stephen Douglas, who seemed the natural and predetermined winner of the upcoming competition. Douglas had his success, his entourage, his brandy and cigars, and "Lincoln, tall and gangly, seemed plain in his rumpled suit, carrying his notes and speeches in an old carpetbag, sitting on the platform with his bony knees jutting into the air."
I cried that Frederick Douglass, the most influential black leader at the time, who originally criticized Lincoln for not doing enough, ultimately changed his mind and said of him, "He was the first great man that I talked with in the United States freely, who in no single instance reminded me of the difference between himself and myself, of the difference of color."
Lincoln wasn't just the Great Emancipator, he was a man who was tasked with a nightmare: to break apart a nation to make it whole again.
And here we are again. . . in a position of breaking bad. It was lovely to be reminded that great people, great leaders have walked all over this earth, at different times.
Turns out, you can later identify them by their early deaths. The old bastards live forever.
Lovers of Abraham Lincoln are possessive and defiant. They KNOW that their relationship with him is deeper, stronger and more intimate than yours. The day he died, he became our communal property; he has, ever since, belonged to all of us who love him.
The writer of this Newberry-winning biography, Russell Freedman, is no exception, and neither am I.
Mr. Freedman reminds us that Lincoln was a man of humble beginnings; he knew poverty through most of his early life. But he also lets his readers know many other tidbits that they may or may not have known.
Some examples:
Did you know that Lincoln had buried his mother by the age of 9 and his only sibling by the age of 18?
Did you know that he was crazy in love with his wife?
Did you know that he had a vibrant energy about him, a combination of a warm, playful sense of humor and a deep, intense ability to empathize with human suffering?
Did you know he was famous for his story-telling and a friend observed that "He relied on his yarns to whistle down sadness?"
Did you know that he buried 2 out of 4 of his sons?
Did you know that, when he was assassinated, he was wearing "a pair of gold-rimmed eyeglasses he had mended with a string?"
I swore I wasn't going to cry again at the end of another book about Lincoln, so instead I spread it out by crying in jags throughout the book.
I cried at the image of Lincoln, sitting alone before a debate with the great orator, Stephen Douglas. Stephen Douglas, who seemed the natural and predetermined winner of the upcoming competition. Douglas had his success, his entourage, his brandy and cigars, and "Lincoln, tall and gangly, seemed plain in his rumpled suit, carrying his notes and speeches in an old carpetbag, sitting on the platform with his bony knees jutting into the air."
I cried that Frederick Douglass, the most influential black leader at the time, who originally criticized Lincoln for not doing enough, ultimately changed his mind and said of him, "He was the first great man that I talked with in the United States freely, who in no single instance reminded me of the difference between himself and myself, of the difference of color."
Lincoln wasn't just the Great Emancipator, he was a man who was tasked with a nightmare: to break apart a nation to make it whole again.
And here we are again. . . in a position of breaking bad. It was lovely to be reminded that great people, great leaders have walked all over this earth, at different times.
Turns out, you can later identify them by their early deaths. The old bastards live forever.