Grave Robbers

Usually, once I begin reading about a subject, I find myself drawn to other titles that can deepen my understanding further. And in the case of reading about Abraham Lincoln's assassination, I then wanted to read about the many plots to rob his grave. So, toward that end, I read Stealing Lincoln's Body, by Thomas Craughwell. Not a bad book, but I was disappointed at times, as I thought Craughwell spent too much of his hard-earned research and writing dabbling in background information that didn't move the reader forward through the various dangers presented by the grave robbers and their clandestine plots. But I pressed on and finished the book nonetheless.

I also learned other things. Those Lincolns were a quirky bunch. Mary Todd rather fell to pieces after Abe's death (but perhaps who can blame her?) and Robert Todd Lincoln, the oldest son, actually conspired to have his mother committed to an asylum later, and he destroyed all of his father's important papers, letters, and correspondences that were more personal in nature. So these have all been lost for historical reference. Too bad.

I've visited Lincoln's Springfield grave years ago, but I have a craving now to go back. I want to see where Father Abraham was finally buried under tons of cement so no one can find him, and I want to eat a corn dog in the hot sun of August right there at the monument and drink a Sprite right out of the can. That is, after all, one of my quirky freedoms. And I'm thankful that Old Abe made some of it possible.

I hope to see him on the other side. He'll have to find his way out of fifty tons of concrete. I'll have to find my way out of a Chock-Full-O Nuts Coffee can. But hey, nothing ever comes easy.