Me and Abe

I met Abraham Lincoln when we were both six, at the rural school house in Spencer Country, Indiana. We sat next to each other. I used to copy off his test papers. Abe knew and didn’t mind. To make things even, I gave him a dead muskrat I’d found by the creek.

We would walk home together since our folks homes were both southwest. We would pick up small rocks and throw them at bigger rocks. Abe was really good at hitting the big rock with either his first or second rock he’d throw. I’d throw a handful of rocks at the big rock, figuring at least one would hit. But they would always. Abe was nice and tell me that I was good at throwing in general.

Abe used to share with his ambitions. He said that when he got older, he wanted to run for public office, for instance as a sheriff, or treasurer. I revealed that I didn’t know what I wanted to do later in life. Abe asked me what I liked doing now. I said that I liked laying down and looking at the sky or ceiling.

When I turned five, I began eating worms. I couldn’t get enough of them. I used to take my daddy’s shovel and dig holes in the backyard in the hopes of finding worms I could eat. Abe watched me dig and devour the worms, but he never partook. Not even once. I asked him why. He said they were dirty. I said he ate other things that came out of dirt, like potatoes, carrots, and turnips. He still said no.