SPRINGFIELD – My 4-year-old Grace announced Sunday that her luck had run out – and something needed to be done.
“Daddy, I rubbed Mr. Lincoln’s nose for good luck two weeks ago but now my luck is all gone. We need to go to Mr. Lincoln’s tomb right away.”
Springfield is a town of hundreds of politicians, thousands of bureaucrats and one big old tomb.
Going to the tomb and rubbing the nose of the Abraham Lincoln statue for luck is one of the more peculiar Illinois’ customs.
Any visitor to the state capital will notice that nose of Lincoln is shiny from many strokes across the brass. They’ll also probably notice the lobbyist’s noses are brown from rubbing across many a politician’s ….
When Grace asked to be taken to Lincoln Tomb last Sunday, I’ll be honest, I wasn’t exactly thrilled. The snow blower needed to be tuned up for winter, I was cooking dinner and that tomb just plain creeps me out.
Springfield is a straight-laced town composed mainly of Catholics, Protestants and Jews who wouldn’t think of bowing down to an idol – unless it is of Honest Abe.
In Abe’s case, all rationality is gone with the wind.
It’s like Lincoln’s remains have become Illinois’ Kaaba stone that people from Cairo to Kankakee feel the need make a pilgrimage to.
Folks travel to the tomb to lay Lincoln pennies on the headstone of the original burial place of the Great Emancipator. The nose of the statue is rubbed so often that a metalsmith is periodically dispatched to patch holes.
“It’s like kissing the Blarney Stone – I just can’t figure out where this folklore begins,” said James Cornelius, curator of the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum “I don’t know how people come to know they are supposed to rub the nose – it’s obviously not good for the statue.
“We have a photograph of the statue at the museum. Even though it’s at shoulder height for most visitors – folks have rubbed a hole right through the picture of the nose of the Lincoln statue.”
Despite my misgivings, my daughter continued to pester me to take her to see Mr. Lincoln’s tomb.
So we drove to Oak Ridge Cemetery, which just is a few minutes from our house. Grace scampered to statue and said, “Lift me up, Daddy. Lift me.”
After she gave Lincoln’s nose a vigorous rub, she hit me up for three pennies.
She left one at the tomb – and kept two for herself.
Maybe the nose rubbers weren’t the most gullible to visit the cemetery that day.
