The Eyes of Love
He was born on December 5, 1901. Shortly after his sixty-fifth birthday, on December 15, 1966, he passed away. Today his name could be translated into the words fun and laughter. He was nominated fifty-nine times for an Academy Award as a producer, of which he won twenty-two times. He also earned two Golden Globe Special Achievement Awards and one Emmy Award. His name is Walt Disney.
Disney took a very early interest in drawing. His drawing experience began with watercolors and crayons. He was a cartoonist for his high school newspaper. At the age of eighteen years old he was a commercial illustrator. In his parting he would leave us with such beloved characters as Mickey Mouse, Snow White and the seven dwarfs, Pinocchio, Dumbo, Bambi, Cinderella, Donald Duck, and many, many more. One cannot look at American history without noticing the impact such icons, like Walt Disney, have had on our lives. Disney’s genius has inspired millions of us to dream.
Walt Disney had his first impact on my life for a far different reason, though. On January 7, 1968, the United States Postal Service raised the rates of first class postage from five cents to six cents. It seems like an odd time to start a hobby, just as the prices are increasing, but that’s exactly when I started collecting postage stamps. It was a hobby my Dad helped me start. In 1968, the Postal Service issued nineteen different commemorative first class postage stamps. The Walt Disney stamp was one of those commemoratives.
I’m not sure if the Walt Disney stamp was the first stamp in my new collection or not. It was not the first one issued that year. It was issued on September 11, 1968. It was the one I remember my Dad talking about the most. It wasn’t necessarily the stamp itself, but the fact that the Postal Service had sold misprinted stamps that collectors considered very valuable. My two or three Walt Disney stamps weren’t part of those misprints. Looking on Ebay today I found that a single six cent stamp is going between ninety-nine cents and $1.35, a plate block of four for around $1.65, sheets of the six cent stamps between $15-$45, and first day covers from $16-$20. Various forms of those misprinted Walt Disney stamps are now going for between $30 and $600.
But the best thing that came out of my stamp collection really had nothing to do with the stamps themselves. In fact, if I would rank the personal importance of things about my stamp collection, the stamps themselves would rank third. The first item of importance would be the time it gave me with my Dad. By helping me to learn to collect stamps, my Dad indirectly showed me that it was worth his time to spend part of it with me. My love for my Dad grew not only from the great respect I have for him, but also from the relationship that was built from the interest we shared. The second item of importance was my great love of American history. You see, most US commemorative stamps, or at least they use to before they started printing so many different ones for any reason at all, were in honor of someone or an event from our nation’s history. My Dad didn’t stop with the stamp collecting. My Dad would find articles or other items and in a fun way he taught me the reason why such a stamp was issued. I seriously doubt I would have ever had such an interest in American history if my Dad didn’t have such a serious interest in me.
When you are President it would be really easy to hide behind the doors of the White House. It hasn’t always been that way. During some parts of our history, meeting the President was just a matter of walking up to the White House door, knocking on it, and requesting an audience with our leader. Some Presidents would leave the White House and try to find a place of refuge away from it all.
One of the problems of war is dealing with all the casualties. Prior to the Civil War, the United States purchased land from a banker to house retired and disabled veterans. It was called the US Military Asylum or Old Soldier’s Home. Given how close it was to the White House, about three miles away, the Home decided to invite President Buchanan to come up and stay during the hot and humid summer days Washington is known for. The Home sat on a hill that had a nice steady breeze. The hill was also the third highest peak in Washington. On a clear day you could see the Capitol. Buchanan would be the first of four Presidents to use the Home for a retreat. Presidents Lincoln, Hayes and Arthur would also use it.
We were in the middle of a war. It was by far the deadliest war in our nation’s history. As if the war wasn’t enough, one of his young sons would die shortly after he took office. Both he and his wife were filled with sorrow. He needed a place of retreat. The Old Soldier’s Home seemed like the perfect place to go.
The situation seemed hopeless. Nothing was going according to plan. There were such high hopes for this relationship, but as he looked out over the horizon, he saw nothing but trouble brewing. What should he do? He had a lot invested in the relationship, but he was growing weary. Time and again he seemed be the only one interested in keeping the relationship going.
One day, probably between times he was deciding what to do with the relationship, he decided to give it one more try. He would offer a gift. It wasn’t just any gift he offered. No, he offered his most prized possession. At first, there were mixed signals. There was a sense of awe over the gift, but when the wind blew the conscience in another direction, the gift seemed threatening. Then there were times when the gift seemed genuine, but there were also doubts of the gift’s lasting effects.
Over and over again he would think the relationship would improve. There would be movements of reform, but they didn’t last long. There would be loving looks his way, but as soon as things seemed to start getting better something else would divert the attention away from the reform. It was starting to appear hopeless, but he just wasn’t ready to give up.
As President Lincoln would make his way on horseback to the Anderson Cottage at the Old Soldier’s Home his path was often covered with Union soldiers going to and from the front lines of battle. He would often stop and talk to the soldiers to see how the battle was going. Sometimes he would even sneak past his bodyguards so he could have some private moments with the soldiers. One time a sniper would even shoot a bullet through his tall hat. He would tell his bodyguards not to breathe a word of the shooting to Mrs. Lincoln. None of this deterred Lincoln. He wanted to know how the battle was going and he wanted the soldiers to know he cared about them, too.
When Lincoln arrived at the Cottage his mind could not really take a break from the reality of the war that was being waged. As he looked out toward the Capitol he could see the fields covered with Union soldiers. Some were stationed there for his own protection. Lincoln’s son, Tad, who was nine or ten years old at the time, was even “commissioned” as a third lieutenant (a fake rank). The soldiers loved Lincoln and his son and they did their very best to try to make them feel like they were at home, or as close as home could feel given the conditions.
As Lincoln would peer out the window on the other side of the Cottage he would see the huge cemetery that was filling up with the Union casualties. In fact, it would fill up and they would have to open Arlington National Cemetery to bury even more Union soldiers. Yes, Lincoln’s heart grew weary, not only because death was all around him, but he truly cared about the soldiers and the whole country that he wanted to keep together.
The day before Lincoln was shot at Ford’s Theatre, he would make his final trip to the Old Soldier’s Home. As I stood outside that cottage, I looked across the field and I wondered what all those soldiers thought when they heard that the man who cared so much for them had been assassinated the day before. They just saw him and now he was gone from their lives forever. He was more than just a President to them.
The banging was loud, but the screams and wailing must have been louder. As the cruel punishment had been executed, the crime was deemed paid in full. There was no need for revenge because it was a fair judgment. The rules clearly stated that such a punishment was due. Sometimes justice is hard to understand. Why does the way we see as proper often get overlooked? Why does innocence seem to be a curse the wicked want to destroy? Why do the wicked refuse to look in the mirror and confess their crimes?
It was a heavy sigh. It was his last breath. The father was so embarrassed he couldn’t even look at his son. Why, oh why, had he done such evil things? Why did he have to sway off the path the father taught him? Now his son had nothing to show for it but a lonely grave. That Easter morning was a very lonely one for both the father and the son.
As the three Wise Men laid their gifts at Jesus’ feet shortly after his birth, I’m willing to bet not one who was there had any idea of the cruel outcome his life was due to experience. The little baby, who was sung to sleep by angels, hung on the cross with other thieves. Jesus’ crime deserved the punishment it got: death. The only problem was, he didn’t commit it. I did. The sentence was correct, they just got the wrong person.
As we walk through this pathway we call life, our sins don’t just affect us. Our shadows cast dark hues that seem to deflect the blame off of us and on to the ground others walk. We often get in our biggest trouble when we start looking at our reflection instead of where our shadow falls. I’m so glad I had a Dad, who could have spent his time on himself, but instead thought about the little fellow who idolized him. I’m so happy I have a God who loves me so much, that despite all my wrongs, He let His Son take the blame for those sins so we could continue to have our relationship. I’m so glad our country had a President, like Lincoln, that cared so much that he wanted to do whatever was possible to keep us together.
Happy birthday, Dad!
Prayer: Dear Mighty Father, I truly don’t know what You see in me that makes You want me so much. I do not deserve the great Dad you have given me. Our land, which seems so full of sin, does not deserve the rich history and love of Presidents, like Lincoln, that You have blessed us with. Most of all, my life doesn’t deserve all I put You through. I’m just so glad You think differently about me. Amen!
