I am walking a wooded path on the very land that the boy Abraham Lincoln helped his family clear, till, and live on. I am pondering the foundation of his boyhood home, now cast in bronze and all that’s left of the original building. I am crying over a grievous time in his youth as his life unfolds, shifting backwards and forwards through time, in a semi-musical production, “Lincoln: Upon the Altar of Freedom,” at the Lincoln Amphitheater in the state park.I knew little, before coming to Santa Claus, IN, of what to expect from Spencer County, except that this is where Lincoln spent his “formative” years from age 7 to 21. The place where his beloved mother died of milk sickness when he was 9, and where his beloved sister died in childbirth when he was 19.
Two parks, divided by Highway 162, protect the land and document these years in what is now called Lincoln City: a state park to memorialize the general area, and a national park to memorialize his boyhood home. His mother’s and sister’s graves are in the parks. Of this place, Lincoln later said, “There I grew up.”
I am surprised to find so much of Lincoln in Indiana. It is a lesser-taught bit of Lincoln’s life, usually eclipsed by his lawyer and politician years in Illinois, and of course by his tenure in the White House. The tenderness of the years he spent here makes him far more accessible to my imagination, and I spend a lot of time just wandering around the national park, soaking up the day’s heat and the sense of history this place exudes.
Grave of Nancy Hanks, Lincoln’s mother.
Pennies tossed to the foot of the headstone.
An example of that famous split-rail fencing.
Bronzed foundation of the original home.
What a typical cabin would have looked like.
Typical farmyard.
Typical farm animal doing its typical thing.
Checkers.
Those wall pegs are actually a ladder to the loft. They work great, so long as you don’t bonk your head on the opening going up.
On a memorial trail of twelve stones taken from various places in Lincoln’s past. These are bricks from Mary Todd’s house in Lexington, KY.
The dinner part of the dinner theater was an Amish buffet supplied by Black Buggy Catering. The name conjured up more romantic imagery than this modern buggy delivered...
...but the fried chicken and pork roast was darn good food for a such large-crowd buffet.
The dinner fiddler was far more interesting to watch as shadow, but the photo came out looking like he was sawing behind a curtain.
I have no idea what a Cry Room at a theater would be for, except the obvious. The play wasn’t that sad, though. At intermission, they served free popcorn and sodas, which had everyone smiling.
A small museum at the theater focused on Lincoln’s upbringing and his role in the emancipation of slaves.
I liked the implied freedom of this break-through-the-wall tromp le oil in the museum.
One of the less campy (pardon the pun) guest photos that so many attractions snap the moment you enter. This photo (“A Matthew Brady Experience”) was offered as part of the Lincoln theater show; it turned out well and was included in my ticket price, so I kept it.
