We drove.  We stopped at Gettysburg.


Lincoln.  He was a loner, in my book.  Lots going on in his head.  Including the dreary stuff.  The dark stuff.

And so, in my book, he could talk to just about everyone.  He might have been taken as a bit off, as he reached out to people.  Said what was on him mind.  The ability to bridge, from himself to the stranger.  Hey, I get you, he could've said.  I get myself.

Thus the extraordinary juxtaposition.  The lonesome loner, friend to everyone.