Coffee With Mr. Lincoln
Never underestimate the difference your actions make.
If I could sit down and have a cup of coffee with anyone who ever lived, it would be Abraham Lincoln. He was wise. He was funny. He wore cool hats and had a crazy beard. I could absolutely see him today at a Starbuck’s, the original Tall Americano holding court as a curious crowd of hipsters and soccer-moms gathered ‘round to listen. Abraham Lincoln at Starbucks. Vanilla Latte foam on his upper lip, slapping his knee and laughing heartily at his own jokes. Yeah, that’s a scene I could appreciate.
My favorite Abraham Lincoln story:
When Lincoln delivered his Gettysburg Address on November 19, 1863, he wasn’t even the keynote speaker of the day. That honor went to the distinguished Edward Everett, arguably the most well known American orator of the time. Everett delivered that day a two-hour, 13,000 word speech (as was customary back then. Can you imagine?) that ended with a rousing, well received ovation which Lincoln had to follow.
Now Lincoln, by all accounts, had worked diligently on his remarks for weeks before, but to know Lincoln is to also know he wasn’t the kind of guy who would lock himself in a room for days on end to compose a speech. He did his best work when walking and taking strolls, rolling words, phrases, and thoughts around in his head like a rock-tumbler polishing stones. Witnesses say he carried scraps of paper inside his hat, and he was constantly pulling them out and scribbling lines. However he went about it, he considered this particular speech very important-he understood the historical relevance that would be placed upon it, and he worried how it would be received. Those traveling with him that morning say he was still tweaking it as the train pulled into Gettysburg Station.
When it was his turn, he walked to the podium and proceeded to speak for a mere two-minutes. A two-minute speech compared to two-hours. It was a noticeable contrast to all.
When Lincoln finished, the crowd sat silent. Reports vary, but some said a controlled applause finally broke out. Some say it was a polite smattering. Others, quiet reverence. Whatever the initial reaction, Lincoln walked back to his seat, sat down next to his personal bodyguard Ward Lamon, and said dejectedly, “Lamon, that won’t scour!”
On the train ride back to Washington, he was quoted as saying, “I failed. I failed, and that is about all that can be said about it.”
Today, nobody remembers the name Edward Everett. None of his 13,000 words that day have been memorized or recited by school children (It should be noted, to Everett’s credit, he wrote Lincoln later saying, “I should be glad, if I could flatter myself, that I came as near to the central idea of the occasion in two hours as you did in two minutes.”) Instead, it was Lincoln’s 272 words that changed the world forever. Two-hundred and fifty-two of the most famous, well-crafted words of thought the English language has ever known, and over the course of the 154 years since its deliverance, the influence of those words have inspired countless people around the world.
And he considered it a flop.
Never underestimate the difference your actions make. What seems like wasted effort today could be what changes the world tomorrow. Call it The Butterfly-Effect. Call it The George Bailey-Effect. Call it whatever you want. The point is we have no idea how our efforts touch others, regardless of how insignificant those efforts may seem on the surface. Just because you don’t see the results immediately doesn’t mean you failed.
Two hours or two minutes. A wagon-load of words or just a pocketful. A crowd-gone-wild or a polite smattering of applause. You alone cannot predict what will scour and what will not. Your flop just may change my life, and our world, forever.
