Today is Presidents’ Day. You can follow a slideshow about all the presidents here.
When I was a kid, we celebrated George Washington’s Birthday (February 22nd) and Abraham Lincoln’s Birthday (February 12th) separately. They also did in the 1930s and 1940s when Joan was a girl.
D. W. Griffith produced a film telling the biography of Lincoln in 1930. It was written by Stephen Vincent Benet--a Pulitzer Prize winning author much beloved by Joan. Here is the movie in its entirety.
Joan writes about both presidents Washington and Lincoln when she is sixteen years old.
Sunday February 12, 1939
Well, here is Lincoln’s birthday again—and surprise—I haven’t written a poem about it. Usually, you know, I write a poem regularly about every holiday we get out of school for—and even some we don’t. Oh well. I always liked Lincoln better then Washington…
She does seem more interested in Lincoln. He shows up a lot in her diary. After the war is well underway in Europe and North Africa, Joan reflects on the passing of life. This passage she wrote when she was 18 years old.
Thursday January 26, 1941
Beauty is unbelievable, isn’t it—all things superb, all tears for loveliness, all sweets, and all colour is in her…Oh beauty, nothing is as real, yet as unbelievable as beauty! —I’ve been standing at the kitchen window while the Tales of Hoffman played on the radio, watching the large snowflakes drift over the roofs…the church tower dim and grey and the sky like the grey-white sea…Oh beauty.
You can listen to the Tales of Hoffman just like Joan as you read on.
Perhaps the world is changing and we shall never get it back the same…But I think the things to be remembered will be different from what we think now. I don’t think so much I’ll remember Dik, Larry, meteors I made so much noise over—but rather the sweet friendly face of Clyde Johnson, laughing with me in Harpers [Library]—Or Bud, singing “Auld Lang Syne” with his Bear’s grin. The funny unsophisticated people. The dependable ones we laughed warmly at. Calvin—running his fingers through his hair…Oh friendly, lovely world…Every quiet day is equal to every day of comet glow…Sweetness of world…I’ve been to church today too: “Whosoever drinketh of the water which I give shall never thirst.” Twice this afternoon they played “La Golondrina” on the radio and I recaptured from its notes Joe picking it out on his mandolin that first mad day on the station wagon, later in quiet night….Unbelievable quiet…oh world! (This was life, this was living).
You can hear La Golondrina here and read a translation of the lyrics here.
…British have captured Derma. All the faery-tale cities of the world—are real…Derma, Tobruk. Oh world.
…P.S. They reenacted the play they gave the night Lincoln was killed. I was weeping for all the people dead.
A short while later, Lincoln’s Birthday arrives.
Wednesday February 12, 1941
Gabriel Heatter. He always has that way of making you think “Tonight’s the night: –“These are the days”. Anyhow, Franco has just met Mussolini…is to meet Marshall Petain tomorrow. Rumours of peace between Italy and Britain. Italy badly needs it—or so we’re told…’Nuff of Europe….
 Wilkie an unsuccessfully as a Republican for President in 1940. Gabriel Heatter was a famous radio announcer.
You can listen to him announcing WWII news at this site where he talks about the “Latest Nazi Claims.”
All is not gloom and doom. Joan manages to retain her sense of humor. Weeks after Pearl Harbor,
Joan writes about running into a beau, Bill Knisely.
3:15 AM Sunday Morning Dec. 21, 1941, Age 19
After teaching today went to bookstore to get stamps. Bill was quite flustered and gave me $1.25 change for a dollar. I gave it back. Me and Lincoln. Later he called up and asked me out for tonite, but I had a date already.
The “he” asking her out for a date was Bill, not Lincoln! Joan’s sarcastic reference mocks herself, while referring to Lincoln’s extreme honesty–“Honest Abe.”
Her jokes continue despite the oppression of the war.
Thursday February 12, 1942
School even today. Lincoln’s birthday, of course, but it’s not supposed to be patriotic to have holidays now. Wartime, you know…Tomorrow Mr. Ashford is going to set off an incendiary bomb in Phy Sci [Physical Science]. If I don’t reappear, you’ll know why.
In February 1939, Joan had commented on how she had not written a poem in commemoration of Lincoln’s Birthday. But she did compose one a couple of weeks later– an impassioned poem that seems to sense the coming war.
Feb 24, 1939 written when Joan was 16.
They say that Arthur shall return again
And Joan of Arc to lead the troops of France,
But who shall come once more to us?
Dead is Lincoln and the white mold creeps
Upon the tomb of Washington asleep forever.
Arthur could not drive Caesar out
He was not yet come when Romans ruled.
Nor could young Joan rid Hun from Frankland,
She had not yet been born in Donremy.
Hear me! Our dead are not yet entered life
A young man shall rise up to lead us yet.
Wait till the time shall come and we shall find
A burning youth with blood-red banner leading us.