To quote my father’s favorite namesake, it will be little noted nor long remembered that today is Washington’s birthday. Not Denzel. Fella named George.
If you started school in the past 50 years, you may not recognize the name.
Near the end of the LBJ presidency, Congress, eraser in hand, blotted the Feb. 12 birthdate of Abe Lincoln and the Feb. 22 birthday of Mr. Washington from Yankee calendars.
With the blanding of America operating at full throttle in the late 1960s, Washington and Lincoln were converted into faceless Millard Fillmores.
Contemporary first-graders no doubt can deliver longer addresses on the elements of greenhouse gas emissions than on the two most important Presidents in history, Franklin Pierce notwithstanding.
If your child of any age south of 45 knows that Washington was born on this date in 1732, treat him or her to dinner this evening at his or her favorite restaurant.
Presidents Day supposedly was envisioned to give workers another three-day weekend.
Even though I was able to celebrate a holiday weekend last week, as a student of history I would have preferred to continue honoring these towering men.
Blotted from calendars, their singular achievements are in danger of becoming dust-laden. Buried. Ask your children.
