Sharing a birthday with a celebrtiy

I have learned that I share my birthday with a celebrity; unfortunately, the actor has been dead for 146 years and is actually remembered more for an act he committed than an act he performed in. I share a birthday with John Wilkes Booth.

Luckily, the similarities end there. The atrocity that JWB committed against this nation will never fully be understood. I could go into the countless "what ifs" regarding this moment in history; but I will not. I find it amusing that JWB was pinned down inside a barn, ready to fight to the death for what he believed in (the elimination of tyranny) eerily parallels, as well as the polar opposite of a man whose execution Booth witnessed six years earlier when John Brown died for (a racially equal society) what he believed in, pinned down by the authorities. I'm sure Booth never thought it would come down to this, being trapped inside a tobacco barn on the Garrett farm in Virginia; cornered like a rat.

The fury must have been as strong in his mind as the flames swarming around him. He just couldn't understand how his plan backfired. Why weren't people praising him for freeing them from King Abraham? Why wasn't the South rising up to capitalize on this moment? There are many reasons, one of which America was tired. Tired of war, fighting and slaughter. In all honesty, most military leaders on both sides were glad to finally lay their arms down and go home to resume their lives.

Booth had severed his ties from his brother, and stained the name in some eyes. He was now no different than a hoodlum or a common thug. His mystique was extinguished, but certainly not his fight. As the standoff continued, JWB was ordered to come out, but he was not going to let his final performance be anti-climatic. Within a second, his fight was over. Soldier Boston Corbett disobeyed the direct order of not firing, took aim at Booth through a crack in the barn's vertical boards, and pulled the trigger.

It was a direct hit and Booth fell to the ground, helpless, much like his victim 12 days earlier slumped in his chair when he was shot in the back of the head. Booth was dragged out of the barn; it was early morning on April 26th. The manhunt was over. JWB's spinal cord was severed and he was paralyzed.

Booth was taken to the porch of the Garrett's farm where he fought one last time, this round was for his life, and it was a two-hour fight. The thought certainly must have run through his mind, it was his birthday today - he was 27. Shortly before he died, JWB asked to see his hands. The soldiers lifted them up so they were in his field of vision. He stared at them and whispered "Useless, useless." then he died.

His co-conspirators would be hunted down and executed as well. What Booth meant by his last words can be interpreted in so many ways, but it was certainly a correct assessment at the same time. His battle; his vision; his actions were all useless. Lincoln had become a national saint overnight, glossing over any of his flaws, because he represented the solidarity of the American spirit - both North and South and he was struck down by a cowardly act by an obsessed person. Unfortunately, as much as Lincoln's spirit lives on, so does Booth. Consider Lee Harvey Oswald, Siran Siran, James Earl Ray and Timothy McVeigh.

Good and evil are as tangible as the fingers on your hands. These fights continue every day and although we received a Heaven and Hell battle royal here on earth, culminating with the deaths of Lincoln and Booth, we must be cognizant of our environment and our zeal. We are all Americans and must respect each other as such, along with our differences. If not, the lessons of history are lost on us all.