This past weekend, a family dressed in period costume gathered at the village square for East Bloomfield History Days. As they sprawled on a picnic blanket, the image was quintessentially American, and set the tone for the day. Cannons stood guard like sentinels on all four sides of the mound leading up to the Civil War monument -- an obelisk engraved with names and battles, with a pondering Union soldier perched atop. The square was also home to displays of local Civil War-era history, including quilt-making demonstrations, "veterans," and telegraph equipment.

As I made my way around the square, I stopped at Abraham Lincoln Camp No. 6 to chat with the vets. One of the pamphlets on display was on "The Language of Nineteenth Century Etiquette Books" with "Basic Social Rules for Gentlemen." I pointed out that they were currently breaking the first three rules: wear gloves, stand up when a lady enters, offer the lady your seat. Falling over each other in an attempt to oblige ensued.

Entering the "Lincoln Flag" exhibit -- which purports to include the American flag used to mop up some of the blood from Lincoln's head the night he was assassinated at Ford's Theater -- I encountered the man portraying the late president. He seemed to be a bit full of himself, exhibiting an arrogance absent from the historical accounts of Lincoln himself. Gazing at the life mask -- a mold made of Lincoln's face while he was still alive -- another attendee asked if it was the original. "Mr. Lincoln" replied, "Yes." I interjected that on the description it stated it was one of three copies of the original. He then re-stated that it was one of three copies of the original, all without missing a beat. Thank goodness he wasn't portraying the first U.S. president, who reportedly couldn't tell a lie.

Ignoring the irritating actor, the life mask was pretty eerie. Yes, it was a copy, but every crease on the former president's face was revealed. It may not have been the exact plaster that touched his face, but it felt like it. Lending to the eeriness,  beside the mask was the Rochester Daily Democrat's Monday, April 17, 1865, account of the assassination. Peculiarly lacking was any mention of Mrs. Lincoln's condition. I mean, she did just have a shot go off beside her head, hitting her husband. Alas, this was prior to the "infotainment" movement, where we all now know every facet of celebrities' lives.

The flag itself was huge. Eight feet high, rolled up in a coffin-shaped box, revealing only the bloodied portion, it leaned against the wall. Old striped wool with dark blood stains. Ew.

Next up: Walnut Hill Driving Competition