Greatness often comes quietly and obscurely.

Abraham Lincoln, America’s 16th president, was born on Sunday morning Feb. 12, 1809 — just one day after Robert Fulton patented the Steamboat and a few weeks before James Madison became the nation’s fourth chief executive.

The one-room log cabin on Sinking Spring Farm in Hodgenville, Ky., is long gone, and in its place is a pink granite and marble building that contains a symbolic replica of Lincoln’s first home. President Teddy Roosevelt laid the cornerstone for this memorial 100 years after Abe’s birth. It was dedicated two years later by President William Howard Taft.

“[His] rise was by weary and painful labor,” Roosevelt said. “[He] lead his people through the burning flames of a struggle from which the nation emerged purified as by fire, born anew to a loftier life.”

When it became Taft’s turn, the 27th president agreed, calling Abe a “master of men” and “the greatest of diplomats.” Taft, who would become chief justice of the U.S. Supreme Court, went on to say, “No man in public life was ever so much abused.”

Lincoln never made it to Colorado, which was still only a territory during his presidency. But he appointed John Evans, who was a friend, to be the area’s second governor. Like Lincoln, Evans was active in Illinois politics and opposed slavery. Mount Evans in Clear Creek County is named after him.

Honest Abe is never far from us, and maybe even as close as our pockets or wallet. He’s on the penny and $ 5-dollar bill. The Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C., is made of Yule Marble from Marble, Colo. Here in the Centennial State, there’s Lincoln County and Lincoln Street in Denver, and Lincoln Avenue in Steamboat Springs. According to the White Pages, there are 106 Lincolns living in Colorado Springs.

Growing up, I admired Abraham Lincoln, but thought of him as one of many men of history, a tall man who wore a stovepipe hat and helped keep the union together. As someone who cheered short sermons at church, I also liked the fact he was known for giving a profound 2-minute speech at Gettysburg.

Edward Everett, former governor of Massachusetts and secretary of state, was the keynoter that day and droned on for two hours. Nobody remembers anything he said. Pastors take note. The mind can only absorb what the rear end can endure.

For his yeoman’s work leading the divided country, President Lincoln was assassinated on Good Friday in 1865 while attending a play called “Our American Cousin” at Ford’s Theater.

There are over 15,000 books written about Lincoln, a life so well-examined it almost seems impossible to say anything about him that hasn’t been said.

But as I peruse the news and scroll social media, I’m more convinced than ever that we’d be better off if we lived more like him and less like most people in today’s headlines.

Lincoln was reviled by his opponents, but he didn’t return the favor. He once gave a speech where he suggested those who favored slavery were in error. An older woman pushed back, and suggested they needed to be destroyed.

“Why, madam,” Lincoln replied, “do I not destroy my enemies when I make them my friends?” He acknowledged through gritted teeth, “I don’t like that man. I must get to know him better.”

Learning to get along with our ideological opposites is becoming a superpower, but a necessity for a happy and peaceful life. It’s the perpetually aggrieved who are always miserable.

Lincoln was lauded for his honesty. He was straightforward with his clients, generals, staff and the American people. But he was also known for his discretion. He would write letters when frustrated, but sleep on them before sending. After he died, many of those missives were found and contained the inscription, “Never sent. Never signed.”

As the 16th president aged and his troubles mounted, he turned more toward his one-time skeptical Christian faith. “I believe the Bible is the best gift God has ever given to man,” he wrote. “All the good from The Savior of the world is communicated to us through this Book.”

Two hundred sixteen years since Lincoln’s birth, we’d be wise to emulate the Great Emancipator, and in more ways than one.

Paul J. Batura is a local writer and founder of the 4:8 Media Network. He can be reached via email Paul@PaulBatura.com or on X @PaulBatura.