Back in 2012, before I began writing these “Running the Campus” blog posts, I started sending out “weeklies,” emails to the campus and community that usually included something about what was happening at NECC that week, a perspective on a big issue facing higher education, and a short story about my daughters, who were twelve and eight years old and known in the weeklies as “Big Sis T and Little Sis Z.”
A few of those early “Weeklies” are still in the Archives of “Running the Campus.”
Well, big Sis T is 25 now and making music out in Los Angeles, and Little Sis Z is down in Washington, D.C. studying public administration and eyeing a career in politics.
We Facetime regularly, and recent conversations about the state of our fragile democracy and the blockbuster musical Hamilton rolling into Boston last week reminded me of this Weekly from 2016:
Someday, Someday…
By now, even if you are not a fan of hip-hop, Broadway musicals, or U.S. history, you probably still know that Hamilton is the biggest American theatre phenomenon since…well, anything.
Not much compares to the rave reviews, scramble for seats, and cross-generational appeal of this magnum opus from creator Lin-Manuel Miranda.
Last week, Big Sis T and Little Sis Z and I finally had our chance to see it, and we can confidently report that it is even better than all the hoopla.
Hamilton is epic in its sweep of characters, events, and ideology. From the rumblings of revolution in 1776, to the Battle of Yorktown, the creation of the U.S. Constitution, and that eventual ill-fated duel between the nation’s first Treasury Secretary, Alexander Hamilton, and Vice President Aaron Burr; the musical is a powerful tour de force of American history, sung and danced by a multi-racial cast, mostly in their twenties and thirties.
And, like some of the best works of literature, Hamilton tells big, sprawling, heroic stories with universal themes through small, intimate scenes with a few characters—human beings as vulnerable and imperfect as you and I.
We already knew the show backward and forward before taking our seats at the Richard Rodgers Theatre last week. We knew when to expect some of the huge, soaring, heart-racing numbers; where the biggest laughs were going to be; and when the sold-out crowd would most likely be singing along.
But it was those small, intimate scenes, and some unexpected moments, that really blew me away; and one in particular that will be unforgettable.
Soon after the Battle of Yorktown and the defeat of the British forces, Hamilton’s son Phillip, and Burr’s daughter, Theodosia, are born. Each man stands over his child’s crib as they sing a duet, “Dear, Theodosia,” marveling at the miracle of fatherhood, and promising to make the world a better place for them.
Dear Theodosia, what to say to you?
You have my eyes
You have your mother’s name
When you came into the world, you cried and it broke my heart
Sings Burr to his newborn daughter.
There is so much more inside me now
Oh Philip, you outshine the morning sun
My son
When you smile, I fall apart
Hamilton confesses to his son.
The strongest and bravest among us know that feeling of overwhelming love and even helplessness in the presence of our children.
You will come of age with our young nation
We’ll bleed and fight for you, we’ll make it right for you
They both vow, echoing the desire of parents everywhere to sacrifice and protect their young sons and daughters.
If we lay a strong enough foundation
We’ll pass it on to you, we’ll give the world to you
And you’ll blow us all away
Someday, someday
They dream, imagining the potential not only for those precious infants, but for their newborn nation, and all the world.
Sitting there in that moment, marveling at the artistry on stage and the two beautiful, wondrous young ladies sitting next to me, I promise you could not find a happier dad anywhere on Broadway—or beyond.
