Hamilton — The Play (and the Eight-Year-Old Boy)

Photo by Sudan Ouyang

The play: amazing, I thought!

We were excited to get tickets to see Hamilton before it had sold out and looked forward to a fun evening of dinner in the city before going. Daughter and son-in-law had made all the arrangements, and we couldn’t have been happier with the timing and locations of the events: dinner, drinks, and entertainment.

I didn’t have very high expectations for the two-hour and fifty-five-minute musical, as I wasn’t a history buff like my husband, Marty. But we had heard many great things about it, and so I was eager to see what all the talk was about. I figured I could always doze off if the length got to be too much.

However, from the first few notes of the magnificent voices projected from the stage, the simple background settings, and the period-accurate - I imagined – costumes, I was hooked.

It seemed mere minutes before an intermission was subtly announced and I was stunned at how fast the time had gone by. My bladder, on the other hand, was acutely aware of the time I had been sitting enthralled in my seat and was feeling a sense of urgency to get relief. I hopped up to comply.

The long line at the restroom was another matter, with so many needing to do the same thing I did. But everyone was abuzz about the music, and the energy was positive as we waited for the line to dwindle. Thank goodness the women were quick, and I was grateful.

Back to our seats and ready for the second half of the story told in music.

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I had not paid much attention in history classes about what went on in our country back in the day of its infancy. I figured it happened, was over, and it was the future that I was more interested in. Thus, I’d forgotten a lot of what should have niggled at my brain as being familiar upon hearing - like the struggles, the proclamations, and the duels that were sung about and shown in pantomime – but nothing ‘niggled’.

When I whispered to my in-the-know partner, “Did that really happen?”, he gave me a look, nodded, and returned his attention back to the final minutes of the history lesson in song.

I was so astonished and thrilled at seeing this wonderful play that I bought the T-shirt...the one with the large gold star and the gold silhouette of Hamilton standing atop it with a raised arm...which was the symbol on the playbill and advertising. I loved the design that captured the play’s message, and upon leaving the theater I felt reborn. In a sense. At least I felt a new appreciation for our country’s history, but more importantly, I felt an extreme appreciation for the talent that went into the making of the musical. I was in awe of that talent.

I had been to many plays and musicals and have loved them all. Some more than others, but I’ve loved the emotion, the energy, and the gifts of those writers and actors/singers that are given to the audience. My appreciation for those gifts has always been carried with me in that special box in the back of my brain to pull out on those occasions when I need a lift or when something triggers the memory. 

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Photo by Jim Shafer

A few months later in another part of the world – Mexico, our winter home – we were going to the Friday night dance where our friends would be, amongst other members of the community and visiting tourists, to enjoy the live music after a good dinner. On that night, I felt compelled to wear my Hamilton T-shirt with my dressy pants. The week before at the dance, I had worn a T-shirt that had a stylized print of Scorpio on the front in honor of my husband’s November birthday, worn with a skirt, and received many compliments. 

I was encouraged by those positive comments to continue the trend, but, as we walked to the eatery on this night, I said to Marty that I would bet him a hundred pesos not a single person would comment on my T-shirt this time. I didn’t think most would recognize the symbol, for one thing, and for another, I didn’t think any would have seen the play, at least from the group we often hang with. Many were Canadians, and likely wouldn’t be interested, and most of the others just never seemed to be into plays or musicals. Concerts, yes, but not much from the theatre.

Even though my opinion about what our friends enjoyed outside our wintertime together was not certain, I still wanted to make the bet. And so, for the sake of me having an opponent, Marty took the wager.

At the restaurant and taking advantage of the half-priced drinks, and eating dinner, we began to enjoy the lively band once they got started. 

A bit later in the evening, after returning from the dance floor, we noticed a family toweling off their young son very near our table. Apparently, the boy had just come out of the nearby swimming pool and ran to his parents who were inside listening to the music, leaving one large spot wet and slippery. We were concerned for those, like us, who might not notice the wetness in their inebriated state and fall on their butts, so Marty called attention to the mess with a waiter, and it was wiped up.

Minutes later, the same family came over toward me and the woman said, “Excuse me.”

I looked up, thinking she was going to mention her sorrow for making a mess, knowing we had pointed it out to the waiter, or some such thing. But no, her comment had nothing to do with the water on the floor. 

She had her eight-year-old son in tow as they both walked closer to me. “My son wants to tell you something,” she said, as she prodded the bashful boy forward to speak to me.

I had no clue what was coming.

The boy pointed at my shirt. “I really like your Hamilton T-shirt.” He told me and added, ” Did you see the play?” 

I told him that I did, and he said, “I love Hamilton, I want to see the play someday.” 

Wow, that was unexpected from an eight-year-old. 

Upon seeing the astonished look on my face his mother explained. What came next left me speechless.

“He fell in love with the movie and watches it every day on Disney. He knows every song.”

My mouth dropped open and my eyes felt just as wide from hearing that information.

“Seriously?” was all I could say.

“Oh yes. He’s quite the history buff and loves music, so he fell in love with the movie. He wants really badly to see this play, and we want to take him someday,” she explained.

I looked at the boy and asked his name.

“Cory,” he said.

“Well, Cory, I am truly amazed at your interest and am very impressed with you. Would it be okay if I gave you a hug?”

He nodded then stepped forward and hugged me.

“I hope you get to see the play very soon,” I told him. “And I sure do appreciate your coming over to talk to me. You are an amazing young man.”

I also thanked the parents for their part in bringing him over to talk to me and for encouraging his interest in Hamilton. And then I told Cory, “When you become famous one day, I will be proud to say that I met you.”

When Marty and I got home later, I handed over the one-hundred-peso bill I owed him from our bet and said, “That was worth every centavo. What an amazing experience.”

Photo by R. D. Smith