I just got done watching the documentary on PBS about the journey of the musical Hamilton, which if you weren’t aware, is a phenomenal musical about the life of our first Secretary of the Treasury in the United States, Alexander Hamilton. It’s not the sleep-inducing history lesson that led you to doodle in your notebook in order to stay awake. It makes history personal by incorporating the modern sounds of rap and hip-hop, as well as some jazz, in order to bring a founding father’s story into relevant conversation.
I know how the story ends, both in terms of the musical and the history it was based on. However, the ending always gets me. I knew that the last couple of songs of Act 2 would be featured in the documentary. I have made the mistake many times of listening through it on public transit, which prompts me to attempt withholding tears.
Some people might think it’s weird that I’m crying over a man who died in a duel in 1847. As you may be able to tell, I don’t think so. There is more than one reason I cry when I reach the end of the musical, and I hope to make those reasons clear, beyond a shadow of a doubt, in order to help you understand where I’m coming from.