On a sideways wind-and-rain day in NYC there might not be a better way to spend 2-1/2 hours than at the Richard Rodgers Theatre on 46th street experiencing a musical you may of heard of (and yes, I paid the price of six or seven Broadway shows for one ticket.) I approached it with slight trepidation as I've listened to the soundtrack endless times and have every note and word committed to memory.
Despite the proximity of the lovely gentleman's body next to me mixed with his strong aftershave spilling into my seat, I was one with the audience as I was in tears or in laughter throughout, only broken by a tear-less intermission. I recognize that my emotion came from both the incredible storytelling performance on stage but also from my memories of going to audition for Broadway plays back in the 80s as a struggling actor, following my dream. The show and the memories reminded me of the thrill, hardships and rewards of having a dream and following it with full heart, never knowing quite where it will lead you.
I remember the time and place I first listened to each song of the Broadway musical, Hamilton. When listening to the song, Blow Us All Away and Stay Alive when Philip, Hamilton's son died in a duel, I was lifting weights at Seattle Fitness and crying over a pair of 35lb. dumbells.
Having seen a past musical called Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson, where I learned of Andrew Jackson's spirit and bluster through the trumpet of a Broadway musical, I was able to better understand the comparison when I read an article in the New York Times by Steve Inskeep on how similar Trump and Jackson are/were. (I mean, with a song like "Populism Yea Yea" opening the show, where do you think this musical is going?)
As I watch a clip of President Obama standing in the White House with the cast of Hamilton standing behind him, a cast so diverse that the most progressive imagination of the Hamilton-era White House couldn't have fathomed, my eyes filled with tears again at the rightness, impossibility and wonder of it all. Times are changing. Seriously, imagine this happening during the Bush administrations; the President of the United States feeding words to Lin Manuel Miranda as he freestyle raps.
There are so many levels of wonder, from the fact that school-age children (and plenty of adults) have the life of a founding father memorized (through rhyming and rapping), to the joy of the musical itself that is full of life, possibilities, tragedy and the foundation of our country, to the unique casting that feels so right on many levels.
Great art has the power to unite, to heal, to lift, to inspire and to make change. Thank you Lin Manuel Miranda for a gift to the nation at a time when we need more than a little compassion.