—Flash Forward—

A day of reckoning.
A small boat crosses
the Hudson River,
no warning horn.
Destination New Jersey,
of all places.
A. Burr isn’t warned
that Hamilton will not
fire his pistol.
Destiny predetermined.

“Death doesn’t discriminate
Between the sinners and the saints,
It takes and it takes and it takes.
History obliterates.”

*—Flashback—

General.
     Colonel.
           Aide-de-camp.    
                 Immigrant.

“Don’t engage, strike by night.
Remain relentless ‘til their troops take flight.”
“We escort their men out of Yorktown.
They stagger home single file.
Tens of thousands of people flood the streets.”
“Took up a collection just to send him to the
mainland.
‘Get your education. Don’t forget from whence
you came.’”

—Stepfather of the Union—

Treasury secretary, author of the Federalist Papers,
lawyer, speechwriter, confidante, opponent of slavery,
member of the Constitutional Convention.

“History has its eyes on you.”
“I’ve seen injustice in the world and I’ve
        corrected it.”
“The Federalist:  Addressed to the People
         of the State of New York.”
“Goes and proposes his own form
         of government.”

—Family and Marriage—

The Schuyler Sisters – Eliza.
     Maria and James Reynolds – adultery and bribery.
          Philip Hamilton – successor son and victim.
                Philip Schuyler – father-in-law.

“And if this child
Shares a fraction of your smile
Or a fragment of your mind, look out, world!”
“I know you’re a man of honor,
I’m so sorry to bother you at home.”
“I’m only nineteen but my mind is older,
Gonna be my own man, like my father
     but bolder.”
“Grampa just lost his seat in the Senate.”


—Why, How, How long?—

Why not?, biography,
genius, rapid-fire rap,
hip-hop, historical vertigo,
Lin-Manuel Miranda at the White House,
a cast talented beyond measure,
the Great White Way,
2017-18 and forever….
“…13 percent of the population is foreign
born, which is near an all-time high;
that one day soon there will no longer
be majority and minority races, only a
vibrant mix of colors.”  
     ‒Jeremy McCarter, from Chapter I of
       Hamilton:  The Revolution

© Lewis Bosworth, 12/2016
    With credit to the book:
     Hamilton: The Revolution

" It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews,
            Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and  
                Illuminations from one End of this Continent
                      to the other from this Time forward forever more.”
      John Adams – July 3, 1776.

Webster Groves - 2016

The Townhall fountain dances
cheerily in the morning sun.
The red-white-blue shirted crowd
rises as one for the colors.
Laughing children scramble for
tootsie rolls and sweet tarts
tossed by a strolling  clown.

         Philadelphia, July 3, 1776

        Carriages sped toward Philadelphia
        where resolute patriots
        would turn the pages of history
        and tell an unsuspecting world
        that a new nation had given birth to itself.

Sousa strains peal from the marching Statesmen,
Girl Scouts guide their well-groomed mounts -
hooves echoing through concrete caverns.
Vintage firetrucks and autos
sound their horns and sirens
as candidates work the crowd, pressing the flesh.

        Each crass insult from the British crown
        had tightened the noose on the colonial neck.
        The middle ground was soaked with patriot blood
        and revolution was the only course left.

Barbecue clouds drift over Pat and Lee’s farm
Horseshoes spin and clang and frisbees fly.
A ***-luck feast with beans and franks
interrupts the pop and glare of bottle rockets.

        One by one, each patriot quilled the parchment
        resolved to endure the costs of liberty -
        knowing to the marrow that defeat
        would spell certain ******* and death.

We reach the lakeshore at dusk -
unfolding chairs - spreading out blankets -
strains of Americana drift over the lake.
then a pyro-technic extravaganza
blazes across the summer sky.  

        Washingon’s tattered and bloodied men
        cornered Cornwallis at Yorktown.
        Then surrender - all British claims
        to American soil banished to the tomes of history.

The grand finale pummels the darkened sky
raising cheers and whistles from the crowd
Toddlers collapse in parental arms,
car doors slam, engines ignite
and head-lighted caravans, turn for home,
spiraling off in every compass degree.

“Happy birthday,” America and endless happy returns
"from this time forward forever more!”  

Robert Charles Howard

A Father for a Nation

A lot of knots now show in our discord but in our great beginning the great living God went into the
****** pristine forest and plucked out one of uncommon character and dignity from this choicest

Material a people would be brought forth that would be the admiration of the world so George
Washington with the common materials of only a quill and parchment set in motion a new course

That abridged history and chartered a course for this unique land a trek was begun across a vast frontier
Many obstacles and difficulties lay ahead the king and tyrant’s angry words would blast you into action

They would come sweeping across the Potomac whipping and lashing until men of devotion and devout
Faith could no longer ignore their substance or their intent a struggle began its clamor would reach and

Deafen the English crown that tried in vain to squelch freedom’s infant cry in places like Yorktown White
Plains and Long Island musket ***** would run up the tally the individual cost in human souls for a

Required season agony were paid their demanded sum into the chasm of ugly death marched the
Gentle souls of our fore fathers paying a price so that we could be free not free to do as we please

But to carry on this proud heritage that was given to us by their great sacrifice oh mortal soul on self
I did not bestow to another one day I will be careful to behold his face trace it well make sure it shows

Peace for with him you are to dwell I have not been a man of war it was the responsibility of others to
Defend my rights on the field of battle they knew unspeakable horrors walked the thin line between

Sanity and madness sacred honor held them from going over the edge to them in everything I owe them
Profound thanks we use to say the pledge of allegiance George but now lip service is even too much

Our national monuments were made of marble the idea was to build them from an enduring material
We go and gawk and gush and say how marvelous all the while our actions have eroded these precious

Symbols of freedom the true picture is marble that is in a state of decay pock marked chipped bits and
Pieces piled at the foot of what was once a great edifice for freedom the statutes of bronze who

Symbolize our national heroes take on the guise of doddering foolish old men that don’t know where
They are or what they are doing this our reality not theirs in each generation it falls to individuals to

Arise To the occasion and meet the need that reality prescribes I believe the God who gave us George
Washington will lift up a leader with the power to pull us from the quagmire that we find ourselves in

It will only be by His mercy in every other time He has never failed all is needed is humility and prayer
As the portrait shows George kneeling in the snow in his generals uniform he knew where his victory

Would come from as well as Abe who said we don’t count on our bristling battlements but on the
Righteous God who loves freedom and is the true source of it endurance we in true humility say thank

You Heavenly Father and thank you father of our indebted and grateful nation with grateful hearts
Thanks and happy birthday to you remembering you gives us a connection to the past and to each other
That is Profound

This is being posted late in the day as a tribute for the father of our country but it isn’t late this was
Written in ninety six I picked up a car and a old royal typewriter here in Illinois on the way back home I

Held up in a Motel in Flagstaff Arizona for two days watched hours of the history channel and wrote this
And other Pieces those old royal type writers were what the soldiers hiding behind enemy lines used to
Send their Communiqués back to the front I’m very proud of it I try to do honor by it when I write

the smoke rising off the snow
like the wet breath of hot jewels.
is draped over the dead.
i have no joy where the happy is done.
and all the pilots blotch the tarmac
having crashed into
chrysanthemums.

i am Yorktown and Springhill.
a swathe of feral and ironworks
on a bleached stone
in a pit.
i collude with the sun
and cavort with the moon's sisters.
swelling my coffers with blood
spilled on a Living
Thing.

and i forget.

For Five long years he fought a war
against the mighty English crown.
At times, it seemed, by will alone
He kept our army in the field.
At Valley Forge our ill clad troops
suffered greatly from the cold.
In New York harbor thousands died,
held as prisoners in foul ships’ holds.
The reverses were many, the victories few
until the world turned upside down.
That day at Yorktown when Lord Cornwallis
And all his troops were brought to ground.
Yet, with our independence won,
the victor would not wear a crown.
Like Cincinnatus, the hero of old,
He lay down his arms and went back home.
Washington was that paragon
He refused all kingly robes.
Liberty lives only because
A free man refused to be a Lord.
Remember, if you would stay free,
the price they paid for Liberty.
Remember George who wore no crown.
His sacred honor deserves renown.

they have the same bird in texas,
the ones that sound like chalk in the driveway in the
late evenings in september,
like reading nancy drew from the public library on wooden porch benches,
like orange light on the counter from the kitchen window,
belgian block curbs and watching airplanes roar over
the sunken sun

instead it is me driving home to no one from work in clothes that look nothing like my father's but still remind me of his car pulling into our driveway in yorktown at 6pm in september,
cutting bell peppers and tomatoes in the kitchen the way my mother used to over the sound of air conditioning and oil popping,
and the smell of dinner when I let the steam from the shower flood the high hats in my tiny kitchen is nothing like it used to be but smells exactly like hers

and the birds that followed me to texas are in the trees outside my window in the late evenings in september,
hailing a different sinking sun and the end of days
that feel much shorter than they used to

We need to remember our heritage and the reason we celebrate the 4th of July.

Have you ever wondered what happened to the 56 men who signed the Declaration of Independence? Their story. . .

Five signers were captured by the British as traitors, and tortured before they died.

Twelve had their homes ransacked and burned.

Two lost their sons serving in the Revolutionary Army; another had two sons captured.

Nine of the 56 fought and died from wounds or hardships of the Revolutionary War.

They signed and they pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor.

What kind of men were they?

Twenty-four were lawyers and jurists.

Eleven were merchants.

Nine were farmers and large plantation owners; men of means, well educated.

But they signed the Declaration of Independence knowing full well that the penalty would be death if they were captured.

Carter Braxton of Virginia, a wealthy planter and trader, saw his ships swept from the seas by the British Navy. He sold his home and properties to pay his debts, and died in rags.

Thomas McKeam was so hounded by the British that he was forced to move his family almost constantly. He served in the Congress without pay, and his family was kept in hiding. His possessions were taken from him, and poverty was his reward.

Vandals or soldiers looted the properties of Dillery, Hall, Clymer, Walton , Gwinnett, Heyward, Ruttledge, and Middleton.

At the battle of Yorktown, Thomas Nelson, Jr., noted that the British General Cornwallis had taken over the Nelson home for his headquarters. He quietly urged General
George Washington to open fire. The home was destroyed, and Nelson died bankrupt.

Francis Lewis had his home and properties destroyed.

The enemy jailed his wife, and she died within a few months.

John Hart was driven from his wife's bedside as she was dying.

Their 13 children fled for their lives. His fields and his gristmill were laid to waste. For more than a year he lived in forests and caves, returning home to find his wife dead and his children vanished.

So, take a few minutes while enjoying your 4th of July holiday and silently thank these patriots. It's not much to ask for the price they paid.

Remember: freedom is never free!