It's... difficult for me to come up with the right words for today. How do you mourn a man who died centuries before you were even born? Do you have any right to that sorrow?
213 years ago - 11 July 1804 - Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton dueled in the early morning, in Weehawken, New Jersey - a short walk from where I live now. Hamilton had written a friend ahead of time to state his intention of firing off to the side or into the air. And when it came down to it, Hamilton's shot did go into the trees. And Burr's shot went into Hamilton.
Alexander Hamilton died the next day - 12 July 1804 - after an agonising thirty hours of bleeding out.
Weehawken holds reenactments of the duel each year, but as 11 July fell on a Tuesday this year, I am unable to attend, as I am stuck at work.
But it didn't seem right to do nothing to commemorate it at all. Not when the man is so important to me. Not when, even after 213 years, he's had such a profound effect on my life.
So here's to you, Hamilton. Rest in peace and all that jazz.
-Nym
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