Dearest Colo. Hamilton,
I want to congratulate you on your 260th (or 262nd) birthday. Even though you passed away a great many years ago, your spirit has not been more alive since the days where you regularly wrote and spoke with little inhibition. I have entire volumes of questions and praises to ask and give. You have, in this past year, impacted my existence in ways that even I, who has the firmest grasp on my emotional ideals compared to the world I live in, am troubled at funneling into sentences and paragraphs.
Your boundless energy and near-psychic anticipation for the need for a financial system in our country’s future, your bravery at separating from the empire that grieved so many and intelligence to turn that enemy into a friend, your sharp wit that spared no man whose folly was interpreted as a danger and the refusal to hypocritically take another life which led to your all-too-soon demise have driven me to extents that still break barriers.
I must say, good sir, that I have not only learned from your successes, but I have learned from your failures. You worked yourself into exhaustion many times. Your quick judgement and assessment of character and situation led to preventable disasters. Your social and political rivals could not the do damage to you that you had not already done to yourself ten times over. Many of my contemporaries believe that your trait for oratory pyrotechnics (Chernow coined that phrase) led you right into your grave.
Whether the latter is true is unimportant. What happened at Weehawken is irreversible. You are, for all biological purposes, dead. I believe that new life has been breathed into your legacy. New generations are pouring over your writings. More people know the name Alexander Hamilton than every before.
That knowledge is my gift to you, dear sir. Your death was not the end of your legacy.
Thank you, dear sir, for changing the world and continuing to do so long after anyone thought possible.
Your obedient servant,