June 26, 1776
“The sacred rights of mankind are not to be rummaged for among old parchments or musty records. They are written, as with a sunbeam, in the whole volume of human nature, by the hand of the divinity itself; and can never be erased or obscured by mortal power.” In the days since being introduced to the work, I have found it fabulously hard to put down The Farmer Refuted. It is lines like the one written above that send the chills throughout my body. The power infused within his each word it truly breathtaking. This Alexander Hamilton is a man I must meet, his conviction and passion with which he writes on America are an inspiration to all who read him. The future of my education has only been made sweeter by the prospect of sharing a campus with someone with whom I have the utmost respect and admiration.
My mother and sister went out this morning for church, I was not much up for it and decided it more prudent to stay in. The Anglican faith is something I do not dislike necessarily, it is rather that I have never seen the reasoning behind any religion’s practices. While I do see how it can comfort and guide those in need, religion has never appealed to me the way it has to my family and fellow countrymen.
While surveying my family’s home, a towering Dutch styled manor of red and gray stone, I came upon a reminder of years gone by. Carved into a post along the back porch was “Alden” and beneath that the number seven was scratched in. Ten years, an entire decade has passed since I had put that there. It is strange how in the monotony of our day to day lives, the seemingly perpetual cycle of daily agendas, we somehow lose sight of the march of time. As we toil away at our work, whether it be in the city or the countryside, we turn a blind eye to the progression of time and become lost in that infernal mindset of normalcy and complacency that has so plagued the people of this world for generations. In the ten years that have elapsed since I took my penknife to that post, have I truly changed? Have I grown from a blithe child to a conscious man that understands the importance of the time he lives in? I ask these questions because I fear that the same must be asked of these thirteen colonies of America. Are we grown and autarkic, or are we an ignorant child unaware of the echo that our actions will send through time?