My parents are pretty clever. I’ve always known this; their actions just serve as a reminder, like, every single day.
They know I am obsessed with Hamilton (the man, his life, the play, the music), and they also know that my obsession led to extensive research on the American Revolution, and I consequently became fascinated with good old Ben Franklin as well. He was a philosopher, an inventor, a founding father, a diplomat, and most impressively, a fashion icon in France. I proclaimed that if I had lived in 18th century Philadelphia, I would have loved to be his friend. I could talk about either of these men for days.
The weekend before I moved out of my house in Orange, I was home briefly to see Steven graduate at Cal. I then had to fly back to finish finals, and move half my stuff to USC, and the rest of it home when I would drive back to Sacramento a week later. Before I returned to Orange for this last feat of the school year, my dad gave me some money for gas and the expenses of moving. He slid me a $100 bill, and attached was a sticky note on top of Ben’s head, with the sentence, “Hi Olivia—I’d love to be your friend!” written on it. Of course, $100 is always a nice gift regardless, but the clever little note he wrote is what made me smile and laugh. And, realize that I could have easily wished to be friends with George Washington—good choice on my part!
Last week, my mom sent me an envelope in the mail. Inside, there was a note that read: Three portraits: Kill, marry, or screw. Choose wisely.
Along with the note, there were three bills: a $20, a $10, and a $5. I laughed out loud at her clever little game, and then got down to business. Two presidents and a founding father were in contention for me to dub accordingly. And choose wisely I did.
Marry Hamilton, obviously—I mean, the guy was a hero and a scholar (points to anyone who just finished that lyric in their head). Founding father, first secretary of the treasury, zealous writer, kick-ass lawyer, female magnet— Definition: Jack of all trades with whom no one could compete. Also, I already have an intellectual and physical crush on the dude, powdered wig and all, and for that I have to give him mad props.
Screw Lincoln, which feels really wrong to say about Honest Abe, but the game is the game, and I gotta play it.
Finally, kill Jackson, because what the heck did he do for this country that earned him a spot on the twenty? Wish I knew. Sorry Andrew, but you’re scrapped.
And then I called my mom to give her my final tallies and respective justifications. She was in full agreement.
So the moral here, besides that my parents are generous and hilarious, is that of course it’s always nice to receive money and all, but it’s way better when the men on the bills become your equals and you get to decide who you befriend, marry, screw, and kill.