Chronicling his journey from small-time to Sondheim — in verse
Lin-Manuel?
This man, well, he excels at it all, all right?
I can tell you he’s so much more than a well-liked playwright
So stay right there, don’t ignore me, don’t take flight
Check your head, and position your seatbelts — sit tight
A verbal storm is ahead, so listen and seek help, don’t fall behind
Batten down the hatches, quick, then get in a N.Y. state of mind
— Manhatten and flashes, splashes of Latin America entwined
To make magic happen, start a chemical reaction, and create the man
Who would rise (up), multiply in size, from small-time — to Sondheim
Hang on, let’s back up, back up, rewind — take a step (back) in time
To the time he was a tiny baby, winter, snow-scene, nineteen-eighty,
Imagine, a little Latin Slim Shady, loved innately, insanely by his folks
Proud puertorriqueños, full of empeño, brave inmigrantes con mil sueños
For their ex-in utero hijo, their pequeño acertijo, con el cual Dios les bendijo
Growing up in Inwood, it would have been difficult to have predicted —
Who could have envisioned the impact he’s inflicted? The barriers he’s lifted?
Who could have scripted his condition of ambition, the many ways he’s gifted
In addition to his capacity to turn public mentality, to help us see veracity
And his tenacity to traverse all possible obstacles, rehearse with vast voracity?
Blossoming with promise, he exits Inwood, an awesome hood of true diversity
Obtained his mission of admission to Wesleyan —a thespian university
Settled down in Middletown, a little town. Was it pedestrian? Certainly!
Enter Thomas, collectively — colossus, flawless, an unstoppable collaboration
Add Alex and Andy — mind-spinning, prize-winning, untoppable combination
But Lin-Manuel was troubled, feathers ruffled at seeing the people of Puerto Rico
Portrayed clichéd as thugs, coupled with drugs, seen as a ghetto freak show
Wanted to manifest their humanity, with clarity, shift the status quo insanity
Strip their two-dimensionality, their opacity, make real characters and families
Who we love or loathe or want to be, just like it was meant to be, reality
So he and Quiara began writing In the Heights when the Broadway curtains
Were still a quite uncertain, distant sight, the bright lights were but a plight
Slight glimmers of white in the night, far away, they were just a gleam
But while he chased that dream, he built an extreme dream team (rap much?)
Got with Two-Touch, kings of improv, founded Freestyle Love Supreme
The design — to define verse in real-time, didn’t take a long time, it seems
For them to climb high, right up to sick fun, Big Pun level rhymes — sublime
About this time, inspired, he connected with Vanessa, invited her to FLS
Said “you leave me breathless, love’s gonna getcha, I’ll be there for you, yes”
Soon blessed with a bright and marvelous wife, united in bliss or strife, to life!
Yet Lin-Manuel felt distaste, he noted most great stage roles were pasty white faces
So he became a wrong-righter songwriter, gave the non-white a spotlight
He focused on forming an opus, that woke us, provoked us, exposed us
Didn’t back down until he began to compose a plan and forge a canvas
Where candidates black and brown could dazzle us, pizzazle us with talent
It was too much to handle, the active catalyst that lit the wick of the candle
For the massive blast that was Hamilton……………… Tick, tick, BOOM!
And while redcoat bullets were still echoing in ample theater rooms
He won — the public vote, a Pulitzer, a drama prize, for dramatizing history
Wound up in the White House — lights-out show — with heat and electricity
It all arose while reading Ron Chernow, when he realized there were now no
Tributes fitting for the high-brow, loudmouth, confounding founding father
The notion — controversial, some said “sit down, you’re rocking the boat, y’all”
He paid no attention, put his plan into action with passion — he didn’t stall
Just let the rhythm hit’em and thrill’em — the result — a historical attraction
Whether hoppin’ with Poppins, cloggin’ noggins with earworm, or practisin’
Philanthropy with Anthony, his one hand, one heart keeps jotting on his terms
He’s a believer, conceiver, achiever, yea, I crown him — the master weaver
Intertwining rhyme, melody, story, choreography, philosophy — going deeper
He braids non-fabric tapestries with accuracy, he weaves an artistic centerpiece
He redefines a masterpiece, beats and pieces just where they have to be
We hope that he will never cease, ’cause that would be catastrophe, a travesty
Please, Lin, don’t quit being a madcap miracle lyricist, a musical conspiracist
A rhythmic genius specialist, who makes verse and cadenced meter kiss, who
Awes us all with assonance, and resonance, and don’t forget the random dance
Though Lin-Manuel reinvented what theatre is and redefined a showbiz whiz, his
Motivation to be vivo, worth so much more than any show — his sons —
Amigos, whom he loves tantísimo — A toast to them, and to Vanessa, bless her
A big part of his success, a cheer! — And for the banda Miranda, can I get a
‘Hear, hear!’, without you he wouldn’t ‘be here’— got to hand it to ya
And to the master weaver, who makes lives and laughter sweeter
And bestows so much encanto — to you, sir, I say — Thank you!
If you enjoyed this, please consider donating to a cause close to Lin-Manuel’s heart.
@2021, Rob Dods
