Free Thoughts on Why Winter is Evil (by A dot Ham)

When George Washington said he wasn't in the mood for a ball game, he meant it. And placing the ball in his inkwell—not to mention through the window from five yards away—was an ineffective means of changing his mind. Had Lafayette understood this, he might have been a little more willing to pull rank on his subordinate officers when they insisted on engaging him in a game of catch so close to the office window at Washington's Valley Forge headquarters. But he was the newcomer in this war, and both of the subordinate officers in question were older and more apt to talk back to authority than he. Not to mention he valued both their friendship and not getting buried head first in a snowbank (which they had done before, rank be darned). The result of this bit of timidity was that the merry trio comprised of John Laurens, Alexander Hamilton and the Marquis de Lafayette had been banished from the camp for the foreseeable future and ordered to go into York to run some errands, among which was purchasing a replacement glass pane for the window they broke. Apparently Billy was down with the flu, and Washington was not about to even consider sending his most trusted servant trekking 20 miles across snow packed and icy roads if the man had so much as a sniffle (Washington was a bit of a health nut like that). His most trusted aides, yes; in their current state (that of Dog House, USA), they were nigh expendable.

The good news was that it was only 20 miles, and the three had the fastest horses in the army. The bad news was that a breeze had picked up, dropping the temperature several degrees and blowing in clouds until the sky no longer resembled the nice, sunny, warm blue it had been when they left Valley Forge. Hamilton shivered as he pulled his coat lapels closer to his neck. He could be heard grumbling under his breath at Washington for making the trio his errand boys for the day.

"It is our own fault, you know," Lafayette commented casually. "I tried to warn you about playing too close to the house."

"Bugger off, Gilbert!" Hamilton snapped.

"Gotta side with the baguette, here," Laurens said with a smirk, earning a glare from his best friend that was icier than the trees around them.

"You're the one who threw the ball through the window!" Hamilton retorted.

"And you're the one who missed it."

"You threw it a mile over my head!"

"It's not my fault you're short!"

Laurens ducked and cackled as Hamilton threw a punch at him. He spurred his horse forward several yards. "And you keep missing!" he called back over his shoulder.

Hamilton growled and prepared to urge his horse into a gallop to catch up with the cocky southerner. But Lafayette put a hand on his shoulder.

"Please, friends, let's not fight!" the Frenchman urged. "We are already in enough trouble. We do not need to make more for ourselves. We are almost to York, and we will be able to warm ourselves in a tavern."

Hamilton sighed. "Fine," he muttered. "Let's just get to York and get out of this cursed wind!"

"I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say you're not too fond of winter," Laurens said.

The Caribbean transplant simply snorted. "Winter is evil," he pronounced.

"Wow. Succinct and to the point. Never thought I'd see that from the great, eloquent Alexander I-singlehandedly-support-the-ink-industry Hamilton."

The younger officer rolled his eyes. "I'm too cold right now to give a list of perfectly logical reasons for why winter is evil. Just you wait 'til I get warmed up!"

"God help us all!" Laurens said with a laugh.

Unfortunately, the plea seemed to Hamilton to fall on deaf ears, for at just that moment, the wind picked up from a breeze to a gale, and fat snowflakes and bits of sleet began driving into the men's backs.

"Forward, men!" Lafayette called over the howling wind, kicking his horse into a gallop. The other two officers followed suit.

The snow flew fast, thick and almost horizontal, driven by biting winds. The blizzard worsened by the second until the men could barely make out one another's silhouettes through the onslaught. They were forced to slow to a trot, then to a walk. They pressed on. They could no longer tell how far they were from their destination, but they knew it was far too late to turn back.

After what seemed like an eternity, Laurens let out a shout and pointed. There in the distance was a flickering light. Shelter at last! They urged their horses forward. A few minutes later, they found themselves in a street. They ducked into an alley, where they were relieved to find a stable and a door to the adjoined house. They hitched their horses to the stable posts and, without knocking, pushed their way into the house.

"Hello?" Lafayette called. "Is anyone home? We are sorry for the intrusion, but we needed shelter desperately!"

Footfalls answered them, and a brown-haired boy of about 12 years rounded the corner. He stopped in shock at the sight of the three men in the hallway, dripping melted snow from their coats and boots. The boy's face lit up with recognition, and he grinned and threw his arms up.

"Gilbert!"

Lafayette returned the preteen's grin. "Henri!" He held out his own arms, allowing the boy to run up to him for an embrace.

"I thought you were back in Philadelphia, mon ami," Lafayette said.

"I got tired of that stupid Captain Andre telling me what to do!" Henri griped. "So I came to stay with Moses and James. Sarah is still at Dr. Franklin's house, because Mrs. Bache needs her help with the children, and she does not trust Captain Andre to be nice to her if Sarah is not there."

"I suppose it does help sometimes to have friends among the English," Lafayette said with a smile. "I just hope that this Captain Andre does not forget that Sarah is the daughter of an English major. And if he does anything to upset her, you can be certain that we will defend her!"

"You, me, James and Moses!" Henri agreed with a fist pump.

"Excuse me, but some of us are freezing," Hamilton griped. "Is there a fireplace or a stove nearby?"

Henri glanced past his idol and noted the grouchy man behind him. "What's got under his collar?"

"Snow, mostly," Hamilton quipped. "And it's dripping down my shirt."

"He's just upset because winter snuck up on him," Laurens said.

Henri nodded and gestured for the three men to follow him. "Moses and James are in the front room. We have the fire going. Come!"

As Henri emerged in the front room with the trio on his heels, he called out to his two housemates, "James, Moses! We have visitors!"

The two men in question looked up from where they were working on their printing press. Moses brushed off his apron and turned to greet the guests. "That much I gathered from the slamming door and the shout we heard. But I never would have guessed it would be General Washington's aides-de-camp. Welcome, gentlemen! Come warm yourselves by the fire."

Lafayette gave the black man a warm smile. "Thank you, my friend. We are sorry for the intrusion, but we were not expecting this storm."

"Hey, no problem," James responded. "I was hoping to head out to Valley Forge today to see how the army's doing, but then that blizzard blew in. At least I can ask you how things are going." He glanced over to where Hamilton was already standing by the fireplace, clearly quite relieved to be somewhere warm. "Alexander Hamilton!" the blond teen exclaimed.

Hamilton turned and smiled for the first time since departing Valley Forge. "James. Good to see you again."

"Henri, why don't you pull out some extra chairs for our guests?" Moses said.

"Oui!" Henri replied before dashing off to another room. He returned a few minutes later, dragging two chairs. He set them by the fire. Lafayette and Laurens sat down, while Hamilton occupied one of the chairs already in the room, and James another.

Moses went back to working on the press, conversing as he did. "What brings you gentlemen to York?"

"Errands," Hamilton said with a little more than a hint of bitterness.

"We were playing ball, and we accidentally broke General Washington's office window," Lafayette explained. "So he sent us here to buy a replacement glass."

James snorted and laughed.

"Sure, yuk it up," Laurens said with a sardonic grin. "Just wait until you're on the receiving end of the general's ire. It'll put the fear of God in any man!"

"Sorry," James said as he caught his breath. "Uh...I'm James Hiller, by the way. A journalist for the Pennsylvania Gazette." He held out a hand to Laurens, who grasped it and gave a firm shake.

"Major John Laurens." He gave the teen a wide grin and a wink. "But you can call me Jack."

Hamilton rolled his eyes. "Oh, stop it!"

"I was just saying hello!"

James retracted his hand, unsure of what to make of the exchange. "Uh..."

"He likes to make everyone he meets feel as awkward as possible," Hamilton explained.

"Nah, if I wanted to do that, I'd read them some of your letters," Laurens told his friend with a mischievous grin.

Hamilton turned red. "That's private correspondence between friends," he griped. "And if you tried, I'd be obliged to use that turtle pond downstream from camp as a range for cannon practice!"

Laurens' grin vanished. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Good way to thaw out some of this awful winter! We'd be doing the turtles a favor, breaking up the ice."

Now it was Laurens' turn to roll his eyes. "You gonna spend the whole winter complaining about it?"

"Yes! In fact, Mr. Hiller, do you have a quill handy?"

"Uh, sure?" James said. "Over there on the counter. Papers are in the drawer."

Hamilton got up and retrieved the items, along with a book to use as a hard surface. He sat back in his chair.

Laurens gave him an incredulous look. "You're gonna write against winter? What on earth is that going to accomplish? You think that if the storm gods read some dissertation from you, spring will magically arrive?"

"You don't want to listen to me complain about winter anymore, so I figure I'll write all of my complaints down in a single reference guide that you can keep handy."

"Gee, what a lovely late Christmas gift," Laurens muttered.

"Why don't you like winter, Colonel Hamilton?" Henri asked. "Winter can be wonderful!"

"He's from the Caribbean," James explained. "They don't get winter there. It's summer all year round."

"If only the whole world could have the climate of Nevis and St. Croix," Hamilton said. "That is the one thing I miss." He began scribbling and muttering. "Free...thoughts...on why winter...is...evil."

"Oh brother!" Laurens groaned.

"But think of all the good things that winter gives us!" Henri pleaded.

Hamilton fixed the boy with a glare. "Name one."

Henri withered a bit, then stood tall. "Well...there is the fireplace. No one wants to be around it in the summer, but in the winter, it is where all of your friends are! And there are snowball fights, and snow angels! And snowmen! Do you want to build a snowman?"

Hamilton stared at Henri, who wore an ear to ear grin, and appeared to be wound like a spring. "I swear, if you start singing," the officer threatened, "I will turn you into a snowman!"

Henri's smile faded, and he regarded the Caribbean man with a confused look. "Quoi? Why would I sing?"

"You looked like you were about to break into a song and dance routine," Hamilton shrugged. "I felt compelled to give you a warning."

"But winter is something that people can sing about!" Henri said.

"No, it's really not."

"I must agree with my countryman," Lafayette said. "Winter has its beauty as well. You just have to learn to see it."

Hamilton glared at the Frenchman. Lafayette simply grinned and got up, strolling over to the front window, where he stood watching the snow fall. The wind had slowed a bit, and snowflakes fluttered and drifted a bit more, rather than being driven into the window.

"When I was a boy, I lived at my family's home nearly 200 miles from Paris. We had a big hill behind my house, and my cousins and I loved to sled down it. Those were some of my fondest memories. My mother would spend summers in Paris, conducting business for the estate, and would return for Christmas. She would always sled with us, even though it did not seem proper to my other relatives for her to do so. We would also take sleigh rides together, just the two of us. We worked together to raise and train a sleigh horse that I named for my father. My oncle thought it was...how you say...pretentious? Is that the word? He did not think it was proper. But my mother loved that horse. She said he reminded her so much of my father because of his temperament. When my mother passed, I took that horse and sleigh out by myself in a snowstorm. I never felt the cold. Instead, I felt as though my parents were both there with me. They kept me warm."

The young marquis paused to wipe a tear from his eye. "Winter has always been a time of comfort to me. I am not afraid of the storms. When I returned home, I was scolded for going out in the storm. But if the storm is not too bad, I like to ride in it. It helps me remember my mother and father. I like to think that my father loved winter as much as I do."

The room was silent for a moment when Lafayette finished speaking.

"Wow," James said, breaking the silence. "Is there anyone in this room who isn't an orphan?"

Laurens raised his hand. "Don't exactly get on with my old man due to our differing ideas on slavery, but he's still this side of the dirt."

"I'm afraid you're the odd one out this time, Major," Moses said. "Marquis, thank you for sharing that story. I can't imagine it's always easy bringing up a subject like that."

Lafayette turned to face his friends with a smile. "Not to worry, my friend. I am not afraid to speak of my family who have gone before me. It helps me honor their memory."

"So that's your argument in favor of winter?" Hamilton said. "It helps you remember?"

"It took me some time to get used to winter too," Moses said. "And for many years, I couldn't enjoy winter, because as a slave, there was always work to do. But now that I'm free, I've come to appreciate what winter gives."

"Bitter cold, deep snow and thick ice?"

Moses shook his head. "Rest and reflection," he replied. "Wars are hard to fight in the winter, so both sides initiate a cease fire for the most part. The army can rest, even if it is cold and the men still struggle with illness. And winter gives us time to gather with friends and family before the fireplace, as Henri said earlier. We can enjoy one another's company."

"And the sunlight glittering off of fresh snow?" James offered. "Beautiful!"

"Painful on the eyes," Hamilton mumbled, but he gave a slight smile.

"Helps when your eyes aren't periwinkle," Laurens teased.

"Oh, poo on you!" Hamilton retorted halfheartedly. He sighed. "Well...I suppose those are all sound reasons for you all to enjoy winter. I'm still not used to it, though. This is only the fourth one I've been through."

"So you will give it another chance?" Henri said.

"I suppose I could...tolerate it at least. For the sake of my friends."

"Good, because I haven't even mentioned the very best part of winter."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"Hot spiced cider!" Henri cried. "Last one to the kitchen doesn't get any!"

With that, the French boy dashed off. The others laughed and got up to follow.

Lafayette slung an arm around Hamilton's shoulders, prompting Laurens to follow suit.

"So are you still going to write that essay against winter?" Lafayette asked.

"I might save it for another time," Hamilton said. "For now, it's been a long day, and I'm looking forward to a warm drink. I suppose winter's not so terrible after all. It makes a good fire, good drink and good friends all the more rewarding."

"I'll raise a glass to that," Laurens said.

"If we get there before Henri drinks it all," Lafayette joked.

Hamilton broke away from his friends. "Well, like the kid said, last one to the kitchen doesn't get any."

He broke into a trot, with his friends on his heels, laughing.

AN: I've taken some artistic license with Lafayette's story (translation: I made it up). But there are elements of truth therein. Lafayette's father died before Lafayette was old enough to remember him, and his mother died when he was 12. By the time he was married at 16, he had lost most of his closest relatives. Yet he never lost his optimism.

Laurens wasn't initially a lieutenant colonel on Washington's staff. That rank was offered to Hamilton to sweeten the pot, as Hamilton was reluctant to spend the war chained to a desk. Laurens was content to work his way up. I don't recall when he was promoted, but I do know it was sometime between the battle of Monmouth and the battle of Yorktown. Since this story takes place in January of 1778, Laurens is still a major. Of course, this means that the merry trio's ranks are inverted to their ages. Lafayette is a major general, but is only 20. Hamilton is a lieutenant colonel and has just turned 23 (though he'll try to convince you he's only 21). Laurens is a major and turned 23 the previous October.

And for those wondering, they made it safely back to Valley Forge the next morning, errands completed. Washington forgave them since they came home safe. James went with them, and the four of them installed the new window (which Washington had to board up rather quickly when the blizzard hit). After that they all played ball—away from the house.