THE
NEW HAMILTONMODE
This is the new look at HAMILTONMODE it will no
longer play host to the latest Fashions or discuss people I have only seen from
a distance…but rather be a biographical look at William Anthony Hamilton from
all his aspects including and not limited to…dancing at Studio 54 to vogueing
on the corner in front of Peter Rabbits.
So sit back and enjoy this ride which is WAH just as much as I have. So let’s begin…
Picture it, Sunday June 4, 1961 Anthony Hastings is
born in York, Nebraska to, humph, I don’t know, but was adopted by William and
Josephine Hamilton, well there it is, NO NATIVE NY’ER a transplant, that went
to become a quintessential New Yorker!
Born to nothingness! Staff Sergeant William Hamilton and his wife
Josephine decide to adopt the 16 month old Anthony Hastings, to give him a life
that will go down in memory, my memory, nonetheless, but worthy to be told. I
do not even remember my Nebraska days, I came alive in Albuquerque, NM at four
and half years old living on Wilmore Street SE While my dad was in Germany,
life was even fabulous in those formative years I remember being the dad and
standing on the dining room table chair telling my mom, “I’m the daddy now,” in
those days I remember making my bed and setting the dinner Table which mom
taught me to do and every night for dinner I would set the table regardless to
what we were having for dinner. Also, we
had a presence at Wilmore; momma swore there was someone buried in the back of
the yard. Anyway, every picture we have
of me shows a figure covering me, this “ghost” was not scary and many a night I
would be found in the Hallway talking to this figure, my mom would ask, who are
you talking to baby and I would just point, in hindsight, I think it was a
divine being, what we discussed I know not, my mom being deceased cannot remark
on it nor my sister who I do not think remembers. I found a Love for God, Jesus, Mary, the
Saints, Angels at an early age! Thanks to Sister Marie Antoine at San Jose Parochial
School. I will never forget my sister
bringing little books of the Saints home and reading them to me, and me sitting
in awe when she read that The Little Flower when she died let fall from heaven
a shower of Roses, my little mind immediately thought that it rained Roses! Who
knew that Saint Therese of Lisieux would become my most favorite of Saints, and
who else would know that her shower of Roses was a metaphor for when she died
there would be miracles falling from Heaven!
