Warnings: Based on history. Eventually, dark subjects may be discussed within this story. Bear this in mind when reading.
Ten Things
By: Dr. Cultural Studies
Delaware
George Caesar Jones
December 7, 1787
1.
When he was found, he was among an indigenous tribe. The First Anglo-Powhatan War had been bloody and there had been many losses on both sides of the conflict. Since he had appeared in the brush of the trees, he had been housed among the natives of the area. They fed him, clothed him, taught him their languages, saw a goodness in him that he barely understood. Some knew that he was strange, though. He was light-skinned, pale as a spirit.
Fear was overwhelming and that anxiety was something that he could still remember even years later. The incoming Anglo settlers were encroaching on Powhatan territory and, in retaliation, the natives killed the colonial president—John Ratcliffe—and had attacked many of the newer settlements with little mercy. Despite these tensions, he was endlessly curious about these people who looked like him, these pale-faced newcomers. Still, he could never bring himself to leave those families who had cared from him since his birth. He couldn't bring himself to betray Powhatan and his people.
He was only a boy when his settlement was attacked.
Only six by human standards.
Time and the passage of it would forever confuse him.
When he was found, he did not have name. He was called "New One" by the native peoples, after Powhatan had taken him in as a ward. They knew what he was, what he represented. He knew as well, to some strange degree. And that was frightening enough. Even more frightening was when the white soldiers arrived with their loud sounds and their shouting voices in the dead of a calm August night. He had been sleeping when Powhatan had run into the yehakin shouting for the family to run for their lives.
He could remember waking up to a man approaching him with a spear in his hand, a fierce glare on his face. And for the first time, he wondered if he truly could be killed by a human. Powhatan had told him many times before that such a feat was near impossible. What if he was the exception? Just as the man was about to attack, Powhatan intervened with a loud shout. In moments, he was just a little boy alone in a disaster—scared and frightened as he curled up in the corner of the large room.
Soldiers found him, a lone white child among the chaos. They didn't quite know what to do and he couldn't understand their language. After a while, with a couple men giving him small bits of bread and dried meat, a bearded man with kind eyes came up to him and crouched down. He knew what he was, that much was obvious. (Humans sometimes have a sense of national personifications.) And, as gently as possible, the man took him from that village. He covered his eyes so that he wouldn't see the carnage that had become of the people who took care of him.
Still, he could hear the screams.
The man who took him from the village?
His name was Thomas West—Third Baron De La Warr (1).
2.
He's always been the "big brother" figure to all of the States. As the "First State" it seemed like an obvious turn of events. He's physically the eldest and—some would say—mentally the eldest as well. Considering New York's exuberance and Hawaii's damaged innocence, he had his role cut out of him since day one. Despite popular belief, Day One was long before 1776. Cut out of parchment and ink, really. Some States acknowledge him as an elder brother (especially those that were members of the original thirteen); some States however, prefer to keep him at a safe distance.
Although he respects that distance, he has never understood why. He doesn't have the heart to ask, fearing what he might hear. Perhaps they could see darkness in his eyes that frightened them. He never pressures his younger brothers and sisters into anything though. He believes it is their right and their lot to learn as they live. He just tells them that he is always there if he's needed and leaves it at that.
What he doesn't know is that every single one of the States respect him for the mentoring role takes in their lives, even if they never say as much aloud.
3.
His personality isn't a stereotype—not technically. It's built, formed by the experiences he has had. There are certain schools of thought that might classify him as a stereotypical representation of his people. If he believed that, he wouldn't have a problem with it. No matter the positive or negative features, he's proud to represent his citizens, good or bad.
He's just your average man. A blue collar soldier. Who happens to love seafood. An American patriot from Delaware. And he happened to live forever.
All he's ever wanted to be was normal.
4.
Yes, he is the second smallest state by landmass. Despite common misconceptions, landmass does not always equal physical anthropomorphic stature. Certainly, it is often correlated. However, the landmass of the states (and other commonwealth and confederated republics) sometimes has no bearing whatsoever on human representational size.
Simply stated: he's not short.
He's never been short. He will never be short. His height's rather normal for a man of his age (physical age, not representative age). At twenty-five, he stands at five six inches.
Perfectly standard.
Of course, no one else (aside from Rhode Island) understands that and he is often made fun of for his supposedly "small" stature.
If he were a lesser man, he would just tell them to "suck it." America often egged on that desire, telling him to let loose for once in his life.
Delaware was never a lesser man.
As it stood, he just kept quiet and ignored the comments as best he could.
5.
His delegation was deadlocked. He thought the world of all three of his representatives. Thomas Mc Kean was blunt and honest, honorable to a fault. George was loyal and steadfast—a man that saw value in order and state. And Caesar was a brilliant military man, the likes of which Delaware rarely saw. George Washington himself looked upon Caesar Rodney with respect. No matter how much he dearly cared for each of these men, who represented him and his interests, he could never get them to agree. George was endlessly supportive of British rule, and, while he disagreed with many acts of the British crown, he saw numerous benefits of being a British-governed colony. Both McKean and Rodney disagreed whole-heartedly.
Really, that night he should have known better. He should have just stayed in Philadelphia with the rest of the Colonies. Instead, he had gone back to his lands with Caesar to attend a Loyalist event in Dover.
When word arrived that the delegation had stalled in its agreement (and a subsequent negative vote would result in the failure of the Declaration), he raced to the horses with Caesar on his heels. The poor man was in no condition for the hard ride they were about to make. His dear friend had long since been wasting away with cancer and asthma. He rarely felt well. Still, as Delaware looked over his shoulder at the man, he could see nothing but determination. So, when Caesar disappeared into his carriage, Delaware swung himself up onto his horse.
And the journey began.
The distance between Dover and Philadelphia was great—almost impossible to surmount in a single night. Twenty-six leagues (eighty miles by modern standards). The summer heat was sweltering and the thunderstorms were truly some of the most violent Delaware had ever seen in his hundred years. He raced hard through it all. There was nothing that could stop him. Those storms were mere obstacles that he had to endure, like all other things in life. Through those storms, it occurred to him that he could have been (or probably was) racing toward his own death. With the Declaration of Independence, every person—mortal or immortal—would be considered a traitor to the British Crown.
And Arthur was cruel when it came to traitors.
When he arrived the next morning in Philadelphia, Delaware listened from the back of the hall as his people declared his intention for independence. He was soaking wet, muddy, and tired. There were no smiles, no laughter at how utterly ridiculous he looked. He just stared toward the front of the room and nodded toward a young boy that sat there, eyes wide.
Alfred nodded in return, in thanks (2).
6.
When California, Alaska, and Texas make fun of his height, he desperately wishes that they could have seen him during the Revolution. Pennsylvania had once told him that no one would dare mock his height if they had ever seen him on the battlefield.
In his younger days, he was quite the badass.
Still is, if prompted into action.
7.
H. Jackson Brown, Jr. once said, "Remember that everyone you meet is afraid of something, loves something, and has lost something." Delaware could remember the first night he heard these words of wisdom. Tennessee had come up to visit. Thomas (Tennessee) had just gotten his second doctorate in applied museum sciences and was taking a large trip around the US as a hooding gift to himself. Seeing as how Delaware had three doctoral degrees (more than any other state or State), Tennessee had come up to compare notes. After downing quite a bit of Blue Moon, Thomas had spoken those words and followed it up with the obvious question:
"What're you afraid of, George?"
Delaware looked at his brother and pursed his lips, considering the question. "Spiders."
Shaking his head, Tommy laughed. "That's not what I meant. Sure you're scared of spiders, but…what do you really fear?" Tennessee had always been a philosophical drunk, even when he first became a State.
Considering it for a few moments, Delaware could only see a few viable answers—each one worse than the other. It was frightening to even think of those things, much less to say those fears aloud. Eyeing the way Tennessee was swaying in his lawn chair, he decided to answer, almost as if to test his own strength. "I'm…scared of not making a difference. That I will make the wrong decision and that history will remember me for it. I want history to remember me kindly whenever the time comes when I pass on from this world."
"You're scared of death?"
"Not death," Delaware murmured. He brushed the blond hair from his eyes and sighed. "I'm scared of being forgotten."
8.
He prefers not to talk about the wars, but he did fight in them.
Every now and then, he will tell a story about his time as a soldier. Very rare occasions.
Army. Navy. Air Force. Marines. Coast Guard.
Every branch at one point or another. He refuses to say which branch he liked the best.
Truth was, he loved them all.
Mostly he keeps those battle experiences to himself.
Because of this, Delaware can sometimes seem distant when discussing military-related subjects.
When he does speak up about something of that nature, everyone listens.
9.
"So, who have you loved? Have you ever had a girl or guy or…" Tommy slurred, shaking his head as he threw his head back. His eyes stared unfocused up at the clear stars above. The backyard of George's house was dark, with no ambient light to hide the stars. "You know, when I was a kid—they taught me that the stars were spirits. Everything was a spirit. I miss that, them. I miss Cherokee and Choctaw." Delaware sighed, taking a swig of his beer. There was something dangerously melancholic in his brother's tone of voice.
"They're still around."
"I know," Tennessee responded.
Seeing that his brother would say nothing more on the subject, Delaware decided to simply answer the question. How did the saying go? Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? Yes, he could see the truth in that statement. Most would probably agree with it, if they experienced the kind of love he had. It seemed so long ago, but he could remember everything. Each smile, each laugh. Each simple memory made. He could remember the way he had first heard, first heard of her feelings.
"Not all love is romantic," George cautioned. Tennessee rolled his head to look over. His eyes were half-lidded. He was starting to nod off. "They were a sweet family. Took me in when I had nothing. Took me in when I had nowhere else to go."
"You always got somewhere to go," Tommy murmured. "My house."
"It was the Great Depression, Thomas."
"Ah," the Southern State nodded. Well then, that explained everything.
His tired eyes closed and Delaware decided to lull him to sleep just as he did when the State was younger. He used to tell stories unlike anyone else. A skill he learned from Powhatan as a child. "I didn't really have a choice. I was walking down the dirt road just about ten miles from here. I had money, but I donated it to the food banks in the smaller towns. My people gave a lot of money to help others, always helping others. I'd survived outside before, in the wars. I could do it again. I could hunt and fish. I could rough my existence for a while until everything evened out. I knew that Georgia, Maine, and Texas were doing similar things. Everyone was struggling. No one could or would ask for help." He sighed, brushing a hand through his hair. "So, I'm alone on this road. It's getting dark. I'm dirty, tired, and hungry. All of a sudden, this wagon clambers up. I was in a rural part of the land by then. There were two kids and two ragged parents. Asked if I needed a lift. They took me in, helped me survive. They didn't have the food to support me, no money to their names, but they couldn't just let me stumble down that road. They didn't know who I was or anything more than the fact that I was a hungry, homeless. I loved them when I saw them. I didn't even need to know their names. At that moment, they were Charity and Love. Their children were Liberty and Independence. I love them, even now. They've long been dead. Their grandchildren moved out of my lands. I haven't seen them in twenty years."
10.
Delaware didn't answer the implied question about loss, but he did murmur it to himself. "What have I lost?" He couldn't. He wouldn't.
It was too hard.
And Tennessee, still very much sober in his lawn chair, never opened his mouth or eyes to ask the question. He just kept quiet and listened to the cicadas in the trees whirring past midnight.
He didn't need to know. Or maybe he already did.
Author's Section:
Yes. I have been working on this for a while, off and on. This is based on a story called "Ten Things" from the Harry Potter fandom. It's been so long since I read it, but it really stuck with me. I cannot remember the author. I had a few people voice their desire for something based on the States and, while I tossed around some ideas, this one seemed to be the best. The updates on this particular story will come whenever I happen to write a new entry. We'll be progressing along the timeline of granted statehoods. Next up: Pennsylvania.
Be aware that this is based on history and my perception of how my State characterizations might react to that history. The United States have not always been united and they have not always seen eye-to-eye. They have lived long lives and have seen things that are beautiful and wonderful while also seeing terrible things. These are my headcanons. And I know that can be a dangerous field to walk. Please do not flame me for these characterizations.
I hope everyone enjoys this journey. And I hope that everyone will leave me a review or some feedback.
Thank you for reading and I wish you all the best!
References:
(1) This is the best estimate of how Delaware gained its name. The native peoples of the region were named after the river, which supposedly gained its name from the Baron de le Warr.
(2) This was more fascinating than the ride of Paul Revere, yet no one knows the story. If that man had not raced down from Delaware, then the motion would not have passed. Strange how just one man can change the course of history, but that does often seem the case.