Still Restless....

PREFACE

There ain't a native born Texan worth their weight in tamales who doesn't claim to have an ancestor who stepped over the line Travis drew in the sand at the Alamo.

Now seeing as how there were around 160+ brave souls who died there, this isn't possible...

BUT,

it's a claim I double-dog dare any of y'all to try and refute.

Seriously...just try.

~When the legend becomes fact...print the legend.~

Dear Papa,

I hope this letter has reached you and finds you well. Forgive my hen scratching as I am writing this in the dark whilst perched against the north wall. This is where I have been placed to stand sentry should we be attacked.  Colonel Travis urged us to write letters if we were a mind to.  He also said it might be best to do so hastily as this will be the last opportunity for our courier to safely slip out under the cloak of darkness. As I have no sweetheart Papa, it is you I chose to share my thoughts with tonight.

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Now where were we when I last talked to y'all?

Oh yeah...on the road to San Antone! 25 years is a long time and a lot of things can change...like the traffic.

I know I'm getting old, but I swear up and down, I don't remember this many cars and one-way streets when last we visited.  But with two wriggling kids in the back seat maybe, just maybe, I was a little preoccupied?

Arriving in the downtown area, a peculiar situation presented itself...parking.

In order to get out and walk, one must first pay to park.  Same goes for the hotels.  In addition to the room rate, parking is an additional cost.  I'm not going to beat them up for this. Law no!

This city is built around the tourist trade and if there weren't the parking lots, there would be a battle royale over prime parking spaces.

Not only was there more motor traffic, but the foot traffic around the Alamo was huge!
Did I mention there was a conference in town...and a picket line for some cockamamie cause out on the plaza...and it was July 4th...and it was hot?

(The line to tour the Alamo put me in mind of the line of kittens vying for Cat Daddy's attention at one of our shows...crazy long.

We arrived safely although it was a might tricky getting though the horde of soldados camped around the mission.  But we rode through like the Devil himself was chasing us. At first, the boys inside the Alamo let loose a volley of buckshot upon us, but on hearing us cussing in english, threw the doors wide open.  I wish you could have heard the cheers as we rode in.  There was never a grander welcoming committee.  Steely eyed, dirty, but such a sight for these sore eyes.  They are all knights in buckskin Papa, ready and willing to do battle.

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We decided to skip the tour and headed straight to the gift shop 'cause y'all know nothing says vacation like cheap souvenirs.

Did I say cheap?

  I meant to say cute.

I was looking forward to stepping into an A/C shop, but again the crowds stopped me cold all right...cold in my tracks.  Where the heck did all these folks come from?

All I wanted was a coupla snow domes for corn sakes, but you'd a'thought oil had been struck the way folks kept crowding in.  Even if I had found some snow domes and did not lose a hand in the process...heck, I'd still be standing in line waiting to check out!



Tell sweet sister Barshie I have no news of John nor his brother Captain Sadler.  I know they are with old Sam Houston somewhere, but as to those whereabouts that is unclear.  What is clear is they won't be joining us. Colonel Travis called us out earlier to tell us there will be no more joining us.  The 32 of us what rode in from Gonzales are all that will be answering his call.  Papa, I pray all who have read the last letter he wrote asking for help  and heeded not,  will be able to look at themselves in the mirror whilst shaving. Perhaps our blood burned too hot, but with his call for Victory or Death, we had to come. 

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Colonel Travis is a good man.  A mite young, best I can tell not much older than me Papa, but still a brave soldier.  After we arrived from Gonzales a day or two ago, he called us all out and gave us the chance to leave.  Not a man save one chose to do so and nary a one of us hold it against him. He has a wife and children to think of.  I pray you are not angry with me for staying.  I arrived committed to lend a hand and stay I must.  I ask only Papa, that you would bless my decision to defend the right to freedom.

History may say we died because of the land.  I am not inviting death nor do I welcome it.  I would like to see Texas become what I see in my mind's eye.  I would like to see my children born here. But no doubt we will perish, Papa, as there are over 3000 men just outside the walls and less than 300 inside them.  The odds are heavily against us, but make no mistake.  If perish we must, so too will many of the enemy when the fighting commences.  Texas is too vast, too beautiful and too wild for one man to try and control her.  Knowing this full well, steadies my hand and my resolve to fight with my last dying breath.

Finally...I just waved the white flag in defeat.  A coffee mug just wasn't worth the hassle.

Thank goodness those brave men, defenders of the Alamo, hadn't had to fight that mob too.

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The beauty, wildness, and vastness of Texas cannot be tamed nor can the people who have chosen to live here.  One man cannot dictate to thousands what can and cannot be done.  Texas will not allow it nor will we.

History may say we were foolish, but I want you to tell them otherwise. This mission, the Alamo, old as it is, stands for freedom and so shall we stand until we cannot stand no more.

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But you know...I can't help but wonder if the outcome might have been different if tourists had been there that fateful morning.

Time might have been bought for the defenders inside those hallowed walls, if there had just been a few souvenir and drink stands camped alongside the soldados tents.

I can just picture ol' Santy Ana's army trying to get past those throngs of folks fighting over their Made in India gen-U-ine Mexican wedding dresses.

Upon arriving here a mexican bugler was playing a strange melody.  It was like nothing I had ever heard and Davy said it was a old Spanish tune meaning show no quarter.  Day and night he played it up till last night.  Now no sound breaks the stillness of the night sky.  It's Santa Ana's way of telling us there will be no prisoners.  Perhaps he figures to scare us, but Papa, it has only done the opposite.  I am even more resolved to hold my position on this long wall and it's a resolution held by every man in here.

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Pammie asked me if I was gonna talk trash about San Antonio.  Heaven forbid.  I'd rather cut out my tongue...no my heart...than to ever dare rag on it.

(Shoot...I'm worried enough that I'll probably be in deep ca-ca for this post.)

You don't tug on Superman's cape.
You don't spit into the wind.
And you don't mess with Alamo.

Just ask Ozzy!

Read my lips.

This chubby old lady loves her Texas AND it's history much too much to ever be found guilty of treason. I love San Antonio with it's culture, beautiful River Walk, Mission Trail, and the history held in place by it's charm.

I also love the Daughters of the Republic of Texas for everything they have done to preserve this landmark city and its uniqueness.  They are the caretakers of the Alamo and in doing so, saved this priceless treasure.  The Alamo is the number one tourist attraction in Texas and rightly so.  Without the DORT, who knows what might have happened to it. I have so much respect for them and their work

So much in fact, I'm in the process of applying for my girls and I to become members.



My only regret Papa is not being able to see you one more time.  I pray you are out of harm's way, and that you harbor no ill will to the commanders of the Texican army for putting us in harm's way.  I choose to be here and I choose to stay.  Remember that Papa and if I do perish as I spect I will,  when you think of me know I died for Texas.  I cannot think of a finer cause to give my life for.

Your son,
Jonathan Lindley
March 5, 1836

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(The above letter is a work of fiction out of the over active mind of a Texas born and bred woman.  My great, great, great grandfather was John Sadler who with his brother William, fought at San Jacinto.  My great, great, great uncle Jonathan Lindley fought and died at the Alamo.  He was part of the Immortal 32 and who came to Travis's call for help in 1836.  In bravely doing so, he wrote in blood his name...and my family's...in the sand of the Alamo forever.)

REMEMBER THE ALAMO!

How could I ever forget?

For this is where everything I hold dear first began.