Alamo, The Old Girl
Send me a picture of my Alamo?
The old girl is near the river, the mission needed water.
There’s a piece of her old outer wall on the street, protected under glass, so don’t forget to look down.
Inside the gardens is an old oak, the most beautiful tree in all of Texas. She’s known me since I was a kid. It was the biggest tree ever transplanted. Braces hold up its branches like Aaron held up his brother Moses’ arms so that the Israelites would prevail in battle.
It’s free to go inside, so go ahead. There’s a couple of models around that show where the cannons were. In middle school my friend and I counted them. One model had 19, the other 21. They took out thousands, those cannons. Texans just kept on firing them. If you want to visit the remains of the dead, they’re in the San Fernando Cathedral, not too far a walk. Yeah, in a Roman Catholic cathedral. I know the irony is amusing, but truth is we’re stronger together anyway.
Before you leave the Alamo, check the gift shop. If you see any bluebonnet seeds for sale, bring some back for me. Lady Bird kept those wildflowers safe for us, and I do miss them something fierce.
Across the street from the Alamo is a hotel called the Menger. The bar’s inside, but you can get to it from the street. Order me a Shiner like I used to drink with Dad. We’d talk about how Teddy Roosevelt recruited his Rough Riders there. Scrappy volunteers but they got the job done.
Nearby is a Whataburger. If you see Beto tell him to run for Texas again. We’ll hold his arms up.
