I Have Been To The Alamo
I went to San Antonio a few years ago to visit the Alamo. At times, my whole life has felt like the Battle of the Alamo. I wanted to remind myself that even a hopeless, losing battle can have it's heroic side. I do not believe I need to see all of my life as the defeat of a total loser. I'd rather see it as a struggle and a fight I simply could not win. I did my best. I hope I, unlike the famous 179, will continue my life if I can beat my current illness. There are some fairly long lived people in my family. I am determined to keep up the struggle. The people who fought at the Alamo lost their battle to overwhelming forces but they never surrendered.
Two famous heroes of the Alamo, Jim Bowie and David Crockett, were not young men when they died. Bowie was 47. Crockett was 51 and a grandfather.
In the 1830s that was pretty near old age.
Right now I am fascinated by Jim Bowie and his fight. Bowie was not a good man. He had not led a good life until about 5 years before he died. Reading about his life, you wince reading about some of his exploits, adventures and misadventures. During his last years, he underwent a change mostly due to the kind people who took him in as a friend and he married their beautiful daughter, had a child. Then a cholera epidemic hit San Antonio and his new friends and family all died. He was left alone to wander through an empty house, mourning the only good decent thing in his life. He became ill with a lung condition. When he went into the Alamo to offer his services to Lt.Col.Travis, he was very ill and a broken man.
He died fighting on his deathbed, one of the last people to die in the Battle.
Early on a cold Sunday morning, March 6, 1836, he waited in the Infirmary with a pistol with one bullet in it given to him the night before by Crockett, and his famous Bowie knife half out of its sheath on a chair next to his bed.
As the soldiers came through the door, he shot the first one through the heart and killed him. Then, as they closed in, he pulled his knife out of its sheath, and they got him.
He never actually got to use his famous knife. Their bayonets were faster. But a picture I have, a dramatic sketch made by a newspaper artist, shows him fighting with his knife. I like this picture even though it lacks exact authenticity because it certainly expresses the spirit of the situation. I am planning to put the picture up in my room.
I am older now and I have been sick and very dispirited. At times I have felt crushed by all of this. But, like Bowie, I don't want to cave in to feelings of hopelessness, to the idea that those forces that have been working against me in my life will win without a serious fight on my part. Like Bowie even if I have regrets, some bad decisions in my past, an illness I fear may be overwhelming, I can still do my best and put up a fight. I am sure my chances are at least better than his.
Bowie was killed but not defeated. There is a great satisfaction in knowing you are going to do what you can. It gives me as much peace as I am going to have in my situation.
Two famous heroes of the Alamo, Jim Bowie and David Crockett, were not young men when they died. Bowie was 47. Crockett was 51 and a grandfather.
In the 1830s that was pretty near old age.
Right now I am fascinated by Jim Bowie and his fight. Bowie was not a good man. He had not led a good life until about 5 years before he died. Reading about his life, you wince reading about some of his exploits, adventures and misadventures. During his last years, he underwent a change mostly due to the kind people who took him in as a friend and he married their beautiful daughter, had a child. Then a cholera epidemic hit San Antonio and his new friends and family all died. He was left alone to wander through an empty house, mourning the only good decent thing in his life. He became ill with a lung condition. When he went into the Alamo to offer his services to Lt.Col.Travis, he was very ill and a broken man.
He died fighting on his deathbed, one of the last people to die in the Battle.
Early on a cold Sunday morning, March 6, 1836, he waited in the Infirmary with a pistol with one bullet in it given to him the night before by Crockett, and his famous Bowie knife half out of its sheath on a chair next to his bed.
As the soldiers came through the door, he shot the first one through the heart and killed him. Then, as they closed in, he pulled his knife out of its sheath, and they got him.
He never actually got to use his famous knife. Their bayonets were faster. But a picture I have, a dramatic sketch made by a newspaper artist, shows him fighting with his knife. I like this picture even though it lacks exact authenticity because it certainly expresses the spirit of the situation. I am planning to put the picture up in my room.
I am older now and I have been sick and very dispirited. At times I have felt crushed by all of this. But, like Bowie, I don't want to cave in to feelings of hopelessness, to the idea that those forces that have been working against me in my life will win without a serious fight on my part. Like Bowie even if I have regrets, some bad decisions in my past, an illness I fear may be overwhelming, I can still do my best and put up a fight. I am sure my chances are at least better than his.
Bowie was killed but not defeated. There is a great satisfaction in knowing you are going to do what you can. It gives me as much peace as I am going to have in my situation.
70-79, F
