I don’t remember anything about the drive from El Paso to San Antonio, if you can believe that. That part of Texas is just a blur.
Co-adult wanted to visit the Alamo, which he had been to years before during a band tour.
For the life of me, I don’t understand what the fuss is over the idea that Davy Crockett may have been among those executed rather than dying in battle.
They don’t allow picture taking in the building at the Alamo. None. Not even without flash. Why not? If they did allow it I’d have a pic of Davy Crockett’s purported vest to put up, which was leather and interestingly decorated with Indian woodlands style beading though not very elaborately, just a few simple motifs.
So why can’t you take flashless pics in the Alamo?????
I signed my name in the registration book. I signed my name at the International UFO Museum and Research Center as well. What do places do with these registration books?
I considered signing myself as a Crockett but decided against it.
There was some marvelous jewelry on display that the Catholic priests gave to the Indians who were catholocized. Putting aside for the moment the history of the church as far as assimilation and ethnocide, that jewelry sure was beautiful and distinctive. So when we went to the gift store (of course we are going to the gift store, especially if they don’t charge for you to tour, which they don’t) I asked if they might have reproductions of the jewelry on sale. That’s how interesting the jewelry was, because I’m not even Christian and I still was curious. The clerks at the gift store hadn’t a clue what jewelry I was talking about however, and looking around the QUITE LARGE gift store that was packed with stuff, it was obvious after a while there were no such reproductions.
If I were them I’d put together a line of reproductions.
We dragged ourselves back to the car (we were all pretty tired) which was parked behind a car proudly announcing via bumper stickers that’s owner was a bagpiper. This vacation had several themes going, one being meteors and another being bagpipers. I bet if we’d stood around long enough we might have met up with the owner and been entertained with bagpipes in the parking lot near the Alamo, just as we had been entertained with bagpipes at the Grand Canyon.
Oh, oh, oh, I can’t forget to mention Sparky.
Co-adult insisted I buy a pair of black cowboy boots in Texas. Doesn’t matter to him that they’re made in China, he wanted me to buy some boots in Texas proper as every trip through Texas I’ve made in the past 20 years I’ve talked about buying cowboy boots there but never did it. So he made me get out at a store called Cavender’s Boot City (a chain) to look for some boots. And I did indeed buy some fairly comfortable black Ariats. I probably wouldn’t have though if it hadn’t been for Sparky, the saleswoman. She was so enthusiastic and committed to helping anyone and everyone and you that it was impossible to say no to this woman.
“I’ll devote my complete attention to you as soon as I’m through with this customer,” she said, and she meant it. When she was done she came back and devoted herself purely and totally and offered opinions. I may pass over a salesperson’s opinion but I generally like a salesperson who offers an opinion along with information.
Sparky wrote her name on the back of a card and said if we had any trouble or needed anything to be sure to call (she knew we were from out of state) and it certainly seemed like she meant it, just like she had meant she would devote her complete attention to assist in selecting a pair of boots. Anyway, here’s to Sparky, I thought she deserved a mention in the blog.