I forgot to remember the Alamo!
And four days before that, on March 2nd, I did not blog a single word about Texas Independence Day, which is more important in Texas than the 4th of July.
The big three Texas Dates of Historic Significance (and thus blogging opportunities) are only two-thirds done for this year, however.
There is still the battle of San Jacinto on April 21st, when General Antonio López de Santa Anna got his comeuppance.
In addition, there is Juneteenth if you happen to be African-American, which I am not, not that there’s anything wrong with that.
I have heard it said that the Roman Catholic Church used to claim, “Give us a child until he is six, and he will be a Catholic for life.” I do not know whether that particular alleged boast is true. My mother, a non-practicing Jew, and my dad, a lapsed Methodist, were not religious when I was very young, so I never went to church or synagogue or anyplace else except the Pawtucket (Rhode Island) Day Nursery. When I was around five, I did visit the Woodlawn Baptist Church in Pawtucket a time or two with my dad. We didn’t own an automobile and Woodlawn was within walking distance of where we lived in the third-floor apartment of the house at 61 Larch Street.
In August of 1947, though, when I was six and a half, something momentous happened. We moved lock, stock, and barrel from Rhode Island to Texas.
The Catholics or anybody else may have you until you’re six if they like, but if Texas gets you when you’re six and a half, you’re
This is true even if you move away when you are 20 and hardly ever go back. I speak from personal experience. Even if you try to put Texas out of your mind, you cannot. I think it has something to do with bluebonnets.
(Field of Texas bluebonnets; photo by bombay2austin on Flickr. Noncommercial use permitted with attribution)
I know I'm getting old, but next year I simply must remember to remember the Alamo.