It's Personal: You Decide... In My Travels

I loved the Revolutionary War as a kid. Couldn't get enough. I visited Lexington and Concord. I visited Yorktown. I even walked the Freedom Trail in Boston. I saw the Articles of Confederation, the Declaration of Independence, and the Constitution. I visited this nation's first capital. And this nation's third capital. But I missed the second; I missed Philadelphia; and I missed Independence Hall. How can someone who claims to love the Revolution miss such a site? Well, I had time to fix that mistake during my college years. Five years, in fact, I stayed at the University of Delaware. And during those five years, I caught just one glimpse of the place. Just one. Only one of two times I ever visited Philly. It just wasn't a place I went. Then, a few years ago, I journeyed back to Connecticut from Seattle for my brother's wedding. I stayed for a month. I decided to visit friends in Delaware for part of that time. I also happened to call one of my best friends from Connecticut to see how he was doing. I soon discovered that he had moved just outside of Philly. And thus I visited not only my friends in Delaware but also my newly relocated friend. We ventured into Philly and parked at some local garage. We then walked to the area. I saw the Liberty Bell with its magnificent crack. I saw the Centennial Bell without its magnificent crack. And I witnessed the space that saw the signing of the greatest documents in American history. The chair with its rising - or setting - sun. The desks covered in green cloth. It was a dream come true. Finally...

It was a few years ago. When we still lived in the second apartment. No dogs yet. Just cats. And the cats only needed a big bowlful of food with plenty of water every so often. A friend visited the apartment once or twice. We had decided to visit one of my best friends, who was living in Texas at the time. He was attending the University of Texas. And he lived with his partner in a house in Austin. It was during that trip that we visited San Antonio for a brief visit. Just a day trip. Our first stop was the Alamo. I'm sorry to say that I wasn't particularly impressed. It looked like an out-of-place tourist trap in one of the not so impressive parts of San Antonio. Its walls falling down, it could have been any small church in rural Mexico. And perhaps that was also its charm. The fact that such a significant part of Texan - and therefore American - history took place at this small place. The site where Davy Crockett died. (Having been called that my entire young life - that and Clementine - I appreciated the fact that I was standing in that place. I saw the tomb that is supposed to hold the bones of Crockett, Bowie, and Travis. I also saw the guard. The old man once warned me that those guards take their job VERY seriously. The brief tour ended in the gift shop where I purchased a small magnet. My only memento of my time in San Antonio. Apart from the memories...