Ryan and I have decided that we need to adopt some better habits. For example, we now eat our dinners at the table instead of in front of the TV. This has been life changing in several ways. One, I do not watch nearly as much TV as I used to. Two, I don't snack in front of the TV at all. And three, the most important of all, I always remember the Alamo. What does this have to do with us eating at the dinner table? you may ask. Everything. Because there, perched on the wall next to which our table sits, is a beautiful cross-stiched image of the famed building, with those famous words stiched beneath. Needless to say, the picture is not my mine. It made it to the wall for two reasons: Ryan's dad made it for him when Ryan was young, and the frame matches the table. Nevertheless, the words have been fused in my brain and now every day I am obliged to remember the Alamo.
Unfortunately, I didn't know much about the Alamo as I have never had to remember it before, so I did a very small bit of research. It's an interesting story and if it hadn't been so depressing, I might have read more, or even watched a movie depicting the events. The gist of it all is that many Texan men fought at the Alamo for freedom, and died for it.
Now, every night as I eat, I think about the cost of freedom and what my life would be like without it. Seemingly, this is exactly why the phrase "remember the Alamo" was first uttered. However, as it was for the freedom of Texas and not America in general, my life probably wouldn't be so different. I am not from Texas, I've never been to Texas, and I don't really care much about Texas (I am sorry, all you Texans). So there I sit, pondering, wondering, and feeling, well, mostly depressed - that picture staring at me, challenging me to think of anything but an event that has absolutely nothing to do with me. "I know," I mutter with submission (in my head, of course. I don't want Ryan to know I'm crazy.). But every so often, in the deep recesses of my mind, I escape the call of the picture and realize the tedium in remembering the Alamo every single night.