It's true, the Alamo is unbecoming -- small and crude and unadorned. It's true, the shrine has been crowded in by banks and hotels and the hustle and bustle of urban commerce. Within stone-throwing distance of the Disney-esque Riverwalk, and across the street from a "Ripley's Believe-it-or-Not" attraction, the Alamo can, I suppose, come off like a kind of local "kitsch." But if you are in San Antonio looking for titillation go to Sea World or Fiesta Texas -- Six Flags' local theme park. The Alamo isn't about roller coasters or trained seals. It isn't about breathtaking architecture or holographic documentaries.
It's about a story. It's about oppression. It's about a moment in history colored by character, shared passion, integrity, a desire for freedom -- OK, and a rather foolish display of machismo. It's about the sometimes necessary sequence of losing a battle to win a war. It's about martyrdom in service to a cause greater than oneself.
Which is to say the Alamo is less about the place and the setting and the unimpressive little mission building preserved there than it is about the values and convictions recalled and commemorated there. It's hard, I'll admit, to capture all that in a tourist guide book or a souvenir shop, but some things just don't translate well. It isn't enough to physically be there.
In ways far transcending GPS coordinates and dots on a Grayline tour map, you have to really be there to understand.
Which is to say that maybe the writer is absolutely correct. The Alamo isn't a place for tourists. It's a place for students interested not so much in Texas history, but in living life on deeper, more grounded and substantial terms.
Very few souvenirs manage to capture that.
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