Tapped Out

Appreciating refreshing waters, and celebrating a son who chose his own course.

San Antonio, TX

August 8, 2024

The original inhabitants of south central Texas referred to the San Antonio River as “refreshing waters.”

Whatever relief the agua offered was doubtless welcome, tho’ probably inadequate.

Summers here are inhuman. As a local told us this morning in soft Southern understatement, “it’s a different kind of hot.”

And Stalingrad was a “different sort of skirmish.”

But at least it’s a wet heat! For three days, temperatures have approached 105…with humidity to match. It’s as if Phoenix mated with Miami. Ambient air is like breathing hot soup thru a wet sponge.

Mud Hut Mission

The Spanish first endured these conditions in 1691, when a group of missionaries discovered an indigenous community on the Feast of St Anthony of Padua. They gave his name to the settlement and the stream, but left without establishing an outpost of their own.

A few decades later, Father Antonio de Olivares visited the site. He requested approval to settle the area and establish a mission. The viceroy granted permission, on condition a presidio be built to deter French incursion from Louisiana.

The original mud-hut Misión San Antonio de Valero was finished in 1718, but moved to its current location when a hurricane destroyed the structure six years later.

Throughout the century, a permanent edifice struggled to get off the ground. Indigenous antagonism and Apache raids didn’t help. In the 1790s, the mission was secularized, then abandoned. About this time, it became known as “The Alamo”, possibly after nearby poplar trees.

But the name was probably applied by the Second Flying Company of San Carlos de Parras - colloquially known as the “Alamo Company”, after the village of San Jose y Santiago del Alamo from which these lancers came to occupy the complex.

Before Mexico’s independence in 1821, the mission served as a prison, a hospital, and a garrison. But, as engineer Green Jameson wrote to Sam Houston, its construction wasn’t suited to the latter purpose.

A Rout…and Retribution

During the Texas Revolution, his point would be proven. After a Mexican forces succumbed to the Texicans in 1835, the victors mistook one battle for the whole war.

After the Mexican retreat, complacency set in. But anger simmered south of the Rio Grande.

When Colonel James Neill assumed command, he requested reinforcements. None came. Short on men, Neill tried to fortify the mission against possible Mexican retaliation. Before he could finish, it came.

In February 1836, Santa Anna laid siege to the Alamo. Two weeks later, his army overwhelmed the walls. The Texicans were routed.

Their master of ordnance, trying to keep gunpowder from enemy hands, crawled toward the powder magazine. He was killed with his torch in hand, mere inches from blowing up one of the top tourist attractions in Texas (the top one is the San Antonio Riverwalk, which is the sixth most popular tourist spot in the U.S.).

All but one Texican was killed at the Battle of the Alamo. A third of their antagonists perished. After this pyrrhic victory, the Mexican army was too decimated to win the war.

Two months later, they lost. Santa Anna surrendered to Sam Houston at San Jacinto, and Texas was independent. A few years later, the new republic returned the Alamo to the Roman Catholic Church.

We visited it yesterday, and will always remember. Not so much for the history and the place, but because of why we’re here and who we’re with.

Military City

The Alamo isn’t merely a memento, it’s also an emblem. The military has a long past and pervasive presence in San Antonio. It’s been called “Military City” since the Second World World War.

The largest joint base in the Department of Defense, Joint Base San Antonio includes the four primary locations of Randolph Air Force Base, Fort Sam Houston, Lackland Air Force Base, and Camp Bullis.

It’s no wonder USAA has its headquarters here. This week, I’m thrilled we are too.

Three Wishes

It’s been a tough year for our family. A lovely cousin struggles with ALS. A favorite aunt and a wonderful uncle suffer senility, and a step-father who became my dad recently passed away.

But this week we welcome some good news. Eight weeks ago, our son arrived in San Antonio. Since then, Alexander had his possessions taken, his head shaved, and survived the rigors of Basic Training.

We’re here to watch him graduate and, during his limited leave, to grant his wish to visit the Alamo, see the Riverwalk, and eat Texas barbecue.

We redeemed the last wish first, at Pinkerton’s downtown. Satiated and satisfied, we fulfilled the other two. But nothing happened till he collected his coin.

He did that yesterday. His mother, brother, and I couldn’t be more proud. Three months ago, we watched him “walk” at Auburn. In some ways, this is more impressive.

As with (too) many kids, college was expected, and likely taken for granted. But the Air Force was a sacrifice Alexander took upon himself.

His father tried to talk him out of it. For the most part, I was playing Devil’s Advocate. But I occasionally morphed into the demon himself.

To ensure Alexander was aware what he was doing before he went all-in, I tried to present every conceivable objection.

Yet our son was determined. He absorbed the arguments, considered their counters, and made his choice.

He wants to be a commercial pilot, and the Air National Guard is his way to become one. I’ve spoken with men I admire who’ve followed similar paths, including a beloved uncle and a respected mentor. Each eased my concerns and enhanced my pride.

As have the letters our son has sent the last two months. They’re from a young man who’s noticeably matured.

They revealed frustration, but exuded confidence. If his head occasionally dropped, his eyes always stayed on the ball. Like all successful people, he envisioned the ends, but never fretted over the means.

Alexander kept his focus on the end of the tunnel, knowing the light would keep getting brighter. Today, it shines.

As does he…while his parents and brother beam. So does half of San Antonio. In a town well acquainted with what he’s accomplished, Alexander is congratulated wherever he goes.

At this point, he’s happy to go anywhere. For eight weeks, he’s been confined to Lackland Air Force Base, one of many military installations in and around San Antonio. Since then, we’ve received several letters and his two permitted phone calls.

He’s been completely out of the loop. He was aware Trump was shot and that Biden is no longer running. Otherwise, he knew of no news since before the “debate” debacle.

When we brought him up to speed, his greatest shock was that the Braves had traded for Jorge Soler.

But momentous as the last month has been for most of us, for Alexander it was more eventful. Basic Training can be transformative, so we wanted to see who our son had become.

Alexander has always been kind and caring, with a wonderful attitude. No matter the cloud, he always seeks the silver lining. Or at least some aluminum trim.

Regardless, he makes the best of whatever he finds. His optimistic outlook is among the many attributes I love about him.

But joining the military was an especially gutsy leap. Some who take it immediately plummet. A few take the Wile E. Coyote route, hanging in there for a while, yet plunge when they dare to look down. Then there are those who cross the chasm.

Alexander got to the other side. As he put it in a couple letters, he was amazed what he could do when he didn’t have time to think about it. Just press ahead and figure it out.

Among the challenges he overcame were surviving combat simulations, being subjected to chemical, biological, radiological, and nuclear environments, suffering bursts of tear gas, being crowded into enclosed chambers filled with toxic compounds, and going seven weeks deprived of beer and without his phone.

But he managed to make it! And so have we.

The day began with our own taste of Basic Training. We woke at 5am, and made our way to the base. As we were warned, traffic was terrible. Predictably, security is tight, and crowds were thick. We weren’t the only proud parents wanting to applaud our Airman.

Tapped Out

Yesterday morning we caught our first glimpse. It began at 6a with the Airman’s Run. This 1.5 mile route was lined with families and friends watching their Airman pass. But the Coin Ceremony was the main event Wednesday morning.

This “retreat” includes the moment Alexander received the coveted coin that signifies his transition from “trainee” to Airman. After he earned that honor, his mother tapped him out.

Because of its performance, Alexander’s “Flight” was rewarded with a Town Pass. This gave him about eight hours to explore San Antonio. This perk is contingent on performance during Basic, and not every Airman receives it. Fortunately, ours did.

His Flight was given it again today. But first, they had to graduate. Decked in their blue uniforms, the new Airmen performed a traditional parade down the “bomb run” on the Lackland grounds.

This entailed a “pass and review” for assembled visitors. At the conclusion, graduates stood at attention till tapped out. Once again, Alexander’s mother did the honors.

But our son’s the one who earned it. Tho’ he still needs to learn to pilot a plane, he’s proved he’s more than ready to take flight.

JD