My sister and I spent the night at the Menger Hotel (San Antonio, of course) to see the Teddy Roosevelt re-enactor show, which was great fun. We’d taken the trouble to watch the PBS documentary (Ken Burns) about him just days before. In case you didn’t know, the Rough Riders were recruited and trained in San Antonio, and Teddy himself was a familiar presence at the bar (which was very loud and rowdy-sounding as we approached it down the hall with our overnight bags.)

Why am I telling you this. It’s because the Alamo is right across the street from the hotel. And being so close, and since we had about three hours to spare before the show, we went over to take a peek.

What a difference from when we were kids. Then, old ladies shushed you if you talked and they had a Texas Ranger (probably not, just a sheriff’s deputy) escort you out of the building if you touched anything or got boisterous. No so, now. There are a couple of proctors prowling the interior of the church, but the respectful-behavior police are long gone.

And did we find that a good or bad thing. Pretty much, neither. For a long time we’ve been aware that our hotel, the shopping mall by the hotel, the Alamo and the park around the Alamo were once the site of a bloody battle where many men died. And I believe the Alamo shrine itself is over an Indian graveyard.

One of my goals long ago was to one day visit the area of the Somme in France where so many died in World War I. Not anymore, though. Some of that interest was slaked by the Anthony Price books I loved.

Anyhow, if you’re at the Menger or the Crockett, take the time to pay your respects at the Alamo. Or just realize you’re standing in the middle of a long-ago battle right where you’ve paid to sleep.

Sweet dreams.