March 3, 2016
Remember
the Alamo!
How could I forget?
By Jenny Morris
Sunday is March 6, celebrated as Alamo Day by Texans — when they remember.
I don’t need a specified day to remember the Alamo. All I have to do is mentally revisit our last son’s junior year of high school.
When Son No. 4 missed five days of school with the flu, he assured me the make-up work would be no problem. Specifically for history class, all he had to do was complete a worksheet on “The Alamo.”
In my relief, I skipped any sarcastic comparisons of school buildings and movie theaters. I realized his factual knowledge of American history might suffer from watching the film, but his average wouldn’t. I would even watch the movie with him. First all I had to do was find a copy of the DVD.
How hard could this be? (I’ve got to quit asking that.)
Over the next five days my quest-stops were as follows:
Walmart
Target
Netflix (This one had been in my living room the whole time.)
Amazon (Sure they had it, but I needed it NOW.)
The public library — ah! Pay dirt! The DVD was checked out, but due back that very afternoon. I staked out the circulation desk, made friends with the librarian, and waited. When I had to leave just before closing time, I explained my plight and begged her to hold the DVD if it were returned that night.
“We don’t hold DVDs,” she explained. I cajoled a concession from her. If the DVD were found in the curbside box when she checked in items for the night, she would call me.
My phone rang 20 minutes later.
No DVD.
I began instructing Son No. 4 to tell his teacher that we couldn’t find the movie. The teacher started telling him to copy someone else’s worksheet. In a sudden rush of ethical behavior, his classmates were saying he couldn’t cheat off their papers.
At this point, I offered to fill in the worksheet myself. Surely I could remember something of the movie I’d seen 20 years ago. Son No. 4 refused to show me the questions.
Then inspiration hit on a routine drive past Best Buy. There in the racks of DVDs I found the John Wayne Movie Collection. I scanned the included titles and saw “The Alamo.”
I stood staring at the $50 dollar price tag and weighing my dedication to my child’s education. All the while I cursed a system that still favors children born into families with greater economic resources.
No, I thought, I won’t buy it. I’ll show solidarity with the impoverished everywhere.
But as I reached to return the box, I had the horrifying thought that my inaction might prevent Son No. 4 from walking across some future stage to the strains of “Pomp and Circumstance” — the most beautiful music in the world to parents of a teenage boy.
So I swiped my debit card, went home and pushed play.
I corralled Son No. 4 on the couch next to me, and demanded he produce the history worksheet as the opening credits to the 1960 film began.
Glancing at the first question, I raised my head in confusion. “When does John Wayne go to Washington?” I asked, then moaned. “These questions don’t fit any scene that I remember.”
And then Scott made a bad joke. “Maybe,” he said, “the questions are for the Billy Bob Thornton version.”
Only it wasn’t a joke, even if the Thornton version might be. I can’t comment either way, as I’ve never seen it. When Son No. 4 explained to his teacher the mix-up in movie versions, the teacher said time was up on the assignment.
So Son No. 4 was left with a zero, and I was left with a $50 boxed set of John Wayne movies and a memory of “The Alamo” I’ll never forget.