Everybody warned me, "Don't expect much. It's small. There's not much to it."
It was also crowded:
And decorated for Christmas:
…just the outside, though. There wasn't a Christmas tree marking the spot where Travis died or anything.
Sorry, I don't have pictures of the inside (or the basement):
My friend K is a descendant of Micajah Autry, who died at the Alamo. His picture is in the gift shop, tucked away in a corner, over the children's books:
I don't remember the story that's illustrated here, but K told me it didn't happen anyway. K's grandmother commissioned this painting, but there are no existing portraits of Micajah Autry, so the artist modelled Autry's face on K's grandmother.
Micajah Autry was featured in the latest Alamo movie:
He was one of the older Alamo defenders and wrote letters that get quoted a lot.
One of my mother's goals for this trip was to get a family portrait. While we were waiting in line to get in to the Alamo Dad traded cameras with the next family in line to get our picture taken, but Mom wasn't happy with the shadows on our faces. At our next stop, one of the San Antonio missions, Dad stopped a couple of college students with SLR cameras and had them take our picture–I haven't seen the results yet, since it was taken with Dad's SLR that uses actual film, but from the way one of them took charge of the shoot I think the moral of the story is, if you want your picture taken, ask for help from the guy with a camera bigger than yours.