Susanna Dickinson - Alamo Survivor

Susanna Dickinson
Historical photo

Contrary to what a lot of folks believe, there actually were Texan survivors after the March 6, 1836 battle of the Alamo. Approximately eleven Mexican women and children, the wives and children of several Alamo defenders, survived the final assault. When the final battle began, Brigido Guerrero, who had deserted from the Mexican Army in December 1835 sought refuge in the sacristy (a room near the alter for keeping vestments, sacred vessels, and parish records) with the women and children and was spared after convincing the soldiers he was a prisoner of the Texans. A black man, Joe, Lt. Colonel Travis' 20-year-old personal slave, also survived. In addition to these fortunate few, two Caucasians survived, Susanna Dickinson, the 21-year-old wife of Texan defender Almaron Dickinson and their 15-month-old daughter, Angelina.

Susanna and Almaron were married in 1829 when she was only 15. Almaron, an early proponent of succession from Mexico, volunteered for the Texas Army and fought in the Battle of Gonzalez, the first armed conflict which launched the Texas Revolution. He later took part in a series of skirmishes which by late 1835 forced Mexican forces out of the San Antonio area. After being assigned to the Alamo garrison, Susanna joined Almaron and they lived in a house outside of the Alamo's grounds. 

On February 23, 1836, Mexican president Santa Anna led approximately 4,000 troops into San Antonio. For safety, Almaron quickly brought Susanna and little Angelina inside the walls of the Alamo. For the next 13 days, the Mexican army lay siege to the Alamo. During this time, Susanna cooked for the 189 defenders and cared for the wounded and sick.

At 5:30am the morning of March 6, Santa Anna gave the order to his troops to advance. Susanna, Angelina, and most of the other noncombatants gathered in the chapel sacristy. Later, Susana reported that Davy Crockett ran into the chapel and said a brief prayer at the alter before running into the battle. The Texans managed to beat back the first two charges, but the Mexicans breached the walls on the 3rd massive charge. During the next hour, there was a furious, bloody, savage battle, mostly hand-to-hand, in which the impossibly out-manned Texans fought for their lives. The last combatants to die were Almaron, the captain of the artillery and his 11 soldiers who were manning the two 12-pound cannons not far from the sacristy just inside the chapel. A few seconds before the final assault on their position, Almaron ran to his wife and said, "Great God, Sue, the Mexicans are inside our walls! If they spare you, save my child!" He kissed her and ran back to his post. 

The entrance to the chapel had been barricaded with sandbags, which the Texans were able to fire over, but a shot from the Mexican 18-pounder cannon destroyed the barricade and Mexican soldiers entered after an initial musket
volley. Dickinson's crew fired their cannons into the Mexican soldiers, killing and wounding a large number of them, but they had no time to reload. Dickinson, Gregorio Esparza, James Bonham (the 29-year-old 2nd cousin of Travis who came to the Alamo with Jim Bowie), and the remaining Texans grabbed rifles and fired before being bayoneted to death. Texan Robert Evans, the master of ordinance, had been tasked with keeping the gunpowder from falling into Mexican hands. Severely wounded, he crawled towards the powder magazine but was killed by a musket ball with his torch only inches from the powder. If he had succeeded, the blast would have destroyed the chapel, killing Susanna and the other women and children hiding in it. As soldiers approached the sacristy, the 8-year-old son of defender Anthony Wolf stood to pull a blanket over his shoulders. Four Mexican soldiers killed him with their bayonets.

Angelina Dickinson
Historical Photo

Mexican soldiers found Susanna huddled in the chapel and brought her to General Santa Anna. He spared her and the baby, then offered to adopt Angelina and have her educated in Mexico City. Susanna refused so he gave her $2 and a blanket and along with Joe, Travis' slave and Ben, a former American slave who was serving as a cook for the Mexican forces, dispatched them to the Texas army in Gonzales with demands that she spread the news of the destruction that awaited those who opposed the Mexican government.

After arriving in Gonzales on March 13, the three found Sam Houston and told him of the fall of the Alamo. They also told him of the number of Mexican forces and the armament they carried. She also told details of the 13-day siege, the final battle and the aftermath. Over the years, she stated:

•  There were very few causalities among the Texans during the first 12 days of almost unceasing bombardment from Mexican cannons. She confirmed the legendary "line in the sand" incident, where Colonel Travis gave defenders the choice of staying or leaving. 
• On the morning of the assault, Almaron ran into where she had hidden, made his final statements to her and then returned to his duty. She never saw him again, nor did she ever see his body.
• The two young sons of artilleryman Anthony Wolf,> ages eleven and twelve, ran to their father as the Mexican soldiers entered the chapel. She watched as they were bayoneted to death, along with their father.
• When she was discovered, a Mexican officer intervened. She believed he was a British mercenary named Almonte. He actually was Juan Almonte, who spoke perfect English, as he had been educated in New Orleans.
• Outside the chapel, there was a single survivor, found hiding, who unsuccessfully begged for mercy and was killed. Joe also reported this.
• She saw the body of  Davy Crockett lying among a number of Mexican bodies between the chapel and the barracks building.
• She saw the body of Jim Bowie with two dead Mexican soldiers lying beside him.
• She was taken to the house where she'd previously lived and from there could see the pyres of the dead Texans being burned.
• Santa Anna had her identify the bodies of all the commanders and main defenders.

Being illiterate, Susanna left no written accounts, but gave the same verbal recollections on several occasions. After Texas defeated Santa Anna and his forces at San Jacinto and won its independence, Susanna moved to Houston and married again the next year. She very quickly divorced him on the grounds of cruelty. She married again in 1838, but her husband died several years later of alcoholism. She married a man by the name of Bellows in 1847, but they divorced in 1857 after he found she was having an affair. Outraged at the scandal, members of the First Baptist Church objected to her attendance there. She voluntarily left the congregation.

Susanna married for the 5th and final time in 1858 to J. W. Hannig, a cabinet maker who was 20 years younger than her.  They moved to Austin and she remained married to him until her death there in 1883. She was buried in Oakwood Cemetery with her stone inscribed "Sacred to the Memory of Susan A. Wife of J. W. Hannig Died Oct. 7, 1883 Aged 68 Years." Some modern day researchers and analyst claim she probably suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome (PTSD) due to her traumatic experience at the Alamo and this affected her path in life. Hannig followed her in death in 1890. The state of Texas added a marble slab above her grave on March 2, 1949. Because of her tarnished reputation, the marker simply reads “Mother of the Babe of the Alamo.” In 1993, a cenotaph honoring Susanna was placed in the Texas State Cemetery in Austin.

Susanna never had any other children. She gave her permission for Angelina, at the age of 17, to marry John Maynard Griffith, a farmer from Montgomery County. Over the next six years, the Griffiths had three children, but the marriage ended in divorce. Leaving two of her children with Susanna and one with an uncle, Angelina drifted to New Orleans where rumors spread of her promiscuity. She moved to Galveston and allegedly became a prostitute. She died at the young age of 35 in 1869, reportedly of a uterine  hemorrhage. She was buried in Galveston, but her grave site was lost in the Great Storm of 1900. 







One of the surviving Hispanic children, Alejo Pérez, Jr., was the son of Juana Alsbury and her husband, Alamo defender Alejo Pérez, Sr. He was brought into the Alamo by his mother and was seventeen days short of his first birthday at the time of the last assault. He grew up and lived his whole life in San Antonio, where he was later a policeman. He died on October 19, 1918, the last survivor of the Alamo.

Postcard from Fort Leaton

Marker at Fort Leaton

The area around the junction of the Rio Conchos and the Rio Grande rivers in far southwest Texas was first inhabited approximately 8,800 years ago according to archaeological evidence. From earliest times, humans have considered this to be a special place. Caches of stone tools and ceremonial arrowheads have been found throughout the area. The first Europeans, Spanish explorers,  came in the 1500's and with them, they brought diseases and illness' unknown to the native peoples, basically wiping them out. The Spaniards left and for the next 300 years, even though Spain continued to claim this land, they never settled it. Mexico won its independence from Spain and for the next 50 years, they claimed the land, but they didn't settle it either. Because it was so remote and rugged, everyone knew it as El Despoblado (the uninhabited land.)

There's a reason it was mostly uninhabited

In the 1800's, the Mescalero Apache and Comanche Indians came and ruled the land. During this time, in 1848, Ben Leaton purchased a shack and some land from a Mexican absentee owner, Juan Bustillos, and proceeded to build a 40-room adobe fortress around it. A former scalp hunter, Ben reached an uneasy truce with the Indians by providing them with food and weapons and encouraging them to raid Mexico where there ware many more cattle and horses. He paid them in goods for any stolen cattle they brought back. 

Leaton died in 1851 and his widow married Edward Hal who moved into the fort and took over the Leaton business. When he ran into financial trouble, he used the fort as collateral to borrow money from Leaton's ex-scalp hunting partner, John Burgess. When he defaulted on the loan, Burgess tried to evict Hal and his wife, but Edward refused to leave. He was found murdered not long afterward and there was no proof as to who killed him. The now twice widowed woman promptly moved out and was lost to history. John moved into the fort, but 10 years later was also found murdered. It was said that Ben Leaton's son did the deed in revenge, but he was never brought to trial and the death of Burgess was never solved and largely forgotten.

Be careful where you step

After the Civil War ended in 1865, military forts were established the Buffalo soldiers. mostly African-American cavalry, eventually drove the Indians out of the area and onto reservations far away. This allowed ranches to be established. Due to the scarcity of water and lack of forage, the ranches had to be large to sustain the cattle. The Chillicothe-Saucita Ranch covered 300,000 acres and when purchased in 1998 by the Texas Parks and Wildlife Department, it became Big Bend Ranch State Park. The Lely Ranch encompassed 70,000 acres. (In case you are interested, as of this writing, it is uninhabited and for sale at an undisclosed price.)

Entrance side of Fort Leaton

Due to murders, financial difficulties and abandonment, the fort and surrounding land was deeded to the state of Texas in 1967. Rumors of the building being haunted didn't help finding anyone who would buy the property. (For the story of the haunting click here.) Located on FM 170,  Fort Leaton is today a Texas State Historical Site and is undergoing restoration. So far, 24 of the original rooms have been restored complete with cottonwood beams and the other 16 rooms are in various stages of restoration. The site contains historic ruins, nature trails, and exhibits and is open from 8:00AM - 4:30PM every day except Christmas. A Texas State Park Store gift shop is located on the grounds.

Restoration continues on the old fort

Postcard from Judge Roy Bean

Roy Bean (historical picture)

Roy Bean was born in Kentucky in the 1820's (nobody knows the exact year). By the time he became a teenager, her was getting into trouble, mostly for fighting. He and his brother, Sam, left home in 1847 and made their way south into Mexico. Not long after arriving, Bean was forced to flee to San Diego after he shot a man in a barroom fight. Once again though, he was soon forced to leave town after he shot a man during a quarrel. He fled to Los Angeles where he tried to be a law-abiding citizen, but within a year, he killed a Mexican officer in a duel over a woman. The officer wanted to duel with lances, but when the two men faced off, Bean pulled his pistol and shot the surprised officer. Angry friends of the officer kidnapped and hanged Bean in revenge, but luckily, the rope was new and it stretched far enough that Bean managed to stay alive standing on his tiptoes until the woman he had fought for arrived and cut him down. He bore rope scars on his neck for the rest of his life. Fearing the men who hanged him would try to finish the job, he left the woman behind and fled to a less risky life in Texas.

After making his way to San Antonio, Bean lived a somewhat quiet life (at least for him) as a business man. His main income came from selling milk door-to-door from a horse-drawn wagon. He married 18-year-old Virginia Chavez in 1866 and had four children by her, Roy Jr., Sam, Laura and Zulema. They also adopted a son named John. With a family to support, Bean soon found a way to increase his milk selling profits by diluting the milk with creek water. When the buyers started noticing minnows in the milk, Roy seemed as surprised as the buyers. "By Gobs," he said, "I'll have to stop them cows from drinking out of the creek." Eventually, his shady deals became so notorious that the neighborhood where he and his family lived became derisively known as "Bean Town."

In 1880, Bean divorced his wife, left her and the kids in San Antonio and moved 200 miles away to eventually settle in the railroad camp of Langtry in southwestern Texas where he opened a saloon and sold whiskey to the railroad workers. While in San Antonio, he had become enamored with the famous English actress Lillie Langtry. Even though the two never met, he named his saloon, the Jersey Lilly, after her and followed her life through numerous theater magazines he read.

The Jersey Lilly saloon and "courthouse"
(historical picture)

Over the next two years, Bean secured an appointment as a justice of the peace and notary public. He had a sign painted and hung on his saloon proclaiming himself to be the "Law West of the Pecos." Even though he knew little about the law or proper court procedures, throughout the years, he relied on a single law book, the 1879 edition of the Revised Statutes of Texas. When newer law books were sent to him, he used them as kindling. The area residents appreciated and accepted his common sense verdicts in the sparsely populated country of West Texas. For ten years, his claimed authority was not questioned and then, when the government insisted on holding elections, he was re-elected three times. Bean controlled the large territory between San Antonio 200 miles to the east and El Paso, 300 miles to the northwest.

Judge Bean maintained such a rough reputation that few, if any, challenged him. If anyone even thought about challenging him, they knew there was always a bunch of broke, thirsty cowboys hanging around the Jersey Lilly who would gladly do Roy's bidding for a shot or two of whiskey. One time, the owner of a Langtry restaurant owed Bean money. When he didn't pay up, Bean waited until the restaurant was full and with a six-shooter on his hip, he stood in the door and had each customer pay him for their meal. The last few customers paid what Bean claimed as the interest. The restaurant owner didn't protest.

Bean became widely known for his outrageous verdicts and fines. One time, a rich city slicker from back east was riding the rails to see the west when the train stopped to take on water in Langtry. The gentleman strolled into the bar and demanded a bottle of beer. Bean set one out for him. The customer ordered Bean to give him a glass, but he was told, "Drink it out of the bottle or leave it alone." The eastern dude took a drink from the bottle, looked up at a sign that read, "Ice Cold Beer" and asked, "How near the ice do you keep this beer?" Bean told him there ain't no ice in the summer time. The visitor dropped a $20 gold coin on the bar. Bean quickly grabbed it and put it in the cash drawer. When the dude inquired, "Where's my change?" Bean told him "Anybody who comes into my bar and puts down a $20 gold piece and expects to get change back must be crazy."But that's robbery!" the easterner protested. "Is there no law in this country?" "I'm the law," said Bean. He took off his bar apron, put on a long, black coat he called his judicial garment, mounted a low stage and sat down on a chair perched there, his chair of justice. "I find you guilty of disorderly conduct and fine you $10 and costs. The costs will be $9. Court is adjourned." He descended from the bench and said, "With the dollar for the beer, that makes $20 which has already been paid into the treasury of the honorable court. The prisoner is discharged, and you better run for that train as it's about to pull out and me and the boys don't harbor disorderly persons in this town." The poor easterner looked around at the large number of armed cowboys looking at him with unfriendly looks on their faces and decided to run for the train.

Judge Roy Bean and others in
front of the Jersey Lilly
(historical picture)

One day a cowboy lassoed a bear cub and brought it to Bean as payment on his bar tab. Chaining it to a post between the saloon and the train station, Bean charged rail passengers $1 to see the bear drink a beer. Within a few months, the creature became the bear equivalent of an alcoholic. Bean loved the bear, named it "Bruin" and made sure it had plenty to eat and plenty to drink. During one of his infrequent trips to San Antonio to see his children, a passenger on the train discovered Bean gone and, as a joke, sent a telegram to him saying, "The bear is dead." Several days later, a telegram came from Bean to his Mexican assistant which said, "Skin the bear. Save the skin." Knowing he better not question or delay an order from the judge, the assistant went over to the bear, killed it with a shot between the eyes and skinned it. When Bean returned, he looked at the skin drying on the wall of the saloon and said, "To bad. I'm sure going to miss the old boy." "Then why you have him killed?" asked the Mexican. When the judge discovered what had happened, he swore vengeance on the perpetrator if he ever came back to Langtry. Fortunately for the prankster, he evidently never came back through. Bean never really got over the reason for Bruin's death and he kept the bear skin in his bedroom. 

Another tale is about a railroad worker who fell from a bridge and died on the Mexican side of the river. Bean quickly got several men to go fetch the body and bring it to the Texas side. Going through his pockets, the judge found $40 and a six-gun. He immediately declared the corpse to be guilty of carrying a concealed weapon and fined him $40.

What few people know however, is that in spite of his "hard as nails" reputation, Bean actually had a soft side. Most of the fines he collected actually went quietly to the poor and destitute in the area. He also often took money he made from his saloon and bought medicine for the sick and injured. And the $40 he fined the dead man? It bought a casket, a headstone and paid the gravedigger's labor. He did, however, keep the six-gun and used it as a gavel. In spite of being known as a hanging judge, Bean never hanged anyone. He did sentence two men to hang, but secretly arranged for the guards to "accidentally" let the prisoners escape the night before the scheduled hanging. The two men never returned to the area to appear before Bean again. He also never sent anyone to the penitentiary. Instead, he sentenced law-breakers to take care of things that needed doing in Langtry such as repairing and painting buildings and people's homes, replacing rotting sidewalks in town, or cleaning and repairing outhouses. If nothing needed doing, he made them spend some time tied to a stake in the hot Texas sun.

After being the Law West of the Pecos for over twenty years, Bean was defeated in the 1896 primary by a Mexican candidate. Angry and bitter, even though he was over 70 years of age, Bean made it a point to visit every single person of voting age in the area and convinced them to vote for the candidate running against the Mexican who had beaten him in the primary. His man won in a landslide.

Inside the Jersey Lilly Saloon

After that election, Bean retired, but refused to give up his judge's seal. He continued to perform marriages for $5 (he always ended the ceremony with the phrase, "May God have mercy on your souls") and granted divorces for the same charge of $5, but he mostly lived off his savings. He continued to help the poor of the area and made sure the school house had free firewood every winter.

In 1902, Langtry began to decline when the highway was moved a few miles north of the town for a more direct east-west route. In early 1903, construction started on a power plant on the Pecos River. Bean complained that times were changing and he was being left behind. He took a trip to San Antonio where he engaged in an epic drinking bout and kept complaining about changing times. He became sick the next day and took the train back to Langtry. On March 19, 1903, he arrived in town at 10:00 AM, went directly home and died at 10:03 PM that same night. It is speculated he simply gave up the will to live. After such a rough and adventuresome life, Judge Roy Bean died peacefully in his own bed, with boots off, friends in attendance and the bear skin with a bullet hole between the eyes on the floor next to him.

The Jersey Lilly today

Lillie Langtry, the object of Bean's devoted, but one-sided adoration, visited the town just 10 months after his death. She went inside the saloon and Bean's house. She took two mementos when she left - a poker chip from the saloon and the six-gun Bean had taken from a dead man's pockets and used as his gavel. 

In the 1920's, the railroad closed its facilities, most all of the remaining jobs were lost and the town of Langtry began to dry up. Today, there is little there except some ruins, about a dozen residents living in isolated houses, the Judge Roy Bean Visitor Center and the still standing Jersey Lilly saloon.

Postcard from Oakwood Cemetery

Waco's Oakwood cemetery was established in 1878 and is the final resting place for numerous senators, state governors, city mayors, civil war veterans, Texas Rangers and many other notable individuals. One of those notable individuals is Felix Huston Robertson. At the time of his death on April 20, 1928, he was the last surviving general of the Confederacy.

Oakwood is also the home of Charles George Smith (1891 - 1967) and the unusual abstract sculpture that serves as his tombstone. His epitaph says a lot about the man - "Strange cosmic curve integrated arc of space. Unrolling rhythm swinging out from time into eternity." Obviously, Charles G. Smith was not just an average thinker.

There is an interesting story behind the damaged headstone of William Cowper Brann (1855 - 1898). Born in Coles County, Illinois, his mother died when he was just 2-years-old and his father gave him to a nearby farming neighbor to raise and help with chores. On William's 13th birthday, he packed his bags, struck out on his own and never returned. In spite of only being formally educated through the 3rd grade, he became a gifted writer and brilliant thinker. 

Epitaph of C. G. Smith

When he was 18, he began writing for various newspapers, eventually making his way to Texas where he wrote for the Galveston Evening  and then to Austin writing for the Austin Statesman. He started his own newspaper, the Iconoclast, proclaiming it to be a "journal of personal protest." When his paper proved to be unsuccessful, he moved to Waco and brought the Iconoclast with him. Here, the paper proved to be a success, eventually having a circulation of over 100,000.

Brann seemed to thoroughly enjoy taking pot shots at many of the city and state officials. This didn't earn him any friends among the power brokers, but then he focused his ire and withering comments on the Baptist religion, the Baptist faithful and Baylor University. He got people so riled up that on October 2, 1897, a group of students kidnapped him, took him to the Baylor campus and demanded he retract his statements about the university or leave town. Four days later, having done neither of the student's demands, he was again kidnapped and soundly beaten by 3 men.

Several months later, having finally recovered from the beating, Brann focused on Baylor president Rufus Burleson (who coincidentally, is also buried in Oakwood) and began a series of particularly vitriolic statements against him. Brann unwisely ignored numerous warnings to "leave town or else" and on April 1, 1898, in broad daylight in the middle of a busy downtown Waco street, an angry Baylor University supporter, Tom E. Davis, shot him in the back. As he was falling to the pavement, Brann somehow managed to pull his own gun, turn and fire a shot at Tom. His aim was true and both men died within seconds just a few feet from each other.

Brann's headstone is adorned with his full profile. Not long after the stone was erected, an angry gunman came to his grave and shot his likeness in the temple. Nobody liked him enough to have it repaired and so the bullet impression remains to this day. Evidently, for some people, there are  individuals who just cannot be dead enough.

Postcard from Glenrio - ghost town

The first and last hotel in Texas

Straddling the Texas/New Mexico border is the ghost town of Glenrio. It's a rather sad little place along Route 66, home only to a few old, deserted ruins, critters and tumbleweeds. Like all ghost towns, it has plenty of stories to tell and it is here where you can not only stand with one foot in one state and the other foot in a different state, but also in two different time zones!

Glenrio was established in 1903 and named Rock Island when the Chicago, Rock Island and Pacific railroad laid tracks through the area. Nobody really knows how the name Glenrio was chosen to replace Rock Island several years later as the it is derived from the English word "valley" and the Spanish word for river - the town is in neither a valley nor along a river.

The long abandoned courtyard motel

In 1905, farmers and small ranchers settled in the area on 150 acre plots and a year later, the railroad established a station on the Texas side of the town. Soon afterwards, a post office was opened on the New Mexico side even though the mail was delivered to the rail station on the Texas side. 

By 1920, Glenrio had a hotel (built on the Texas border and billed as the "First and Last Hotel in Texas), a land office, a hardware store, and several grocery stores. Interestingly, the Texas side had several gas stations, but being in Deaf Smith County where no alcohol was permitted, there were no bars. The New Mexico side had no gas stations because gas taxes in that state were so high, but they did have a number of bars because alcohol was not outlawed. This arrangement led to a long debated battle between Texas and New Mexico because both states wanted the tax revenue.

In 1937, Route 66 was built through Glenrio and the town quickly grew as it became a popular stopping place for travelers. A "welcome station" was built near the state line and a post office was established on the Texas side. In 1938, John Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath was filmed for three weeks in the town and everyone was sure the town would soon be a city.

The remains of a former filling station

In 1955, Glenrio suffered a severe blow when the train depot closed and then in 1973, the town was doomed when Interstate-40 was built and bypassed the community. First, the gas stations moved to the highway. The welcome station closed and the newspaper went out of business. Shortly, the hotel and grocery stores all closed and by 1985, there were only 2 official residents in town and the only business was the post office on the Texas side.

By 1990, the post office was closed and Glenrio was a town haunted by its former glory. The 2000 census showed 5 people living in the area, but none in the town itself. Today, there are only a few abandoned buildings, mere shadows of their former selves as they slowly crumble in the hot Texas Panhandle wind, the unpaved roadbed of old Route 66, and several shy, skinny dogs who may or may not rouse themselves from the shade of a tree to halfheartedly bark a greeting.

The old Texas-side post office hasn't seen mail
in decades.

Postcard From Boot Hill, Texas

One of the reasons I so like road trips is that you never can tell what you might find just over the next hill. On a recent trip, just meandering around the central Texas Hill Country on Highway 39 near the town of Hunt, I came across "Boot Hill." Not on any map and down a narrow, twisting 2-lane blacktop road in the middle of nowhere, I almost drove right past it before thinking, "What the heck is that?" I pulled off to the side of the road (no worries as there was nobody else on the road) to take pictures and investigate. 

It seems the "Boot Hill" fence got its start in the early 1970's when a family with six kids began mounting their children's worn-out boots on the wooden fence posts of their friend and neighbor's property. The neighbor, John Jobes, thought it was kind of funny so he started putting his two daughter's outgrown boots on the posts as well. Then the ranch hands began putting up their boots and before long, it became the final resting place for other folk's boots. Now, the boots are on every post for a lengthy distance and have even jumped across the road.

It's not exactly uncommon for people to put all sorts of mementos out on a fence for the pleasure of gawking passerby's. There is a stretch of road near Placerville, California which has shoes of all kind placed on fence posts and another place in Minnesota where people placed their old sneakers on posts. There's even a lengthy section of road in New Zealand which has become widely known as the Cadrona Bra Fence, but you can't get more pure Texas than this stretch of road known as Boot Hill.

10 Commandments for Road Trips

When is the best time to take a road trip? Anytime as far as I'm concerned! I love road trips. I've always wanted to see what's on the other side of the hill; what's just down the road a piece; around the other side of the bend. It doesn't take long for me to feel bored if I just stick around the house. Road therapy I call it. Time to drive, head for parts unknown. I'll send a post card.

I've taken a lot of road trips. Especially since I retired several years ago. Over those dozens of trips far and wide, mostly on 2-lane back roads, I've come to realize there are rules to be followed if you want to have a good road trip. Feel free to add your own, but break any of the following at your own risk!

1. Choose your companions carefully - Sometimes it's wonderful to travel alone. Taking a solo road trip allows you to clear your head, think through things, go where you want and see what you want without interference. But it usually is more enjoyable if you have a traveling companion, someone to talk to while driving and share the trip experiences and sites you will see. Plus, it's always helpful to have a navigator, preferably someone who will give directions in a clear and timely manner, providing the driver with more than 10 seconds to move three lanes to the right. Make sure it is someone you are comfortable with and who shares the same interests. It's not a good situation when you want to visit a museum and they want to find the nearest bar. Sooner than you expect, 24-hour-per-day togetherness while sharing the close confines of a car and sleeping in the same hotel room has a tendency to expose and even exaggerate personality differences.
2. Have a destination in mind, but no rigid timelines. Be willing to stop for unexpected road nuggets - a quirky roadside site, the world's largest pecan, a fruit stand on the side of the road, that perfect spot for a picnic or nap. Some of them won't really be worth your time, but that's OK because others will turn out to be the most fun and memorable activities of the trip.
3. Have a comfortable and reliable auto. Remember, you might well be spending 8 or more hours in your auto so a comfortable seat is much preferred. And being in the middle of nowhere with a broken down vehicle can be miserable so get your car checked by a mechanic and do all the preventive maintenance called for before you leave. 
4. Snacks. There MUST be snacks. Apples, trail mix, nuts, peanut butter and a loaf of french bread makes the days on the road better. Healthy is good, but a road trip is NOT the time to deprive yourself. Be sure to add goodies to your snack sack - M&M's, Snickers, cookies and chips are perfectly acceptable. And feel free to add to or replenish your snack sack with goodies you find along the way - a fried pie or two from that little bakery you stopped at or a sleeve of peanut butter crackers from the convenience store where you got gas for the car. The path to a great road trip goes through the belly.
5. Pack light. Make sure you have what you need, but remember, the lighter the better. You will not be seeing the same stranger two days in a row so the people you meet will not know you wore the same outfit yesterday. Unless you do something strenuous, like taking a hike, neither you nor your clothes will be grubby or stinky within a day. The exception to this is underwear. Pack enough to start each day wearing a fresh pair. The same pair of jeans on the other hand, can be worn for a number of days. Dress presentable, but for comfort. No need to dress to impress strangers you will most probably never see again.
6. Bring plenty of tunes. A great road trip playlist is the soundtrack to a good adventure. Memorable songs and driving down little country roads just go together and makes your trip even more enjoyable. Don't be afraid to sing along with your favorites. Even if you can't carry a note in a hand-basket, sing along. Enjoy the moment!
7. Get off the boring, mind-numbing interstate. Back roads are where you truly discover America. Bring along some good old-fashion paper maps and don't forget your GPS, but be willing to slow down and spend quality time on little 2-lane roads that go from small town to small town. Road trips are not for getting from Point A to Point B as fast as possible. Enjoy the journey.  
8. Eat local, stay local. Be adventurous. It may be reassuring to stay in one of the nation-wide hotel chains like Marriott or Hilton, but it rarely is as interesting as a local mom-and-pop motel or a historical bed-and-breakfast. You must also eat, as often as possible, in a locally owned restaurant. Very often, the best food will be served up in an establishment only the locals know about. The number of cars and pickups in the parking lot will tell you whether you should eat there or not.
9. Trust your instincts. Be safe. If you happen to find yourself in what feels like a sketchy area, it probably is. If there are bars on the windows and doors of buildings and houses, pass on through. The goal is to have an enjoyable and fun adventure, not to tempt fate.
10. Take lots and lots of pictures. Bring your camera and maybe a journal to record the adventures and sites you encounter and the stories you'll hear. You'll be sharing your trip with friends/family and reminiscing weeks, months and even decades later. Banish any thoughts that you are taking too many pictures - you're not. Remember, it's easier to delete than to regret.

Feel free to add your own rules. Let me know in the comments section if you think I should add something. Here's to future road trips!

Fading Photographs

When my mother passed a few years ago, I inherited two large boxes full of photographs – family photos, old pictures of old houses and cars and places, old pictures of old people. A few were identified with a name written on the back, but most were not. Some were correct, some not. In my mother’s halting hand-writing, with failing eye-sight and a faulty memory, she had identified childhood photographs of me as my brother and my brother as me so who knows if the others are correct or not.

The other day, with nothing pressing to do, I broke out one of those boxes again to try and correctly identify people and put some kind of order to them. It's a futile effort as I didn't know most of the older individuals who have long since passed on and the ones who knew them have passed as well. It always makes me sad. These individuals had lives they lived, laughs they shared, stories they told, love and fear they felt and life choices they had to make. Some of those choices they made affected my life - where I was born, what religion I was taught, how I was raised by the people they raised. Now, they are dead and buried and forgotten underground with nothing to mark their resting place but maybe a broken headstone and weeds. I couldn't help but think, when an old person dies, it's like a library burning down.

Why am I sitting on a mule in the snow getting 

my picture taken with this man identified as 

 Pa Kerly? There is no 'Kerly' in my family.

While sitting on my home-office floor surrounded by all these photographs, somehow a smell I remember from my childhood came to me. It was a very distinctive, sickly sweet smell. At one time when I was quiet young, we lived next to a horse processing plant. That was back when they killed and processed old and broken-down horses to be used for glue-making and other processes. I would wonder over to the corrals and look at all those horses and dream of being a cowboy. Occasionally, one of the workers would lift me up and put me on the sway-back of one of those poor creatures. The horses never seemed to mind and rarely moved with me on their back as their spirit had long ago been broken and used up. Sometimes the man would lift me up from one horse and place me on another, then slowly lead the first horse into one end of the big shed and I never saw them come out of the other end even though I always watched closely.

That smell of death that came drifting to me through the years to where I sat in my modern office with all the modern electronic machines I feel I need to keep me informed, warm, cool, dry and comfortable caused me to reflect on why I felt a need to identify the people in these long-forgotten photographs. Maybe it's me I'm actually thinking about. I don't want to end up like them, just a little footnote that nobody pays attention to or actually cares about.

I have a lot of digital photos I've taken and I have them all cataloged in several different ways on different mediums all backed up in triplicate. And I now realize, as I'm edging closer and closer to my own end-of-days, I'm probably unconsciously using these photographs as a barrier, individual bricks in a fence against my own mortality. After all, no one is dead, truly dead, until no one remembers them and no one speaks their name. But that's life though. It's the way it's supposed to be. And so I took those stacks of old photographs and put them all back in their cardboard box, still unidentified, still forgotten. I printed out a few of me and put those in there too, unidentified. Maybe someday someone else will pull them out and think, "I wonder who these people were? What were their stories?"