For the third time in the past five years, my family gathered at the old Glenwood Cemetery in Houston to honor our ancestors... as another marble headstone was planted recognizing their service in the Confederacy. On this day we honored my great, great Grandfather Hamilton, who was wounded at Shiloh.
As I sat within sight of the stately grave of Anson Jones, the first President of Texas, and behind William P. Hobby, (still living!) former Lt. Governor of Texas for many years, amongst so many kinsmen and women, I could not help but take a little pride in what Texas became, sometimes in spite of her people and politicians, and feel guilty that it might be my generation that will go down in history for losing it.
The 21 gun salutes, the varied ages in uniform, the gracious people paying homage to kinsmen dead for over one hundred years... reminded me that this whole thing was so fragile... a dreamer's whim, an empire of poets and pioneers, with deplorable habits and deadly flaws.
If they could build it, then we can save it!
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