#and even then why are you ignoring the complexity of the inferior complex anna has due to her father's favoritism towards nina??

[headlessstar]

watching a tekken lore video series that's awesome in breaking down the narrative of the game but also misses so hard when it comes to some overarching character stories. I finally found a youtube channel that goes in-depth into this story and this is what I get

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

The Mistakes We Made - Chapter 7

Summary:  When her high school girlfriend comes back to town after two years with a baby and a terrible story she won’t tell, the Librarian has to deal with the feelings she had worked so hard to keep at bay.

Notes: I’m sorry it took so long, and I’m sorry it will also take long for the next chapter. School, you know? Also, please don´t kill me. It gets better, I promise.

Read it on ao3 (chpt1) (chpt2) (chpt3) (chpt4) (chpt5) (chpt6) (chpt7)

The night before had ended in tears, and Maven truly hadn’t known how to deal with it. Knowing her touch and most likely her comfort would not be welcomed by Johanna, like it hadn’t been ever since they broke up, she merely saw that her friend had gotten to her bed before retiring to her room herself, too exhausted to do anything besides falling asleep.

This morning, she woke up hoping they could forget about what had happened, at least until Johanna was emotionally stable enough to face the lies that had been spread about her. However, as she walked down the stairs and into the kitchen, one glance at her friend’s face told her that what she’d heard the day before hadn’t yet been forgotten. Her shoulders were tight with tension and her mouth was a thin line of displeasure.

Unlike the day before, Maven decided to sit down and have breakfast with the two of them. It hurt to be near Johanna, but she quite thought the woman shouldn’t be alone at this state. Maven had enough experience with the town’s scorn to know that much.

They were being very civil, nearly friendly, up until the point when Maven realized that Johanna was barely eating at all. At first the librarian had figured that she was eating slowly because she needed to feed her child first, but now that Hilda was done, Johanna continued to half-heartedly pick at her food, her head resting on her hand. Maven rolled her eyes.

“Are you serious?” She asked, making the woman look at her. “You’re really going to let a bunch of idiots get you down?”

Johanna gripped her fork tighter. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how you look like a puppy who’s been kicked! And just because of those rumors about you!” She let go of her cutlery and crossed her arms. “Come on, if they simply bought Torrin’s bullshit without even talking to you, I’m quite sure they don’t know you and don’t care about you that much in the first place.”

Johanna’s shoulders tensed up. “You know, somehow you aren’t helping at all.” She said, hurt and anger sharpening her voice into a stronger sound than it normally was. “Have you forgotten that included in this ‘bunch of idiots’ you’ve mentioned are my parents?”

“Well, your parents they may be, but how are them any different from the rest of them? It’s like they’re all still stuck in the dark ages, for fuck’s sake!”

Johanna whispers her name in something similar to a warning, but it’s too late. Maven is far too gone, and now that she finally began saying what she’d wanted to ever since she was a child, there was nothing that could stop her. Her hurt made her reckless, and the words flew from her heart straight to her mouth.

“They probably do love you, Johanna, but can’t you see that they’re always manipulating you? That instead of loving you unconditionally they try to shape you into someone that is perfect to them? Why- why do you even listen to them, knowing this? Damnit, you’re so smart, why won’t you just ignore them?!”

“Shut up!” Johanna all but screamed, getting up from her seat immediately. On her haste to get up, her elbow hit her cup, which went straight to the floor and shattered into a million pieces. “You, of all people, have no right to say this to me!”

That was when Maven realized she had overdone it, lost her point and hurt a friend who had needed comforting, not scolding. Because no matter what happened, Johanna didn’t yell. She extended her hands in front of herself in a gesture of surrender, and knew she failed to school her features into something that didn’t look terrified.

“Ever since we met, you are the one who manipulated me! You kept me for yourself and stopped me from having other friends. You always wanted me to be as hated at you, and now you’re doing it again! You’re trying to keep yourself my only friend so I have nowhere to go but to you!”

Maven flinched at the harsh words. Was that how she saw their friendship? Through all her life, Johanna had been her only close friend, but she couldn’t recall ever having tried to stop Johanna from befriending other people. And never, in a thousand years, would she want her best friend from suffering as she had in the hands of the town.

Would she?

“And you have absolutely no idea of what this feels like!” She continued, and now Maven could see tears shining in her brown eyes. “You have no idea what it is to try to be good enough for a parent. You could never relate to this, because your mother was just as much a freak as you!”

There was a weird, silent moment when they both locked their gazes and realized what had been said. Johanna put a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening as she realized, even through her haze of anger, that she had let herself go too far.

“I see.” Maven whispered as she got up slowly, pain lashing at her heart. She couldn’t do this here. She could not, would not, cry in front of Johanna.

“Well, I don’t think you should have much trouble earning the town’s good graces again.” She chuckled darkly and she slowly put one foot in front of the other, heading for the stairs. “Why, you think just like them all!”

Before she could take one last look at Johanna and inevitably loose control over her tears, she raced up the stairs and locked herself in her room, not quite managing to throw water on her face before she began crying.

That Johanna saw her like the rest of them did hurt her, but it was no news. She had began acting like it almost as soon as she began dating Torrin, and Maven knew that there was more than a little emotional manipulation involved in that change. Not only from her boyfriend, but also from her parents.

Maven knew this. But apparently, Johanna didn’t. Apparently, on her version of the story, Maven was the manipulator. She was the one who hurt Johanna the most and who trapped her in her clutches. Squinting at her bathroom mirror, she tried to see what Johanna saw.

When she had her mother and her best friend on her side, it had been easy to ignore the town’s whispers. But now? Now it seemed a lot more rational that the bulk of the town’s population, including her former girlfriend, would be right about her rather than the few friends and extended family members that thought she was a good person. As she stared at her disheveled reflection, bloodshot eyes with dark circles under them, pale skin and hollow cheekbones, she began to see what the rest of them saw.

Irritable. Cold. Calculating. Ambitious. Antisocial. Strange. The very picture of what mothers told their children to stay away from.

Oh gods, what had she done?

_#_#_#_

She was there. Oh, thank goodness, she was there! After the disaster of not being able to go out with her on Sunday, and having her father confiscate her phone lest she call Maven, Johanna truly feared that her girlfriend wouldn’t show up at the Poet’s Retreat that Tuesday. But apparently she shouldn’t have worried. Their biweekly reunions were as sacred to her as they were to Johanna.

She had her back to the door, so she didn’t see her girlfriend coming closer. Her shoulders were hunched, and when she wasn’t reading a book, that only happened when she was hurt. The realization hit Johanna hard. Thank goodness she’d have a chance to explain it all now.

Though her touch on her shoulder was light, Maven still flinched when she felt it. She turned to look at Johanna with wide eyes, almost as if she couldn’t believe the other girl had come.

“Hey.” Johanna smiled at her, even though her heart was clenching at how vulnerable she looked.

“Anna!” She whispered as soon as she gathered her thoughts. She stared at her for one more second before jumping from her chair. “Are you okay, what happened?”

“Yes, I’m okay. I’ll explain everything.” She said, but not before she wrapped Maven into a tight hug that lasted longer than it had to.

When they finally let each other go, they sat down on their usual places. “I didn’t order for you because I didn’t know if you were coming. Do you want me to get you some coffee?”

“No, I’m in the mood for hot chocolate. But first I owe you an explanation.”

Maven sat up straighter and sat on the edge of her chair, ready to show Johanna she had her full attention. “My father forbid me from going out with you.”

Maven looked forlorn, and Johanna couldn’t blame her. “He just… he said many ignorant things about you and told me to stop seeing you. He took my phone so I couldn’t cancel our plans or tell you what had happened later. I’m so sorry.”

“So he made you stay home?” She asked after a few moments of silence.

Johanna cringed - her girlfriend wouldn’t like this. “Actually… he made me go out. Mr. Aven invited us for a party at his house. There were many of our classmates there as well.”

Just like Johanna had foreseen, her girlfriend looked like she had eaten something sour. “Ugh. I’m so sorry. I hope you didn’t have to talk to Torrin.”

“Actually,” she blushed under the other girl’s stare. “I spent most of the party with him.”

“What?”

“I know you won’t believe me, but… he’s not as bad as we thought.”

Maven just continued to stare at her as if she’d grown a second head.

“I think that in the end he’s just a boy who pretends to be bigger than life because he feels insecure about himself. You know that most bullies have inferiority complexes.”

“Anna, I love you, but you have got to be kidding me.”

“I’m not!” She insisted. “He was really kind and open with me that night. You know how I’m a good judge of character.”

“No, you’re not! You always see the good in people, but that’s different to knowing how to read them well!”

“Well, you always see only the worst in people and stick to it! Haven’t you ever considered that people can change?”

Maven gasped silently and turned her gaze to her coffee, both girls silent for long moments.

“I’m sorry.” Johanna began. “That wasn’t kind of me to say.”

Maven offered her a small smile. “It’s okay. I was an ass as well. I’ll respect your opinion about him, veven if I don’t think I’ll ever agree with it.”

Johanna smiled, a timid smile of thanks, and leaned in across the table to give a peck to her girlfriend’s lips. Maven met her halfway, and even though it was a very quick, shy kiss due to them being in public, they had both needed it very much. They continued smiling at each other when they drew back, every inch teenagers in love even through the hardships they faced.

“Do your parents know you’re here?” Maven asked after a second, making Johanna sigh.

“No. They think I’m in Lucy’s house. I’ll need to get there soon, so I’ll have an alibi.”

Maven’s face crumpled. “You need to go now?”

“No, I think I have the time to have a hot chocolate with you.” She smiled, but her optimism didn’t seem to reach Maven.

“What will we do? Just keep meeting whenever you can find it in yourself to lie to your father?”

Johanna’s eyes became downcast. Looking at it that way, it sounded like they truly were in a bad spot. “Well, I… I can’t go on lying to my father on a constant basis.”

“Why not?”

The brown haired girl stared at her companion. “Because he’s my father, Maven. He loves me, and has my best interests in mind, but some why thinks you’re bad company.”

“Well, why don’t you just -“ she shrugged. “Ignore him? You know more about me than he does, that’s fact.”

“I can’t just ignore him!” She spat. “How would you feel if I told you to ‘just ignore’ something your mother said?”

“Well, I definitely wouldn’t like it, but let’s agree that my mother is a hell lot wiser than your dad.” She argued with raised eyebrows, taking a sip of her coffee right after.

Johanna scoffed. Mrs. Amaris was a lovely woman, but sometimes she truly wondered if she’d taught her daughter any manners at all. “I’ll get my chocolate.” She said simply before rising from their table and walking to the counter.

She had just greeted the barista and had opened her mouth to place her order when she saw something out of the corner or her eye that made her heart leap and dread settle in the bottom of her stomach.

Her father’s car was parked on the outside of the café, and looking at her with an unreadable expression from the driver’s seat, was her father himself. She was too taken aback and terrified to do anything but stare at him open mouthed while the barista looked at her with concern, but her father hadn’t been struck by the same paralysis. When he noticed her looking his way, he got out of the car and stormed into the Poet’s Retreat.

Surprisingly, he marched straight past her, giving her only a furious look before heading to the table where she had been sitting, which made Johanna even more scared. She knew she wouldn’t have the strength to protect Maven if the situation got dire.

Hearing the bell above the door ring and the angry steps of something coming in, the girl looked back to see what was happening, and saw herself looking at a positively furious man coming her way.

“Don’t you ever-” he began, shouting at her as he came closer. “Ever come near my daughter again, do you understand, you little freak?”

With wide eyes and a labored breathing, Maven couldn’t utter a word. Her eyes danced from the angry face in front of her and her girlfriend, practically shaking near the counter. Though she couldn’t say she wasn’t afraid for herself, her biggest fear was for Johanna, and what would happen to her once she was at home with this man.

It took her a moment to realize, but after he had finished speaking, Johanna’s father had actually spat at her feet. It was such weird behavior, unworthy of a good citizen of Trollberg, but it didn’t matter, because no one would ever trust her word over his. He bared his teeth at her one last time before marching away from her and grabbing Johanna’s arm, dragging her away from the café.

Their eyes met just before she was forced to cross the door, when her father took a few bills out of his pocket and put them on the counter, effectively buying the barista’s silence. Her eyes were those of a woman who needed help, but knew she couldn’t get it. They spoke of regrets and apologies and farewells, and Maven could acutely feel her heart breaking into a million pieces in her chest.

“Anna…” she whispered painfully, knowing there was nothing she could do. And knowing, even though she didn’t want to, that from then on things would never be the same again.

_#_#_#_

“I called Lucy’s mother.” He said as soon as they entered the car. To someone who wasn’t used to her father, it would seem like his anger had burned out, judging by his voice. But Johanna knew better. It was very much still there. “Asked her if you had arrived their house safely. She told me that as far as she was aware, you were only supposed to be there at six. Which is very funny, since I remember you telling me you had to leave because you had agreed on being there at five.”

He was silent for a moment, giving her time to digest that information.

“So of course, I went looking for you. I was worried. But then, I remember these ‘playdates’ you have with that miniature creep, and prayed that the day and time matching would just be a coincidence. But it wasn’t. You were there.”

He brought his hand down on the steering wheel forcefully, making Johanna flinch. “Fucking hell, Johanna, you were there! Are you playing stupid? Can’t you see I just want your best?!”

The girl took a deep breath, doing her best to hold back tears. “She never gave me any reason not to trust her, dad.” She said in a small voice.

“That’s because she’s had you in her clutches ever since you were both little, damnit! At the time we thought she couldn’t do any harm, that she was an innocent! But obviously, there was no way the daughter of a witch wouldn’t be a witch as well. And now we have the ultimate proof of how much she has misled you!”

Johanna could see him shudder beside her. “Oh, God, I wish I hadn’t seen what I have. But that devil of a girl got you to commit such a sin?!”

Her sharp intake of breath made her body quake. “I don’t -“

“I saw it.” He cut her before she could even begin her denial. “I saw you kiss her. There’s no use in pretending you didn’t. And that is something I will not accept. It is against our God!”

If it were anyone else talking, Johanna would’ve probably spoke up to that. She had a carefully constructed list of arguments on ‘why using Christianity and the Bible to justify your homophobia was not only hateful, it was stupid’, but she would never be able to say a word of that to her father. She would probably not be able to say anything at all in that moment. The lump in her throat just wouldn’t allow it.

He sighed, the fight in him seeming to be replaced by exhaustion. “And the worst part is that I know how she did it. I saw it happening. I saw how she isolated you with herself, and got you to think that that was friendship. I saw her stuffing your mind with dishonorable thoughts, making you feel like an outsider in your own town. Everything to pull you inside her little bubble and made you think you had no one but her.”

And invisible hand squeezed Johanna’s heart. What he was saying made sense, from an outsider’s point of view, but that’s not what had happened, was it? It had never felt like it.

“See?” He said after looking at her face. “Even after telling you this, you still want to defend her! You’re not a gullible person, my sweet, but it was quite the long, macabre game that that girl was playing.”

When his daughter remained in silence, he sighed. “Look, I’m not asking you to understand all this at once. It would be unfair to do so, after you spent so much time being manipulated into believing something else. Just… sleep on it, okay? I won’t tell your mother anything, so relax.”

He made a curve and parked the car on their garage. Then, he looked at her with concern on his face. “We’ll talk about this again. As many times as I need to help you come to terms with this. We can even make you an appointment with a friend of mine who is a psychologist, if you want. All that matters to me is that you’re happy.”

All that Johanna managed was a weak “okay”. She was too overwhelmed, to confused, to say anything else. They got out of the car and into the house, when her father called for her again.

“I rescheduled your dinner with Lucy for tomorrow, by the way. I think you’d benefit from seeing her more often as well.”

The words were barely registered by Johanna’s brain as she climbed up the stairs and went to her room. A haze of turmoil was clouding her mind, and when it began to clear she found herself sitting at her old dressing table. In front of her, her reflection squinted at her. For a moment, she tried to see what her father saw.

Inexperienced. Empathetic. Naive. Compassionate. Well-meant and attentive. The perfect victim for manipulation.

No, she thought as she immediately got up from her stool, making it fall to the ground. She wasn’t actually considering this, was she? This was Maven they were talking about. Smart, caring, bookish Maven. The one who had always been there for her. She had stuck to Maven because that had been her choice, because no one made her feel as alive or cherished as the weird girl who lived in the graveyard had, not because she had stopped her from making other friends.

But then again, a traitorous voice in her head said. That’s exactly what you’d think if she had manipulated you. You wouldn’t know. Your father may not know her so well, but he knows you better than anyone. And he has watched the two of you all through your life… wouldn’t he know? Wouldn’t he want only the best for you?

Johanna let out a sob. She was so very tired, and she only wanted this day to end. She could think later, but now the only thing she needed was her bed, which she didn’t even bother undressing before she tucked herself into.

She’d find a way to sort through this mess in her head when she felt like it. But now? Now was not it.

_#_#_#_

Her bag was extra heavy when she left the house that morning, due to the fact that everything Maven would need for the day was in it. She’d buy lunch somewhere, or maybe eat with Mr. Kavindi if he happened to invite her, but she truly didn’t want to return home before going to college after the row she’d had with Johanna during breakfast.

She tip toed down the stairs and peaked at the kitchen and living room to check that Johanna wasn’t there; and indeed she was not. She had probably retired to her room, to take care of Hilda or simply to not be in the same place where they had both acted like beasts earlier.

But she had not gone away, Maven realized, before cleaning away the teacup that she had broken. Well. At least that was something.

And it was very, very unfair, that such a small act was an improvement for them. There had been a time when their relationship was worthy of envy. They didn’t fight. They always talked about what was bothering them rationally, keeping in mind that the other was doing their best, whether it looked like it or not. They adjusted their behavior whenever it was needed if that meant not hurting the other, and somehow that never meant changing into someone they were not. They used to bring out the best on each other.

How had things turned out so wrong?

_#_#_#_

The early morning sun woke Johanna up the next day with its warm beans on her eyelids. She went through her morning routine, doing her best to keep her mind from bringing the day before up, choosing to focus instead on her empty stomach.

Being silent so as not to wake up her parents, she walked down the corridor and the stairs in her pajamas, heading straight to the kitchen. She quickly put together a bowl of cereal and milk, tossing a spoon inside before retracing her path back to her room.

However, when she was about to begin her climb up that dark wood stairs, she noticed something odd. Peaking out from under the front door, there was a small piece of folded paper. She crouched down, mindful of the bowl full of liquid she was holding, and took it in her hand.

She had imagined it would be some sort of bill for her parents, but the reality intrigued her. The note was, in fact, addressed to her in messy blue handwriting.

She took it with herself to her room, where she unfolded it quickly, taken by curiousity, and read it by the sunlight that flooded her room.

Hey! I came here to talk to you but either you aren’t home or you’re ignoring me lol. Anyways, I really liked our chat at the party. Maybe we could do that again? Maybe go to the movies or smth? Let me know when u see this. I’m pretty sure you have my number. -Torrin

“Oh.” She gasped softly. She hadn’t seen that coming. Though she probably should have, given how they had got on at his house. Well, she thought as she picked up her phone to text him, she was about to go through a roller coaster. Her main relationship was being put to test. Best that she find other friends to help her through the way, right?

After all, a true friend would be able to tell her if she was being manipulated. And she truly needed the advice.

[everythingtimeless]

Historical Hour With Hilary: 1x05

Missed an installment? Want to read up on where the team has been before? Just bored? Catch up with previous Historical Hours here. Otherwise, come along and discover that you probably don’t actually remember the Alamo, on March 6, 1836, as our heroes find themselves trapped in the legendary mission on the eve of battle.

If there is one thing that American Southern folk mythology really enjoys, it’s a romantic “Lost Cause” about a small group of brave patriots fighting to the end against a much larger and morally bankrupt foe: their bodies may be broken, but their spirit prevails. I could be talking about the Civil War, the end of which the team visited in 1865 a few episodes ago, but I could also be talking about the Alamo and its context within the Texas Revolution, which began just thirty years previously. It was a very short war, lasting only from October 1835 to April 1836, and it resulted in Texas’ independence from Mexico and official entry into the United States, which...  may or may not count as winning, but never mind. The causes of the conflict are complex, but I’ll try to summarize quickly. In 1821, Mexico had achieved freedom from Spain and recognition as its own sovereign country, with the Mexican War of Independence, and the territory of Texas became a formal Mexican state, Tejas. Eight years later, in 1829, Mexico banned slavery, which um. Did not go down well:

The aversion toward the Mexican government felt by most American Texans (who objected to learning Spanish, abiding by Mexican law, becoming Roman Catholics, etc ) was further exacerbated by the 1829 abolition of slavery. [...] The overthrow of federalism in 1835 finally prompted the Texans to revolt, given that a centralist state would tighten the Mexicans' grip over the distant and increasingly U.S.-populated secessionist province with uniform laws and taxes. However, the fact that the imposition of a centralist state would result in the abolition of slavery in Texas remains one of the main, yet often downplayed, reasons why the Texans rose up in arms. (p. 162-63).

“Often downplayed.” Wow, who could have possibly seen that coming? In case it wasn’t clear, the Mexican government objected to so many Americans moving to Mexico, as the Americans then made no effort to integrate and behaved (shock, surprise) like they owned the place. For another tidbit to annoy your racist uncle on Facebook, how about this:

The Law of April 6, 1830, said to be the same type of stimulus to the Texas Revolution that the Stamp Act was to the American Revolution, was initiated by Lucas Alamán y Escalada, Mexican minister of foreign relations, and was designed to stop the flood of immigration from the United States to Texas.

This was an entirely symbolic law, given as it was completely impossible to enforce with 1830s-level bureaucracy and communication over vast stretches of the Southwest, but it reflected Mexico’s attempt to impose control over an unruly and secessionist state (I’m not gonna say anything here, I’m not gonna say anything) and cut immigration levels from troublesome Americans, spreading moral disorder and presumably stealing jobs. If you’re interested, you can read in more detail about Texas-Mexican politics and the influences on the revolution here (you will need an institutional login to access full text). Otherwise, you can probably see that by the time the uprising actually started in 1835, the causes of the Texians’ (as the Anglo-Texas settlers were called) discontent were, well, something less than noble.

Mind you, they weren’t entirely unjustified, as Antonio de Padua María Severino López de Santa Anna y Pérez de Lebrón, or “Damn, Son, Leave Some Names For the Rest of Us”, Mexico’s eleven-time president, general, and towering statesman of the period, made even his contemporaries uneasy. His cruelties and excesses during the Texas campaigns, including the slaughter at the Alamo and the Goliad massacre of March 27, 1836 (or the “Other Alamo”, which killed at least 350 men, nearly double the Alamo’s death toll of 182, and which Santa Anna ordered against the wishes of his subordinate, General José de Urrea), got him into hot political water upon his return home. Part of Mexico’s political reforms had been in an attempt to avoid a post-revolution Santa Anna dictatorship, which he certainly possessed the talent and temperament to try. However, as noted before Flynn mucks things up, he did not indiscriminately butcher the women, children, and slaves inside the Alamo. Instead, they were given a blanket, safe passage, and two dollars apiece (see page 39). Only the defenders were killed.

As the team encounter, these defenders included some of the most colorful figures of later American folklore, including Davy Crockett and James Bowie, and William Barret Travis’ famous letter, which Lucy ends up having to write, is commonly cited as an enduring legacy of patriotism and “victory or death.” (It’s now a standard part of the history curriculum for Texas schoolchildren, which does not surprise me.) Of course, the participation of actual Tejanos in the events has been obscured and understudied, and almost immediately after the battle, it began to be memorialized in sentimental (and racist) novels. The supposed villainy and racial inferiority of the Mexicans was highlighted and made a key part of remembrance of the Alamo, especially as it was easy to take that view from the winning side. On April 21, 1836, General Sam Houston defeated Santa Anna in the Battle of San Jacinto, which lasted just eighteen minutes, and won the war (and independence) for Texas. As mid-19th-century Southern generals go, Houston is actually not that bad: he was very close with the Cherokee Indians, including being an honorary citizen and having an Indian wife at one point. He also fiercely opposed slavery and secessionism (or: Texas, having joined America, immediately wanted to leave it again) in the run-up to the Civil War, and was the only governor of a Southern state to refuse an oath of loyalty to the Confederacy, which caused him to be removed from office. Davy Crockett also hated the daylights out of President Andrew Jackson and his heinous Indian Removal Act, so hey. They’ve got that going for them.

Overall, I feel as if this is one episode where Timeless could have pushed a little harder at this history in places, but hey, that’s what I am here for. I therefore have to make the point explicit that yes, of course it was about race and slavery in the American South just a few decades before the Civil War, and yes, Texas has always been like that. It also flips our modern ideas about “illegal immigration” on their heads, and invites us to think more cautiously and critically about our fondness for “Lost Cause” patriotic mythology, because frankly, the Alamo wasn’t a Lost Cause. Yes, the soldiers died, but Texas won its independence less than two months later, which allowed the story of the Alamo to serve exceptionally well as a tragic tale and propagandist memory, and which was deliberately constructed as an important event in a way that far outstripped its actual historical significance. The Goliad massacre was arguably more significant in terms of the number of soldiers killed and the point of “no return” for the rebel cause, but nobody particularly remembers that today, which demonstrates the way in which the mythologizing of the Alamo stretches beyond its real impact. The Texas Revolutions’ origins were also less about a valorous desire for liberation from Mexican tyranny, and more about the Texians wanting to do things their way, especially if it involved their right to go on holding slaves and ignoring the laws, language, and customs of the country they had moved to. So yes, Wyatt, every kid in Texas might know the story, but I’m not sure how much anyone -- individually or collectively -- actually cares to remember.

Next week: An insane president, scandal in the White House, the threat of domestic terrorism and nuclear war, plane hijackings, and more? Are we staying in 2017? Nope. It’s 1972.