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Several years ago, my five-year-old son was not settling down for his nap, so I offered to tell him a story. "How about Daniel in the lions' den?"

"Nah, I've heard that one."

"Well, how about Noah and the ark?"

"I've heard that one, too."

So I changed course. "David, you were born in Texas. Have you heard the story of the Alamo? No? Well, that's a story every native Texan ought to hear." So I told him about General Santa Anna and the six thousand Mexicans. I described the Alamo, with the Texans and Davy Crockett inside. I pictured the Mexicans scaling the wall, the cannon blasting, the muskets firing, and the grisly hand-to-hand combat. David was getting interested. "And, David, not one of the Texans survived!" His eyes got so large, you'd have thought he was in the middle of the battle.

Then I told him how several months later Sam Houston surprised the Mexicans and overran them in the Battle of San Jacinto. "Those Texans charged into that battle screaming a blood-curdling cry. Do you remember ...

April
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