Wednesday, June 7, 2023
(click here to listen to or read today’s scriptures)
Texas Military History Museum
Texas is justifiably proud of its military history. Inside the Texas Military Forces History Museum a sign above one of its rooms reads, “The troops of other states have their reputation to make. The sons of the Alamo have theirs to maintain.” In 1862 Robert E. Lee “relied upon our Texans in all tight places – they have fought grandly and nobly and we must have more of them.”
Miles and Jasper were dwarfed by the tanks and guns and planes lined up in long rows in the Great Hall. But at one end we found a mess hall truck, full of plates and huge pots. We climbed up the steps into the back, and Jasper made the meatballs and I made the pasghetti. We climbed back down, but after awhile looking at the other guns and stuff, he wanted to go back to the kitchen.
Myself, me too. I liked the mess truck. And I felt more comfortable with the medics and the ambulance than with the machine guns. I kept thinking about how those guns got better and better over the years at killing people. People on some “other” side. Folks a few other people decided were a menace to our safety. Of course, sometimes they were. Or we were. It’s hard to keep track sometimes.
However, I noticed that I was comforted in a way by the implicit military protocol of following orders, and of keeping track of things with numbers and letters. As we drove around the 375 acres of Camp Mabry I noticed that every building and every street had a name and number. A few people walked or ran on a red oval track around the dozen or so helicopers and fighter planes on display, which everyone sees from Highway 1 as they drive toward downtown Austin. A lot of people were parked at the exchange, a military grocery and department store with discounts. And of course we were joined by several families in the museum. None of us had visible numbers, but everything else did.
As fascinated as I am by military history, I’m just as horrified by it. People kill each other, and then celebrate. Jasper liked the mess truck, Miles and Jasper enjoyed getting into the cockpit of an old fighter plane, but none of the boys liked what Jasper called the “scary” part, which was a very low volume rendition of shelling during World War I and a peephole black and white video of a battle in 1917. We had to find a poster for the museum scavenger hunt, but no way was he going back into that place, where he could hear the guns firing.
It was just too real for him. And I was glad he was along to remind me that it was way too real for me as well. As for the distancing and dissociation I’ve learned to use over the years to protect myself? Well, Jasper hasn’t had time to develop those “skills,” so he felt death (and the death of others) in his gut, and he couldn’t stand it.
Your ways, O Lord, make known to me. Teach me your paths, guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my savior.
(Tobit 3, Psalm 25, John 11, Mark 12)
(posted at www.davesandel.net)
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