“Remember the Alamo” has two primary connotations, depending on the audience. It’s either a jingoistic rallying cry, a justification for the incursion of white settlers into Spanish-held territory. Or, if you’re a certain kind of Texan, it’s a reminder of the nobility of sacrifice, when things are worth fighting for.
On October 7th, 2012, roughly six months ago, I arrived in Martha’s Vineyard by ferry (a liminal experience, uncle Jim would later explain). Two young, friendly staff members, Chris and Bart, drove me to the hotel, the Island Inn, checked me in, and led me to the common room where everywhere (minus some latecomers) had gathered.
So began the weeklong workshop/crash course in poker/liminal experience known as Viable Paradise.