During this horrific, ‘er I mean, historic year of 2020, you may be traveling down the hall to the kitchen, rather than across the country but will likely navigate to a table with turkey, pies and all the dressings. Traffic slowdowns or hallway accidents aside, you will do better than the Pilgrims, who ended up nowhere near their desired destination.
Historical records show the Mayflower was destined for what is known today, as Virginia. Old sea charts show, even if it landed where plotted, their Thanksgiving dinner would have been near Staten Island’s Bayonne Bridge, which could have seriously altered history. Imagine watching Martin Scorsese’s, “Pilgrims of Wall Street” staring ye’old Leonardo DiCaprio.
Butterfly effect aside, Mayflower passages were not all stodgy prudes. Some weren’t even Pilgrims. Seemingly, a portion of passengers agreed to rules made by the “Virginia Company”, (the guys bankrolling the deal, thus hoped-for arrival location), just to hitch a free ride. All having something to do with a Royal Charter, but more on business schemes next year.
Like now, Reawakening an America Dream, (name of my latest book btw), was on everyone’s mind, especially since a population surge in England was causing great poverty. Plus, with no Charles Schwab, King Charles, like his sons, I & II, confiscated people’s gold to pay their own bills—apparently par for any political age.
So when the, all are welcome recruiting sign went up, it was an even bet for wannabe immigrants. A good idea for Pilgrims Fathers too, until they all hit shore. I failed to mention, there was beer on onboard, (another story for next year). From experience, I know running out of beer is a damn good reason to drop anchor, but putting a party to shore, party being functional word, had its risks.
It seemed during the long voyage, the non-pilgrims turned out to be quite a rowdy bunch and when the new world looked nothing like merry old England, their commitment to the “Virginia Company”, it’s hoped-for landing location and King Charlie, went right out the window, I mean porthole.
Enter Miles Standish, who was “the law” in mercenary clothing, hired to keep order. A guy who likely made your fourth-grade teacher, “Quaker” in her boots as she taught his name and the details of one “Mayflower Compact”.
No, “Mayflower Compact” was not a Thanksgiving recipe! It was an ad hock police power affecting rights of individuals that was in conflict with personal liberty. It basically said, welcome to the New World. Once ashore, we can and will limit your freedoms—”meet the new boss, same as the old boss”.
Free or not, adventures, tradesmen, and Pilgrims alike went ashore shooting, looting and scaring Native Americans and their kids. After nearly five weeks, bored and hungry, they moved on to the famous Plymouth Rock, still nowhere near Virginia as originally planned, where they settled in for the winter.
All of them might have died near that granite boulder on which they stepped, if not for an “Indian”, named Squanto, who mysteriously spoke English and negotiated an Indian soup kitchen of sorts, for those unfortunate starving settlers. Today we celebrate that event, but not Squanto, on a day called Thanksgiving.
This year, remain open and accepting of others in thoughts or deeds and have a Happy and Blessed Day.
Kevin J Palmer, writer rebel producer poet
