We picked up our rental car at Logan Airport and drove (not without some fear and trembling) down to the Cape. We of the land of wide open spaces tend to forget how squished together everything is over here in New England, so despite the traffic we made excellent time and decided to stop by Plimoth Plantation. (Rosemary has fond memories of a certain Phineas Pratt from her last visit some 25 years ago and was hoping to revisit her youth.)
Alas, Phineas was apparently off shooting something that day, but we did have a nice chat with the Wampanoag gentleman making a canoe out of a tree and a woman roasting a rabbit on a spit…
…while making a sweet corn pudding with cranberries.
Strolling on, we arrived in Plimoth and visited several early Americans. There are signs all over the visitor center that make it abundantly clear the people are not either a) pilgrims (at least, they did not think of themselves as such) or b) Indians (because really, they’re not from India no matter what Columbus thought). Don’t even think about using such historically-culturally-politically insensitive language.
After all those stern warnings it was a wonder we dared speak to anyone, but Rosemary & Vikki are both teachers and I interview people on a regular basis, so between us we had no shortage of questions.
She’s not threatening anyone, she’s scraping sugar off a block to put on the pudding.
View from the meeting house—which held 6 cannons on the upper floor.
In short: A good time was had by all. Even the Wampanoag and the whatever we’re calling pilgrims these days.