Pilgrims, Indians, and Some Post-Thanksgiving Thoughts

We spent our Thanksgiving Day like many other American families—enjoying time with loved ones, stuffing ourselves with awesome food, and feeling grateful for it all. It was lovely.

The day after Thanksgiving, we opted out of the Black Friday shopping madness and went to Plimoth Plantation in Plymouth, MA. Since fantasy has trumped fact in many Thanksgiving stories, we thought it would be cool to go to the spot where the Pilgrims settled and learn more details about that time and place in American history.

Plimoth Plantation is a historically accurate (well, as much as it can be) recreation of the Pilgrims' settlement in 1627. They have an entire Pilgrim village set up with actors playing the parts of the settlers during that time period. The actors use 17th century vernacular, and if you ask them questions, they answer as if it's 1627. It's pretty cool. 

Conscious of the tendency for American history to leave out the native side of things, I was happy to learn that Plimoth Plantation includes a Wampanoag Indian homesite, where Indians from the Wampanoag and other local tribes share their history and customs. They are also happy to answer any questions people might have. 

You go through that section before getting to the Pilgrim settlement, which felt quite appropriate. So I'll start there:

This handsome young man explained how wooden boats called mishoon are made. He also answered some questions kids asked about his hair. :) 

One thing that struck me with each Indian guide we met was how much pride they showed in their culture. It was quite beautiful, and painful at the same time, to witness. I admit to carrying a fair amount of white guilt (for lack of a better term) when it comes to this part of our history. I really just wanted to give each one of them a big hug, but figured that would come across much more creepy than my inner intentions. 

Dolittle was impressed with this man's black bear hides. I wasn't sure about photos, so I asked, and he enthusiastically asked Dolittle to hop into the picture with him. 

Next we went into one of the Wampanoag homes, called a "nush wetu."

Normally, they would have three fires going in here, and it would be around 80 degrees. They wouldn't have this much flame, though—just hot coals, to keep the smoke down.

The smoke made a cool effect with the sun coming in the hole in the roof, though.

Weaving baskets. Incredibly intricate. This clearly takes an ENORMOUS amount of work. It made me feel like a big, lazy bum. I'm pretty sure I've never made anything that took that much detailed skill and patience.

BoyWonder and Dolittle grinding corn. Kids love doing things like this when they don't have to, don't they? 

We spent about 45 minutes in the Wampanoag Homesite, then moved on to the plantation. It was pretty cool. The thatched roofs and cute gardens made it almost look a bit like the Shire in Lord of the Rings. The homes were very dark, though. Frankly, it must have sucked in winter. And pretty much in general. 

The first photo is the inside of the meeting house. The rest are of the village and the insides of the homes.

All I could think of here was "The Scarlet Letter." 

The Muse. And a sheep.

It was so dark inside the homes, a lot of the photos came out blurry. Didn't want to blind the poor Pilgrims with a flash, though.

Can you spot the chicken?

I bet she's thinking about a nice, hot bath.

Firewood, anyone? 

I asked this lady how they went to the bathroom. Chamber pots, just like back in England. I also asked about bathing. They didn't bathe much in winter. I bet they all smelled peachy. I'm a little obsessed with historical bathing. I can't imagine living without a regular shower.

All in all, I thought it was quite well done.  

But, you know, the truth is it's difficult to explore this part of American history. And it should be. Large aspects of it are ugly. Certain parts of it are inspiring. All of it is complex, and any attempts to simplify it fall short.

One thing we try to instill into our kids is that history is complicated. You really have to seek out various viewpoints of what happened to get anywhere close to an accurate picture. We explain that people simplify history for many reasons, sometimes in an attempt to briefly synopsize, sometimes out of one-sided ignorance, and sometimes as a deliberate way to make one's family or community stories look better. 

But history is always complex. It's also always—ALWAYS—about the people. Not just names, but real people. Emerson said, "There is properly no history; only biography." I had to mull over that for a bit, but I think that's really what it comes down to—history is about people, entirely. People are complex; therefore, history is complex. And when you see it as such, rather than as a linear bunch of dates and places and names to memorize, it becomes much more rich and interesting. 

With that thought in mind, we also visited the Mayflower II, a replica of the original Mayflower ship. 

My memories from my education are images of an old ship, like this one, carrying religiously persecuted Pilgrims across the sea to the New World. I imagined it would have been tough, but it almost seemed romantic.

But being aboard the ship, and imagining what it really must have been like, I got a whole new appreciation for what that trip must have been like. No romance at all.

The ship wasn't that big. The captain and first mate got small bunks, some got cots, like the cooks and the cannon dude (okay, gunner), but the passengers had to lay out beds on the floor.

And not only did 102 men, women, and children have to all sleep here on the floor of the ship—their ANIMALS did, too. Goats, pigs, chickens, and two dogs. For TWO MONTHS. Animals don't poo in chamber pots, nor do they hang themselves overboard. The filth and stench had to have been gruesome.

 And I can't imagine feeding 102 people with this little kitchen.

Frankly, I probably would have jumped overboard. Or someone would have tossed me. Either way, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have made it to the New World.

It's so interesting to be here, where it's so much easier to imagine history happening—the good, the bad, and the ugly. 

Right now, I'm thankful to be living in 2013, thankful to not have to sail across the Atlantic in animal feces, thankful to learn more about Wampanoag Indian history and customs, thankful for people who've dedicated themselves to exploring and exposing historical truth, and thankful to be able to share all of our discoveries and experiences with you. 

I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving weekend!

Concord, MA - Geeking out over the Transcendentalists

Have you ever planned to do something really awesome, and then when you went to do that really awesome thing, like ten more awesome things happened?

That was barely coherent. Sorry. My head is still spinning from our trip to Concord, MA on Saturday. So. Much. Awesomeness.

We've been watching the Liberty's Kids series to prep for all of the history excursions we knew we'd go on here in New England. So Saturday, we were going to see the Revolutionary War sites at Lexington and Concord. That was the really awesome thing we planned. 

Then I realized that Walden Pond was there, too. I've had a historical crush on Henry David Thoreau for pretty much ever, and I've always wanted to see Walden Pond. Yay!

Massachusetts hoards history like Oregon hoards trees. It turns out that Massachusetts also hoards literary geniuses. Henry David Thoreau (historical crush), Ralph Waldo Emerson (even bigger historical crush), Nathaniel Hawthorne ("The Scarlet Letter"), and Lousia May Alcott ("Little Women") are all buried here. In the same cemetery! 

In fact, they were all friends with each other right there in Concord when they were alive. How did I not know this? Can you imagine those dinner parties!? 

So we added all of their sites onto our itinerary for the day.   

I'm afraid I'll just start getting all goofy and blathery if I try to describe how geeked out I was with all of this, so I'll just keep it brief in the photo captions. It's fair to say that this was our most exciting history excursion of our trip so far. And beautiful, too. Concord is just gorgeous.

First, we went to Minute Man National Historical Park. Great multi-media show about the first Revolutionary battles at the visitor center there. We got to walk along part of Paul Revere's midnight ride route and see the site where he was captured by the British. I didn't remember from my education that he was captured. He was let go a few hours later. 

Next we went to Sleepy Hollow cemetery in Concord, Massachusetts. Beautiful spot. I wouldn't mind being buried there. Right next to Emerson, please.

The Thoreau family gravesite. I love how each family member has a little grave marker with their first name.

Rather fitting, I thought, for the man who encouraged people to "Simplify, simplify."

The Alcott family gravesite, right next to the Thoreaus. 

And the Hawthornes are right across the walkway. 

BoyWonder standing right in between the Alcott and Hawthorne gravesites. Someday he'll know how incredibly cool this is.

The Emerson family site is a little ways farther up the ridge. Large family. The big granite stone is Ralph Waldo Emerson's gravestone.

His epitaph includes a line from a poem:
THE PASSIVE MASTER LENT HIS HAND
TO THE VAST SOUL THAT O'ER HIM PLANNED.

While we were standing there, a woman came up and placed something on his gravestone. I hadn't wanted to get that close (I always feel funny about walking right on top of a person's burial site) but I had to see what was there. A quarter, an acorn, and some dried fruit left by admirers. Sweet. 

Emerson's house. Closed. Sad. But still cool. :)

Louisa May Alcott's "Orchard House." Gah! We may have to go back so we can take a tour here. 

Next we went to the visitor's center at the Old North Bridge, where "the shot heard round the world" took place. So good to see history in real life. For me, at least. I tend to forget rather important details like what exactly led to Paul Revere's ride. The British were going to Concord to confiscate weapons that the colonists were stockpiling. This was one of the actual canons that the colonists were hiding. 

Patriot militia man. I'm thinking all that wool must have been terribly itchy.

British "Redcoat." Again, itchy. So thankful to live in the age of cotton and acrylic.

This monument is on one side of the North Bridge, where the colonists confronted the British and "the shot heard round the world" was fired, marking the first day of battle in the Revolutionary War.

View from the bridge. We were fortunate to have a gorgeous 65 degree day. Just lovely.

Home near the bridge called The Manse. The family that lived in this house actually witnessed the famed battle.
And whose house was it? Rev. William Emerson. Ralph Waldo Emerson's GRANDFATHER!
COME. ON. How much history can there be in one spot?! 

It really is a lovely place, despite it's bloody history.

It was a bit surreal to stand there in such a historically significant spot, picturing the soldiers and militia facing each other right there and the tension that must have filled the air that day. 

And even weirder to watch your kid, who barely has a clue about what we're doing there, innocently toss sticks in the water. 

Even the girls, who thought it was "cool," can't get a full sense of the significance I don't think. This kind of history becomes so much more appreciable as you get older. 

That's where it happened. Right there on that innocuous-looking bridge. A story I've heard or read multiple times during my 38 years, but could never really picture until now. Amazing.

Our final stop for the day: Walden Pond. Here the kids and I stand in front of a replica of Henry David Thoreau's tiny, self-built cabin, where he lived and wrote for two years.

We just missed being able to go inside before they locked it for the night, so we just peeked through the windows.

He asked me to dance. Such a gentleman. How could I refuse? 

Walking to the pond. I thought Thoreau would appreciate BoyWonder's stick collection. 

The sun was beginning to set when we got there. 

Visiting Walden Pond was one of my bucket list items. The sunset felt like a gift. See? Thoreau loves me.

This is my favorite photo. I love how you can't tell where the leaves end and the sunset reflection begins.

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived." - Henry David Thoreau
 Amen to that.