Chris and I were excited to see Plymouth village and rediscover the history, knowing now what I didn’t know when I first visited Plymouth—(I know, here we go again) that I was descended from two Mayflower voyagers—William Bradford on my father’s side and Richard Warren on my mother’s line. The night before, we made camp outside of Plymouth. We always try to keep a regular schedule while we are camping. I made a campfire while Chris took Service Dog Charlie on his regular evening walk.
Imagine our eager anticipation as we wound through the narrow streets of modern Plymouth, MA, following the GPS navigation on our RV. Then finally, the voice declared, “You have arrived.” But we were on a road outside of Plymouth with the ocean on our left and trees on our right. No sign of Plymouth Village. Every have that happen? After a half-hour, and both of our phone “Maps” aps, we actually “arrived.” Whatever happened to good old-fashioned maps?
Walking down to the Plymouth village, there were signs and displays that seemed to overcompensate about the presence of the Native Americans—a lot about the tribes and their way of life. Not so much about their interactions with the Pilgrims, which from the historic documents would demonstrate how they helped one another and got along as good neighbors. But that doesn’t match with the politically-correct versions that tend to give people reason to be divisive. From our perspective, and having read up on the relationships, there was a lot of cooperation and goodwill after an initial cautious beginning. But we dutifully followed the path, trying to imagine the real history along the way.
We were fortunate to strike up a conversation with one of the off-duty docents as we walked to the village. Having been a student of Bradford and the colony, we were actually able to talk about some of the more intricate details of the settlement. He even had a story that Service Dog Charlie loved. There was a Mastiff and a Spaniel aboard the Mayflower. As recalled in Mourt’s Relation, a journal of the Pilgrims, written by Bradford and fellow voyager Edward Winslow, the spaniel was chased by two wolves and sought safety between the legs of John Goodman, who was lame from frozen feet. Goodman couldn’t run, but “took up a stick, and threw at one of them and hit him, and they presently ran both away.” Throughout our stroll in the village Charlie walked with celebrity as people remarked about the spaniel on the Mayflower.
As we toured through the replica of the buildings, we were impressed with the difficulty of living conditions and how much dedication it took to carve out a meager existence in a hostile environment where some 45 of the 102 Mayflower passengers died during the first winter. We walked through the rebuilt fort on the hill that also served as a court, meeting hall, and place of worship. We saw the humble reconstructed home of William Bradford. We saw their gardens and how they prepared their food. The toys their kids played with. All this, the start of a great nation. Through death and sorrow, through hunger and famine, through the harsh weather, they persevered. As Bradford recalled Psalm 126:3, “The Lord has done great things for us; whereof we are glad.” As should we, too, be. For what they had sown in faith past, we reap today. But beware of the wolves and woke history!
