Plymouth Rock, Kids!
deconstructing a myth in verse
by Joe Váradi
Thank you so much, Sir Park Ranger
For that entertaining lecture,
Now we know the myth of the rock
Is mere historical conjecture.
You said it best: seasoned seamen
Knew it better than to park
Wooden boats next to a giant
Paleolithic landmark.
Plymouth Harbor is quite shallow,
The story always was a crock,
That sailors could step from the main deck
Directly onto the rock.
The Mayflower docked 'bout a mile
off the craggy mainland shore,
The first pilgrims reached land powered
Not by sail but by long oar.
Even from the rowboats, many
Had to wade through waist-deep seas,
This exposure increased greatly
That first December’s deceased.
Yet the image of man’s triumph
Of manifest destiny,
Overcoming adversity,
Arrival in ecstasy,
One foot firmly in the New World
While the other still on boat,
Proved so alluring it became
Mass-accepted anecdote.
From the second leg of our New England tour, which began with Lunch at IKEA. Meg, too bad we couldn’t meet up on this trip — maybe next time.
