Happy Thanksgiving

Last weekend we celebrated Thanksgiving with a visit to Plymouth. The first thing we encountered was the Bronze Indian. One of the only other copies of Massasoit’s statue proudly breaks the Honor Code at BYU. This drove us all to speculate on why this hero of Pilgrim history also appeared in Provo. Here are three possible reasons, proposed by my brother Chris:

1. He was also known as Ousamequin, or “yellow feather,” and was a chief of the Wampanoag tribe. He was born in Pokanoket. All of those words are fun to say.
2. It was made by Cyrus E. Dallin, who also made the angel Moroni for the Salt Lake Temple.
3. The local Ute Indians are the mascots of the U of U, so we obviously couldn't have a sculpture of anyone from around here without compromising our rivalry.

Once we’d finished admiring the sculpture, we found a spot on the grass between an out-of-state couple whose camera bag kept rolling down the hill and a pirate who stood to salute every group of re-enactors who marched by. First opening ceremonies were performed by the USAF Tops in Blue, an extremely glitzy show choir sporting the most sequins I’ve ever seen. There performance was enthusiastic collection of jazzy show and patriotic tunes that reminded me somehow of a rodeo. But their tribute to all the veterans present (and there were a lot, from every division of the military) was truly touching, as was their rendition of “Proud to be an American.”

Then came the Plymouth Thanksgiving Parade, which starred Clydesdales and floats and an astonishing number of turkey hats. There were four or five full marching bands made up entirely of middle-aged adults. The absolute highlight of the parade, though, was the turkey floats. This first one, according to the announcer, is a replica of the wild turkey the Pilgrims would have hunted here in the wilds of New England. Not your typical fat, domestic turkey, these wild turkeys were lean, mean, and cunning. I’m sure the Pilgrim hat was part of this wily beast’s clever survival plan.

A few floats later, the domestic turkey came by to emphasize the contrast.

On our way out of town, we stopped for a snack at the combination gas station/Dunkin Donuts. Dunkin Donuts, which was founded in Massachusetts, is decidedly the most popular store in the state, and you can’t go more than a mile anywhere in Boston without finding one. The tourists visiting for the parade had cleaned out the entire stock, leaving only empty wire baskets with greasy pink paper liners. I guess the poor, domestic donut lacks the survival skills of the wild turkey.