In the summer of ’82, my parents and The Kid Brother drove up from New York for their one and only visit to us in Boston. We moved, spur of the moment, to Los Angeles a few months later.
San Geraldo thought it would be fun if we all drove to the town of Plymouth (home of Plimoth Plantation and Plymouth Rock) about 45 minutes away. Plimoth Plantation was home to some of the first people to emigrate to America from England on the ship The Mayflower. Four of San Geraldo’s 10-great-grandparents were on that ship.
The “English Village” portion is a living history museum, which means everything is meant to be authentic. The staff stay in character and look and act as if they are living in the period from 1620, the time the settlement was founded, until 1691, when it was abandoned. It’s beautiful and fascinating.
In one reconstructed home, the housewife was preparing dinner. A chicken (or maybe it was a goose) carcass lay on the table surrounded by freshly chopped vegetables and a cloud of flies. The house reeked. Like I said, authentic.
(Click the images. You can almost smell the authenticity.)
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| FAMILY TIME AT NEARBY WAMPANOAG HOME SITE. NOW STAFFED BY NATIVE PEOPLE FROM A VARIETY OF NATIONS. |
There were pigs out back. The stench was awful, so we quickly walked to the other end of town and stopped, at which point My Mother The Dowager Duchess said, “What happened to Jerry?” He was nowhere in sight.
We had only just passed our first anniversary but I already knew him well enough to know exactly where he was.
“I’m sure he’s back there petting the pig,” I said.
The Kid Brother said, “Are you kiddin’?!?”
And I said, “Nope.”
So, we walked back through the village. There he was, scratching the biggest sow behind her ear and whispering sweet nothings.
My parents wrinkled their noses, but laughed. The Kid Brother scowled and snapped, “Tell him to wash his hands!”
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| THE KID BROTHER WITH SAN GERALDO. ONE OF THE TWO WAS IN HOG HEAVEN. |
