PART I :  Earliest  Beginnings
 

     One day in the year of our Lord 1620 in London , England a young army captain by the name of Mild Sandwich sat anxiously in the antechamber of King James I awaiting an audience with the king, with whom it proved most difficult to get an audience these days. This was due to the fact that King James I had taken it upon himself to write a translation of the Bible in Shakespearean English. This work later came to be known as the “King James Virgin.”
     When he was at last granted entrance to the royal chamber Captain Sandwich approached the king, genufluctuated, tipped his hat and said, “Howdy do, Your Majesty.”
King James was the first of the Stewart dynasty to reign in England—a line of Scottish Kings who had managed to wrest the succession from the Tudors due to an error in breeding.
     “Captain Sandwich, you may call me ‘Jimmy’,” said the king.
     “Jimmy Stewart! That’s a good one,” chuckled Captain Sandwich.
     “What’s that you say?” asked the king.
     “Never mind , Sire,” replied Sandwich.

      “State your business, Captain,” said King Jimmy, “for I am a busy man. I’ve got Catholics  trying to plant gun powder bombs in my chamber pot, and I’m only up to Exodus in this bloody translation. Listen to this. Does this sound right? ‘…and low the wandering tribes of Israel causeth to befall a mighty pox upon the sons of Jehosephat who begotteth Nebbacudnessar.’”
     “Begging your pardon ,Sire, but it soundeth a bit too much like that Godless rogue Shakespeare to me,” answered Captain Sandwich. ”Mark me well, Your Majesty. His works shall all be banned at the stake by the Puritans and he will be forgotten forever.”
     King James yawned.
     Sandwich continued, “To get to the point, Sire, I represent a group of Separatists who are sick and tired of being ostracized by the Anglicans.
     “Ostracized. Pray tell what doth that meaneth?” asked the king.
     “It comes from the ostrich, a big bird that buries its head in the sand.”
     “Are you telling me that my Anglicans are burying Separatist heads in the sand? And can you eat this ‘ostrich’?
     “Not literally, Your Highness. I’m speaking metaphysically. And yes, you can eat its legs,” replied Captain Sandwich., “They say it tastes like chicken.”
     So, then,” said the king, lighting up a Winston and taking a sip of brandy, “ what would you have me do about these Separatists?”
     “I request that You Majesty fund passage for this persecuted minority to the New World, where they might found a colony of their own , practice their beliefs without fear of retribution, and be free to persecute others who don’t believe as they do.”
     “Hum, “ pondered the king, “Makes sense. We’d no longer have to see them on the streets of London in their silly clothes, and once established in the New World they could send us more Winstons. Excellent! I’ll do it.”
     He continued, “From wherefore wouldest these pilgrims debarken and to whence embarketh they on yon lapping Western tide?”
     “Could you say that in plain English, Sire?”
     “Where will they leave from and where will they arrive at. Is that more to your liking?”
     “They will set forth from Plymouth and weigh anchor in America at Plymouth Rock, Sire.”
     “That’ll be a bloody plum of a coincidence, won’t it, Captain Sanwich! Plymouth to Plymouth,” exclaimed the king, blowing a smoke ring. “By Jove, I like it! Come Captain. Let us toast this venture with a shot of Canadian Mist.”

                                   PART II :  The  Voyage
 

     So it came to pass that a group of brave, grim Puritans stepped aboard the vessel that was to carry them across the vast ocean to their new home. It was not unlike the image of a group of Hare Krishnas boarding a spaceship that would take them to a remote planet on the far side of the galaxy, except that the pilgrims wouldn’t have to deal with weightlessness and didn’t sell flowers at the airport.
     The name of their ship was the Amestad, an old shrimper retired from the King’s fleet.  It had seen action in England’s grand defeat of the Spanish Armadilla during  the reign of  Queen Elizabeth. It had played the vital role of keeping the sailors’ spirits high by shuttling supplies of rum and gumbo.  The Amestad now faced the daunting challenge of crossing the Atlantic with its precious cargo of humans, children and seeds. Later the Amestad was to add a colorful chapter to 19th  Century  American history when it was commandeered by a group of Negroes who sailed it to Philadelphia to meet John Quincy Adams, first cousin once-removed of famed Revolutionary beer maker Samuel Adams.
     The pilgrims pressed to set sail in that great month of independence—July, in order to underscore their freedom from the shackles of the Anglican Church. This would mean that they would reach the shores of the New World sometime in December—not a good time to plant crops. And bear in mind that they had no tents, Coleman lanterns, or Beanee Weenies, etc.
     Of the 102 pilgrims who debarked from Plymouth in July, 1620, about  half were not Puritan Separatists at all, but were a motely assortment of  weirdos and losers desperate to go to a place where nobody knew their past history.  Among these were the Rockefellers, the Vanderbilts, the Smiths, and the Jones’s. The Separatists  affectionately referred to this group of fellow travelers as “The Strangers.”  However, during the long arduous journey these “Strangers” began to feel that they were not the strange ones aboard this ship but rather it was the Separatists who were truly strange.  Their habits were bizarre. They put oatmeal on their salt pork, they picked their noses with their table knives, they had to be accompanied by a chaperone when they went to the bathroom, and they didn’t sleep together even if they were married.
     So the Strangers decided that when they set foot on land they would separate from the Separatists and set up their own colony, separately.  The Puritan fathers objected vehemently to this suggestion, giving the “strength in numbers” argument, and hurling curses at the Strangers such as, “a pox upon your naked  first-born,” or  “a weasel in your soup,’ or “Fie upon it! Hey nonny nonny.”
     The Puritan leader, William Bradford—so named because the Indians called him “Really Broad Foot,” suggested that to resolve this threatened mutiny they needed a compact.
     “What’s a compact?” shouted the people.”
     “It’s a thing that says that if the Strangers try to separate from the Separatists we will separate their heads from their strange bodies and feed their entrails separately to the strange animals of the New World,” explained Bradford.
     “OK,” everyone agreed. “What shall we call this compact, Leader?”
     “We shall call it the “Mayflower Compact,” Bradford pronounced.
     “Mayflower Compact!” the crowd jeered. “That sounds gay. Why don’t we call it the Amestad  Compact?”
     “Because,” Bradford answered, “for some damn reason the history books call it the Mayflower Compact, that’s why!”
 

                                                    PART  III :  Landfall
 

     The winter of 1620/21 proved to be harsh for the pilgrims.  Of the 102 original travelers, only 50 survived. The other 52 were voted out and sent back home to make the rounds of the talk shows and be contestants on “Weakest Link.”  Just kidding.  They died.  The puritans felt that they should have been the 50 survivors since theirs was the true faith. But God apparently didn’t see it that way because he took some Puritans and left some Strangers.  Maybe he made a mistake.
     Of those that survived, the strongest of the men went on a quest of a big flat rock that they could set in the place where they had first set foot on land, being that there was not one there when they came ashore and if this was going to be Plymouth Rock and hoards of future school children were going to come here by the bus load, there needed to be a rock.
     In all likelihood, none of the settlers would have survived that first winter had it not been for the help of the native peoples. These locals walked around almost naked in broad daylight, spoke a foreign language, and were pagans, they demonstrated a remarkable ability to perpetrate acts of unspeakable Christian charity upon the witless pilgrims.  The settlers accepted their generous offers of furs and food, all the while knowing that the natives were doomed to eternal damnation.  Go figure.
     Two of the more notable of these savages were Sachmo and his chieftain, Summersault.  When spring came they instructed the settlers in the cultivation of such crops as candied yams, clam chowder, and succatash.   From the patient tutelage of  Sachmo and Summersault they learned such skills as the many uses of the versatile hemp plant, the identification and application of medicinal herbs, the use of hemp as a medicinal herb, pottery making, hemp and the mystical experience, basket weaving, the uses of hemp in communal dance rituals, and hemp therapy in the game of baseball.  They also showed the settlers the secrets of animal husbandry—an ancient custom in which a young male virgin is joined in wedlock to a doe.  The pilgrims showed their gratitude by giving the natives Bibles, gun powder, alcohol and small pox.  There was happiness all around.
     The natives told the pilgrims of a huge bird that lived deep in the forest from which the meat of just one could provide a feast for a table of ten hungry relatives, with enough left over to make sandwiches, pot  pies, and a-la-king for days on end until everyone would be sick of it. They called this bird “emu,” which is Indian for “big stupid bird.”  Upon hearing this William Bradford is reported to have said, ”I’ll believe that when I see it, you turkeys!”  Of course, as Norman Rockwell illustrated, it proved to be no exaggeration and hence we to this day call the native emu “turkey.”
 

                                                PART   IV :    The  Feast
 

     By the autumn of 1621 the colony was in much better shape to face the coming winter.  Due to Sachmo’s and Summersault’s careful guidance, they had laid up stores of  jerky, pemmican, tofu, Texas Pete, and sour kraut. They had learned how to make toilet paper and feminine napkins from the vegetation readily available in their environment. (See MARTHA STEWART LIVING Vol. VI, # 8, March, 1987.)  They had learned how to make a sauce out of the cranberry which proved effective in the treatment of skin rashes. (Certain side effects may occur such as vomiting, amnesia, conjestive  heart failure, and coma.  Consult your physician before applying to skin. Harmful or fatal if swallowed.)
     The pilgrims decided that before going to war with their helpful dark-skinned friends, they might have a great feast to celebrate their bounty and to thank God that they were superior, civilized Englishmen. They thought it might be fun to invite the natives to share in this tribute to themselves.  Especially since their relatives in the old country had all called to say they couldn’t make it.
     So it came to pass in October of 1621 that the pilgrims, joined by Sachmo, Summersault , and a gaggle of Indian maidens sat down to a huge feast. Music was provided by a string band of young braves who called themselves The Squash & Pumpkins.  Governor “Broadfoot” proposed a toast: “I drink to our fellowmen, I drink to our king,  I drink to our God,  I drink to that cute little thing sitting next to Sachmo.  I think I’m getting drunk.  I raise a glass to Butterball, the Indian chef who prepared these turkeys for our table, and to the 52 of our brethren who did not survive last winter, and to the 3,000 of our pagan brothers who have thus far died of small pox., and lastly—to the hemp plant. Let us give praise and thanks to God, who…..”
     “Can it, Gov. The food’s getting’ cold, “ shouted the feasters.
 

                                              PART  V   :   The    Aftermath

     -In 1864 President Abraham Lincoln issued his famous Emaciation Proclamation, in which he declared that as a result of the war, the Confederate soldiers had grown too thin. What they needed was a national day of feasting. Too bad they didn’t at this time belong to the nation.  Oh, well.  Later that year in his immortal “Get This Bird’s Address,” Lincoln let forth the conception that  “four score and seven’’ sounds better than “87.” He went on to point out that our fathers were dedicated to the preposition “that.”  All of which lead him to proclaim a national day of moaning  and giving thanks.  He ordered a cease-fire and commanded all Union troops to lay down their arms, cross the battle lines and give thanks to their enemies in gray for a mighty- fine three years of carnage and glory. They all complied with this command, but some asked their officers why they had been ordered to cease their fires.  How were they supposed to cook their Thanksgiving feasts?
Lincoln further ordered that 10,000 turkeys be rushed to Georgia via Fed Ex to be roasted on the fires set by General Sherman. These birds, he instructed, were to be then transported by steamboat to Oklahoma, where the remaining Native American brothers had opened a casino. The President dubbed this day, “National Day of Four Score and Seven Thanks.”
     Thanksgiving continued to be observed in October until 1933, during the reign of Franklin Deli-nose Roosevelt, our eighth President.  He felt that an October day of Thanksgiving encroached too much on the time-honored holidays of Halloween and Octoberfest.  Not to mention the problem of its not allowing enough time to get everything ready for the Macy’s Parade.  So he moved the official date of Thanksgiving to the 4th Thursday of November, in honor of the birthday of Germany’s smart, flashy new Chancellor, Adolf Hitler.  Not only that, but now Thanksgiving could be marketed as the kick-off of the Christmas shopping season—a real coup for the Nation’s sagging economy.
 

                                                AFTERWORD
 

     We continue this tradition into the 21st Century.  Gone are the nearly-nude savages from our Thanksgiving table.  Except when cousin Marty has too many  bloody mary’s before dinner.  Gone are the ears of roasted corn, cooked over an open fire.  Except when Gramma turns the oven up to 500 degrees then goes to the bathroom for an hour.  Gone is the appreciation that, though our beliefs might be a bit different, we are free to
worship as we please without retribution.  Except if we find ourselves celebrating Thanksgiving in a compound in Waco,TX.

     But the spirit of  both the Separatists and the Strangers live on in 21st Century Thanksgiving.  And each of us living today is probably a little bit Separatist and a little bit Stranger. I know I am.
 

(© Copyright 2001. Not to be published without permission from the author, Dan Porter .)