Invasion of the Plymouthian Arthropods

Don’t call me a ‘Plymouthian’!

To my ear that term sounds like something taken from one of my son’s Art History books (..the façade of the Parthenon is covered in vertical Plymouthian columns), or something out of a B-Movie of the Fifties (Invasion of the Plymouthian Arthropods).

Speaking of films, if I am going to refer to local residents by one name I prefer the affectionate term used by John Wayne, describing Jimmy Stewart’s character, in “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance”.

Screenwriter Willis Goldbeck used the word to describe a character who was both an idealist and, perhaps, a bit naive –which I think is a good description of many of the residents of this town (myself included).

The term? Why “Pilgrim”, of course.

It might be argued that we are not all pilgrims in 21st Century Plymouth, at least not in the dictionary sense: “a person journeying to a sacred place.” But here on this historic coast – in a town founded by pilgrims -in the strict dictionary sense of that word, and in a country that still believes in the myth of the eternal pioneer, is there a better or more affectionate term to apply to one another?

And Goldbeck’s use of the word pilgrim, was again, not limited to the dictionary definition: in fact in the film John Wayne seemed to use the term with an awareness of the mix of respect and amusement that most modern-day Americans feel toward those first boatloads of Bradfords and Howlands and Allertons.

Those first settlers were after all, a bit unprepared for what lay ahead. In fact our ‘pilgrims’ really had no clear sense of where they were going, and how they would manage to survive.

Imagine the conversation that perhaps, a father back in Holland had with his son, hearing that he intended to head over to the new world.

“Where is it, exactly, that you are going?”
“To Myles’ place in Virginia.”
“And are his parents going to be there?”
“Well, no, but they are planning to come over on a later boat”.
“And what are you going to be doing?”
“Starting a new colony”.


There is a certain desperation that we associate with the American ‘pilgrim’, and rightly so. In the traditional sense a pilgrim is someone who goes on a sacred voyage and then, it is implied, after they get to their destination, turn around and head right back to their normal life. For most of history pilgrimages were a kind of ‘dream vacation’: a chance to get out of the muddy field, buy a few sacred snow globes, and see what lay beyond the hill. But the American pilgrim does not usually have a return ticket. The American pilgrim puts his thumb out and just goes…

We have the freedom to do that, and the faith. Faith and freedom are an intoxicating mixture, and a rare combination even in these days when democracy is, allegedly, on the march.

So let’s celebrate that naïve faith we all share, whatever our circumstances, and celebrate as well the factors that have brought us together in this historic community.

Forget Plymouthian. Let’s call each other pilgrim, and let’s do it with that cocky, John Wayne west-coast drawl, moving toward each other, hands outstretched, and with the stiff-hipped gait of someone who has been a bit too long in the saddle.

Repeat after me, “Howdy, Pilgrim.”

And let’s all make a point to respect our friends in neighboring communities, by referring to them by the names they have chosen: Carverites, Kingstonians, Warehamalians, Bourneolians, Sandwichidoridians, and Foul Mouthians.

It’s the least we can do.