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.

Baseball, hot dogs, and a working knowledge of meteorology

It has come to my attention that parents are dropping off their kids at the Little League fields in town without the proper equipment or preparation.

Given the mobility of the modern family it is certainly possible that many of you aren’t from ‘these parts’, and so are unaware of how the game is played in New England.

So, as an experienced Little League administrator and parent, I thought I would use my column this week to inform you of some basic ‘truths’, and perhaps run down the list of equipment and special rules that make baseball in this area so.. well, unique.


First, metal cleats are against the rules, for safety reasons. If you want to have the latest foot ware for your young ballplayer I suggest the LL Bean combination baseball shoe and wader. It keeps the youngsters feet dry, even when standing in base path water up to their thighs, and provides remarkable traction rounding second.

Insulated jackets or fleece pullovers should not be worn on the field. During games the official team jersey must be on the outside of any other clothing, and tucked in to baseball pants. This helps teams differentiate each other on the field, and guards against the ball disappearing in to a fold of clothing. Ask the coach for a shirt three-times as large as you need, so you can comfortably fit the thermal underwear and sweatshirt underneath.

Your young ball player should also never go to the field without a copy of the ‘Little League Guide to Basic Meteorology’. This wonderfully concise little book gives even the youngest player an understanding of the basic kinds of weather they can expect to confront on the field, and how that weather impacts play.

Low hanging clouds, fog, impenetrable mists, and hail are not officially recognized by the manual as ‘weather’. Instead, think of those phenomena as you would dust: annoying yes, but not an impediment to play.

Snow, sleet, acid rain, cats & dogs, frogs, locust, and any other of the Seven Plagues of Egypt are officially recognized as weather, but are not a guarantee of postponement. The standard rule of thumb when confronted by these conditions on the day of a game is to go to the field and wait for an announcement. In New England a forecast of rain throughout the day will often turn out just to be intermittent showers –punctuated by lightning, the glow from which can really brighten up a ball field.

Parents of players should also go to the park with the expectation that they will be needed to help prepare the field prior to a game. Don’t wait to be asked! Bring your own wheelbarrow, shovel, and kitty litter (a great drying agent!) and pick out a particularly muddy or snow-covered section of the infield to work on.

Do not, under any circumstances, make mud caricatures of the opposing team’s coaching staff, as this can often delay the start of the game.


Many parents and coaches alike have asked me for an easy way to determine if, after inclement weather, a field is suitable for play. Simple: if a player can walk the entire base path from home plate to home plate, without becoming lost or having one or more pieces of clothing sucked off by the mud, ‘Play Ball!’.

Yes, yes, I know, they do things differently where you come from. But you’re in New England now. We invented the game. In fact, we invented basketball and volleyball too.

You may think it’s crazy to play in these kinds of conditions, but after being stuck in our cabins for six months, being crazy outdoors seems less crazy by far.

The Thatched Roof Party

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The Scarlet “V”

The results are in: and after a long and scientifically rigorous analysis of the raw data I feel comfortable in ignoring the facts and saying that the news is, well, confusing.
Nothing, it is abundantly clear, is abundantly clear. Or should I say that it is abundantly clear that nothing is abundantly clear?

Nevertheless, a lack of clarity has never stopped me before, so here are my observations:

The override referendum was soundly defeated
-but one of the leaders of the naysayers didn’t make the cut
Teacher’s jobs are still on the line
-but word from the State House is that more cash is on the way. How much is not, at least at this time, abundantly clear.
It is official; Town Meeting has decreed that the Selectmen are over-compensated for their efforts
-then again, later Town Meeting officially asserted that they are not; then again they are, then again..
It is not true –my sources indicate, that Dramamine is given out to all town meeting members.

Here are my conclusions:

Hey hey, hey ho, the status quo has got to go
-just not yet.
“Put it on the Ballot” failed as a campaign slogan
-but then, to be fair, it hasn’t been fully tested.

We need to have a ballot referendum on the question of whether voters approve of the concept of ‘Put It on the Ballot” and so I propose that we put it on the ballot and see what the people think.
Then again, what the average ‘pilgrim’ thinks is still not clear, given the fact that 75% of the town’s registered voters were too busy thatching their roofs on Election Day to make it to the polls.
My sources indicate however, that there is a disparity between the actual number of thatched roofs in town (which according to the Building Department is 12) and the number of voters who never made it off their ladders in time to vote.

Do the 25% of registered voters who did manage to cast a vote speak for the entire town?
If not, what part of the town do they speak for? (The thatched roof section?)
If so, they’re going to need to speak up: I can’t hear them way down here in the village of South Plymouth.

I propose that the town establish an award to be given to the ‘village’ with the highest turnout on Election Day (as a percentage of registered voters).
How embarrassing would it be if the model ‘village’ of Pinehills won that award?

I also propose that –in deference to our pilgrim forefathers, anyone who can’t manage to vote in a local election (or come up with a better excuse than that they were thatching their roof) should have to put on a long skirt or pumpkin pants, and a heavy polyester puffy shirt embroidered with a scarlet “V”, and climb up on one of those rickety wooden ladders so they can actually thatch some roofs –at the Plimoth Plantation, in late July.

Then again, maybe we should put that on the ballot.


(You know, come to think of it, maybe there should be some additional incentives to get people out to the polls. My family has always taken advantage of the fact that the Plimoth Plantation offers free admissions to residents of the town, and has politely declined when the Plantation asks us to make an additional donation. But I do appreciate the value of their presence in town. What if the Plantation were allowed to discriminate between town residents who vote, and those who don’t? What if they could charge an admission fee for residents who did not take their civic responsibility as seriously as others? It would seem to be a ‘lesson’ that could be incorporated in the Plantation’s educational mission. )