As someone who loves the absurd and whose introduction to humor and history was the story of how Abe Lincoln was born in a log cabin that he helped his father build, I love Plymouth.
And, sincerely, I mean no disrespect by this.
I love that this rock
has this type of presentation:
From here you can see Cape Cod on the far horizon … where the pilgrims landed before coming to Plymouth.
There was much hardship and many died during the first year. I just don’t think they are all buried under that monument. But that’s okay.
I will save the 17th century version of “an enemy of my friend is my enemy” for another day.