As a life long, born 'n' bred New Englander, I often like to visit places of historical value in my little quadrant of the country. Places like Salem, Boston, and Plymouth have always been great favorites, despite my avid hatred towards a certain pro baseball team (after all, living in CT is like the sports demilitarized zone). Okay, that may have been out of line (a little). My family decided that renting a cottage in Cape Cod, and commuting across to Plymouth for Thanksgiving was very appropriate for all the obvious reasons. It was special though, since it was the first since the loss of my mother, and she valued family gettogethers for the big holidays. But, enjoying our normal Thanksgiving meal and then visiting the place where it all began, posed special meaning for a person like me, who cherishes deeply the historical significance, especially that of my country and my home area.
Our day in Plymouth was glorious, sunny, and cold. The town of Plymouth is quaint and small with all the charm of Mystic, and pretty much all amazing New England seaport towns. There you can see what is believed to be Plymouth Rock, segregated by a most beautiful monument, and nestled across the small town green from the re-creation of the Mayflower. I highly recommend a coastal drive of Massachusetts or Maine, especially those from the West Coast who have never visited New England. Being a native New Englander who has seen both sides of the country, nothing compares!