The Thanksgiving story we were told in elementary school was a myth. As a descendent of the Pilgrims on my father’s side of the family, the myth is coded deep in my DNA. A hardy group of settlers land in the New England wilderness and manage to survive their first year with assistance from the Wampanoag tribe. They feasted to celebrate the harvest, along with the Wampanoags. Several years later, the Pilgrims went to war with the Wampanoags over land and hunting rights. (So how come the Pilgrims get singled out? What about the St. Augustine, Roanoke, and Jamestown settlers? They all predated the Pilgrims, and no doubt clashed with their indigenous neighbors.)
The myth of the Pilgrims was brought into sharp relief for me when we visited the Pilgrims’ Museum in Leiden, The Netherlands, 30 years ago. That country was a haven for a variety of religious refugees, including the French Huguenots from whom my maternal grandmother was descended. The museum explained that the Pilgrims left Leiden because they weren’t making any new converts and were afraid their children would be corrupted by their more liberal neighbors. Therefore, they opted to sail to North America so they could practice their faith. Later on, they persecuted the indigenous tribes and more recent European arrivals to Massachusetts who didn’t share their rather dour, Calvinist interpretation of Christianity.
All myths carry lessons. They may be obscured by other myths or the baggage of time (past and present). The Thanksgiving myth reminds us to be grateful for what we have. In addition, the holiday reinforces that we aren’t as self-sufficient as we make ourselves out to be. Good lessons for these times.
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