Some have unkindly suggested my last original thought died of loneliness. Neither confirming nor denying that statement, let me help begin the Thanksgiving celebrations with some words I've offered in this space previously.
You may think I’m being less than industrious but for my part at a time of the year when we hold traditions most dear, I think I’m creating one of my own for us to share.
I'm retelling a story that’s older than our country. Variations of it have been experienced by many who've arrived on our shores since our earliest days. Sometimes we forget we are at our best as a nation when we realize we are diverse people sharing circumstances.
Thus, here's our story: The travelers were very poor and had come a long way with very little money and less hope. Their lives had been so desperate that arriving uninvited on a continent that had no use for them had appeared not only attractive but was their only (and final) choice.
The first months were terribly hard. The immigrants didn't know the customs, couldn't understand, or speak the language, had little grasp of the nature of the place they had come to live in, and had even less desire to learn of it. Having arrived in the middle of the winter, unprepared for the season's savagery by their experiences in their own country, nearly half were dead by the Spring.
Their hosts in this new world had difficulties of their own with the newcomers. Their customs, their language, and their religion were all so different from what they had known; it was hard to see a way to develop any sense of attempted community. On more than one occasion, as it had turned out, befriending the new people had proven to be unwise as more and more of their sort just kept showing up and crowding out those who had lived in the area for so many decades.
The emigres were in a precarious predicament. It had taken all their meager savings to make the trip to what they hoped would be a fresh start. They believed or wanted to, that if they worked hard and did well, one day they could send for family and friends to join them in their brave adventure.
But just about every day was a challenge and far too often without a victory. They were isolated, decimated, and left to their own devices. It took extraordinary hospitality and courageous kindness by one of the long-time residents of the established community to extend a helping hand and organize support so that as the following fall approached the new people had reasons to hope and believe.
How fortunate that there hadn’t been any strict security screenings at territorial borders and coastal ports of entry or any screenings of any kind. Fortunate for us, who followed in their footsteps that is.
We, the direct and indirect descendants of those first arrivals four hundred and three years ago at Plymouth Rock, Massachusetts, tomorrow will celebrate Thanksgiving, only because Samoset ignored the arguments and fears of so many of his fellow Abenaki and welcomed and assisted the Pilgrims when they arrived in the New World, establishing even before we were a nation, a legacy and tradition of welcoming everyone to our shores.
Happy Thanksgiving.
-bill kenny
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