Yesterday, I took my 13 year old daughter to Plymouth for a history visit. The plan to see Plimoth Plantation
This past weekend I wrote my brother’s obituary. An obituary that he never would have wanted, but that we needed.
A December 26 photograph from the wharfs in Plymouth, Massachusetts. Merry belated Christmas.
We made the trek south for the annual Plymouth Thanksgiving parade. It was freezing and we got there way too early, but once it got underway it was worth the wait and cold. Photos of our summer trip to Plimoth Plantation are here.
Some out of state friends came to stay with us for five days and we became unofficial tour guides of Massachusetts, visiting the Freedom Trail and its nearby attractions, Harvard, MIT, the New England Aquarium, Crane Beach in Ipswich, taking a Duck Tour, and a trip to Plymouth to see Plimoth Plantation and the Mayflower II. Having grown up in Plymouth, it was weirdly delightful to show it off. The most troubling part of being a tour guide in a very historic place? Realizing I knew more about how to deep fry Coke (having lived in Texas for a bit) than the history of my state. Oh the shame. Related articles Mayflower II returns to Plymouth after extensive repairs (wcvb.com)
I’m sure there will come a day I can make the 90 minute trip to Plymouth without stopping at my beloved Lobster Hut to buy a clam strip roll and onion rings, but yesterday was not that day. Having eaten at this place off and on for 30 plus years I can say it still doesn’t disappoint. While I am no longer interested in the clam bellies and the nastiness they contain, the strips have not lost their luster. Next time I think I’ll actually indulge in a lobster roll and coleslaw.