We rolled into the sleepy little harbor town of Plymouth, Massachusetts. The ocean breeze met us, smiling. We couldn’t wait to check in, walk around the quaint shops, see some attractions, and bite into fresh seafood.
Our room on the second floor of the modest hotel had a balcony that overlooked an indoor pool. Plans changed, and the kids had swimming suits and towels before we could say, “Okay.”
That’s when I doubled over and headed for the bathroom. While the family splish-splashed, I curled up in the bath. In the fetal position, I tried not to move. But I had to when the porcelain god called me to pray. And I prayed the pain would go away.
It worked. Two hours later and five pounds lighter, my family checked on me. I was sound to sleep in bed. We all changed and headed out. I felt like a new man.
Our first stop was to the place where it all started – Plymouth Rock. It was sheltered and surrounded by large pillars. This was a place I remembered visiting as a kid with my sister and parents, but back then, there was a line and crowd. Kids even break-danced on the curb for money. We walked up and in to look down at The Rock. It seemed smaller than I remember. And the writing on the stone looked like it had eroded some. But you could still see the words, “Landing place of the pilgrims 1620.”
We laughed at the fact we came to see a rock. No frills – just a rock!
“That’s just awesome, Dad. Can we go now?” mocked my kids.
We enjoyed a jaunt through the replica Mayflower ship. After exploring some shops and the shoreline, it was time to decide: Crabby Shack or Lobster Hut?
“But I-I-I-I don’t like seafood,” came the kids’ chorus.
“Tough!”
Rinse. Repeat.
It was no use; the kids weren’t buying into local food being a key part of the vacation experience.
I looked across the table at those damn hot dogs and couldn’t leave well enough alone.
Driving, lack of sleep, and an active schedule all contributed to the family’s unraveling. Biting comments, bitter looks, and leave-me-alone body language followed us outside.
We decided to walk the heat off as a family.
That’s when we headed out on a stone break wall that must have stretched a mile or so out to sea, wrapping protectively around the harbor. It was a big harbor with many boats of all makes and sizes. The sun was setting, and the scene was as pleasant as could be. But it wasn’t absorbing into the attitudes that surrounded me.
The kids walked briskly ahead of my wife and me – it was their way of rebelling.
Navigating the stone walkway meant looking down as much as looking around at the panoramic view. Our lungs filled with calming sea air as the sun slowly sank lower toward sea level. There was some graffiti painted on rocks here and there, but I didn’t pay much mind to it. Once I saw my next few steps, I looked upward for the breeze to soothe my face and run its fingers through my hair. Now, this was living.
We walked to the very end. Once there, we found some good sitting rocks and just chilled out. The four of us sat in silence for a while, and then, taking the queue from a great family therapist named Sunset, we struck up a conversation. Laughs ensued, as did bonding. We spent a good deal of time together before others ventured out to our perch. They wanted to feel the magic, too. So, we clocked out of paradise and turned for the long walk back.
This time, I had to pay more attention to the rocks I walked on to ensure I didn’t misstep in the dusk. The kids loved their independence and sprung well ahead of us again. They were laughing and enjoying each other as friends, not just siblings. This was something new for them.
“Hey, have you read any of this graffiti?” I asked my wife.
“I just hope the kids aren’t,” she answered.
We laughed uncomfortably because there were some graphic words and drawings. I’ll admit, some of it was straight up laugh out loud funny. I think the term is shock humor.
“Ohhh, I really hope they aren’t looking too closely at this stuff,” my wife chuckled with unease.
Continuing our nighttime fun back on the mainland, we asked the kids if they noticed the graffiti.
“Uh, YAAAA! Couldn’t you hear us laughing!”
On a daylong drive later in the trip along the East Coast, we took the time to rate each stop on our “Magical History Tour.” When we tallied up the scores, the top stop of the trip was Plymouth. I couldn’t believe it. The sick, angry tourist trap of a stop landed number one out of the amazing stops we made. How? Specifically, it was that walk out on the break wall. Ironically, the attractions in that sleepy little harbor town ranked the lowest of all that we had seen.
So, I got to thinking that the best things cost nothing. Something I’d remind myself the following month when I opened the credit card bill.
By Frank Rocco Satullo, The OhioTraveler, Your Tour Guide to Fun!
