No visit to Plymouth Massachusetts is complete without seeing a real live Pilgrim. Our Pilgrim, let’s call him Paul, is framed by a man on the left, seen from behind and a woman in profile on the right. He stands between them and a stone buttress.
It feels like a stage set. It’s actually the National Monument to the Forefathers, formerly known as the Pilgrim Monument, also known to be the world's largest solid granite monument. But I digress.
Our man and woman, let’s call them Fred and Ethel, keep a polite, or perhaps a safe distance. Does Fred eye Paul with suspicion?
Of course we can’t see his eyes, but look at him. A walking fire hydrant. Feet spread wide, hands deep in his pockets, weight on his left leg, he leans back as if slightly repelled.
Because I’m telling you, there’s something queer about Paul. First of all, his posture: Do Pilgrims really stand with such studied nonchalance?
And then there’s his costume. While shoulder ruffles add a much needed note of levity, his hat casts such a dark shadow it looks as though he’s wearing a nylon mask. Inevitably the eye drifts below the belt, to bulges and shadows which add a touch of sexual frisson.
I’m beginning to think Paul’s not a real Pilgrim at all. He’s a THEATRE MAJOR!
For Thanksgiving chatter to amuse everyone at the table read this fascinating piece by Matt Baume about Queer Pilgrims.