History Rocks.

Thanksgiving.

Plymouth, MA – A pantheon stands by the water, concealing what is likely the best-known rock in America.

No, not the Beach Boys.

The year 1620 has been chiselled into what otherwise appears to be an ordinary boulder the size of a small bench. It sits in the mud, a gnarled scar from a previous attempt to move it snarling back at you.

Tourists gawk, peering over the railing as a ranger tells a version of a story of Plymouth Rock that directly contradicts the one on the sign not 10 feet away.

Such is often the way with lore.

Somehow, I had never been here. And yet, I think I may have been more excited by visiting Lobster Hut and finally getting a lobster roll.