It was not the Pilgrims who landed at Plymouth Rock. Nor was there a Plymouth Rock…nor a Plymouth, MA, for that matter. And you know those little belts that the Pilgrims supposedly wore on their hats? Yeah, they wore them around their waists just like regular people. All of these falsehoods make up a strand in the far greater web of lies woven by our forefathers. For instance, the Boston Tea Party was in fact an afternoon Paul Revere spent having “pretend tea” with his favorite dolls and plush novelties. On the same token, the Emancipation Proclamation was a funky dance move that Abraham Lincoln just couldn’t handle. All throughout U.S. History the spin doctors down in Washington have covered up embarrassing American mishaps with tales of rebellion, heroism, and righteousness. And despite the sanctity of the day, I am sorry to say that the story of the First Thanksgiving takes part in this tradition of deception. A decade ago, the Crips and the Bloods ravaged the streets of Los Angeles, turning the city into a battleground. When people would think of Los Angeles, it was not Tara Reid that came to mind, but instead Rodney King or Tupac. Both gangs, the Crips as well as the Bloods, have a storied history dating back to the 1600’s. Long before Los Angeles, the groups were in constant conflict. The first battles were fought in the underbellies of Jamestown, Virginia. Unfortunately, the violence was perpetuated without a victor. The Bloods had mastered the art of the “ride-by shooting,” being able to load and shoot their muskets while riding a horse at at least a canter. The Crips, meanwhile, were more interested in their ability to march in formation through the boggy geography of Virginia. Thus originated “the Crip-walk,” where gang members would skip enough to stay on the surface of the soft earth yet still appear manly. In the end, however, it was not marksmanship or mobility that resulted in a victor… it was malaria. Once the fevers had subsided, and both gangs were back in working order, both the Crips and the Bloods decided to migrate north, where the mosquitoes would be just as ravenous, but not as deadly and large. And so, the Crips and Bloods arrived in Andover, Massachusetts in late October of 1621. They endured the long journey together, but old disputes quickly arose in their new settlement. And so the Bloods headed North (modern-day North Andover), a place that they could call their own, with all of the holes that they needed. But there was a problem with this new land. It turned out that nothing grew naturally in North Andover, and as the days were getting shorter and colder, the prospect of a significant harvest seemed dim. There was word, however, that the Crips to the South were enjoying a plentiful supply of beets as well as other root vegetables. In a state of near starvation, the thought of even a turnip caused the Bloods to salivate. And so they planned their attack. It was the night of November 8th, and the strongest of all of the Bloods snuck across the Andover border. He navigated his way through the thick woods to the legendary field of beets. The man got onto his knees and began to pick. He picked until almost the break of dawn, storing his loot in his pair of over-sized novelty jeans. He was walking towards North Andover when he passed the community hole…and there was a Crip using the facilities! He tried to run, but he was too weighed down with the beets in his pants. The Crip promised that if he dropped all of the stolen beets into the hole, he would let him go. Through the hunger pains, the Blood obliged, having realized that there is never an excuse for theft. As he emptied his pants, the term “drop a beet,” or these days, “drop a beat,” had its birth. That day, the leaders of both the Crips and the Bloods heard of the nonviolent way that the men settled this dispute. In the end, they decided to share the crops. This act of generosity was to begin with a feast: the true first Thanksgiving.Unfortunately, John Hancock loved pumpkin pie, and the Crips and Bloods had rhubarb at their Thanksgiving table. This would not stand, and so goes history…lying for pastry, and nothing more.
