Dry Sticks and Off Course Ships

By R.M. Hamilton

I have been in Griffith lately, helping Mum and Dad with their new house. It’s fairly large and it’s got a huge garden which means there’s a lot to do. Being portable (I can write from anywhere) it seemed a good idea to potter down there and give them a hand.

I went in the autumn and by the time we returned to Sydney it was winter. I saw miles of grape vines on the way back to Sydney from Griffith. It had been dark when I arrived, and I had no idea I was surrounded by so many vineyards. Most of my trip was spent removing old wallpaper.

 It looked to me as though the local vignerons had spent most of their time removing canes because these grape vines looked like they would never bare a single grape again. A sad indictment given The Riverina is one of Australia’s most successful wine regions.

While removing old wallpaper, (one particularly pernicious room had two layers of the horrible stuff for me to wrestle with), I improved my days by listening to lectures on American history.

I reheard with unabated interest an account of the pilgrim’s voyage on the Mayflower. I like that story and I never tire of it.

The Strangers and the Pilgrims certainly didn’t get on. Of course, the Pilgrims named the Strangers, and we know that because William Bradford was a good diarist.

Personally, I would like to know what the Strangers called the Pilgrims.

I bet it was something quite rude and very funny.

I am certain the Pilgrims wished they were rich enough to not have the Strangers along for the ride.

Their irritation at their non puritan companions must have risen considerably when storms blew the Mayflower off course, and they ended up at the hook of Cape Cod in Massachusetts instead of the Virginia territory they were aiming for. According to William Bradford, the Strangers promptly announced that since they hadn’t arrived where the King had sent them, “they would use their own liberty; for none had power to command them."

This combination of odd bed fellows and bad weather resulted in the following famous words of the Mayflower Compact.

"It was thought good there should be an association and agreement, that we should combine together in one body, and to submit to such government and governors as we should by common consent agree to make and choose."

It may not be the entire vine of democratic rule, but it’s certainly the first bud.

History is a tricky novel to read. Especially for the characters cast in the pivotal chapters. The Puritans wanted to create a holy city on a hill, gleaming with righteousness and law.

The Strangers wanted to get rich.

The Pilgrims looked down their noses at the Strangers.

The Strangers gave the Pilgrims some serious side eye.

It’s only my opinion, but I strongly suspect if either side could have ditched the other, they would have.

“We don’t need these permissive sinners,” the Puritans would have sneered. “We’ll be so much more righteous without them!”

“We don’t need these authoritarian kill joys,” the Strangers would have muttered. “They’ll stop us having parties and making money!”

But they couldn’t ditch each other.

And up in Heaven, God smiled.

Because as the Puritans strove to be holy and as the Strangers aimed to improve their finances, the Great Author of History was writing his latest Novel.

The Novel of America.

America with her civil democracy.

America with her rule of law.

America with her free market.

I would imagine that pruning causes a grape vine serious trauma. It probably takes the vine most of the winter to heal from the knife wielded against it.

But somehow, someway, that vine that looks so dead in winter, will bud in spring, grow leaves in summer and produce fruit in the autumn.

We live in turbulent times. We are the characters of coming history books.

Some of our fellow characters, we like.

Some of them, we don’t.

Let us remember the first lesson America taught the world.

She taught it to us when she was no more than a budding idea.

Her words echo down through the archives of time.

“Don’t fear the storm,” she says. “Don’t be afraid of your fellow travelers. Remember it’s all just a novel. Remember who wields the pen. Remember that I am a vine planted by God. He has pruned me hard, but when the winter has passed, I will bud and bear fruit again. Yes, under his hand, even my dryest sticks may flower.”

The writing belongs to R.M. Hamilton. Feel free to share it where encouragement is needed. I retain all publication rights. The picture of the ship was graciously provided by Pixabay.