Nathaniel Philbrick’s wonderful new book, Mayflower, is a great pre-Thanksgiving read, serving up generous helpings of Pilgrim lore garnished with historically accurate and convincing detail.

Like many of you, I grew up nourished by the canonical images of stalwart Pilgrims—little folk in funny hats and silver shoe buckles—introducing a docile band of Native Americans to the civilizing virtues of friendship, piety, and turkey with gravy.

Philbrick makes Plymouth come alive—a small community built, to some extent, on shared values and mutual dependence. Not everyone agreed on every issue, but all recognized the importance of working together to protect themselves against a host of harsh adversities—from interlopers intent on changing a way of life, to bitter winters, to hostile Indians. I found myself thinking that, except for the Indian threat, Philbrick could be writing about Harvard.

In the winter of 1623, news reached Plymouth that their staunch ally, Massasoit, was at death’s door. Governor Bradford immediately dispatched an emissary to the powerful chief whose untimely demise could upset a very tenuous balance of power. Edward Winslow, a printer by trade, was sent on the mission, accompanied by an Indian named Hobbamock, a translator of dubious motives and political alignments.

Halfway through the 40-mile trip, Winslow received news that Massasoit had died. Hobbamock insisted that they return to Plymouth at once. Winslow thought it more prudent to keep going and, if nothing else, to attempt to shore up relations with Massasoit’s successor. When further news arrived that Massasoit was still alive, Winslow resolved to press on, arriving at the chief’s wigwam after dark.

Winslow fed Massasoit some fruit preserves, “administered on the tip of a knife,” and the old chief seemed to get better. By the next day, Massasoit was requesting that Winslow go out and shoot a duck and make up a tasty stew. Winslow did as he was asked, and the resulting greasy concoction caused the Chief to become so violently ill that he almost died again. He did recover, however, and is said to have remarked, “Now that I see the English are my friends and love me, I will never forget this kindness they have showed me.”

As a token of his gratitude, Massasoit passed along the information that Indians planned to attack the village of Wessagussett, north of Plymouth, and then carry the battle to Plymouth itself. It was terrifying to realize, as Winslow put it, that they were “at the pit’s brim, and yet feared nor knew not that we were in danger.” Armed with knowledge of the attack and with Massasoit’s backing, the Pilgrims averted disaster and went on to enjoy many more Thanksgivings.

It’s a ripping good tale that hits surprisingly close to home. Because the pilgrims cultivated alliances based on trust and mutual respect, they had access to reliable information. Because they kept their ear to the ground, they were alert to changes that might affect their lives. Because they acted with good will, they reaped the rewards of being dependable neighbors and kept their fragile community intact and thriving.

Good job Mr. Philbrick! Showing our Pilgrim forebears in human dimension—valuable. Making history relevant—worth even more. Illuminating the crucial need for timely, accurate, and reliable access to real news—priceless.