The Donner Party and Other Hilarities
About Julie LombardyI am passionate about reading, writing, photography, traveling and making jewelry. I have a Bachelor of Arts in Social Sciences from Shawnee State University. I live in Akron, Ohio with my four cats.
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In September of 1992, I went as far as away to college as I could possibly get away from home without leaving Ohio. I had freedom for the first time in my life, with a 250-mile buffer between me and my parents. I would make the five-hour trek home for Thanksgiving Break, Winter Break, Spring Break and then go back for the new quarter.
I was on the I-Have-Nowhere-Else-Better-To-Be Plan at college, so I stretched out my four-year stay to last a solid six and a half years. I dabbled in everything. I took calligraphy, sculpture, French 101 and managed to Forrest Gump my way through a Bachelor of Arts degree in Social Sciences.
However, to this day, oh, so many years later, there was one absolutely penultimate funny thing that happened during my tenure away at college. Sure, I had a lot of fun, discovered who I was, learned how to balance my time, balance my eating and balance my checkbook.
In either 1992 or 1993, I was sitting in a Sociology class, minding my own business, listening to the teacher talk to us about the famous Donner Party. Everyone knows that the Donner Party was a large group of people, about eighty or ninety, who set off in search of new lands in the American West in the 1840’s. During some major issues along the way, they all panicked and had to eat their horses and cattle when things didn’t go quite properly, yada, yada, yada, we all know the story; then people started to eat people. That’s not cool.
I was quietly listening to the teacher and when she said that one of the survivors of The Donner Party ended up opening a restaurant, and all hell broke loose. It hit my funny bone in a way nothing else ever had, before the advent of the internet and all those funny cat videos, of course.
The only way I can describe it is this: Here I am, a nineteen-year-old girl from Big City Cleveland, Ohio, going to college in Appalachia with people who all share approximately six surnames, and they’re all looking at me, laughing so hard and so deeply that my face is the color of an overripe tomato. I had tears streaming down my face and I was gasping for breath. I wasn’t making a noise, but I was making quite a scene. The teacher had no idea what was so funny. No one else did, either.
I wasn’t able to say a word, just laughed for about five minutes, wiping my tears with the sleeve of my shirt, completely disrupting class. I was mortified, I was ecstatic and I was exhilarated to have finally made my one funniest memory of my six and a half years at my beloved University, though I didn’t know it at the time.
So, every time I hear people talking about The Donner Party, I always laugh my hearty, deep-inside-my-ribs laugh, making no sound, as I’m gasping for air and wiping tears on my sleeve. Is The Donner Party itself funny? No, it’s tragic. But, when anyone with my warped sense of humor hears that the one dude opened a restaurant, I just really want to go there and order the ribs.
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gregory b. gonzalez
February 28, 2013 at 3:11 am
What you should do is go to the restaurant and order some liver, fava beans and a nice chianti. =)
Michael John Scott
February 28, 2013 at 8:16 am
So tell me again..who are we going to eat today? Gasp. Couldn’t resist. Marvelous read Julie.
bitcodavid
February 28, 2013 at 8:17 am
I love History, and several stories stand out for me. The Donner party is one, due to its level of both tragedy, and as you pointed out, irony. For example, it was discovered – after the fact – that the group was actually only a few short miles from a population, but due to the extreme weather, none knew it. They’re chowin’ down on each other, when all they had to do was walk a couple more miles. My favorite part of the Donner party story is the name of the group who actually did the “eating.” Not all Donner party members turned to cannibalism – which is kind of unfair of Historians. The name of that particular splinter group was the Forlorn Hope. I’ve always loved that name. I can’t imagine calling yourself anything more bleak. It has this Ghost Ship – Flying Dutchman sort of feel to it. The Forlorn Hope.
AnonymousNot
February 28, 2013 at 7:04 pm
I’m a history buff David, and you’re right on the money, forlorn and all …
bitcodavid
February 28, 2013 at 8:30 pm
Carol Maietta views
February 28, 2013 at 8:54 am
Great story Julie. I’m sure that was the first moment that you also discovered your sense of laughing at stuff in life that is so hard to believe, it has to be laughed at. Our lives are full of moments like that but most people miss the irony and humor in that stuff. Keep writing.
Arthurofone41
February 28, 2013 at 9:26 am
This is the first time I visited here, and i’ll be back expecialy after reading some of this great stuff. This and the geek story had me laughing and after reading the Manning and Scalia story I need t laugh. Good stuff. Thanks for my smile.
Dale Fisk
February 28, 2013 at 5:53 pm
What a good story. Reminds me of my crazy college days, and my continuing wonder at my survival.
AnonymousNot
February 28, 2013 at 7:06 pm
Ha ha ha. I love this. A survivor of the Donner party opens a restaurant. Ha Ha Ha…..
Parker Lee
February 28, 2013 at 9:57 pm
I was a career student. Stayed at university for 6 years, and then decided to become a vet. My rationale to my frustrated parents: I like animals. Well, that was that. Dad cut off the money and I had to become a lawyer. Now that sucks.