Comments on: 5 Things I Learned At the End of the Oregon Trail

By: natlynn

natlynn — Thu, 12 Jul 2007 21:19:17 +0000

Unfortunately, Roxanne is correct: it’s pretty sad, but Oregon City has become a meth-ridden hellhole. Pretty scummy, in fact.
On another note, I just found a t-shirt inspired by the game! It has “you have died of dysentery” emblazoned across the front with a covered wagon and oxen, all in pixelated neon green…awesome!

By: Roxanne

Roxanne — Thu, 12 Jul 2007 14:54:53 +0000

Sadly, Oregon City kind of turned into a white trash crap-hole. :-(

I grew up in Colton, and have NEVER been to the “Giant Covered Wagons.” I do remember when they were building them and desperately wishing my school would take a field trip there, though.

By: Johnny Cat

Johnny Cat — Thu, 12 Jul 2007 03:42:40 +0000

As relocation director at my company, I’ve pimped the Center in my relo packages, and love the post.

But I join Aimee in a hats off to Turk and his take on the majesty of The Oregon Trail. My great-great dude was a Cherokee.

By: Aimee

Aimee — Thu, 12 Jul 2007 00:03:45 +0000

Excellent post! I just wanted to mention to Turk, thanks for responding and linking your Dad’s website! I’ve been reading it all evening and thoroughly enjoying it. What a gem to have in your family, you are so lucky that the journal survived. Thanks again!

By: Turk

Turk — Wed, 11 Jul 2007 22:38:40 +0000

Hey! I’ve been to the Center–although it has been *ahem* several years…

I remember long hours in the car (driving from Nebraska to California for a cousin’s wedding–and back, camping each night save for three for a total of two weeks (which, with a small dome tent and three kids is no fun))…long hours in the car spent with my dad taking all the scenic routes. My great-great-great-grandfather had traveled the Oregon-California trail from Marengo County, IA in the 1850’s with a group of friends. Once he got to San Francisco, he took a boat down to Panama, took a train across, and another boat up to New York, at which time he boarded yet another train, which returned him to Iowa. There, he decided to move his family to Nebraska–where we’ve been ever since! Fortunately(?) for three kids in a hot car, my dad inherited his journal, and now has spent extensive time searching records and scouring microfiche documents looking for further proof of our existence. He has transcribed the entirety of the journal onto a website, which I’ve linked to here. (Included is a photogravure of a man equally well–coiffured?)

Thanks for the article! (Sorry I’ve written so long.)

http://wjh.us/journal/index.htm