I've spent a lot of time lately being grateful I wasn't a member of the Donner party. In my attempts to embrace stoicism I've been trying to truncate my self pity by thinking of how any given situation could be worse. And freezing cold, in isolation with other people not of my choosing, and dining on the aforementioned other people is always worse than whatever I'm complaining about.
I won't even eat licorice...do you think I'm going to have some person for lunch? Honestly, Heinz wouldn't even start bottling ketchup for another 30 years. I'm not relying on some strangers homemade ketchup recipe. I'm not an animal, ffs.
So as bad as all the frostbite and cannibalism was, the real tragedy wasn't in the struggle against death and the proof that starvation and survival instinct will override societies most deeply held taboos.
It was the hair.
There is just no excuse for that.
Doesn't Margaret Reed look a lot like character actor William Shallart?