One of the most chilling historical events of the last 200 years, one that has fascinated

me for most of my life, is the 1846 Pioneer Journey of the Families and Employees of James

Reed and George Donner.

I can't think of a last name that evokes as much emotion, as much fear, and as much

instant visual imagery as the Donner name.

In the years since that fateful winter, the name has become synonymous with mountain

passes, frozen bodies huddled around dead campfires, and of course, cannibalism.

The Donner story has a way of stopping us in our tracks.

We are morbidly fascinated with their tragic journey.

But even more so, we're amazed at how far they went to stay alive.

Their story forces us to look straight into the face of a fear that most people buried

deep beneath the surface.

People eating other people.

We can look for justification.

We can research the reasons behind their situation and write sterile and safe papers about

the horrific plight they found themselves in.

But at the end of the day, we are simply and powerfully horrified.

From the story of Hansel and Gretel to the modern television show Hannibal, we have always

maintained a repulsive fascination with those who crossed the line.

We can't stand to think about it, and yet we can't look away, either.

Maybe it has to do with the morbid symbolism of one body within another body.

Perhaps it's the realization that, like cattle or wild game, humans can sometimes become

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