LSA logo

This website is an informal communication forum for staff members of the University of Oregon Library Staff Association. Contents and opinions expressed herein or on linked personal or external pages are those of individual authors and do not represent official statements, policies, or positions of the Libraries, the University of Oregon, Oregon University System, or State of Oregon.

Search LSA web site:


Page maintained by the LSA Web Committee

Terry McQuilkin
Laura Damiani
Jen Lindsey
Jennifer Rowan
Harriett Smith

Masthead Photo:
Eugene
by Laura Damiani

 

LSA News

No. 87, February 2008

Angus Nesbit
(continued)

The logistics of migration seemed easy. I had a car, which I planned to leave with a sister in Texas. From there I would fly to Eugene. With a carry-on bag's worth of possessions stowed in my hatchback, I hit the trail for Austin. Like many pioneers before me, my way was to drive hard in the day and drink hard at night. (For travelogues, this is actually quite useful — there are always two trips to draw from: the one you took, and the one you could have sworn you took.) Maine to NYC was a blur. No matter. I had traveled extensively up and down the East Coast. Things got more interesting in Virginia and Tennessee. I cut out the drinking hard at night (much like those pioneers who actually made it to their destinations). I kept steady my southwest trajectory, but stopped when I felt like stopping. I found interesting places to camp, some of them campgrounds. I had tried everything sold as food by Waffle House, Inc., but knew there must be more. I branched out to the Hardee's menu and, on one particularly frivolous outing, combed a Piggly Wiggly for a box of instant grits (NOTE: you will get grits instantly using warm tap water, but they will not be good.) Almost out of Memphis, I saw a freeway sign for Graceland and took the ramp. The mansion tour was arduous. Is this what it was like for the pioneers? After a few smiles, "ooh's" and an "ah," I made a break for the manse's Meditation Garden. I reconsidered the alcohol ban. I crossed the bridge into Arkansas. Unsure whether to surge onward into Texas, I split the difference and headed for Texarkana. A problem with navigation resulted in a tour of all three states from which the town derives its name. Not yet ready to get out of a car in Texas, I settled on the Arkansas side. I soon learned that Texarkana is home of the private dinner club. Feeling peckish but inspired, I cowboyed up, devoured my final Slim Jim, and crossed the border into miles and miles of Texas.

Travel Note: There are trees in Texas, if you look closely, just along its eastern border. After that, nothing. Feeling utterly unprepared for Dallas, I pulled off the road in Mount Pleasant (named by some liar who got there first). Though I've never returned to Dallas since my journey west, it will, for me, always be "Dallas: Home of the Biggest Car Wash Ever." Having already turned the Mazda into something better suited for Mad Max's kid (see camping, above) I thought I could at least leave a clean car for my sister, and Austin was but a few hours down the interstate. Passing Waco gave me a shudder. (The Branch Davidian siege hadn't yet happened, but I could feel Baylor's presence….) Finally, I arrived in Austin — cultural oasis and final staging area for the last leg of my Oregon journey. At this point, I diverged dramatically from the pioneer way. All respect to the covered wagon (and Mazda), I opted for air travel to complete my journey west.

My view of Mt. Hood, and then of some fishing/house boats, on the way into Portland, continues to serve as a perfect image of this part of the country. The colors I saw were white, green, and muddy green. I can't really remember anything about the trip from Portland to Eugene, except the tiniest feeling, as I passed through industrial Highway 99 (lumber yards, freight trains and harmless visual stimuli), that perhaps I should have researched further before relocating. Actually, that feeling stuck with me through my check-in at the Downtown Motel, but even from that locale I was catching glimpses of the "town ringed by green hills" that I had hung my move on.

By noon the next day, I had secured a mountain bike, found an apartment, and located Sy's. With some directional savvy, I pedaled the additional block to the University. Standing beneath the tall pines between Grayson (now McKenzie) and Deady Halls, I knew I'd found what I'd been looking for (and, turns out, what so many pioneers had ultimately sought): Home.







Return to LSA Newsletter