For Mt. Angel was a tiny little town we had to go through to get to my Grandma’s house. I am only 43 years old. But when I was a small girl my paternal grandmother was still living in a log cabin, with an outhouse, and a pig pen for the pigs. We got to ride ponies, and see baby pigs. No one could make fried potatoes like grandma. My aunt once told me they were so good and juicy cause she used so much grease (ewwwwwwwwwww!). Mt. Angel had a beautiful little church, and every little town in Oregon had it’s own feedstore. My grandmother lived in Molalla. And we were usually traveling from my maternal grandparents home in Woodburn. :) Fun Memories… Peg