I don't believe the sorry for a minute, how in colonial times an Indian brave crept out of the woods and scared the child Jenny, and she jumped to her death. Like a lot of stories, it lacks originality, though heaven knows real life contains is share of clichéd and hackneyed narratives, more often it is characterized by the unexpected, the bizarre detail, the anticlimax, the loose end. But Jenny Jump it is, and the traditional explanation of the name will have to do. It's not that far from here and I have never been. I suspect it's quite lovely and serene, the empty peace after the leap and before the crash. I think it would be nice to take her there some day, as long as she doesn't jump. Of course I also want to take her to the marble museum in Nebraska, and there is no explaining that.
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