Unpredictable Grief, Hopelessly Whitebread, and Only by the Grace of God

It’s probably a sad commentary on my current mental state that I really miss my dogs today. I’m ashamed to admit it but my heart aches so much more for these guys than for my late husband (hard to say, and sad- but true.)

It’s been almost three years since Jerry died and mostly when I think of him I guilt trip because I really don’t feel sad about it. It’s like I should…but I don’t. It feels like when Mom dragged us to Confession and I knew I should confess all the unforgiveness I held on to for all the shit my sisters and their friends did to me, but I just didn’t feel the remorse. I was going through the motions because I knew I was supposed to.

This condition of knowing- you- should- feel- bad- but- you- really- don’t caused me a lot of theological cognitive dissonance, (i.e. Catholic guilt…) until I realized that it is God who grants the gift of repentance, and it is God alone in Christ who forgives my sins. This is fantastic news, because in and of myself I just can’t do it. I can’t force myself to regret or feel sorry or to forgive. Back to Lutheran theology and Christ Alone. I get the sufficiency of Christ alone, if only because I am so pathetically weak and emotionally and spiritually impaired. Luther’s explanation of the Third Article of the Creed states it pretty clearly:

I believe that I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ, my Lord, or come to Him; but the Holy Spirit has called me by the Gospel, enlightened me with His gifts, sanctified and kept me in the true faith. – Martin Luther

Most of humanity, quite honestly I can do without, which may not be right, but I freely admit it. Clara and Lilo, I miss them both, and painfully at times. Even though they were dogs. I love the dogs I have now (Brutus and Lucy) and I am incredibly thankful for them, but there are days. Clara, especially, was my heart.

Emotions are just so damned complicated. Then again no dog ever did anything to hurt me, and I can’t say that about any relationship I have ever had with other humans. Especially Jerry or my sisters, because, well because. The wounds are deep and the scars profound. Can I forgive anyone by my own choice? I can only forgive by the grace and intervention of God, and it’s a long, hard process. The old Adam fights that one with a pernicious tenacity.

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I know part of the human condition is that no one gets out of life alive, but knowing my vulnerabilities and blind spots it is almost impossible for me to be open with anyone because I don’t know what weapon they are going to use against me. I don’t read people well at all. I’m fine with keeping everything on a superficial level but the deep dark secrets? I don’t mind letting others confide in me, but the converse is most certainly not true. I don’t want to rely on anyone because people use me and let me down.

I can’t say I understand what “normal” people think or feel. I’ve never been “normal” or anything close to it. All I know about “normal” is what I can see and script for navigational purposes. I put up a good front, but that’s exactly what it is, a front- a stressful and draining, but necessary, front.

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I don’t think I would have done well with the 1950s housewife gig.

I can only see where I have been and I can only navigate through the mechanics of my own wiring, which has got to be skewed. I am sure that a psychologist would have a field day with me at this point in my life. It’s been over 15 years since I’ve seen a counselor (that probably would be a good idea, but I don’t have the scratch to afford it, nor can I take time off work.) There’s been a ton of crazy shit that has gone down in my life since then.

Oh, yes, crazy shit. Living with an alcoholic and the insanity and crazy-making that goes with that for 20+ years does wear one thin. Then he gets a terminal disease on top of that…which makes him even meaner and more irrational, even though at first he does try to do the right things to a degree. Add having to watch your best friend die, then having to dig her grave, (and I am referring to Clara, who was a dog, so don’t get any macabre ideas) then having to move in a fire sale, desperate sort of way, all while my terminally ill, alcoholic husband is screaming and raging as much against me as he is his inevitable death.

It’s hard to write that. Maybe the delayed reaction is kicking in after all. PTSD – the gift that keeps on giving. We can add in all the other right psychological terms too- learned helplessness, chronic anxiety, and our miserable old companion major depression, who is always camping out on the door mat waiting for the slightest opportunity to slip in the door and come in to stay for a good long time. It doesn’t help that anxiety and depression go hand and hand with autism, and there is mental illness galore in my family history. I even took one of those genetic screening tests for shits and grins (as if I didn’t already know my ethnic ancestry…oh yeah, living advertisement for the Most Whitest Anglo Saxon Ever…)

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The ethnic info was no surprise. It also showed I carry specific genes that increase one’s chances of being bi-polar, and of suffering from major depression and schizophrenia. That explains Mom’s family…and her to an extent, which is scary as hell because there are days when I seriously doubt my mental stability.

Sometimes I want to scream, cry, sleep, run or stage a twisted combination of all of the preceding. I’m afraid to even mention some of the good things happening in my life (and there are a few, and I thank God for everything with everything I can) because I’m not convinced it’s really real…and I’m afraid I’ll jinx it if it is.

There is something deeply sweet and undeserved about being able to be safe and loved in one’s home, and that is both majestic and terrifying because I have never been in such a place before.

There’s still a LOT of pain- emotional, spiritual and always, physical, and I don’t know where that’s going to go. I think it wants to translate into fear. I don’t want to give in to fear. The panic attacks are thankfully getting less frequent and less severe but they still happen. As for the arthritis flares, medication usually keeps it down to a dull roar, but when the fire is on, it’s on, and not much will touch it.

I spend a lot of time in sacred music and Bible reading these days even though I know that forgiveness and healing are not things I can do- but what God does for me.

Kyrie Eleison…

Whatever I Fear, the List is Long

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I do believe in a literal hell, even though this rendering sort of reminds me of a mosh pit backlit with a red light.  Jesus talked about hell frequently in the Bible, and I don’t think He was being allegorical.  This being said, thankfully, I have neither the authority nor the desire to consign anyone to that realm.  There are enough horrors right here on this earth to convince me that I don’t want to see such things escalate or continue.

I’m sure that the way I’m wired has something to do with the fact that I tend toward fear most of the time.  Now that I’m older and have the life experience and scripts to be bit more rational about my fears, I don’t always appear to be a deer in the headlights, but those fears are far closer to the surface than I would like to acknowledge.

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I’m not necessarily talking about dreams one has while sleeping.  I almost never have the vivid and terrifying dreams I had as a child, but neither do I have the wonderful, majestic visions in “good” dreams I once enjoyed either.  If I remember my dreams at all, they are usually rather banal and bland.   Whether the neutralization of my dreams is a side effect of the medications I take, or this numbing occurs because I seldom sleep soundly, or this graying effect can be attributed to the cumulative grimy jadedness of age, I don’t know.  I am thankful for the dearth of terrifying nightmares, but I could use a really good fantasy or two to savor these days.

full mourningWhy does Victorian mourning garb remind me of burqas?

I am terrified of the prospect that some day my granddaughter could be forced to wear a burqa and be subjugated to the barbaric laws of Islam. Maybe I am over reacting to what I see and read, but history has much to teach us about Islam and what happens when radical Islamists find their ways into civilization.

burqa-banNot here.  Not unless it is a personal choice and 100% voluntary. And who would voluntarily choose this?

I remember as a child being afraid (and this was during the Cold War) that the Soviet Union would randomly nuclear bomb the entire world into kingdom come. Of course my childhood was filled with fear around-the-clock,  fear of pretty much everything apart from dogs and books.

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Historically speaking it takes pretty dire situations to wake up the American people.  We like to stay quiet and peaceful and complacently bucolic.  For the most part that is not a bad thing, except when change is necessary or a great adversity needs to be overcome.

We have dealt with an ever increasing degree of corruption, graft and cronyism in our government at all levels.  Obama is arguably the very worst and most corrupt president this country has ever seen, so much so that his very ineptitude and disdain for this country and disregard for the people is waking people up. We are pissed. We are afraid for our future, and we are realizing the need to do something about it.

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More Central Ohio White Death, More Funky Victorian Pics, and Other Odds and Ends

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I’m still trying to figure out this Rube Goldberg device.

This contraption, which I think is some kind of spinal correction device (?) could also have afforded some tactical advantage when other kids are chasing you down to kick your ass.   I can see where it could be a sort of almost skateboard without the board.   I love Victorian ingenuity.  Strange thing is that even in the early 1980’s (and I’m not sure whether or not this is still being done in schools) all the girls had to get checked for scoliosis in 7th and 8th grade.

The scoliosis check was not what I’d call a good time.  All the 7th and 8th grade girls were herded into the gym, (wearing those hideous gym suits, or in my case, since I had a Doctor’s Note permanently freeing me from gym class, a t-shirt and shorts) lined up in alphabetical order, then we either had to unzip the gym suit or pull up our t-shirt and let (supposedly) a nurse trace our spines with her finger and verify that our spines were straight.

If you were found to have scoliosis (a couple of girls did have it) then you were sent to an orthopedist who would fit you with a full torso brace with metal stays and tie up straps that you had to wear 24/7 for two or three years unless you wanted to become a hideously deformed hunchback.

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Imagine having to wear this continuously – all through high summer.  Oh, the stink!

I’m glad my spine stayed straight.

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This is one of the snow piles outside of Target.  It’s 5°.

But, as always, they set up the swimsuit racks the week after New Year’s!

The City of Columbus, I must say has been doing an abysmal job in clearing the snow.  ODOT got the freeways cleared right away, but the major through roads that are the city’s responsibility, by and large haven’t been touched.  I have to wonder what the hell they’re doing with all that income tax money, since the state and the surrounding localities are seeming to cope pretty well with snow removal.  I know that corruption and graft and union thuggery run amok in Mayor Coleman’s hizzy.  I’m surprised he didn’t ask for emergency money from his homeboy Obama to clear out Downtown.

It didn’t used to be that way, and it’s sad.   The illustrious Mayor-for-Life Coleman has ran the police department into the ground, presided over (and approved of) the corruption and vice and absolute lack of accountability in the schools, and now the city can’t seem to get the crews out to clear the freaking snow.  Coleman will keep on getting re-elected though, because a.) there’s no term limit, and b.) he kisses up to the gimme crowd.  While everyone (me included) who can moves to the freaking suburbs because of the uncontrolled druggies and rampant crime-but if you work in the city limits (I do) you still have to pay income tax so this gimme-appeaser and cronies can keep on subsidizing the gimme crowd.   The worst thing about living in the suburbs is that I can’t vote against this shyster when he runs for (and gets elected) mayor again.

So much for the Things-I-Can’t-Change.

I have been somewhat remiss as of late in not posting more of those postmortems that people just can’t help gawking at.  It’s bad that I am so bored that I’m trolling postmortems again, but it is February.  What else am I supposed to do?  February always makes me think about death.  Maybe it’s because I have to go to the BMV to get my car registration, and that’s always depressing.

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The only way I’d ever been that close to either of my sisters, voluntarily, is if I’d been dead– which I think these two are.

Generally, if either of my sisters had been that close to me when I was a little kid, it was because they had me in a headlock, pounding me with whatever sort of pointy or heavy object that was handy.

I am surprised that I actually survived childhood with only minor scarring and disfigurement.  The psychological damage- well, the Prozac does help.

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Gam-Gam died in 1890, but those eyes are still watching you!

I know it’s morbid, but I think the postmortem pics are a forerunner of the Open Casket Funeral, which I find most distasteful in almost every instance.  I can’t get the images of my grandmothers in their coffins with badly done makeup, in those awful pink nighties out of my head, let alone the image of Aunt Ellen (the non-makeup wearing Pentecostal) slathered down with day-glo orange lipstick and all dolled up as if she were headed for the Oompa-Loompa Prom.

I told Steve-o to cremate me when I die, but knowing him (and I’ve said this before) he will have me taxidermied and made into a coffee table.

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“Looking beyond the embers of bridges glowing behind us
To a glimpse of how green it was on the other side
Steps taken forwards but sleepwalking back again
Dragged by the force of some inner tide”-  Pink Floyd, “High Hopes”

Perhaps it is true that one can never really go back home again, but in another sense it’s also true that one can never really leave.  It’s amazing how our society forgets the past so quickly, and repeats its mistakes so readily.  Memory, if anything, should serve as both a harbinger and a teacher.

I think we do ourselves a disservice when we neglect the study of history.  It may not be a good idea to continually live in the past, and I have to guard against this, but to deliberately seek a sort of live-in-the-now amnesia isn’t very healthy either.

I’ve learned to be careful which bridges to burn and which ones to leave standing, although I can’t say I’ve mastered the art of moving forward, or of knowing which pieces of the past are worth holding on to, and which pieces are things I need to let go.

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I’ll have to remember to check the empty seats in my car for Hitler before I go.

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I think I’d be hella nervous if I were approached by a giant talking frog. But I’m paranoid like that.

One Dog Down the Cat Hole, and One Against the Thugocracy

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It’s easy for me to forget that Lucy is substantially smaller than the other two dogs.  I thought that since Lucy has a rather large head for her size, that she was too large for the cat hole.  I have since realized that Fanny can get through a smaller hole than previously thought possible, and Lucy can get through a much smaller hole than I’d ever imagined.

Let me explain the logic behind the cat hole.

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The New Improved Cat Hole: Just big enough for 17# Fanny to fit through…and nothing bigger- I hope!

Dogs absolutely lust over cat food, and most dogs are inexplicably enamored of snacking on cat shit as well.  Neither cat food (too high in fat and protein for a dog’s metabolism) nor cat shit (well, it’s shit, ’nuff said) is healthy for dogs to consume in any kind of quantity.  It’s sort of like humans living on bacon and candy- it might taste good at the moment, but it’s just plain unhealthy, and such a diet can lead to serious disease. Dogs are not the best arbiters of healthy eating, and they really shouldn’t be left to free-forage.  As George Carlin once wisely pointed out regarding “gourmet” cat food, “How many gourmets lick their ass?”

Since we have four cats and three dogs, the cats need a safe place to hide when the dogs get on their nerves, as well as a safe place to eat and crap.  The dogs need to be kept out of cat food and kept out of cat shit.  In our house, the dog-free zone is the basement.  There’s a roughly cat-sized hole cut in the basement door that (in theory) keeps dogs out while letting cats move freely in and out.

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Big Fat Fanny- that’s what I get for naming the cat while listening to Queen.  The dreadful 70’s linoleum- not really my choice.

The original oversize cat hole worked just fine for Clara and Lilo, who have long since realized that they aren’t going to get to go downstairs to munch.  Clara is slender but even so, she’s still 65#.  Lilo is about 55#, and not terribly motivated to pursue anything that doesn’t afford her easy access.  Lucy, at a comparatively tiny 45#, however, decided to use her thick skull to worm her way through the cat hole.

The cat hole was a bit oversize because Fanny is a bit oversize.  Our cats range in size from 4 1/2# Jezebel to 17# Fanny.  Isabel is just slightly bigger than Jezebel at right around 5#, and F.B. is about 8#.    I have four cats and only one is “normal” sized.  Go figure, and I have no idea why the two black ones are so tiny.  Jezebel eats more than any of the other cats, but she’s still the smallest.  Her (Jezebel’s) feral relatives that live on the body shop lot are all petite cats as well.  Perhaps city cats have some sort of advantage in smaller size vs. farm cats who tend to be large like Fanny.  Isabel and Jezebel were both city ferals at one time.  Fanny was from out in farm country, and I have no idea where F.B. came from before we took her in when her first owner died.

As long as Fanny fits, and Lucy keeps from ramming it, the reduced size cat hole should keep cats and dogs in their proper places.

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If Obama gets his way, the rest of the country will be just like Detroit.

I’ve tried to keep my mouth somewhat shut about the political rancor and just plain stupidity going on in Washington right now, but I can’t understand why there are still dimwits out there who don’t get it about Obama.  Including Jerry’s Dad, the former Klan member. 

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“Take a shower!”  or was that “White powder?”  Ass pilot.

I can’t say I condone the Klan, but frankly I’m tired of any racial or ethnic group demanding preferential treatment.  The white supremacists are just as stupid as the Al Sharptons and Jesse Jacksons and Muslim extremist crazies of the world, believe that.  But Jerry’s Dad seems to have done a 180° to think Obama’s the best thing ever, and I really don’t understand why or how he would.  Maybe he’s gone senile and he’s feeling guilty for 70+ years of unabashed racism?  Or maybe he’s just batshit crazy.  I tend to believe suggestion #2.

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This guy is a nut, too.

The thing is, I can feel bad over injustices committed against black people – or any other oppressed group-in the past without feeling a need to offer a free pass to Obama’s present ineptitude, incompetence and malice.  Equal opportunity includes the obligation to own up to your own epic failures.  If you can’t run with the big dogs, I don’t care what color, gender, ethnicity or whatever you are.  Stay the flying flip on the porch.

Instead of working together with others in government toward responsible leadership, Obama has established a thugocracy- a culture in which there is one central premise: that big government knows what’s good for you, and we’ll take what you have by force, ostensibly in the name of “the common good.”  In reality it is about big government feeding itself at the cost of those who work, produce and create.  Communism / socialism didn’t work in the (former) Soviet Union and it doesn’t work now.

I don’t know who came up with this summary but it’s pretty good:

Socialism: Moochers electing looters to steal from producers.

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Joy and rapture.  Welfare day at Walmart.  I think I’ll wait until the second week of the month to do my shopping.

I’m just hoping Lucy doesn’t get downstairs to dine on the magical dog candy again.

Government, Unions and Common Sense- Finally?

 I’ve said it many times.  I am not a fan of Obama.  I think he is the worst American President in history so far- so much so that he makes Jimmy Carter look good, and almost makes Bill Clinton look great.  That is not meant as praise for either Carter or Clinton- they were both abysmal, and they both did tremendous amounts of damage.  My comparison is meant to illustrate just how much worse Obama is when compared to either Carter or Clinton.   I am also not a fan of forced unionism.  My disdain for unions is not  primarily a conservative or a Republican thing.  I am both a conservative and a Republican, for a host of good reasons, but my opposition to forced unionism comes from what I witnessed first hand growing up. 

I know that every story has two sides.  I also know that there were myriad factors that went into the death of manufacturing in the Rust Belt- foreign competition, poor management practices, the cost of materials, the oil crisis, and even environmental issues.  But the most visible and direct contribution to the failure of heavy manufacturing in Ohio can be traced back to fear of union violence and actual incidents of union violence that took place.

I don’t have a problem with a person’s choice to organize with others of like mind.   There is strength in numbers and there are times when it is both necessary and commendable to stand up for basic human decency.  There was a time when unions had a good purpose- to ensure that workers had decent working conditions and fair wages.  Had employers seen their employees as assets that need to be maintained and grown rather than as being expendable or disposable, there would never had been a need for workers to organize to begin with.  Ultimately the root cause of union abuse goes back to poor management practices.  Every action has a reaction.  The reaction to poor working conditions in the late 19th and early 20th centuries evolved throughout the second half of the 20th century and became a monster- especially in states such as Ohio that allow forced unionism. 

Power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely (Lord Acton, 1887)

For those who don’t know how forced unionism works, basically what happens is that a shop or a government agency, etc. holds an election and votes to see if a majority of people in that workplace want to be a part of a union or not.  Even those who voted against the union must either join or pay the union a fee (up to the cost of full union dues) for “collective bargaining services.”  So even those who are ideologically or morally opposed to what the union stands for, and who are opposed to who the union contributes financially toward are forced to support it- even if they don’t technically join.

I have argued for years that forced unionism violates the 13th Amendment (no involuntary servitude) by forcing people to pay into an organization as a condition of employment.  In many cases workers’ 1st Amendment rights are violated as well, as many (though not all) unions contribute to organizations and causes that many are morally opposed to.  For instance, a union’s support of “pro-choice” (I think pro-death is more accurate, but I digress) candidates (the Democratic party in general…) and contributions to far-left organizations such as NARAL or GLAAD may be seen as being morally wrong by Catholics and most other Christians.  Yet a large part of their union dues are being funneled into dark places that have little or nothing to do with “collective bargaining” and into causes they would never voluntarily contribute to.

Another side of union corruption and graft is in the wrongful manipulation and exploitation of employers, especially in the public sector, when the employer is a branch of government.  Everyone has heard the legends of grandiose pay plans, three people paid to do one job inefficiently, health insurance benefits that rival those of Congress, and paid leaves and vacations that would make a sane person wonder if any work ever gets done. 

I am all for an honest wage for honest work.  I am all for people being able to get the health care they need- without having to do what I do, which is decide from week to week if I can have groceries or scripts, and skimping or just plain going without certain things because I can’t afford them.  The problem I have is that people like me are (involuntarily) forced to pay not just for government waste and redundancy in human resources, but for the entire welfare state too- and as a result, people like me go without things like scripts, or food, or underwear that don’t look like the dogs played tug-of-war with them, that they need- so that some people can get their food, scripts, glasses, cell phones, fancy designer sneakers, and medical devices (including pecker pumps??) for free.

The bottom line here is a simple economics lesson.  You can’t pay someone more than they’re worth.  In order to pay an employee $5, you need to get at least $5 worth of work out of that employee.  That sounds obvious, but in reality it doesn’t always happen, especially when there is no accountability and no structure in place to ensure that taxpayers’ money is spent responsibly.   Part of the problem in the public sector is that many (though by no means all) jobs are grossly overpaid.  The taxpayer is being overcharged for the benefit or the service offered, and in the grand scheme of things, as in the private sector, this cannot be sustained. 

I have often wondered why there is such opposition to Right-to-Work, in which an individual chooses for him or herself whether he or she wants to belong to or pay into a union.  If unions are so great, then why is there so much legislation and so many loopholes in the law to shelter them?  If everyone wanted to be in the union, then why would anyone be required to join or to pay into them?

Elected officials and others within the government bureaucracy have forgotten that it is the private sector who picks up their tab.  The private sector is tapped out.  Those of us who keep the private sector running are tapped out.  Business fails to be competitive in part because so much is exacted out of business from government in the forms of excessive regulation and taxation. 

As much as the lunatic fringe in NE Ohio is screaming, I am convinced that our new Governor has struck a nerve.  Say what one will about Kasich- he can be rude and crass, and he’s definitely not “warm and fuzzy”- but finally, about 40 years late  (late is better than never!) we have someone in public office willing to address the obvious, and who is not owned by the unions.   The main question I have at this late hour is whether or not Ohio’s manufacturing cities are too far gone to save.  I watched my hometown shrink in size by more than half over the span of a decade as I was growing up.  I drive past the ghosts of what were once world-renowned manufacturing companies every time I go back home.   The images- and the ruined lives- haunt me.

There has to be some common sense injected into government.  Taming the public service unions is the first step. 

What the media and the common person have lost sight of is that nothing is free.  Taxpayers- people like me- are paying for the salaries, perks and benefits of government workers.  Government is not an entity and means in and of itself.  It needs the private sector to survive, and the private sector has been sucked dry.  Anyone who doesn’t believe that, I can take you on a nice little tour of the industrial ruins of Marion that might change your mind. It may not be popular with some, but the beast that government on all levels has become must be restrained.

This was once part of the Marion Power Shovel assembly line, etc.  It extended for almost five miles down the west end of town, and one can still see most of the ruins of it today.  Someday, before even more of it decays and is hauled away, I need to take a walking tour and take some close up pics.  It really was quite an amazing thing at one time.