Sunrise

On August 21, 2014 · 0 Comments - won't you be the first?

Strange queries land on Twelve Mile Circle. Recently I noticed search engines referencing questions in the form of "does the sun rise (or set) in [name a location]." and sending them to the site. Since I’m pretty sure those were daily events for most of us except perhaps at extreme latitudes during very specific times of the year, I wondered what the queries actually meant. People didn’t seem to be searching for a trick question or answer. Seriously, some of them were like, "Does the sun rise in Chicago." I wanted to scream, YES OF COURSE THE SUN RISES IN CHICAGO! WHY WOULDN’T THE SUN RISE IN CHICAGO?!? I may, in fact, have said it out loud, or at least muttered it.

Maybe they really wanted to know the time of sunrise? Maybe it was an over-the-water thing, which is where the queries landed on 12MC? Maybe I somehow missed a grand catastrophe this morning and the sun won’t actually rise in Chicago tomorrow?

That was an awfully long tangent to explain that the sequence made me start thinking about places called Sunrise.

Sunrise, Florida


View from our seats at BankAtlantic Center
View from our seats at BankAtlantic Center by Elliot, on Flickr
via Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic (CC BY 2.0) license

I recalled the existence of Sunrise from a time when I had family in South Florida and I would travel down there to visit occasionally. I didn’t remember anything other than the name; I knew nothing of Sunrise specifically. Nevertheless it came to mind during this exercise so it merited further exploration.

Why the hockey stadium? It turned out that the Florida Panthers National Hockey League team used Sunrise as its home base, at the BB&T Center in particular (formerly the BankAtlantic Center, and before that the Office Depot Center, and even earlier the National Car Rental Center and the Broward County Civic Arena, and probably something else completely different if someone reads this page a year from now). I know the Florida Panthers joined the NHL more than twenty years ago, and yet, hockey in Florida just seemed wrong. It didn’t hit the level of weirdness of the curling club that played at the Panther’s practice facility in nearby Coral Spring that I discussed in Sports Facilities I Never Imagined. Still, it was odd. Who knew South Florida was such a hotbed for winter sports? Maybe that was the point. People get tired of endless heat and sunshine.


Sunrise, Minnesota



Multiple Sunrises

Few things in life could be better than a quadruple sunrise. It would be a wonderful way to start each and every day. In eastern Minnesota, the Township of Sunrise had a village of Sunrise, located on Sunrise Road next to the Sunrise River. Paradise.

Step a block away from Sunrise Road, and one could experience quintuple sunrise by going to the Sunrise Community Museum. Of course a motivated traveler could go even more extreme by visiting the museum at dawn, at the actual sunrise, and I guess that would make it a sextuple sunrise.

I think I’m getting a headache. Maybe I need to get out of the sun.


Sunrise Beach, Missouri


Lake Sunset - Lake of the Ozarks
Lake Sunset – Lake of the Ozarks by Phil Roussin, on Flickr
via Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.0 Generic (CC BY-NC-ND 2.0) license

Sunrise Beach seemed to be a nice little resort community found at Lake of the Ozarks, according to my quick search of the Intertubes.

In the 1920′s and early 1930′s, Sunrise Beach and surrounding communities consisted of nothing more than vast areas of timber and brush. After the construction of Bagnell Dam by Union Electric, several communities sprang up around the lake, primarily due to the beauty inherent in this area. Sunrise Beach, located on the west side of the lake, was one of those communities…

Ironically, the best photograph I could find of Sunrise Beach was taken at sunSET.

I discovered additional English-languages Sunrises in other parts of the world, although little practical information about them.

  • Taman Sunrise, Kluang Johor, Malaysia (map)
  • Sunrise-On-Sea, Eastern Cape, South Africa (map)
  • Sunrise Beach, Queensland, Australia (map)

Too bad I didn’t know how to say sunrise in other languages. I’m sure I could have found more.

On August 21, 2014 · 0 Comments - won't you be the first?

Insignificant Synonyms

On August 19, 2014 · 3 Comments

I considered synonyms and euphemisms for small, inconsequential places. Sometimes they even found their way into Twelve Mile Circle articles. Those wouldn’t be real places, right? They were just generic terms for middle of nowhere spots where nothing every happened and nothing ever would for the remaining history of the known universe. Or were they?

Podunk


at Aiken and Podunk
at Aiken and Podunk by Matt Moritz, on Flickr
via Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0) license

I’ve always been partial to Podunk. I’m sure my opinion had a geographic and cultural component. I’d likely favor some other term if I grew-up elsewhere.

The Podunk were a Native American people of Algonquian origin that inhabited an area that later became the modern towns of East Hartford, East Windsor, South Windsor, Manchester and smaller parts of other towns in Connecticut.

Podunk or Pautunke, means "where you sink in mire", a boggy place, in the Nipmuc dialect… The Podunk tribe consisted of three bands: the Namferoke (Podunk, "fishing place"), who lived near the village of Warehouse Point; the Hockanum (Podunk, "a hook", or "hook shaped"), led by Tantonimo, who lived near the village still known as Hockanum; and the Scanticook (Nipmuc, "at the river fork"), who lived on the north bank of the Scantic River near the section called Weymouth.

There were various locales and features named Podunk, primarily in Connecticut, Massachusetts and New York. The photograph of Aiken and Podunk came from Trumansburg, New York, in the Finger Lakes Region (map).

I was gratified to see that fellow geo-oddity aficionado Steve who writes Connecticut Museum Quest mentioned Podunk in several articles. Clearly, he was no stranger to Podunk.



Podunk, Connecticut

While the Podunk people occupied a sizable geography, the Geographic Names Information System identified a specific point as Connecticut’s current Podunk. It might have been possibly the only location we didn’t visit on the epic Connecticut Extremes tour a couple of years ago.


East Bumf**k

This section brings immaturity to a new level. No offense is intended. Some readers with delicate sensibilities might be advised to skip to the next one.


Awesome @globalrallyx racing @nhms tonight. Next week is Bristol! @bmsupdates
New Hampshire Motor Speedway by Jose Castillo, on Flickr
via Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0) license

Speaking of euphemisms, readers will simply have to add the appropriate letters for the two asterisks in Bumf**k on their own. This is a family-friendly website. I’ve used East Bumf**k on occasion verbally, or Bumblef**k which is another entertaining variation. I can’t say I’ve referred to Bumf**k Egypt personally although I know that one is fairly common too. Seriously though, would anyone name a place Bumf**k? Well, no. There’s still hope for this world.

I had to check though. The 12MC audience would have been disappointed if I hadn’t at least given it a shot. I found something almost as bewildering and inexplicable in GNIS.



Bumfagging Hill, New Hampshire

Others discovered this little gem long ago, including one gentleman who hiked to the summit of Bumfagging Hill. One of the people who commented on his feat speculated that it… "derives from ‘bumfeg,’, which the Oxford English Dictionary defines as an (obsolete) humorous synonym for ‘to flog, thrash.’ Maybe the colonists flogged their laundry up there, or thrashed miscreants." It sounded plausible enough to me.

In that case Bumfagon Brook (map), also in New Hampshire, likely had a similar etymology. I wonder how all of those NASCAR fans at New Hampshire Motor Speedway felt about their uncomfortably close proximity to Bumfagon Brook as they hooted and hollered for the next wreck?


Hicksville


The train to Hicksville
The train to Hicksville by Mashthetics, on Flickr
via Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0) license

I wasn’t sure why Hicksville (map) became a generic term for an unsophisticated hamlet far removed from civilization. Hicksville in New York had a population of greater than forty thousand residents at the 2010 Census — hardly insignificant — and a median household income of $91,331 per year.

According to "The City in Slang",

Several names for small towns just extend epithets for provincial people, usually forming them with the suffixes -ville, -town, and -burg… the use of hicksville in New York was surely reinforced by the fact that the real city of Hicksville (an utterly coincident name) was nearby on Long Island.

That made sense.


A Few More

GNIS included entries and lat/long coordinates for all of the following places or features aligning with the theme:

  • Jerkwater, Pennsylvania (map)
  • Flyspeck Waterhole, Oregon (map)
  • One Horse, Arkansas (map)
  • Boondock Tank, Arizona (map)
  • Sticks, Pennsylvania (map)
  • The Backwaters, Indiana (map)

As some might say, "Thank God we live in this quiet, little pissant, redneck, podunk, jerkwater, greenhorn, one-horse, mudhole, peckerwood, right-wing, whistle-stop, hobnail, truck-driving, old-fashioned, hayseed, inbred, unkempt, out-of-date, white trash mountain town!"

On August 19, 2014 · 3 Comments

My Smallest Park

On August 17, 2014 · 2 Comments

Twelve Mile Circle published a very rare guest post in March 2011 discussing Geo-Oddities of Portland, Oregon. It featured several unusual items including the famous Mill Ends Park (map). Readers might have been familiar with the spot because it garnered a lot of attention from mainstream sources over the years and has become a stopping point for tourists interested in such things. It might be the world’s smallest municipal park although naysayers questioned whether something the size of a flowerpot could truly qualify as a "park."


Mill Ends Park
Mill Ends Park by Adam Lederer, on Flickr
via Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0) license

Regardless, the city of Portland considered Mill Ends a park:

In 1946, Dick Fagan returned from World War II to resume his journalistic career with the Oregon Journal. His office, on the second floor above Front Street (now Naito Parkway), gave him a view of not only the busy street, but also an unused hole in the median where a light pole was to be placed. When no pole arrived to fill in this hole, weeds took over the space. Fagan decided to take matters into his own hands and to plant flowers. Fagan wrote a popular column called Mill Ends (rough, irregular pieces of lumber left over at lumber mills). He used this column to describe the park and the various "events" that occurred there. Fagan billed the space as the "World’s Smallest Park."

That was good enough for me. It was a park.


My Quest

I thought about Mill Ends park from time-to-time for no obvious reason other than this type of minutiae sticks in my mind. I wondered what the smallest park in my community might be, the most diminutive public space in the smallest self-governing county of the United States, Arlington County, Virginia. This overall quest also connected with one of the very earliest concepts discussed on 12MC, Unusual Goes Very Local from June 2008, the simple notion that geo-oddities existed everywhere.

This park idea remained on my notoriously every-growing spreadsheet of potential 12MC topics for several years and I never did anything with it, and never had the heart to delete it either. Then I stumbled upon a sliver of land a couple of weeks ago as I pursued my quixotic Bike Every Street in Arlington project.



Arlington County actually considered this triangle bound by residential streets (map) a park, then covered the mound with attractive landscaping and declared it Nauck Garden. I’d discovered my smallest park, or so I thought, although I didn’t want to celebrate too quickly until I could confirm it. Going online, I learned the county published a Public Spaces Inventory with associated acreage. Unfortunately the file lacked a certain precision for my purpose although it helped me define the possibilities. It listed several sites including Nauck Garden as 0.1 acres.

This narrowed the candidates to:

  • 18th Street North and North Lincoln Street Park
  • 23rd Street South and South Eads Street Park
  • Arlington View Park
  • Belvedere Park
  • Cleveland Park
  • Nauck Garden
  • Oakland Street Park

Arlington provided great real estate maps with precise parcel sizes for every privately-owned piece of property. It did not do the same, however, for public lands. Then I turned to the Arlington Parks maps and I did my best to transfer approximations of the seven candidate park boundaries to a mapping application that measured acreage within a polygon. I would have preferred greater precision. That wasn’t available so I made do with what I had at hand. Nonetheless this crude approximation was good enough to demonstrate that Nauck Garden was in fact not the smallest park in Arlington. My renderings pointed to the rectangle known as 23rd Street South and South Eads Street Park (map), roughly calculated to ~0.069 acres (e.g., ~3,000 square feet or ~280 square metres).


23rd and Eads Arlington Virginia
Screenprint from Arlington County maps gallery, Parks Map

I used to drive straight down 23rd Street twice each workday for nearly six years when I worked in Crystal City, and yet I had no memory of ever seeing that park. Naturally it became a great excuse to hop on my bike this morning and check it out.



My photo didn’t differ materially from what was available on Street View although now I could say I’d visited Arlington’s smallest park and that was important too. Go ahead and push the arrows on the image to see other pictures I took.

The tiny public space featured a couple of trees, a weird multicolor swirly design on concrete, a trashcan, two metallic tables with matching toadstool chairs complete with evidence that vagrants had been drinking there recently, and an inexplicable mailbox with graffiti. After visiting in person and comparing the space to the Arlington Parks Map, I believe it probably also included the sidewalk plus the landscaping behind the mailbox in order for it to equal 3,000 square feet.

Second place went to Oakland Street Park which was a blocked segment of roadway neatly landscaped and designed to prevent cut-through traffic (map).

Excluding 12MC readers from Portland, Oregon, does anyone have a bona fide public park any smaller than mine?

Geography

On August 17, 2014 · 2 Comments
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