Category Archives: Rhode Island

Ash(e)ville…

Asheville (3):

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Because of its variant name of Ash(e)ville, Ashville PA may be most connected to Ash(e)ville NC, as discussed here a bit:

https://bakerbloch.com/2014/10/12/the-2nd-ashville-and-another-apocalypse-now-connection/

My Ash(e)ville may earn the nickname of Little Chicago through this. It has a very large downtown for a city its size. And then for other reasons I change its name to Middletown later on. Chicago is in the middle of the US, in the Great Lakes region.

Let’s turn to Ashville, then, and the kindred to Ashville PA in a more direct, surface way:

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Along with Ashfield PA, Canoncet RI is the only listed variant of Ashville, and the only one not containing the root word “Ash”. It is located in a county (Washington) already mentioned in the blog here in connection with triple state names:

https://bakerbloch.com/2014/11/26/map-happenings-03/

Carolina and Wyoming are also both in Washington County in Rhode Island, and so both make types of triple state name as well (Carolina, Washington, Rhode Island and Wyoming, Washington, Rhode Island). Largest “Ashville”, by far (Ash(e)ville/Middletown), is located in (North) Carolina.

Wyoming in Iowa County in Wisconsin state probably makes up the most profound or central triple state name of this kind, and may additionally highlight Wyoming RI here.

It brings to mind this: Are there any towns in counties and states of the *same* name (as opposed to all different names). This would be a triple state redundancy, then, and the opposite of all three having different names.

The only two that come close involve large cities:

1) *Part* of New York City (basically Manhattan) lies in New York county in New York state.
2) *Most* of Oklahoma City lies in Oklahoma county in the state of Oklahoma.

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Returning to Ashville OH, we can perhaps extend our range through understanding that a city named Circleville is the county seat and largest burg of inclusive Pickaway County.

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Ashville and Circleville in Pickaway County, Ohio

Circleville, true to its name, was originally designed as a circle. Story here:

http://pickaway.com/history.html

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Circleville was unique among early American towns, built to conform to a circular prehistoric earthworks. When Pickaway County was formed in 1810 there were no existing settlements that seemed suitable for a county seat. Therefore, a new town was laid out within the ancient’s “circle” on the high bank east of the Scioto River. It’s streets radiated from an octagonal courthouse in the center of the circle.

Two communities existed near Circleville prior to its being laid out as the county seat. Jefferson and Livingston ceased to exist several years after Circleville was designated the seat of government in 1811. When the Ohio Canal reached Circleville, the shape of the town within the circle proved to be a hindrance, and in 1838 a group of enterprising businessmen began to “square the circle”. Over the next 20 years the job was accomplished and all traces of the ancient earthworks disappeared.

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The concept of “squaring the circle” spoken about in the above excerpt has also come up recently in this blog in connection to the Moon of the Moon, except there the process was reversed: Jack and Lily *circled* (or “sphered”) the square (or “cube”) that was the Moon of the Moon by creating a world ocean and introducing omni-directional gravity.

And in a more limited way I’ve done a similar thing with Ash(e)ville/Middletown through what I call the Middletown Circle, introduced on this blog back in Winter 2014/2015. This is also the point where I decided to rename Ash(e)ville as Middletown, invoking what appears to be an older matrix.

https://bakerbloch.com/2014/12/22/ashville-circle-01/

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Middletown Circle

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Filed under Middletown, North Carolina, Ohio, Rhode Island, UmapS

Pancake, etc.

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Laboratory, Penn., an unusual name in itself and now connected to the “Beaman’s Laboratory” in Falmouth’s “Beamen” college, has an unusual variant name in Pancake. To remind, this Laboratory (there’s 1 other pp in US with this name, near Lincolnton, NC) was uncovered due to another listed variant name of Marlinsburg.

Of the 3 other US Pancakes, one exists in Centre County, Penn., a place name also mentioned recently (LINK).

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http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dick_Cavett

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/From_the_Ashes:_The_Life_and_Times_of_Tick_Hall

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Very cool Cavett-Tick Hall synchronicity…

http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/09/11/strange-dear-but-true-dear/comment-page-8/?_r=0

I quote in full:

Strange, Dear, but True, Dear
By Dick Cavett
September 11, 2009 9:30 pmSeptember 11, 2009 9:30 pm

We were living in an ice-house that winter.

(That sentence is not about a power failure, but is the result of my favorite high school English teacher in Nebraska, Esther Montgomery, who advocated trying for an arresting opening sentence in writing a story. I hope you are arrested.)

I could as easily have begun with, “It was an ice-house; and it had been inhabited by Franklin D. Roosevelt.”

Clarification: My wife and I had been offered a place to go on winter weekends to recover from the weekly grind of taping five 90-minute shows in four days on ABC. It was, in fact, a former ice-house on the property of a majestic old manse in, I think it was, Stockbridge, N.Y. Its walls were at least a solid foot thick and it belonged to the eminent Canadian actor Donald Davis, abroad for the winter. He had fixed it up into a cozy dwelling, surrounded by woods. Memories of older neighbors confirmed F.D.R.’s having used it as a sometime retreat for himself and a lady friend. (Unfortunately, the walls could not talk.)

You are about to have your credulity strained, on a topic in line with an earlier column. One that caused readers to send their own similarly bizarre incidents.

It was a bright winter Saturday morning and I’d gone into the small town to get the paper. Not having done this before, I realized in returning that I hadn’t paid attention and was not sure how to get back. I was lost. All streets looked equally likely, so I picked one of many for no reason.

I picked wrong, but that led to what followed.

In front of a schoolhouse there were a lot of parked cars and people milling around among tables, apparently shopping for whatever was on display. Seeing the words “Village Book Fair” made me want to stop, but for some forgotten reason, I was in a hurry. It was clearly a popular event but, sadly, there were no vacant parking spaces for even a quick inspection, so I chose, reluctantly, to move on. But suddenly a car obligingly pulled out right in front of me, and I pulled in.

Twenty or so card tables held a sea of books. Still in a hurry, I decided to check only the nearest table that chance and the exiting car had placed before me. Without looking at any titles, I picked up a clearly used volume, mainly to see the quality and condition of the books offered. I didn’t even notice the title, but let it fall open somewhere near the middle and read a passage at random, the (approximate) following words: “Harrison was disappointed. Montauk would not show its face for the fog, and he so wanted me to love the adored place as much as he did.” The author went on to say that they spent the week-end, fog-bound, in the old house on the mist-shrouded cliffs.

Goose flesh.

A glance at the spine revealed the book to be an autobiography from the 1940s: “Who Tells Me True,” by Michael Strange. “Harrison” was Harrison Tweed, an eminent attorney at the historic and prestigious Wall Street firm of Milbank, Tweed, Hadley & McCloy and (chance again) a friend of Roosevelt’s.

I like to think that one or two perhaps elderly and steeped-in-literary-knowledge readers among you would realize that the combination of “Michael” and “Harrison” does not indicate a gay partnership. “Michael Strange” was the nom de plume of Blanche Oelrichs (1890-1950) — poet, playwright, actress — a bohemian woman of letters of the 1920s and ’30s who was married to John Barrymore for a time, and to Harrison Tweed for another. The daring lady had been known to startle the few neighbors in the remote area by the unheard of practice of going topless on the Montauk cliffs.

The McKim, Mead, and White historic house referred to in Ms. Strange’s book had been nicknamed “Tick Hall” by Tweed and his law-colleague fishing buddies — owing to the unwelcome presence, even back then, of the pestiferous local arachnid later notorious for spreading Lyme disease. The surf-casting weekend occupants of the house referred to one another as “Tick Tweed” and “Tick Morgan” and, quite likely, “Tick Roosevelt.”

Not an incredibly remarkable story so far, I admit.

Why the goose flesh? I had purchased that house from 91-year-old Harrison Tweed. Three days earlier.

Being a victim of innumeracy, I don’t know how you would calculate the odds against such a happening. In such instances, is there maybe something operating other than sheer chance? Does anyone know a good book on the subject?

A skeptic might begin attacking the almost supernatural quality of the thing with the picking up of the book. Even though in hoisting it I didn’t consciously look at the title, maybe in my deep unconscious I had somehow registered the title years before?

But did the same force make me open it to the only page that concerned me? Adding to this the randomly chosen street, the unexpected book fair, the unexpected parking place, the one table among the many — and I suppose you could add the double Roosevelt connection (ice-house/Tweed friendship) . . . putting all that together, you get odds comparable, I should think, to those against people foolish enough to dispose of needed dollars in the lottery. (I like the idea that only in a society “illiterate” about numbers could the lottery exist at all.)

What the hell is coincidence anyway, in its most astonishing instances? A subject worth pursuing at another time? Thinking about it fogs my mind, and makes me recall something that’s haunted me for years. It’s a koan-like thought from my class with the reincarnated Socrates of Yale, philosophy professor Paul Weiss: the idea that that, logically, there is no such thing as a possibility that did not take place. In what sense, then, was it possible?

And what, then, do you call things like my Tweed house incident. A possibility that was not caused?

Keep your answer brief, but pithy.

P.S. No more Burton teasing. Next time, including a hilarious story.

P.P.S. Could I buy someone in Philadelphia a season ticket to boo Michael Vick for me?

Close proximity of Tick Hall (Montauk, NY), Old Lyme, and Bloch Island, all mentioned in this blog now.

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http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Old_Lyme,_Connecticut

The placename “Lyme” derives from Lyme Regis, a small port on the coast of Dorset, England, from which it is believed the early settlers migrated in the 17th century.[3] The picturesque Old Lyme Cemetery contains the graves of the original settlers. The Duck River flows through the cemetery and into the Connecticut River at Watch Rock Park.

The “Lyme” in Lyme disease was named after the town. It was discovered in 1975 after a mysterious outbreak of what appeared to be juvenile rheumatoid arthritis in children who lived in Lyme and Old Lyme.

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Filed under Connecticut, New York, Rhode Island, Texas, UmapS, Uncategorized

Baker Bloch’s Islands

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“Does the Baker Blinker Blog’s Baker’s Island (i.e., Henry Island; post 1 of 2233 post blog) merely act as a pointer to Rhode Island’s Block Island?” Is the 1st post or base post of the follow-up “Baker Bloch Blog” (“Frank and Herman, Einstein!” at bakerbloch.wordpress.com) not the literal 1st post in this case but one hidden *within* the blog itself, at its 3-dimensional center?

Hucka D.:

You can use the island [Bloch Island] to travel to other dimensions. See yourself as extraterrestrial or extradimensional and try it out.

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http://www.apricot.com/~jimcat/pictures/blockisland/stuff.html

apricot king tull

east king tull

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Laterally, Apricot Road is only road between King Tull Road and Johnson Road on the map just above, halfway between the 2. Apricot Rd. then equates w/ the (blocked) Hinzerling Road mentioned in the 05/11/82 Tri City Herald newspaper article. Apricot.com directly bridges Block Island rock cairns with Sunfish Pond rock cairns.

If you leave out the “c”, apricot is an anagram of airport. Apricot has no one word anagrams.

The only 2 word anagram of “apricot” according to this web site, is “a tropic”. Apricot is a tropical fruit.

King Tull refers to rainbowology, SID’s 1st Oz, and King Tull as coupled partner to (Queen) Queen.

http://rainbowology.net/sid/bookernew06.html

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Filed under Canada, Rhode Island, UmapS, Uncategorized, Washington