It’s a mountain in Alaska that’s been known as McKinley for about 100 years.
Obama has decided to rename it with its native American name. This has made Alaskans happy and Ohioans furious, and although I don’t have a dog in that race, Obama’s action perturbs me because it’s just another executive overreach of his (albeit a relatively minor one), meddling in a controversy that should rightly be resolved by Congress.
Next up, the city in which he started his political career, Shikaakwa, meaning “wild leek” or “place of the skunk.”
When you think about it, the US actually has a lot of official place names that originate in native American words, or approximations of them.
Maybe it’s time to popularize and bring back Lenapehoking:
It stretched from modern-day Delaware to western Connecticut and Long Island and included parts of eastern Pennsylvania, all of present day New Jersey, and the southern counties of New York State, including Rockland, Orange, Westchester, and Putnam Counties, Nassau County, and the five boroughs of New York City. Along with New York City, Newark, Trenton, Princeton, Philadelphia, Wilmington, Delaware, Atlantic City, and numerous other urban and suburban areas are in Lenapehoking today, as are the Jersey Shore, Pine Barrens, the Sourland Mountains, the Delaware Valley, and perhaps some parts of the Catskills, Poconos, and the Pennsylvania Dutch Country.
There is no universal agreement among scholars regarding the autonym of Lenape territory. Some believe the area the Lenape inhabited was called Scheyischbi, or ‘the place bordering the ocean’. According to some people, the Lenape called this territory “Lenapehoking” (lÉ™nape haki-nk), meaning ‘in the land of the Lenape’. This assertion has gained widespread acceptance and is found widely in recent literature on the Lenape, including in the websites of purported Lenape people. Ray Whritenour, a philologist, says that the term does not appear in any sources from the 18th century, but is a modern name coined by Nora Thompson Dean (Touching Leaves Woman) in 1984, in order to provide the archaeologist/author, Herbert C. Kraft, with a convenient term for the area once inhabited by ancestors of the Lenape people.
And I think we can all agree that Webster Lake in Massachusetts should be abolished to make room—lots and lots and lots of room—for Lake Chaubunagungamaugg, or better yet, Lake Chargoggagoggmanchauggagoggchaubunagungamaugg:
The lake’s name comes from Nipmuc, an Algonquian language, and is said to mean, “Fishing Place at the Boundaries — Neutral Meeting Grounds”. This is different from the humorous translation, “You fish on your side, I’ll fish on my side, and nobody fish in the middle”, thought to have been invented by Laurence J. Daly, editor of The Webster Times.
Lake Chargoggagoggmanchauggagoggchaubunagungamaugg (/ËŒleɪk tʃəˈɡɒɡəɡɒɡ ËŒmé¦nˈtʃɔËɡəɡɒɡ tʃəˌbÊŒnəˈɡʌŋɡəmÉ”ËÉ¡/), a 45-letter alternative name for this body of fresh water, is often cited as the longest place name in the United States and one of the longest in the world. It is not spelled correctly on the sign bordering Connecticut.
Today, “Webster Lake” may be the name most used, but some (including many residents of Webster), take pride in reeling off the longer versions.
This lake has several alternative names. Lake Chaubunagungamaugg is the name of the lake as recognized by the U.S. Department of the Interior, however, many area residents, as well as the official website of the town of Webster, consider the longer version correct.
Algonquian-speaking peoples had several different names for the lake as recorded on old maps and historical records. However, all of these were similar in part and had almost the same translation.
The poet Walt Whitman loved American place names, and in his poem “Starting from Paumanok” (a reference to the native American name for Huntington, Long Island, the town of his birth) he wrote:
On my way a moment I pause;
Here for you! and here for America!
Still the Present I raise aloft””Still the Future of The States I harbinge, glad and sublime;
And for the Past, I pronounce what the air holds of the red aborigines.
The red aborigines!
Leaving natural breaths, sounds of rain and winds, calls as of birds and animals in the woods, syllabled to us for names;
Okonee, Koosa, Ottawa, Monongahela, Sauk, Natchez, Chattahoochee, Kaqueta, Oronoco,
Wabash, Miami, Saginaw, Chippewa, Oshkosh, Walla-Walla;
Leaving such to The States, they melt, they depart, charging the water and the land with names.
O expanding and swift! O henceforth,
Elements, breeds, adjustments, turbulent, quick, and audacious;
A world primal again””Vistas of glory, incessant and branching;
A new race, dominating previous ones, and grander far””with new contests,
New politics, new literatures and religions, new inventions and arts.
These! my voice announcing””I will sleep no more, but arise;
You oceans that have been calm within me! how I feel you, fathomless, stirring, preparing unprecedented waves and storms.
Certain sections of that remind me of none other than Obama—the use of the word “audacious,” for example, and much of those last two stanzas and particularly that last line. “Unprecedented waves and storms,” indeed.
The poem is a fragment of Leaves of Grass, a book of poetry that you may recall featured somewhat prominently in the relationship between Obama’s Democratic predecessor Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky. Of course, you may only remember the cigar. But me? I choose to remember the poetry.