The Bridge Between Us

My grandfather -Joesph Remkus- standing where once the Remkus Fishing Station stood

There has been a bridge of sorts connecting Sag Harbor to North Haven (Hog Neck) since 1799 – in several incarnations. Originally built to link Sag Harbor to a mill that was to be constructed in North Haven, it is not clear how long the original wooden bridge stood. At one time a drawbridge was built and tolls were charged- two cents for foot traffic and 8 cents for each team crossing (horses not basketball players). I often wish I could visit that time in history even for just a day and feel the early pulse of the village - filled with swirling dreams fresh and new.

In my family of six siblings – I was the first to be born on the North Haven side of the bridge. Our family originally lived in a lovely home on Madison Street where the first four were born. Then my father, an avid Bayman and fisherman, decided he wanted to live on the water-on the other side of the bridge. He found a waterfront acre on Cook’s Creek or more formally named Great Pond in 1955. It perhaps was a midge shy of a half mile from the North Haven Bridge- just a short walk- yet local folks warned him earnestly not to move so far out of town – that life there was somehow too desolate and too far away. At that time North Haven was mostly woodland and had far fewer homes. Historic trends estimate that the population of North Haven changed from roughly 153 people in 1950 to 450 people in 1960. Recent estimates project a 2026 population hovering between 1,003 and 1,221.

Life in the wilds North Haven was safe, beautiful and free - with miles of trails to explore, tree forts to build, and an old Grumman canoe to paddle along the shore and even into town. I remember each time we paddled under the North Haven Bridge we would holler “Hello” and wait just a second for the responding echo - ‘hello, hello, hello.” We could camp out in the woods or along the shore overnight with friends. On the creek we spent nights fire-lighting for blue claw crabs and eels, catching fireflies and toasting marshmallows. Fall would find us out under the tall oak trees catching falling leaves and building little acorn villages among the exposed roots. There was a large rock in our yard where we would play ‘King of the Hill’ and the edges of our driveway were filled with bicycles, basketballs, homemade stilts and skateboards. It was an idyllic childhood which still fills me to the brim.

What makes me want to tell this tale -or no, perhaps more of a memoir – is that one of my classmates recently passed- and as I was hoping to collect vestiges of the life we shared as children- aside from time in the classroom I realized sadly, I had no memoires of spending time with her outside of the classroom. I reached out to others in our class-and they described parties on Haven’s Beach, camping out on Cedar Point, walking to school together, going to the park. I was not part of any of those memories. Yes, we all had our own friends but there was something more to that which I had not considered-until one of my friends said- “the North Haven bridge was a natural obstacle which required parental assistance for playdates.” And I thought-how true is that? Not exclusively, but most often North Haven kids hung around with North Haven kids and Sag Harbor Village kids hung around with Sag Harbor Village kids and I imagine Noyac kids hung around with Noyac kids. Neighborhoods were alive with kickball games, Ringolevio, freeze tag and fun. The divide had nothing to do with social or financial status-we were all equal back then-it seemed to have everything to do with that bridge -the natural dividing line-all 455 feet of it. No tolls, no drawbridge, not more than a hop, skip and a jump away-that bridge created a natural barrier for who, what, and where you spent your time. They were the walkers-we were the bussers. I’m sure there are plenty of exceptions -but it was a lightbulb moment - there I was with this new bit of clarity.

Now, coming near the end of this bit of childhood diatribe -my five sisters and brothers all currently live in North Haven, as did my mom, and I am the only sibling living in Sag Harbor Village. With all of us having dependable vehicles to make the great bridge traverse -I would say it still creates an obstacle. I know they share food and walks and chatter without me-they vote in a different location for different local candidates, pay different property taxes, sometimes even get a mite bit more or less of snow. But I do enjoy my walks to the village, the absence of the long summer commute over the bridge, and our proximity to all of the conveniences of home. I dappled with the idea of buying a home on North Haven but then I’d perhaps be called on for jumper cables, snow removal, leaf pick-up and maybe even a cup of sugar. Or maybe it would be the other way around.

My mom -before she was singing with the angles, used to announce it to everyone she met-

‘My five kids and I live on North Haven …...but Nancy…she’s the only one who lives in the village.’

I would joke when I called her on the phone- saying….

‘Will you accept a long- distance call from Sag Harbor Village?’

And we would both laugh and laugh.

It’s funny what a difference a mile can make, a bridge can make, a neighborhood can make- creating memories right under our feet and helping to shape the people we’ve become.