My grandparent’s wedding day in Sag Harbor, Jul 9th 1910 (or there abouts)

Born in Lithuania, the fishing village Plungė or Klaipėda, my paternal grandparents arrived in Sag Harbor at the turn of the century - met, married and paved the way for generations of Remkus’ to spread their wings, follow their dreams and build their lives. At that time there were many reasons to leave Lithuania. Historically, the period between 1865 and 1915 marked the beginning of the first wave of this Lithuanian migration. Lithuanians in the Russian Empire were often discriminated against. The Lithuanian language was banned. Colonists from Russia were brought to Lithuania in order to assimilate the local population and of course, they were given priority when it came to hiring. During that time nearly 700,000 Lithuanians emigrated, mostly to the US. Two of them were my grandparents.

One thing that they surely arrived in Sag Harbor with, was an amazing pride in the country they had left behind-they were a proud group -holding on to many of the old traditions while adapting to the new. My grandparents met in Sag Harbor, married and had seven children. I believe my father was born on Liberty Street but later the family moved to a house behind Main Street in Sag Harbor.

At the edge of what is now ‘Steinbeck Park’, my grandfather set up his tiny fishing shack, I imagine bringing his love of fishing and the sea to Sag Harbor. Later, in this land of opportunity, my father and his brother bought the entire block of land on the water near the bridge - determined to create a life and prospect for their families. My father built the Whalers Motel and the gas station on the corner near the bridge, Uncle Jimmy had the Remkus Fishing Station, Uncle Tony had the Seaside Restaurant, Aunt Rose the house near our motel along with the Black Buoy (LT Burger) and Sandbar (Page) on Main Street. Someone talked my father into selling the land where the old 7-11 building sits because they said Sag Harbor needed a sizeable grocery store. Though there is a deep feeling of loss when looking at this property now – I am grateful that in many ways it gave each of our families a way of life and a stepping stone into our own lives.

There is somewhere in me that feels, or knows, that the struggle wasn’t all about them-it was about all of us. The living shards of life and light left here with their DNA, and their dreams.

I think of that today, with so many folks risking life and limb and carrying their young children through the muck and the mud, rivers and barbed wire fences, to start fresh here- to have their own dreams and their own new beginnings - knowing that their lives may be hard, but their children -their own shards of light and life, may have the opportunity to breathe in the air of freedom, have homes and grow roots. They know intrinsically just who the struggle is for. I think perhaps it is a genetic fire that is lit in the heart and soul of humans – to risk it all for their families. And for generations America has helped to incubate and procure so many of those dreams. How many of us now, sitting in our arm chairs, can know or feel, the struggle that they are facing?

Each morning when I walk Long Wharf, as I look out over the bay, I send up a prayer of gratitude -that of all of the places on earth my grandparents could have ‘pitched their tent’-they chose Sag Harbor. I am proudly part of their dream and kindle a fire that I keep in my heart for my daughter and for everyone who holds onto the American dream.

The Stories Left Behind