Monday, July 7, 2008

I Hate the Term Blogs

Soon after I retired from Brookhaven National Laboratory in 1998, I started a small web site which I used to document some of my travel (I'm an avid touring motorcyclist), my family genealogy (a long-time interest of my sister and I), and various aspects of the Long Island community where I live -- Brookhaven Hamlet. Before I knew it, all three areas of interest had mushroomed into a major hobby!

And what grew the most was the sub-site on Brookhaven Hamlet and its sister community South Haven. By 2007 it had grown so large and engendered so much community interest that I split it off from the original site to a dedicated site BrookhavenSouthHaven.org

The site now contains thousands of pages and photographs of the present and historical hamlets, a database of its historic structures and sites, and an extensive genealogical database of the folks who have lived here, including their ancestors and descendents.

I am now adding a new feature -- this blog -- which allows folks to easily (I hope) add comments and information about these two unique hamlets that, in spite of modern development pressures, still continue to maintain many of the characteristics of their 300 or so years of history.

Please contribute.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

HI I also hate the term Blog but its here to stay, I'm afraid-- anyway keep up the great work you are doing! It may seem unappreciated at times, but please keep on.
I enjoy also visitng other historical sites, including
theknappslivedhere,com which is close to my heart as I lworked in that area for many years.
keep up the great work! Folks like you keep history alive.
Chris
www.cataylor.com

R.G.Beyer said...

Thought readers might possibly like this poem that was inspired many years ago by some of the gravestone inscriptions at the old Rose Cemetery.

SOLILOQUY OF SURF AND STONES

Beyond this hill in haunting
whispers fanned
By restless winds that moan across
the bay,
The pounding surf upon the distant
sand
Reverberates the mariner's last
lay.
Among crude stones that final
mooring marked
Are carved in timeless
unremembered name,
The fervent questing dreams that
once embarked
Now anchored here obscure from
lasting fame.
Within this plot of moldy earth
confined
The silent stones toward higher
hills are placed,
But on this peak in stark relief
are lined
The hollow mounds that out to sea
are faced:
Where, sinking fathomless into the
mind,
The "All Hands Lost At Sea," now
half-erased.

R.G.Beyer