Pierson and the Spirit of '76

At HarborFest I ran into one of my old Pierson classmates. It seems to be the weekend that folks tend to resurface – and there is an outpouring of ‘hellos’, and ‘how’s it going?’ Reflecting on the passing of time I said to her, “Wow, our 50th class reunion is only two years away!” That always seemed like a pinnacle event to me. She may have been an officer in our class- so I thought she might have the skinny on any plans in the works. But she replied, “Yeah, I don’t know where we’d have it. So many people have left the area. I think I might be selling my house soon and moving -and you know our other friend, well I think she’s thinking of moving south soon to be near her daughter and grandson.” I do realize that there is something very magnetic about grandchildren. But in that moment, there was a sudden, slightly gripping sadness that this once unified school family had dispersed about the globe and perhaps there was no need or desire to reconvene.

In my head, I began to count -of the 75 in our graduating class-how many are actually still living in the area? Many have sold and moved south – others never really moved back after college – some sadly have passed on. Certainly, our hometown has become unaffordable to many in the workforce but also unaffordable, and perhaps even unappealing, to those whose families had been here for decades or perhaps even centuries. You hear echo of, ‘Sag Harbor is just not what it used to be.’ Some have even sworn off visiting due to these changes and a loss of the essence of what our village used to be. Not just the traffic, the crowds, the lack of parking - but also a shift in the values, the connections, maybe even the integrity. This simple fishing village of everyone knows everyone and waves to everyone and takes care of everyone seems to have shifted into the land of mega yachts, mega homes, Maserati’s and overpriced martinis.

I don’t imagine there are many places on earth that haven’t sustained these changes-but perhaps not as quickly or as drastically. As the world population grows, people regularly explore and relocate, and families become more extended and less nuclear. At one time the world felt settled, but I guess there were always the wagon trains and creaky ships and wandering hearts.

How do we sustain our place here without a feeling of lack and displacement? How do we welcome these changes while staying true to who we are? How do we integrate ourselves into this new world while holding on to the treasure of our memories from the past? I of course, can welcome the newcomer and hope that they share a regard for the sanctity of this beautiful place – the dreams of our ancestors and the vision of our children’s future.

I know it, I feel it, I own it-I am one of the lucky ones. I have been able to stay. I am able to feel through the façade, ride out the transitions and land my feet where they have always belonged. I still feel the footprints of my ancestors when I walk about town and am grateful for all of the natural beauty that remains. I guess I’ve never been one to venture too far from home for too long, and can feel the gravity that holds me here. The pulse rate may have increased but the heart remains the same. And if that class of 1976 decides to gather, I’m sure I will be there sharing the memories of our time spent together in this most beautiful place on earth.