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A river runs through my town, and anyone who has frequented my blog has seen photos of my river…from the small bridge near my parents’ home at the north end, to the Falls and Boardwalk at the south end.

The foundation of the bridge near my parents’ home is all the remains – I couldn’t even find a photo of it on the internet, prior to its collapse when I was a teenager. I suspect most of the local residents are unfamiliar with its story.

This bridge is named after a descendant of slaves brought north by a Loyalist family, one of the first settlers just east of town. Some of the slaves, once freed men, became well-known and prominent businessmen. One man became the proprietor of a major stage line, bringing passengers and packages between cities. Another man owned a livery and a successful tavern.  Unfortunately, the man who settled on this river, and for whom the bridge is named, was drowned in the river. At this time, there is no known person of the name now living.


“In rivers, the water that you touch is the last of what has passed and the first of that which comes; so with present time.” –  Leonardo da Vinci

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