"A Place Called Home"
Bob's great grandfather Patrick Lynch remodeled in 1898. He was father of the late Stephen J. Lynch (Bob's Grandfather). He lifted the roof to build a full second story, and a porch was added. The old barn remains as it was. It's a quaint little town called East Hampton. They are the Masons, Carpenters, Landscapers, Years ago, Kids no longer cruising Traffic is heavy, Parking's a nightmare, A year round rental, To buy a home, East Hampton Township is beautiful, YES, YES, BUB ~~Loretta~~ Main Street East Hampton East Hampton Town Pond Home Sweet Home Home Sweet Home Mill and Garden Gardiners Bay
Patrick Lynch was shipwrecked in Amagansett on August 25, 1851. The ship Catherine of Liverpool carried 300 Irish immigrants. The Catherine and most of her cargo were lost, but all the passengers saved. Young Patrick Lynch had been bound for the gold fields in California. Col. William D. Parsons stepped up to him on the beach and offered him work on his farm at Fireplace. So he settled in East Hampton and, shortly after 1860, bought the house from William Lewis Parsons. In the 1870's and 80's, Roman Catholic services were held at this home as there was no church. The home was left to Stephen J. Lynch and his wife Effa after his dad's passing. Effa and Stephen raised two sons, Charles and Robert. Charles passed on at an early age and Robert followed in his father's footsteps as a mason. He eventually ran the family business.Robert was married to Dorothy Douglas and they moved to Dunemeer Lane. They had a son Robert Jr. and a daughter Geraldine. Effa took great pleasure in her grandchildren. They were known to spend most of their early years at the Mill house with her. As a teen, Bob had a love for horses. Grandma Effa allowed him to keep his horse Big Red in the barn out back.
Where the rich and famous go.
But it's the Bonackers that keep things going,
This truth I want you to know.
Plumbers and Electricians too.
Store clerks, Farmers and Fishermen,
Just to name a few.
You'd walk down Main Street,
A few strange faces you would meet.
But times have changed,
Bonac has grown.
Today most neighbors are unknown.
Down Newtown Lane,
To meet at Main Beach,
It's a crying shame.
Main Beach is jamed,
No room for the Bonackers,
To enjoy surf and sand.
Can't get into a store,
Most of the Bonacker's,
Don't shop here anymore.
Is far and few.
Why rent for twelve months,
When you make more for two.
Is quite a chore.
For prices range,
From Two hundred thousand and more.
There's none that compare.
A Bonacker's heart and hard work,
Will always be there.
Three mile Harbor Boat Yard.
Please click into the picture.
FYI: This too is also a part of my husband's past. His uncle owned this yard in years gone buy. But that's another story for another time.
