As I paced up the ramp maintaining my frame within a white lined area the automobile equivalent of a service lane for bicyclists, I expected to receive annoyed glances or a polite recommendation to cross over to the walking path midway over the bridge. Before the two paths had been renovated, which could be almost two years ago now, I dealt with an angry bicyclist who apparently had a rough day and didn't want to have to swerve around walkers and runners. At the time, bicyclists and pedestrians shared the south path, and as it was, I'm sure the peeved bicyclist was not the only person on the bridge impatient with the situation. I don't think that I avoided the bridge for a significant amount of time because of this incident; however, not knowing the two paths had been clearly labeled and honored by pedestrians and bicyclists alike made me question whether it would be the relaxing experience I'd hope for in crossing a bridge. This having been my thinking, I was utterly disappointed in myself for breaking the rules of the paths.
As usual, I was the primary source of my own grief. I wanted to appreciate the views of midtown at a pace that is not typically allowed while traveling over the bridge on the M or J train from Marcy Avenue to Essex Street; however, I forced myself to truck along with some speed and get to the midway point where I could cross over to the path I belonged on and not inconvenience or bother any of the bicyclists.
Even after I crossed over to the appropriate side, I was a bit distracted by other thoughts. The views of downtown Manhattan and the climbing World Trade Center are clear and most likely fascinating to a fresh and unfamiliar eye, but my mind was elsewhere and my body just plodding along. I found myself thinking about who Havemeyer Street was named after, and whether or not it is important to know the origin of street names that you regular or even live on. For 17 years, I lived with my family on Concord Street, but growing up and since having moved out of this home on Long Island, I have seen many Concord Streets, and I kind of assume it is simply a name that has Anglican origins and folks just like the sound of it. I've never been on another Havemeyer Street, and I know that Havemeyer is a name important to Brooklyn, just as the names on the streets parallel are named for famous Brooklynites and former colonial and post-colonial landowners.
After making essentially an about-face upon touching ground in Manhattan, I reversed my path completely and returned home with the mission of putting my earlier lack of research aside. The Havemeyer name is synonymous with sugar refining in United States history. Starting in the mid-nineteenth century, the family essentially controlled the sugar refining industry and maintained this status into the twentieth century through operating what was then the largest factory. This massive building over 13-stories tall became home to the Domino Sugar Company in the twentieth century. After closings its doors in 2004, this building with its signature neon sign, almost as unique to New York City as the bridge that stands before it, received historical landmark status in 2007. Supporting my memory, this information now stands to support my exploration into Elizabeth's familial history. Her family not only lived in Williamsburg after immigrating to the United States, they also worked for the Domino Sugar Company in the mentioned New York City landmark.
So, there is an immediate connection to Havemeyer, and I think it is interesting information to have ready to share if it ever comes up in conversation. Then again, I'm also proud to say that I now know that I can inform friends, family, and neighborhood passersby alike that the entrance to the pedestrian path is on the south side of the Williamsburg Bridge on Bedford Avenue between South Fifth and South Sixth.

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