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  • For a long time (let’s be honest, for about half a century), I’ve spent a good part of the working week immersed in letters and obituaries — the two elements of a newspaper that reflect readers’ voices and readers’ lives. Letters and obituaries have been part of my newspapering life since I was a cub reporter.
  • The landscape here is lovelier than ever this spring . . . even as our nation wallows in the muck.
  • President Reagan was said to have called ketchup a vegetable. And Nixon was said to have put ketchup on his cottage cheese. (I tried it, and shouldn’t have.) Reagan loved mac and cheese and favored a particular method of its preparation. And his fondness for jellybeans was known to the world.
  • The plethora of free summer publications had not become stratospheric when the editorial we at The East Hampton Star decided something was missing — a guide to the restaurant scene.
  • With the Animal Rescue Fund of the Hamptons and Guild Hall officially out of the garden tour game, the Parrish Art Museum now has the distinction of being the last garden tour standing on the South Fork. Its weekend of talks by landscape architects, a benefit cocktail party, and the tour itself will take place tomorrow, Saturday, and Sunday.
  • The meeting room of the East Hampton Presbyterian Church, which is regularly filled by Sunday-school classes and women’s-club suppers, is not exactly where you would expect to go to a Latin jazz concert by a world-class performer. On Saturday night, however, the music, and some tango dancing, took over.
  • As a kid, I spent a lot of time in the country, where no one was afraid of bugs. When I say country, I mean a part of the world with more fields and farms and cows and chickens than summer residents, rather than “country” with quotations around the word, the way the East End is often misidentified. A quilted barn jacket and pair of Wellington boots don’t make you a farmer.
  • For as long as email has been an everyday occupation, I have been in the habit of trying to rid myself of unwanted electronic communications by labeling incoming junk as “junk,” and vaguely sort of expecting and hoping that my laptop email program would eventually catch my drift and start recognizing and blocking the senders.
  • For as long as I can remember, I’ve had a psychological need to set the household to rights before doing much of anything else in the morning. First I potter around the bedroom, putting a book left willy-nilly on the bedside table back in its place or picking up socks I tossed about at bedtime.
  • For the better part of the school year, when I was in seventh grade, I went to my Great Aunt Elizabeth’s house for lunch. Uncle Chiel, a formidable presence, had lunch at the same time, and I would watch with shock and awe as he devoured an assortment of strange meats and offals like calves brains. I always was served scrambled eggs and white-bread toast with grape jelly.

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