Columnists

The traditional Irish tune “Whiskey in the Jar” is told from the perspective of a highwayman, a bold deceiver and drunken carouser who meets with an English officer, Captain Farrell, on the Cork and Kerry Mountains.

Ukraine, though its people’s suffering has been appalling, has decidedly not been an easy toss out. We’re rooting for it.

Spring is a time for paying attention, for noticing things.

A plea for no phones at the wheel, before artificial intelligence takes over the roads.

The brutal reality here is that reasonably priced year-round or even seasonal rooms are essentially nonexistent.

Profundity and solace from an unlikely source.

Honeysuckle, lilac, Coppertone, and secondhand smoke: These are a few of my favorite things. I sidle up to strangers at parties when they strike a match, just for nostalgic proximity. days of youth when I smell tobacco wafting on the breeze.

To be of a place, and to be part of a worthy tradition to boot, is to be really blessed.

In the spring of 2001, I watched the clean-living-Americans-go-to-outer-space movie “The Right Stuff” and decided what I needed was to learn how to pilot a plane.

Emily Dickinson said you’ll know it’s poetry if it knocks your socks off, or words to that effect, and that was how Mary and I felt as we were watching the documentary “Viva Maestro” at the Sag Harbor Cinema the other day.

I drove by the Pantigo fields as a group was getting set for a groundbreaking ceremony for a new Southampton Hospital adjunct. It made me sad, and then angry.

At the 2019 Comic Con in New York, before Covid cramped its style, I walked right by a booth set up by a legend among comic-book artists, Neal Adams.