Columnists

When your kids start going to the movies without you.

Is it weird that I think of mortality — transience and permanence — whenever I drive my car on the New Jersey Turnpike?

Covid worries and pollen aside, I can think of nowhere else I’d rather be at this time of year.

Living where I do down in the dunes past Amagansett, ticks are just part of the scenery.

It can be hard to muster much enthusiasm for N.B.A. players today, when you were weaned on the likes of Larry Bird, Robert Parish, and Kevin McHale.

There is a little-known grave­site in East Hampton where the remains of Nathaniel R. Arch, a genuine United States war hero, lie.

Did those who died in this country’s wars, who defended an egalitarian, optimistic, forward-looking society, die so that its lawmaking bodies would simply sit on their hands doing nothing, stymied when confronted with issues demanding action?

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.