Columnists

We were in Massachusetts this week so my daughter could try out for a lacrosse club team based within striking distance of her boarding school.

Mad magazine’s Dave Berg, now more than ever.

Paying attention can be draining.

In the context of the way so many of us live our lives, not taking a break for something pleasurable is just business as usual.

It is a cliché that middle-aged Americans like me should indulge in nostalgia for the lost years of banana-seat bicycles and 10 speeds, but they did carry us far and they did provide us with a bliss of freedom completely unknown to my children’s generation.

Sag Harbor’s Jordan’s Run is always worth it. Just don’t miss the ceremonies.

Pretty much everything that makes life worth living has been axed in the Wainscott School District as the result of two budget turndowns.

It is my opinion that so long as they are fed, their tank is relatively clean, and they are around some kind of action for entertainment, goldfish become part of the family.

So much of our time, especially in the summer, is taken up with running into proof positive that strangers are total idiots.

Blue-collar envy.

I’m mindful that the threat Trump poses is one thing that cannot be ducked.

If there were a grand prix of weeding, it would be ridding grass from between patio or walkway bricks without toxic herbicides like RoundUp.

It’s preferable when your kids come to appreciate your old favorite tunes on their own. But sometimes a nudge is in order.

I was impressed when several on the Sag Harbor Whalers collegiate baseball team told me they were majoring in scientific subjects.

Our climate reality has shifted from a sense that it could happen here to it actually is happening here already.

In the party department, where has all the fun gone?

From the minor leagues to the M.L.B. draft: It’s a crapshoot.

It’s hard to revel in schadenfreude anymore when one’s closest relatives live within the places, such as drought-ridden California, sizzlingly-hot Florida, and smoke-clogged Ohio, that we’re glad we don’t live in.

Believe it or not, there was a time not all that long ago when the surfing scene looked very different around here.

Thoughts on the Fourth after missing out on the Fourth.

Every moment’s a poem.

Each year, a new source of vehicular irritation gets my attention — this year it’s the black Audi.

The supernatural Saharan skyfall of 1994 was on my mind last month when we were visited by the first heavy haze from the Canadian wildfires.

Words of unity at a graduation ceremony on Pierson Hill.

Giving it all at a Little League game.

Lessons learned in early employment.

On John Romita, the smooth illustrator who remade Spider-Man and the entire look of Marvel Comics.

I was called an “idiot” the other day by a doubles opponent, and I couldn’t entirely disagree.

It had been missing for nearly a year, so when I found my wallet at the bottom of a bag of life jackets earlier this week I felt like a dope.

When a certain body type is irresistible to parasites.