Columnists

This week’s column is the personal-essay equivalent of a very bad odor. Prepare yourself, reader!

The surprising end result of all that construction work at La Guardia.

Is heaven some sort of club, a fraternity? If so, its population may be sparse.

Foul weather is just the way it is here in the month of March.

My somewhat critical attitude toward cats — my less than all-embracing affection for all pets, all the time — is a character flaw, I’m aware.

At last, the legendary Washington Heights home of the Millrose Games, “the fastest track in the world.”

I am interested in the mixing and remixing of ourselves, and there’s no better feeling than when we’re in tune.

There is not so much to do in March, other than plan and perhaps go on walks.

John Irving swings for the fences.

What’s it to be? Torpor and dictators? Or an educated, enlivened, engaged populace debating how best to proceed?

One of the things that has struck me about the rash of dead whales on beaches in the Northeast is that it has been going on for years, millenniums, in fact.

I’m one of those people who has extraordinarily intense dreams and who always wants to talk about them.

When, exactly, did Patch­ogue get cool?

“Tennis players live nine years longer,” I said to the guys I was playing doubles with the other day.

This year for Black History Month I have been occupied by preparing for an exhibit at the Sag Harbor Cinema, intended to reach a broad audience.

The big game on Fox Sports — what could go wrong?

Quiescence tends to corrupt and absolute quiescence corrupts absolutely.

All is not death and doom in the new forest clearings. Here and there, new plant communities are taking hold.

You get me, YouTube, you really do.

Calling Manny Farber . . .

The late John Niles, who coached the 1986 Bridgehampton High Killer Bees boys basketball team, said it was the best group of athletes who’d ever played for him.

Other than buying a set of tires, a cabin air filter, windshield wipers, and keeping up with the oil change schedule, my Honda Clarity has had no costs other than for electricity — about $2.50 for 45 to 50 miles’ charge.

The animals in my garden are behaving like they think they are stars in a Beatrix Potter story or something, and I don’t mean they are comporting themselves adorably.

In pursuit of wintertime self-improvement, through enhanced coffee intake and otherwise.

Isn’t it nice that in this country we can think that life here for many, young or old, offers possibility.

People talk about mindfulness a lot these days.

The older I get, the clearer it becomes that hanging on to relics of the past can be a burden.

Some people are rattled by a change in hours at the town dump. (Or one person is, anyway.)

Asked in a recent Science Times happiness questionnaire when was the last time I’d initiated a social plan with someone, I laughed.

Searching through old East Hampton Stars this week, I discovered that our first mention of Hither Woods came in 1892.