Columnists

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

Blue-collar envy.

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

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.

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

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

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

I’ve somehow managed to land back in the hospital, but at least this time I have a bed by the window, a big perk.

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.

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.