Columnists

Once more unto the broken-down car.

Among the many community groups hereabout I admire, the East Hampton Trails Preservation Society stands out for its uniqueness of purpose.

We are somewhat view-starved in 2025, having spent 100 years and more cluttering up the joint with signage, driveway gates, ever-higher houses, powerlines, and Green Giant arborvitae.

If Nick LaLota is not willing to speak up for Congress, he should look for another job.

Anthony Lane envy in a fellow crime fiction fan.

East Hampton Village is on the right track to target noise from landscaping equipment, but it is wrong in its way of going about it.

My own summer jobs history provides a look at just a few of the roles a young person can find on the South Fork — and the memories they create.

My brave friend Randy Hoffman, who I met in 2017 in the back of an ambulance when I joined the East Hampton Village Ambulance Association, has died.

They say walking’s the best thing for you. But if it replaces daily runs, are you old?

I would like to remind readers about the importance of sunscreen.

Reasons to stay.

By doing absolutely nothing to my Noyac lawn I’ve inadvertently created a firefly sanctuary.

The classic lobster roll when I was growing up here in the 1970s was just lobster meat and mayonnaise, sometimes with chopped celery, on a hot dog bun. These days, variations abound.

One of the analog pleasures I miss most in our digital world is sitting on a stool behind the jewelry counter at my late Aunt Mary’s boutique on Newtown Lane examining catalogs from travel agencies.

John Steinbeck holds up.

Clandestine efforts to spread milkweed.

We used to have a much closer relationship with flowers and other flora.

Must sports fandom be subsumed by relentlessly hawked gambling?

My role on that historic Saturday was to observe and document.

Scarleth Urgiles’s memory will truly live on.

The last five-speed Nissan manual transmission just rolled off an assembly line in Mexico. 

A chat with a teen who wants to be a Main Beach lifeguard reminds me of my own brief and unremarkable lifeguarding career. 

The phrase “baggage train” kept popping into my head this weekend as we packed up the contents of my daughter’s dorm room in New Hampshire and stuffed it all into the crevices of the car.

Once more unto a storied eatery at a Catskills crossroads.

June is birthday month for the Rattrays. Chalk it up to the first chill nights of late summer and early fall putting people in the mood around here.

I tend to see the creatures who live in my immediate domestic orbit through a semi-comical anthropomorphized lens.

Arcades and mini golf and open-air alcohol. ’Twas ever thus.

Cerberus, my 1979 Cape Dory sloop, is progressing toward a July Fourth launch.

It’s been an interesting spring in family newspapering.

If you’re worried about whether society will hold together, a SUNY college commencement just might be a cure for what ails you.