Columnists

Step outside of the East Hampton Star building on Main Street on a summer day and there is a very high probability that a private jet will be overhead.

The D.H. comes to the National League, and no one misses the old ways.

We’re going to get petty this week, reader. Let’s get trifling. Let’s talk about signage.

Shades of Jimmy Carter, the part of my hair suddenly switched sides.

And now for the budget portion of our Italian vacation.

I must say, in retrospect, that if the coronavirus were still raging, Authors Night would have been a good place to catch it.

As August rolls to a leisurely close, a minor mystery has returned to my neighborhood: the Cranberry Hole Road banana bandit is back after a long absence. 

My extremely rudimentary ideas of Rome previously came from the movies.

Don’t look back, as Satchel Paige said, for something might be gaining on you.

A hero of roadside seed spreading.

From streaming services to superheroes, it’s sensory overload.

A coach’s argument that his prayers following high school football games were private and personal is hard to believe.