Guestwords

I am among that elite group of people who can afford not to work, or, as in my case, were tossed out of it, and who easily lose track of days — all days, in fact, are rather the same.

A new vigil for social change takes shape at the windmill in Sag Harbor. It meets every Friday.

On the East End, fusing commercial endeavors with deep-rooted values and social good has been an ideal for years. There are many examples flourishing in our midst.

“It was 50 years ago today,” I thought as I entered the theater this past August to catch the 1969 period film “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood,” looking for a reminder of a divine encounter one summer day in Los Angeles.

Why, in an era when there are so many things to be grateful for and happy about, are a plurality of Americans riddled with anxiety, anger, fear, and depression?

I first picked up Caroline Pratt’s 1948 memoir-cum-history of the City and Country School, “I Learn From Children,” in the late 1960s, and its progressive commitment to growing activist citizens instantly resonated. It’s out in a new edition, and not a moment too soon.

Norman Jaffe’s landmark design for Harold Becker’s house in a Wainscott pasture taught me that rule-bending buildings can change your mental space, your emotional compass, your perception of the relationship between nature and human nature.

My life as a full-time patient.

Long Island real estate is suffering as sales decrease and homes lose value, and one reason is chronic flooding fueled by climate change.

Writing a memoir was not something that came naturally. It was more like building my first treehouse and my second marriage. I had to struggle to learn how to “measure twice, cut once.”

Breaking news, Verizon. There’s a new kid in town, a challenger for your WCW crown — Worst Company in the World.

“Jojo Rabbit” is told from the point of view of a boy during the war. I was a boy at the same time. And I had trouble laughing.