Guestwords

For years my grandson had been writing in the brown leather visitors’ book after every summer stay at our beach house. Then one day he stopped.

I got to know Simon Perchik — prolific poet, friend, disputator, World War II vet — when he was barechested and in boxer shorts.

I've had some amusing experiences while passing stones. Have you?

It was the summer my family discovered “the Black Hamptons.”

A close-up look at Abraham Lincoln’s presidency offers possibilities for our own political polarization.

For me Pig Latin is a little like Swedish. Everyone who speaks it reminds me of the characters in a Bergman film who have lost their faith in God.

This year our little church by Accabonac Creek, the Springs Community Presbyterian Church, celebrates its 140th year. I call it one of the great cathedrals of the world.

All our decades of planning were working to create the family we’d always wanted. Until, late in my pregnancy with our fourth child, a nurse called.

Vietnam was my war, even though I never served there. It framed my youth and I longed to see the country. I finally got there at age 69, in early 2020, just before Covid hit.

A family tradition of clamming and an everlasting appreciation for the chowder of Mary Emma Bunn of the Shinnecocks.

The summer of 1977, the summer of Son of Sam, brought trauma and fear, and the poison of trauma doesn’t just go away.

Again today, the world is witness to invasion, resistance, and the need to escape repression.