Despite what the poultry pushers over at Butterball might have you believe, turkey isn’t a strictly universal Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner standard in various corners of America — and it definitely wasn’t always on the holiday table here in Bonac.
Some of us, of literary bent, can’t walk past the South End Burying Ground — the cemetery, that is, by Town Pond, the one with the weeping willows — without being reminded of the famous closing lines of James Joyce’s short story The Dead:
Thousands gather to raise money for charity at three polar-bear plunges each winter. The numbers send a chill down your spine.
A wilderness? A suburban neighborhood? East Hampton's answer to the lost Jamestown settlement? Richard Whalen delves deep into the history and lore of the mysterious and beckoning Northwest Woods
