Opinion

What, me worry?

Maybe it’s time to show deer some mercy.

Regarding “beautifying” Amagansett’s Main Street, do less, don’t do nothing.

Whether the next project along Springs-Fireplace Road is a long-proposed car wash or something else, the potential redevelopment south of Abraham’s Path is massive.

I wonder about how ospreys respond to a less-than-dependable food chain.

It seems unreasonable that we should be ruled by the transit of the sun, but we are.

It never occurred to me how much I would miss the solid, grand old institutions of the late-20th century.

Comprehensive plans are more vision statements than action plans, but in one key aspect a near-final draft for East Hampton Village is specific and deserves close attention.

The Daughters of the American Revolution bring the hammer down on the Oath of Allegiance to the Crown.

Lessons in humanity from the Blackout of 2003.

With highly pathogenic avian influenza on the march and in numerous dead geese, now is a good time to skip the beach walk with the family dog.

The last of the cold weeks is a fine time for mending a holey sweater, looking online at what new things I might buy for the boat, and baking.

The scene outside my bedroom window was a blur of whiteout. It was like being inside the white-and-purple twister lifting the house to Oz.

Olympics on the TV as a source of cohesion.

Freud equated understanding the mind with an archeological dig. The sites are sometimes real places.

According to the National Weather Service, freezing roads are responsible for nearly four times more deadly accidents than all other weather hazards combined.

It turns out that there is a powerful biological basis for helping out.

Ever since hantavirus became a thing on the East End, it has been war.

It turns out that all this snow isn’t, in fact, killing off the blasted ticks.

“Show us your papers,” the feds insist? They’re looking to solve a problem that doesn’t actually exist.

In the pews, what’s old is new again.

The patron saint of Sag Harbor’s 1970s turnaround.

A new public safety building in downtown Montauk is a great idea. Now what about some sidewalks?

According to Robert O. Paxton’s “The Anatomy of Fascism,” each country where fascism arises puts its own stamp on it.

We should all be concerned about the survival of the luncheonette.

What to do about submissions that appear to be the product of artificial intelligence, rather than an original work by a real person?

When representing your home country isn’t so easy.

The idea of a men’s book club, but for films, ticked a lot of boxes: manageable time commitment for a perfectly masculine activity in which plot structure and technique were front and center. Thus was born the GODAWFUL Film Society.

Say what you will about the Bad Bunny Super Bowl halftime show, it was one hell of a lesson on the span of time.

The Ladies Village Improvement Society may be to blame for my psychological impulse to imagine each incoming “mail piece” as a potential present from some secret admirer or perhaps a fan letter with an enclosed hundred-dollar bill.