Opinion

Democrats have begun winning the messaging battle, shifting attention from military deployments intended to rile up protests in blue-state cities to highlight the White House’s made-up narrative that the country is going to hell.

Before it was called Easthampton or East Hampton, the tiny colonial town way out on the eastern part of Long Island was known as Maidstone. Supposedly. Proof is scant.

At some point over the summer I passed over an invisible boundary line and began looking ahead to that golden day when I will become a grandmother.

The fast slide toward a post-constitutional dictatorship was on display Tuesday as the president and defense secretary addressed a perhaps unprecedented gathering of the nation’s top military leaders.

Jeff VanderMeer redeems an entire literary genre. Make that several.

A lifelong Red Sox fan says the enemy Yankees made him a better loser. You might say even a good-will ambassador.

On Oct. 18, the L.V.I.S. landmarks committee will host a fund-raising lunch at the Maidstone Club, and speaking will be Allison McGovern, an anthropological archaeologist who will share insights from the Mapping Memories of Freetown Project and the Freetown Neighborhood Cultural Resources Survey.

Each intense storm provides a tree-pruning service. We are overdue for another.

A curmudgeon may be someone who hates change when change is for the worse, hates trendiness, but a curmudgeon is also someone who plays a useful role as cultural watchdog.

Remembering Peter Walsh and Coogan’s, his storied Washington Heights bar, at the resurrected Potato Hampton 5K in Bridgehampton.

Afflicted by tennis elbow, tennis shoulder, and tennis groin, I didn't know from physical therapy. I always hated gyms and their scary steel machines. Not anymore.

It is becoming increasingly obvious that staying healthy means listening to the advice of the president and R.F.K. Jr. and then doing exactly the opposite.

There is a saying among sailors that there is no shame in running aground because it happens to every one of us eventually.

I’m childishly optimistic that this will be the year that Halloween trick-or-treaters return to my front door.

Here are some suggestions for what you might drop off at a food pantry collection point this fall.

In James Fenimore Cooper’s steps, Glens Falls to Sag Harbor.

What the sorcerer Simon Magus’s cynical and self-aggrandizing quest for power can teach us today.

By no stretch of the law are the targeted killings of supposed Venezuelan mariners by members of the United States military justifiable.

Cerberus, my 1979 Cape Dory sloop, has made the crossing from Connecticut.

September brings a distinct change in the inner weather, too. “Bittersweet” would be the apt word for this moment on the Julian calendar between Labor Day and Columbus Day.

The design of the planned East Hampton Town senior citizens center, or Center for Modern Aging, on Abraham’s Path never did sit right.

Gorilla Grodd lives.

The best kind of beach day.

In an apparent attempt to save money, the United States Coast Guard has proposed making Long Island and New England coastal waters less safe.

East Hampton Town needs a traffic commission.

The town trustees’ clam contest is a lovely event. But where do the giants come from?

Last week I came across something new and interesting on Facebook for the first time in years.

We need to strike a note of caution on the East End after a Supreme Court ruling allowed immigration officers tremendous leeway in stopping people they suspect might be in the country illegally or awaiting an asylum hearing.

Homeowners are suing the town over the loss of a view that the town itself was supposed to preserve.

Divorced from reality, sanity, and the actual mechanics of driving, the new car commercials are as depressing as they are slick.