Opinion

We sat rapt last night, beyond our bedtime, through a chilling “Frontline” report on those who think their freedom’s infringed if they cannot infringe upon the freedom of others.

Few things are as satisfying as a well-done home repair.

A litany of localism test questions

Today marks the one-year anniversary of one of the darkest days in United States history.

From Atlanticville to Hog Neck, what happened to the great place names of yore?

In the last few weeks of 2021, my body put a stop to overtasking and sent me to the corner to think about what I’d done.

Sports here got off to a stuttery start last year at this time, and I’m hoping this dreary virus doesn’t eat again into one of my life’s chief joys, which is rooting animatedly for the home, sweet home team.

While the pandemic has created havoc in so many aspects of life, Covid-19 has turned out to be the one thing that could finally save the Department of Motor Vehicles.

“What’s going on with Town Pond?”

We find ourselves in the perverse position of wishing for raw, freezing weather.

Togetherness through cards.

I had just hit some second-rate jackpot and felt a combination of instant relief and long-haul anxiety. Yippee, we could take a test. Uh-oh, what if my wife and/or I tested positive?

At first look, an effort by the East Hampton Town Board to gain greater regulatory power over sand mines and composting operations might seem worthwhile, but is it really?

Hobbled and fearing the worst, I jumped at a chance to see my knee doctor in Great Neck on the Tuesday before Christmas.

Deep-pocketed investors are excited to get a piece of the anticipated post-pandemic boom. How much further disruption this will bring to the East End way of life is up to local officials — and a well-informed public.

The first-ever issue of this paper read in a gothic font, “The Easthampton Star.” Seeing the name of the town as one word has raised the question of when East Hampton became two words and if it ever properly was just one.

It’s Tuesday morning at 10 minutes to 10, and I have somehow neglected to come up with a subject for this week’s column, which needs to be turned in by 2:20 this afternoon.

With the Omicron variant of Covid-19 on a rapid rise, the danger of being unvaccinated comes again into sharp focus. And yet, for many, even the recent threshold of 800,000 deaths in the United States is not persuasive.

It's Spidey to the rescue — of cinemas. And just in time, before the hacking, feverish world backslides into another lockdown.

Just how did modern civilization make the transition from spirit, light entering the world, to matter — to the materialism that marks Christmas Day?

As the cliché goes, endless ink has been spilled over a wide range of subjects here on the South Fork, and while measuring it all would be pointless, we can be certain that reasonably priced housing would make the top two or three. So it was with some excitement this week that a new idea came in over the transom in the form of a letter to the editor.

It's always easier to destroy than to build, Mary keeps telling me. Perhaps that's why we're at each other's throats, on the Internet and elsewhere — it's easier.

It seems everyone took up at least one new thing during the pandemic. What with few or no social obligations and nowhere to go, we have tried to learn a fresh skill or do better at a familiar chore. Cleaning the kitchen has never been so interesting!

Radio seems to be surviving the advent of the internet, doesn’t it? Reading suffers, print media staggers, but listening goes on. I’m a radio person. You are or you aren’t.

Stephen Sondheim on the good, the bad, and the unheard.

Bottom line? We want our house loved and enjoyed the way we loved and enjoyed it.

This is a good time to take stock of how the area is doing in keeping the sky dark at night.

In all the discussions of affordable housing, the voices that often seem underrepresented are those of real estate industry professionals.

Yes, “play looser” is good advice, good advice in general, I’d say.

Two hundred sixteen years ago today, a woman enslaved by Samuel L’Hommedieu in Sag Harbor gave birth to a boy.