Opinion

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.

The best part of Christmas is the run-up.

Restaurants like John Papas Cafe carry something of a place’s soul.

Thoughts on a 13-year-old mouth liberated from braces.

A public education debate has been raging between cursive and printing enthusiasts for several decades now.

When the Cuban missile crisis had everyone on tenterhooks, I, a collegian then, was pretty much oblivious.

What happens now that East Hampton Airport is under local control remains unclear despite years of talk. This is a sharp disappointment.

Cerberus’s sailing season came to a formal end this week when the crew at Three Mile Harbor Marina lifted the sloop from the water and placed it on the boat-mover’s trailer for the short trip into town.

The older I get, the less happy I am about the dark afternoons. Sunset brings us down. We have to fight, fight against the dying of the light.

It was predictable that just as the first Tesla electric car-charging station appeared in East Hampton Village people would grumble.

Funny that it took my daughter heading up and over to college in western New York for me to at last appreciate the state I grew up in.

Walking the dog was fine. Tennis was fine. Life was fine. Until Labor Day, when my knee blew up like a balloon. So what do you recommend, doc?

There were 18 here the other night, and now, as is the case most of the year, just the two of us and O’en.

In one of the more heavily debated purchases of its kind in recent years, East Hampton Town will soon close on the purchase of less than two wooded acres off Green Hollow and Buckskill Roads.

Trouble this year within the web of suppliers that bring goods from manufacturers to retailers has made holiday buying fraught.

Eighty years ago this month, the mayor of the Village of East Hampton issued an urgent plea: An important piece of early American history was in danger of being lost.

Every morning is a double espresso kind of morning around this ranch — the Double-Bar-E Crazy Ranch on Edwards Lane.