Opinion

My current obsession with the Tokyo Olympics prompts memories of a low-budget trip to Montreal for the ’76 Games.

I am 74 and diagnosed with end-stage heart and kidney disease. The doctors said there was not much more they could do. Go live life.

Landscapers’ trucks are everywhere — and getting bigger.

The traffic is godawful, but maybe as a result of the snail's pace everyone's driving too slowly to inflict much damage.

I have been spending a lot of time aboard Cerberus this summer, though not as much of it sailing as I would have liked.

Among the brilliant things I never did was an art project I conceived of in my late teens, in which I was going to take Polaroid photographs of my feet clad in favorite pairs of shoes. An autobiography in footwear.

Beach amenities services would appear to require a permit from the town or villages. However, with so many miles of shoreline and limited awareness among caterers and others, the rules are routinely ignored.

A Monday afternoon in the D.M.V. road test queue in Patchogue.

Memories of funky, beautiful, artistic Springs in the summer of ’64.

As I was leaving Wittendale’s the other day holding a tall milkweed plant on the way to check out, a monarch butterfly flitted about me — a good sign.

Cellphone service is not all that bad around here — in February.

A fire last week that destroyed a family’s Springs house was notable in two respects — its cause and the conditions in which firefighters responded.

There is a rhythm emerging in the struggle between me and the deer over who rules the garden.

Does it astonish you that there is a ferry in service today on the Long Island Sound that landed in France on D-Day?

Juneteenth, the new national holiday marking the end of slavery as an institution in the United States, came and went in East Hampton Town and Village with only slight notice.

What began as a simple college website search sends a dad into a tech tailspin.

The release of the Netflix mini-series “Halston” coincided with my discovery of a letter I’d written to a friend in Europe in early 1978 and never sent, containing my firsthand account of a busy Friday night when the designer played a starring role.

Research does not support the idea that marijuana is performance-diminishing.

As the arguments against dramatically changing or even closing East Hampton Airport are whittled away, a last resort is emerging, that there are too many wealthy people here for that to happen.

Sharks have arrived here, and not just the sort able to think that parking among the dead is okay.

If I think about it, I’m at my happiest around a bonfire, on the beach.

A third Covid-19 surge is now expected as a the stronger Delta variant reaches the unvaccinated portion of the United States population.

Here in Noyac, for some reason I’ve been overlooking nearby Long Beach, and was surprised it took me till the second weekend in July to appreciate it in a way I haven’t since the days of the Oasis.

Thoughts on “The Potato Book,” a droll, tongue-in-cheek time capsule of a book with a 1970s warning in Truman Capote’s foreword.

East Hampton Village residents may want to begin keeping an eye on Newtown Lane and Railroad Avenue, where a large-scale luxury townhouse complex could one day soon replace the brick building where Mary’s Marvelous is.

If I were sermonizing, I’d write one on the folly of self-abasement, self-doubt, self-mortification, self-flagellation, and self-loathing.

Retail sales of recreational marijuana, or pot or, as the growing industry prefers it, cannabis, are not quite there yet on the East End, but got closer last week with a split vote of the Riverhead Town Board.

Shortly after Lyman Beecher’s wife, Roxana, bore their first child, Drusilla Crook was brought to the household to take care of the baby — she was 5 years old, “a colored girl,” Beecher wrote in his autobiography.

I believe nothing is more depressing than the “festival” of “fun” that goes on at Hershey’s Chocolatetown in Pennsylvania.

Let’s say something positive about leaf blowers for a change, shall we?