Villages

Alex Miller was heading home thinking about dinner on the evening of May 14 when he decided to stop at Stuart’s Seafood Market, an Amagansett fa-vorite. He bought some cedar plank salmon and coleslaw. As an afterthought, he said, “Why don’t you give me a dozen littleneck clams — medium-sized little-necks?” 

At home in Springs, he shucked them — half the quahogs were from the shell-fish hatchery and the other half from the wild (he could tell by the striped pattern on the shell). On the 11th wild clam, something he thought was a marble fell out.

Item of the Week from the East Hampton Library’s Long Island Collection

The East Hampton Village Board, which is seeking to hire a firm to help tackle challenges in the village’s commercial district, discussed the details last week.

The Hedges-Edwards Barn, dating from around 1770, was originally located on the west side of Main Street in East Hampton, where the library now stands. E.J. Edwards first moved it around 1910 to his nearby property on Edwards Lane.

They gathered shortly after noon Sunday at their meeting place at the Chase Bank on Main Street in East Hampton, and for the next 45 minutes as they made their way to Most Holy Trinity Catholic Church, neither the rain nor sleet nor gray skies dampened their enthusiasm.

The Montauk Monster is missing. The putrescent carcass of the creature whose image has captivated millions around the globe and spawned nearly as many identities was taken from two Montaukers. They said they planned to supply the beast’s bones to an artist who had already found a buyer for signed monster art.

Ever since Jenna Hewitt, Rachel Goldberg, and Courtney Fruin found the thing in front of the Surfside restaurant, the electronic clones of the creature have invaded computers — by way of Ms. Hewitt’s snapshot — until the Internet itself is threatened.

It is too big, too awful, too otherworldly to comprehend without being surrounded by it. Standing at Ground Zero, breathing the mingled rot of burning chemicals, cooked plastics, and the unspeakable, I realize why it will take months if not years before we can begin to rebuild.

Every day since terror found its targets in New York and Washington and was intercepted by heroism in Pennsylvania, worship services here have drawn hundreds of people, some in business dress, some in beach sandals, parents carrying infants, a few elderly in wheelchairs, and almost all with tears welling.

The gate in the high fence that surrounds the Montauk Coast Guard Station was shut tight on Tuesday morning -- the station's people and the crew of the 87-foot cutter Ridley on high alert like all of this nation's military. Without radio and television, the closed fence would have been about the only indication that something terrible had happened 118 miles to the west.