Guestwords

I suspect that I haven’t given enough credit to my feet for what they’ve done for me. It’s time to correct that.

Memories of picking beach plums in Shinnecock Hills, and how they were lovingly jarred in a grandmother’s sweet-smelling kitchen.

I hereby pay my respects to this woman who so impressively embodied Britain’s history and spirit.

A road trip to a pioneering surfer’s favorite East End haunts brings a family together.

For years my grandson had been writing in the brown leather visitors’ book after every summer stay at our beach house. Then one day he stopped.

I got to know Simon Perchik — prolific poet, friend, disputator, World War II vet — when he was barechested and in boxer shorts.

I've had some amusing experiences while passing stones. Have you?

It was the summer my family discovered “the Black Hamptons.”

A close-up look at Abraham Lincoln’s presidency offers possibilities for our own political polarization.

For me Pig Latin is a little like Swedish. Everyone who speaks it reminds me of the characters in a Bergman film who have lost their faith in God.

This year our little church by Accabonac Creek, the Springs Community Presbyterian Church, celebrates its 140th year. I call it one of the great cathedrals of the world.

All our decades of planning were working to create the family we’d always wanted. Until, late in my pregnancy with our fourth child, a nurse called.