columnists

Don’t shoot the messenger: It’s a cliché worth remembering. We are, all of us, too liable to cast blame on whoever or whatever delivers unpleasant information.
So I was in New York City briefly last Thursday for an opening at my friend Eric Firestone’s gallery loft on Great Jones Street. New York is a big place, and the chance of bumping into someone I know from Amagansett is pretty low.
Goethe thought solipsism was the worst sin, and while I think he may have a point there, it is my birthday, and what else can I do but revel in the fact.
My husband and I have been married for 43 years and have spent 44 years celebrating Valentine’s Day. Over the years it has become less of a celebration and more of an acknowledgment. We really don’t eat much candy, but I always get a store-bought bouquet of flowers and a heart-shaped box of chocolates, and always scratch-off lottery tickets....
Five years ago, the Supreme Court’s 5-to-4 decision in Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission threw campaign finance reform out the window.
It is Mozart’s birthday as I write this, and that reminds me of what the late Steve Sigler said in an interview I did with him in March 1996, to wit, that Mozart was “all about reconciliation, total reconciliation — no wonder he died at 35.”
The two women hurried south, coats pressed to bodies as the wind picked up on Third Avenue. “It’s not the end of the world. It’s just. . . .”
There’s nothing better than soup when you’re snowed in for two days — or when you expect to be. The weather forecasts were dire on Saturday morning, but the larder was full and I was ready to cook.
It is a simple entry in the 1780 town trustee records: “Ned negro to ring the bel for 30/,” and yet it says so much.