Columnists

My dog, Sweet Pea, who came to the Animal Rescue Fund of the Hamptons after the hurricanes in Puerto Rico, clearly isn’t a fan of ice and blizzards

Three or four older guys occupied chairs and were rattling about this and that at one another in the same urgent, caffeinated tone

“He told me we were eators not eatees,”

I am a born hunter-gatherer and vintager

There are other, much more mysterious, ways to lose socks

The near-hoarding quality of those of us with, perhaps, the ability to fix and repair material things but not the time

They’re pigmented all in my pantheon, spanning the globe

I hardly recognized myself — letting time go by without purpose

Who darns things anymore anyway, seems the right question

It makes you want to take your shirt off and do jumping jacks