Columnists

Since the East Hampton Library placed a dandy touch-screen coffee machine on its circulation desk last month, some of the Star staff have spent a lot more time next door. That might not be the case with the enigma that is Russell Bennett, who takes...
As I walked out under the trees and breeze and sun with O’en last Thursday morning, I remarked to him on what a beautiful day it was not to be going to the U.S. Open.
Welcome, once again, to the world. Thirty-two countries, 64 games, and 35 joyous days of football. It’s not called soccer anywhere else but America, and since Team U.S.A. did not qualify, there’s no reason to call it anything but football.
President Reagan was said to have called ketchup a vegetable. And Nixon was said to have put ketchup on his cottage cheese. (I tried it, and shouldn’t have.) Reagan loved mac and cheese and favored a particular method of its preparation. And his...
We called Eric Firestone the porgy whisperer when he got back on dry land. And with good reason. Last year, he landed the biggest porgy ever taken on my boat. This year, he brought aboard the largest porgy I had ever seen anywhere.
I’ve always thought that East Hampton would serve as a good model for what this country should be, a place in which people, despite their differences, cared for one another when you came down to it and cared for the naturally blessed place in which...
Sunday found me lying on my parents' couch UpIsland, watching reruns of "Diff'rent Strokes," while noting Mr. Drummond's glaring eligibility — a fact lost on me when the later episodes originally aired in 1984. I was 6 — and how I'm now old enough...
The plethora of free summer publications had not become stratospheric when the editorial we at The East Hampton Star decided something was missing — a guide to the restaurant scene.
Amagansett has gotten a lot more hip. A friend from away and I spent Sunday afternoon driving around in a clapped-out Volvo drinking coffee and noticed this was the case.
My analogy may be a little off, but I think the way into the Art Barge on the Napeague stretch resembles a pound trap, a long track through wetlands leading to the cod end, from which there is no escape.
The meeting room of the East Hampton Presbyterian Church, which is regularly filled by Sunday-school classes and women’s-club suppers, is not exactly where you would expect to go to a Latin jazz concert by a world-class performer. On Saturday night...
Going into Memorial Day weekend, I had an intention to write down all of the amusing things I overheard while out and about, and make a column out of the best of them. Either I wasn’t paying attention or simply went to the wrong places, as by the...
I applauded James Clapper, the former C.I.A. director, the other night when I heard him say he thought Russia had won the election.