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  •    If I remember correctly, I had told Eileen Roaman that she was crazy when she told me she had been asked to take a position on the East Hampton Town Planning Board and was thinking of saying yes.
        She did not listen to me as far as I could tell. Few of those who confide in me do, though later, after they have had a taste of the process, they will invariably tell me that I had been right.

  •    A story that popped up in the last week, about an old anchor hauled up by some members of the Lester clan while they were fishing in the ocean off Amagansett, reminded me of a similar find my family made quite some years ago.
        It probably was in the mid-1970s. My father had restored an old menhaden fishery striker boat, putting a long-shaft Seagull outboard on the back so we could putt around Gardiner’s Bay.

  •    These end-of-August weeks can be both relaxing and frenetic, at least around the newspaper office and on the home front. On the one hand, the constant barrage of publicity pleas and self-promotional requests has died down. Yet on the other, with the kids out of camp and parents working, there is a sudden imperative of finding them things to do.

  • The gathering, billed on the Web as Electronic Beach, appeared to have violated a number of conditions of its town permit and drew complaints about noise from beachgoers and residents
  •    Up early Saturday and Sunday looking for waves worth surfing, I made an informal survey of beach conditions following what had obviously been two wild nights on the sand. Almost everywhere in town, the beach garbage cans had filled to overflowing, and people had left their trash in the general vicinity.

  •    Waiting in the San Francisco Airport departure lounge late Sunday into Monday morning for a delayed flight home, I noticed that of the couple hundred people hanging around only a handful were reading a good, old-fashioned book. Oh, folks were reading, of course, or looking at something or other, but the majority were using some kind of handheld device or computer. I saw no one reading an actual, hard-copy, dead-tree magazine or newspaper at all.

  •    No one in our household, nor at Russell and Fiona Bennett’s place up the way, heard the sirens Saturday night.
        It was a little after 10 p.m. when, according to a police report, a drunken driver flipped his BMW convertible, injuring himself and two passengers. We did not know about it until much later, when my sister sent us an e-mail saying she had heard of it on Facebook.

  • Topping the weekend’s agenda here in the village must be the Ladies Village Improvement Society fair on Saturday, the organization’s 117th, by the way. The gates at 95 Main Street open at 10 a.m. One can also enter via a gate in Herrick Park near the basketball courts.

  •    We have met the enemy and it is us. That is the conclusion I reached this week as summer 2013 began to reach full fever pitch.
        Here’s my epiphany: Those of us who consider ourselves local like to think it is folks from away who need a little attitude adjustment. Perhaps they do, what with their expressions of entitlement, boorishness, and piled-on demands, but frankly, it is those of us who should know better by dint of living here year round who really have no excuse.

  • Essentially a retrospective in paper and maquettes, a major show of work by Alice Aycock is on view at the Parrish Art Museum in Water Mill though July 13.

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