Columnists

The classics teacher in “The Holdovers” says it was always thus, that it was no different in ancient times, that there’s always been the horrific and the sublime. Yet thinking about how to get beyond it seems to be the only thing that keeps us sane.

The prevailing narrative on Representative George Santos’s rise and imminent fall has bothered me from the start.

Don’t name your business Hampton-whatever. It just sounds generic.

Money can’t buy you love, no, nor can it buy you peace of mind, engaged as you might well be in the constant pursuit of it.

There are no understory plants any more. No saplings coming up. The Quercus alba acorns I may manage to grow into small trees could help preserve the species.

From the comic stage to the world stage.

On the Day of the Dead, I think about them, my immediate forebears.

Only about a month remains in the village’s leaf-pickup program, and at this rate there will be nothing much to suck up.

L.A. story: eternal gratitude to that West Hollywood art house cinema for an introduction to Krzysztof Kieslowski’s “Dekalog.”

My children definitely don’t feel the sense of excitement we felt as children at the holidays. They’re quite blasé.

The adventures, follies, and disequilibrium of running on a treadmill.

You know you are a child of the 1970s when . . .