Columnists

What we did in April 1985 at Columbia University was righteous. 

“Government do take a bite, don’t she.”

To have order imposed on one who hasn’t been used to it, one who does not feel whole unless stacks of sports pages past surround him, can be traumatic.

This late winter and spring have been wet and wild.

Everything I understand about social class in America I learned at a farmers market summer job.

Getting hip to women’s college hoops at just the right time.

“You threw out my picture?” Mary asked when I told her my office’s walls were now bare, the floors were bare, the desk was bare.

There was plenty of screaming during my short trip to Nashville last weekend. I had not understood how Music City U.S.A. had become Partytown U.S.A.

The eclipse on Monday brought back memories of an eclipse in the 1970s, when I was at “hippie school,” the Hampton Day School in the potato fields of Bridgehampton.

Just one more Dunkin’ Donuts franchise here would make it right.

One person’s detritus is another’s precious possession.

Seeing a photograph of a rusted car frame tumbling from a dune recently reminded me of a devastating northeaster 62 years ago.

Is it sacrilegious to nose-poke at church on Easter Sunday?

Second-guessing the first exercise outing of spring.

I rather like noxious fumes, having grown up in the ’50s in Pittsburgh.

A massive deaccession after the office furnace blew up has prompted a bit of soul searching of the Marie Kondo sort.

Whenever someone talks about “a more innocent time” and the faraway days of childhood happiness, my mind drifts to the house on Egypt Close where my friends Katy and Jenny Paxton lived.

Montauk on steroids: A stroll down the immense concrete boardwalk-slash-sea wall at Virginia Beach.

You almost wish that the Ottoman Empire had remained intact.

All is well at the wind farm cable landing spot in Wainscott.

I’d wanted to see Monticello since I was a teenager.

Keeping up with the chickens on the Delmarva Peninsula.

Today is Pi Day, reminding me that I know nothing of mathematics.

The Star building, completed around 1901, is a relative toddler among others on East Hampton’s Main Street.

In praise of John Avlon’s bid for Congress.

“We deserve the second-best and the second-best is now!”

What happens when a furnace goes blooey.

In last week’s episode of “Capote vs. the Swans,” our man in letters clawed back some dignity. And a fan ponders the arc of his career.

Leafing through some of The Star’s bound volumes, I was chagrined to find my early-1970s columns were unvaryingly issue-oriented.

The South Fork has more trails than you could shake a stick at, and now is the time to go.