Columnists

I am unworthy . . .

Taking Cerberus out for its first sail of 2023.

In Sag Harbor and in the unenviable position of envying East Hampton its diner and pizza parlor.

From good news (the Fox settlement) to bad (a departed tennis partner).

Considering how many osprey one can see around here these days, it is hard to imagine that not all that long ago they were thought to be in danger of extinction.

Family war stories.

The more oblivion looms, the more you want to pay attention, the more you want to listen and learn, the more you want to do things as well as you can.

I’d like to recommend to you Rich Mothes’s show of paintings at Clinton Academy. I knew him back when he was coaching East Hampton High School’s boys tennis team.

Previous calls for summer-season civility did not go so well.

The ravaging rays, the dermatologist’s knife.

I am devoted to my Crown range. It was my grandmother’s, an inheritance.

The pleasure and pain of the all-nighter.

What we need around here is a hedgerow movement.

Maybe if I were less attentive to bed-making, my other attempts at tidying up might rise in estimation.

The spring rush can also be seen in the letters to the editor of this paper.

My son, Teddy, has been given a more-or-less-clean bill of health by his orthopedic surgeon after 12 years of what amounts to rather major medical intervention.

A requiem for newsrooms? Not so fast.

As the world shut down in the first months of Covid, it was the presence of huge fish along the Nature Trail that got my attention.

Dispatches from the SUNYAC outdoor track championships in Oneonta.

Time is ticking towards Cerberus’s launch day, which means there is a lot to do before Nick the boat-mover shows up.

Revisiting Gregory Clark, newspaperman, outdoorsman, critic of modernity.

I should have read the Rotten Tomatoes critics’ and audience’s reviews more thoroughly before taking Mary to “Showing Up” in Sag Harbor on a recent rainy Sunday.

One summer night, my brother wrecked my car.

If the Mets say to grab a mug and tea proudly, I’m happy to oblige.

Seventeen Edwards Lane had slowly been descending into the gloom for a year or more.

Fox and Murdoch got off easy.

For 300 years, residents have complained about Town Pond’s turbid appearance.

In the urologist’s office.

Last Thursday’s record high 84 degrees got me reminiscing to a friend about a very, very low-budget feature film I worked on as location manager in the late 1980s.

Newspaper vending machines. I miss them.