Columnists

Cerberus and I had the crossing to Old Saybrook to ourselves. I could stand a year of Octobers, I thought.

I’d been looking forward to Cormaria’s “Sunday supper” takeout offering for weeks.

If you’re questioning the sanity of spending time in front of a television watching professional football, read on.

We are either cynical or naive by nature. I believe this to be true.

Gubbins is back and I have a pair of bright, shiny new Asics sneakers on to celebrate the sports store’s return.

When was the last time you saw the tail of a white-tailed deer? They no longer seem to care about the human presence at all.

There has been all too much clinging going on in this family.

It says “Forever” on our stamps, and we say we live in the UNITED States, but I wonder. East Hamptoners, though, give me hope.

The Star last week called it Sammy’s Beach, on Three Mile Harbor, when, in fact, the correct name is Sammis, as in the local family that lived there.

When a campus visit becomes an urban tasting tour that smacks the complacency out of your mouth.

Watching people running at each other like careening trucks while safe in the comfort of one’s own home is probably something to atone for, and yet football is “as American as apple pie.”

It was toward the end of the 2014 Hamptons International Film Festival, and I had been asked to be a juror in the documentary film competition.