Guestwords

As Jimmy Carter is now in hospice care, I wonder what might have happened had his prescient words on conservation and self-sacrifice been heeded.

Thoughts on that road sign that says: Last Exit Before the End of Your Usefulness as a Person.

The passing of Burt Bacharach on Feb. 8 frees me to reveal that he was my first love.

The remarkable story of a man of character who bought his way out of bondage and became a successful landowner.

Love is revealed in a rediscovered box of notes from 1999.

From presidential libraries to art centers, there is inspiration to be found in quiet places that reflect the vision and ambition of the exceptional people whose legacies they preserve.

The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders came in handy when I was terminating my analysis. I recommend it.

As I move on to another chapter of my life, I am grateful that each day I had the privilege of spending my mornings and afternoons with so much life in its early stages, where everything is new and interesting and exciting.

After a rollover, one man has his faith in his fellow citizens restored.

From our correspondent in Pennsylvania comes a tribute to an illustrator for 50 straight years of Christmas cards that are works or art.

A chance encounter with Dick Cavett on an East Hampton beach leads to a long-term friendship. And to Groucho.

Just imagine how much more peaceful the world would be if difficult and/or coldhearted people were walloped with a million daily currents of kindness and love.

Trump’s actions with respect to losing the election, while extreme, is hardly new. Winning is a supreme value in American culture.

With its wide legs, its shapeless backside, its expanding waistline, the sweatpant is the official garment of the borderless, post-pandemic world.

Pictures of Pelé flashing on TV as FIFA World Cup fever spreads from Qatar to Queens bring back memories of a writer’s sort-of date with him.

Was it a quirk of history or the hand of God that brought Squanto and William Bradford together?

The Nov. 3 vote in the Sag Harbor School District to approve buying five lots near the high school with C.P.F. help was significant. It forces all of us to rethink what preservation means for the East End.

As New York magazine’s pioneering “Insatiable Critic” and the first foodie, a term she coined, Gael Greene made dining out a sensual experience to be savored.

The Group of 7 has decided to cap the price it will pay for Russian oil. There may be lessons for that challenge in U.S. history, from World War I to the coal wars of 1922.

Last year a group of us decided to tackle our ecological despair with action in a landscape we love — East Hampton and eastern Long Island. We started in our own yards.

Oct. 22, 1962: I was ordained to ministry in the Presbyterian Church, and President Kennedy addressed the nation on the Cuban Missile Crisis.

I have a gripe with people who pin appellations on inanimate objects, or on almost anything and everything. I draw the line at labeling automobiles, apartment complexes, houses . . .

I suspect that I haven’t given enough credit to my feet for what they’ve done for me. It’s time to correct that.

Memories of picking beach plums in Shinnecock Hills, and how they were lovingly jarred in a grandmother’s sweet-smelling kitchen.

I hereby pay my respects to this woman who so impressively embodied Britain’s history and spirit.

A road trip to a pioneering surfer’s favorite East End haunts brings a family together.

For years my grandson had been writing in the brown leather visitors’ book after every summer stay at our beach house. Then one day he stopped.

I got to know Simon Perchik — prolific poet, friend, disputator, World War II vet — when he was barechested and in boxer shorts.

I've had some amusing experiences while passing stones. Have you?

It was the summer my family discovered “the Black Hamptons.”