Opinion

Rather than kind acts, it’s the failures to act kindly that I tend to remember.

Road rage: Nine out of 10 people say they don’t have it. Actually, I have no idea if that’s true; I just made up the statistic to get your attention. But the subject has been on my mind a lot lately.

On a winter drive with my husband one Sunday afternoon, we started to list all the people we’ve known from the neighborhood who are no longer here — their absence struck a powerful note.

Why I gave my 9-year-old son a BB gun for Christmas merits a bit of explanation.

We are extremely pleased that the momentum for a new Dominy museum has returned.

A couple of weeks ago things were so garbled on the sports page that Mary thought some readers might think I was senile. “Don’t worry,” someone in the front office said. “People have been saying that for years.”

We are in a housing crisis on the South Fork. No one seems to have found the right solution.

A happy memory of a trip to a micro brewery, and an unhappy realization that now all bottled beer tastes stale.

A sobering new study of the East Hampton shoreline has shown significant degradation.

Having fallen kersplat on a particularly unforgiving sidewalk near Starbucks the other day, I knew it was time to trade in my sneakers.

No rink can compare to the joy of gliding on wide-open surfaces with the wind at our backs.

A father and a daughter, playoff football on the TV at a snow-swept B&B, and the glories of western New York.

A proposal to double the number of affordable residences that could be built per acre in certain zones could go a long way toward easing the housing crisis in East Hampton.

The surprising connection between home design and phobias.

Birds’ cries are full of mystery.

With the airport private, the town in theory could just say no to certain kinds of aircraft and commercial flights or limit the number and timing of takeoffs and landings.

Brent Newsom, in memoriam.

A litany of localism test questions

Times have indeed changed regarding East Hampton Airport, but so far, not all elected town officials appear to have taken notice.

We sat rapt last night, beyond our bedtime, through a chilling “Frontline” report on those who think their freedom’s infringed if they cannot infringe upon the freedom of others.

Few things are as satisfying as a well-done home repair.

A tough row to hoe for the college bound.

Those 18-wheeler trucks carrying boulders in an eastward direction can be seen as a symbol of things to come.

Sports here got off to a stuttery start last year at this time, and I’m hoping this dreary virus doesn’t eat again into one of my life’s chief joys, which is rooting animatedly for the home, sweet home team.

While the pandemic has created havoc in so many aspects of life, Covid-19 has turned out to be the one thing that could finally save the Department of Motor Vehicles.

From Atlanticville to Hog Neck, what happened to the great place names of yore?

“What’s going on with Town Pond?”

In the last few weeks of 2021, my body put a stop to overtasking and sent me to the corner to think about what I’d done.

We find ourselves in the perverse position of wishing for raw, freezing weather.

Today marks the one-year anniversary of one of the darkest days in United States history.