Opinion

Ah, the competition and camaraderie of hoops.

Either you love carnivals and fairs or you loathe them.

Governor Cuomo should have been ousted from the Executive Mansion a year ago.

I was thinking the other day, walking in our neighborhood, that we were blessed by God; later, our daughter Emily, who lives in Ohio, told us why.

Signs of the coming change of season come too soon for my taste.

I am 74 and diagnosed with end-stage heart and kidney disease. The doctors said there was not much more they could do. Go live life.

Among the brilliant things I never did was an art project I conceived of in my late teens, in which I was going to take Polaroid photographs of my feet clad in favorite pairs of shoes. An autobiography in footwear.

If there was any doubt before that Andrew M. Cuomo should no longer be governor of New York, a scathing report this week from the state attorney general’s independent investigation into his pattern of serial sexual harassment of women should have erased it entirely.

The traffic is godawful, but maybe as a result of the snail's pace everyone's driving too slowly to inflict much damage.

I have been spending a lot of time aboard Cerberus this summer, though not as much of it sailing as I would have liked.

My current obsession with the Tokyo Olympics prompts memories of a low-budget trip to Montreal for the ’76 Games.

Landscapers’ trucks are everywhere — and getting bigger.

A Monday afternoon in the D.M.V. road test queue in Patchogue.

Beach amenities services would appear to require a permit from the town or villages. However, with so many miles of shoreline and limited awareness among caterers and others, the rules are routinely ignored.

Memories of funky, beautiful, artistic Springs in the summer of ’64.

Does it astonish you that there is a ferry in service today on the Long Island Sound that landed in France on D-Day?

A fire last week that destroyed a family’s Springs house was notable in two respects — its cause and the conditions in which firefighters responded.

As I was leaving Wittendale’s the other day holding a tall milkweed plant on the way to check out, a monarch butterfly flitted about me — a good sign.

There is a rhythm emerging in the struggle between me and the deer over who rules the garden.

Cellphone service is not all that bad around here — in February.

Research does not support the idea that marijuana is performance-diminishing.

Sharks have arrived here, and not just the sort able to think that parking among the dead is okay.

A third Covid-19 surge is now expected as a the stronger Delta variant reaches the unvaccinated portion of the United States population.

What began as a simple college website search sends a dad into a tech tailspin.

As the arguments against dramatically changing or even closing East Hampton Airport are whittled away, a last resort is emerging, that there are too many wealthy people here for that to happen.

The release of the Netflix mini-series “Halston” coincided with my discovery of a letter I’d written to a friend in Europe in early 1978 and never sent, containing my firsthand account of a busy Friday night when the designer played a starring role.

If I think about it, I’m at my happiest around a bonfire, on the beach.

Juneteenth, the new national holiday marking the end of slavery as an institution in the United States, came and went in East Hampton Town and Village with only slight notice.

If I were sermonizing, I’d write one on the folly of self-abasement, self-doubt, self-mortification, self-flagellation, and self-loathing.

Shortly after Lyman Beecher’s wife, Roxana, bore their first child, Drusilla Crook was brought to the household to take care of the baby — she was 5 years old, “a colored girl,” Beecher wrote in his autobiography.