Opinion

Let’s say something positive about leaf blowers for a change, shall we?

Here in Noyac, for some reason I’ve been overlooking nearby Long Beach, and was surprised it took me till the second weekend in July to appreciate it in a way I haven’t since the days of the Oasis.

Retail sales of recreational marijuana, or pot or, as the growing industry prefers it, cannabis, are not quite there yet on the East End, but got closer last week with a split vote of the Riverhead Town Board.

Thoughts on “The Potato Book,” a droll, tongue-in-cheek time capsule of a book with a 1970s warning in Truman Capote’s foreword.

I believe nothing is more depressing than the “festival” of “fun” that goes on at Hershey’s Chocolatetown in Pennsylvania.

East Hampton Village residents may want to begin keeping an eye on Newtown Lane and Railroad Avenue, where a large-scale luxury townhouse complex could one day soon replace the brick building where Mary’s Marvelous is.

Throughout this past year, for reasons that are not entirely clear to me, I have returned again and again to the lyrical prose of Peter Matthiessen’s “The Tree Where Man Was Born.”

Did you see the New York Times piece this weekend about a pro-laziness movement led by a factory dropout from Zhejiang Province, China?

There was a time not that long ago when closing the airport was not something mentioned in public; now it is among the options.

The goose that lays the golden egg is on life support.

Decades ago, a movement to build a bypass skirting the hamlets and villages on Montauk Highway was beaten back. I wonder what the naysayers would think if they could see 2021.

It is an indication of Trumpism’s tragic grip on the Republican Party that Lee Zeldin could be considered the presumptive nominee in a bid for governor of the State of New York.

Never mind the backups, jam-ups, and clogged (traffic) arteries, the quality of driving itself has taken a nosedive.

What has happened to Montauk is a shame.

On Father’s Day my daughter said I was a happy person, and that that fact was probably the greatest gift I could have bestowed upon my children.

With some unknown number of those who live here put out at the idea that anyone would try to make a left turn onto Main Street at this time of year, we are perhaps overly unsympathetic to the folks who try. 

A good time was had by all at Pierson High School's graduation ceremony — Fred Thiele in particular. 

East Hampton will never build its way out of its housing crisis.

July Fourth is a celebration of independence, and these are the reflections of an alumnus of the ’60s, the era of freedom.

It’s been a year since I began writing “The Shipwreck Rose.” This column is number 52. Only 49 more years — not columns, years! — to go before I match the record set by my grandmother Jeannette, from whom I seem to have inherited my typographical verbosity.

Contrary to assumption, East Hampton Airport is not nearly as economically important as it was said to be in the past.

Every March fills me with a false hope that spring is right around the corner. The inevitable rebirth of the new season is always painfully incremental. Glacial. The coldest winter I ever spent was a spring in Springs.

It’s become popular in recent years to complain about the State of Main Street, but many local people have been harping on this subject for 30 and more. We have a solution to offer. Or, if not a solution, a mitigation strategy. Introducing, the Anchor Society of East Hampton Inc., whose mission is to raise money to buy a building that will serve as a general store in the Village of East Hampton.

It is difficult to know what is worse, that because of latent racism, East Hampton did not put out American flags for the very first Juneteenth national holiday or that public officials and veterans groups whose members often are the ones who do the actual work did not know about it.

The father of two young boys who are very good swimmers said at a family gathering the other day that he far preferred youth sports, such as swimming, golf, and tennis, in which incremental self-improvement was the chief goal rather than winning.

Aboard Cerberus, my 1979 Cape Dory, even a minute or two’s inattention could have put me in the path of one of the many very expensive pleasure boats roaring east or west across the bay.

In the run-up to Tuesday’s primary, East Hampton Town Democratic Committee-backed candidates benefited from a sizable campaign finance loophole.

What happens when you compete in a 10K when you’re not ready to compete in a 10K?

Many here on the East End might not have known it at the time, but Tuesday’s late-day rain was a reminder that hurricane season is well upon us.

A father’s work is never done.