After months of struggling to do it, I asked my brother to come get my sailboat — not because I do not love the beauty of it and the worlds it promised me, but because at some point I have to face reality and not just my dreams.
After months of struggling to do it, I asked my brother to come get my sailboat — not because I do not love the beauty of it and the worlds it promised me, but because at some point I have to face reality and not just my dreams.
For East Hampton Village mayor, one thing is certain: Jerry Larsen is the wrong choice.
Something I noticed only recently about the pandemic is that I felt significantly more animated after talking with a friend or even making a work call.
The problem with buying good, fat Maine lobsters is that no one in my household will eat them with me.
One thing that stands out for us in the race for East Hampton Village trustee, a.k.a. village board member, is the quality of the candidates. Each is solid, smart, and would be a very welcome addition to local leadership.
Monday night’s opening of the Republican National Convention raised important questions every American must ponder.
When it comes to statues, I would like to advance the idea that the Confederates are in a class by themselves.
It doesn’t look good for our local police departments to continue to withhold complaints against officers following a decision in federal court last week that they must be released.
Voting by absentee ballot has already begun in a rare, contested East Hampton Village Board election. And in the last weeks of a very long campaign, village voters will be paying close attention. Here’s what they might look for.
Nearly every morning since the middle of March, I get up, make coffee, feed the dogs, and look up the previous day’s coronavirus numbers.
Graduation was held at the Hayground School in Bridgehampton on Saturday evening, and the parents kind of fell apart.
Agree with the message or not, the online disparagement of the Montauk Brewing Company long after it posted online support for the Black Lives Matter movement has been deeply disappointing.
One of the subtle delights of August can be found along the bays and inside harbors on the East Coast, as the first migrating shorebirds arrive from the north.
When reality throws you for a loop, there’s always the escapism of the Great American Comic Book.
A few recent painting experiences have brought me around to a new way of seeing what contemporary art is telling us about the disappearance of the open landscape.
At the moment, there appears to be just one local voice saying no to a proposed new hospital emergency annex on the site of two Little League fields centrally located off Pantigo Place in East Hampton.
As much as they might improve a dangerous situation, new bicycle lanes will not be coming anytime soon to rescue East End roads.
Searching for something for our weekly “Recovering the Past” contest, I found a photograph I had taken in August, almost exactly 30 years ago today.
Like many of us sinners, I spend too much time shopping on the internet.
In the ultimate presidential contest, which will hang on voter turnout, perhaps all you need to know about Joe Biden’s announcement Tuesday of Kamala Harris as his vice-presidential running mate is this: It was the Biden campaign’s best hour of fund-raising to date.
I’ve been waiting for someone to say something to me about the “Free Leonard Peltier” shirts I’ve been wearing.
Two veteran journalists overcome all manner of obstacles to put together a program to celebrate the centennial of women’s suffrage, while taking a fresh look at the latest threats of voter suppression.
It is a good question why the operators of so many resort properties and a restaurant or two do not believe local laws apply to them.
As part of their Covid-19 responses, East End towns and villages relaxed rules on outdoor restaurant seating and the sky did not fall.
The novel coronavirus, ever refracting normalcy, casts an eerie glow on the path ahead.
Some people just will not wear masks. This struck me on the Cross Sound Ferry on my way back from Massachusetts.
One of the greatest compensations for losing sleep on squad night is driving home through empty streets and then walking slowly up to my stoop from the driveway in the still of the night.
What to make of the Amazin’s in this weirdly brief and virus-plagued season?
The coronavirus amplifies many of the inequalities in our society. The wealthy can afford to self-isolate; the vulnerable are more so than ever. This extends to far too many children — the most innocent among us.
As the sun goes down, so, too, do the masks — as well as inhibitions about airing anti-mask sentiments.
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