Shortly before his death this past January, Jack Whitten agreed to an exhibition primarily devoted to his sculpture, a body of work known only to his family and close friends.
Most October's I lead a haunted tour of Sag Harbor as a benefit for the Whaling Museum. While I enjoy this tradition greatly, it can’t compare to the Halloweens of my teenage years. That’s because of a distinctly Midwestern — or maybe just Ohio — tradition that I have yet to encounter anywhere else.
This week I talked to an old friend from high school whom I hadn’t seen or heard from in more than 30 years. The Ford-Kavanaugh hearings had got him thinking.
Apart from resting peacefully near each other in Green River Cemetery in Springs, what do the painters Stuart Davis and Lee Krasner have in common?
Now that September is firmly in our midst, like many East Enders, I’m feeling relieved that the busy summer season is behind us. … But between you and me, I’m also experiencing a certain sense of dread.
In Sag Harbor, when you hear the last name Beyer, you might instantly think: music. The Beyer family has been filling the air with the sound of music for generations. It all began with grandfather Jacob Carl Beyer ...
Travel is a strange animal. Part meticulous planning, part complete happenstance, despite the best thought-out routes you never know exactly where the road might take you — so it’s best to go along for the ride, even if it takes you to Bratislava.
I asked George Boziwick the secret to his longevity and good health — “stay busy, keep moving and make sure your mind is active.”
My bedside alarm went off at the predetermined hour — 4:30 a.m. Yes, it was a ridiculous time to get up on a Wednesday morning in the middle of summer, but I was on a mission to watch the sunrise over Main Beach in East Hampton and it had been several weeks in the making.
When Scott Pruitt resigned from the EPA last week, there was heated speculation as to whether he actually wrote his resignation letter.
It’s official. I no longer see my daughter with any regularity. The demise of our mother/daughter relationship coincided with precisely three factors that collided this spring — a perfect storm, if you will, of willful independence compounded by a reluctance to dive headfirst into the college application process.
A couple weeks ago, my daughter came home with an assignment for her AP U.S. History class that required parental intervention. It involved the sharing of a story from her family’s history through the use of primary source documents.
I met both of them just one time, and all of me wishes I could go back in time to share a few more special moments with each one of them.
I’m sure you must have seen her on her way to the post office, one of the friendliest people in Sag Harbor, with a sunny smile that seems to light-up Main Street, and a warmth that spreads like butter.
The college search is on, and among the promises is one that says parents eat free on campus whenever they visit their offspring. Free? At $65,000 a year for tuition, room and board, feeding mom and dad seems like the least they can do!