EDITOR'S LETTER

There is something about being in the Hamptons that changes my frame of mind. It is almost like being a kid again with no real worries or cares. No matter how many things I have on my mind or how many things I am working on, it is hard not be transported to another place psychologically when I am here. I have always loved the sea, and the combination of the ocean and the sound with farmlands and picturesque villages with tree-lined streets makes this part of the world special.

For me, this season is different from most in that I now seem to be spending all my time running from place to place, meeting with people, attending events and figuring out how to get from point A to point Z in a nanosecond. Not even a Vespa can do that, although I daydream about the possibility of scooting in and out of traffic. Cars are a passion of mine, but you can't zip around in one when you're bumper to bumper. And when there's no traffic, the police seem to be tucked into places where you least expect them—always when I seem to have the windows down, music blaring and my foot pressed down a bit too far on the gas pedal. The only thing I pray for at those times is that my nondescript car is in back of a Ferrari, a Maserati, a Porsche or some such lovely road warrior...so they won't notice me whizzing by. (I am not playing favorites with the cars mentioned. They just happen to be the ones I was "hiding" behind over the last few days.)