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04/20/19 3:00pm

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Should Shelter Island ever sink into the Sound, imagines Codger, it would be under the unimaginable weight of thousands of short-term rental (STR) attic rooms, basement apartments, accessory buildings owned by impecunious widows, striving young families and rapacious stealth hoteliers hosting sweet new couples, adorable young families and fraternity louts in neighborhoods unaware of their presence and half-crazed by the endless growls of their cars and motorcycles. (more…)

03/21/19 4:30pm

REPORTER FILE PHOTO Codger and Crone.

The getaway was sweet, Crone at the wheel, Codger riding shotgun, Cur II supposedly at lookout in the back but already asleep.

The New York Presbyterian eastside medical empire shrank in the rear view mirror. Up ahead, the LIE unspooled, light traffic this Sunday but incessant blinking signs warning of a coming storm.

Codger, in his neck brace, croaked to Crone, “Will we make it?”

“Already have,” she muttered. (more…)

02/17/19 8:00am

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The neurologist recited Codger’s main symptoms: “Your hands are clumsy and you walk like Frankenstein.”

“Obviously,” said Codger, who had already reviewed his MRI with Dr. Google, “I will need a cervical spine laminectomy fusion.”

The neurologist sighed. “Unless you also plan to operate, I have an excellent neurosurgeon for you.” (more…)

01/18/19 4:30pm

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As a great fan of fun science, Codger has been deeply absorbed this entire year by the news that Shelter Islanders will, on average, live to be 93, longer than most anyone except those prune-faced, toothless, yogurt-loving mountain folk in National Geographic. (more…)