When I started reporting with The Suffolk Times nearly a year ago, I learned about the island’s status as a hamlet of Southold Town — and I was intrigued to say the least.

How could an island that you have to travel through another state to get to belong to New York? What is the community there like? How does it factor into the work of the town and the state?

The answers, I discovered, are rooted in centuries-old politics. Its unusual jurisdiction dates back to the Duke of York’s 1664 land patent, which eclipsed Connecticut’s own 1662 charter claims to the 2,688-acre island. Its definitive New York status wasn’t settled until 1879.

I finally had the opportunity to visit recently, and let me tell you — it’s a journey.

My roundtrip journey took nearly nine hours of travel by car and two separate ferries — the Cross Sound Ferry from Orient to New London, Conn., where I then caught the Fishers Island Ferry — for roughly two hours spent on the island.

The midday ferries I boarded were light on riders, with about a dozen people topside to and from the island. Travelers sat on cushioned benches with wooden backs.

The trip is a hike, one that I commend Fishers residents for making to Long Island when they must — be it for DMV appointments or doctor’s visits.

I definitely stuck out like a sore thumb once I disembarked in the community of 250 “year rounders.” In the summer, that population swells to between 2,000 and 3,000 residents.

Fishers Island is a serene world unto itself, with picturesque homes and greenery greeting you as you step off the ferry. A closer look at the island’s western locales revealed a mix of paved, gravel and “paper” roads — those you won’t find on a map but are traversed by neighbors in the area.

Throughout the island there’s a mix of houses you’d see on your block and others to ogle during a late-night Zillow deep dive. There’s no mail truck, so residents head down to the post office to catch up with neighbors and grab their mail.

You won’t find classic commercial stores like Walmart or Target, so locals shop the island’s sole grocery store, Village Market, for daily essentials or to grab a sandwich.

Beyond the grocery store, the island has one bar — the Pequot Inn — an American Legion post, a school with an average graduating class size of six students, a doctor’s house in lieu of a hospital, the Henry L. Ferguson Museum, a community garden, a community center, a library and a theater. 

The community is a microcosm of Southold life, with generational residents and those who moved to the area for the peace and quiet alike. Land preservation and housing are paramount issues.

Many residents wear several hats, helping out neighbors, getting involved in community matters, volunteering with the fire department and more.

All of that to say, Fishers fascinates me to no end — even if it takes nine hours and two ferries to get there.

The post Reporter’s Notebook: Fishers Island, Southold’s most remote hamlet appeared first on Riverhead News Review.

As a recent college graduate interested in journalism, I was excited when Times Review editors asked me to help create a newsroom planning calendar. The first step would be reading a year’s worth of newspapers, casting around for anniversaries, deadlines and upcoming events.

It felt odd to sift through physical copies of the paper, especially now that almost all news has become digitized. I realized how accustomed I’ve become to clickbait, snappy headlines and bite-sized pieces marketed to our dwindling attention spans.

I was glad to have the opportunity to reengage with the news as a source of information, not just a product. It also gave me the chance to catch up with what I had missed while away at college. 

I was born and raised in Mattituck and graduated from Mattituck High School in 2021. During my university breaks, I caught only glimpses of how the texture of our community has altered over the past four years: more “trendy” businesses, an unbearable increase in summer traffic and the gradual “Montaukification” of Greenport into a more cosmopolitan resort destination.

The Suffolk Times chronicled these changes by reporting on Town Board meetings, local events, and even Supreme Court decisions. In all the articles I read, two contrasting visions of the community emerged: one fractured by the tension related to fear of overdevelopment and the other defined by a spirit of collaboration, unity and care. 

Since the pandemic, tourism has undoubtedly increased on the North Fork. It makes sense that developers are eager to capitalize on this change. Riverhead’s Town Square project is just one example of this. The initiative is geared toward revitalizing Riverhead’s downtown area — including plans for a 28-unit apartment building behind The Suffolk theater. 

During a July 24 Riverhead Town Hall meeting, board members and local business owners seemed enthusiastic. Others pointed out that despite arguments that the project would strengthen the community, other incentives were clear: Attract visitors who can boost the local economy. 

While what’s happening here can’t be fairly compared to the wide-scale process of gentrification currently underway in New York City, I do believe residents in the city and out East share a similar hesitation toward change and a protective attitude over their homes. 

Consider the recent extension of the hotel moratorium in Southold. While the town justified the extension due to the incomplete zoning code update (set to take effect in late 2025 or early 2026), residents flocked to the May 28 Town Board meeting to let their voices be heard about crowds and the overall commercialization of the area. 

There have been wins for those who want to preserve the community. Last October, the Supreme Court denied the Brinkmann family’s lawsuit after Southold Town seized the property at the corner of Main Road and New Suffolk Avenue. The owners of the hardware store chain had sought to turn the land into a commercially zoned property, threatening almost two acres of natural foliage. 

Other ongoing developments include a 20-acre commercial solar power facility in Cutchogue, the Suffolk County Water Authority’s plan for a 12-mile North Fork pipeline and a wireless communications plan prepared for Southold.

Our community is not immune to change — and not all of it is bad. It is great to see outdated methods of thinking about the world challenged and diversified by new perspectives and new education initiatives spearheaded by groups such as the North Fork Arts Center in Greenport. But we also live in a passionate community with many (many) people who are protective of the land they reside on. 

With a diversity of ideas comes disagreement and, in some unfortunate circumstances, bigotry. We saw that this past winter in the hateful comments directed at The Butterfly Project.

But I remain optimistic that the greater majority of our community chooses to find goodness in one another and kindness in their advocacy. 

I felt this when I read of the fundraiser North Fork chefs put together to support Crescent Duck Farm after the bird flu outbreak in January, or new sustainability efforts like Southold’s newly launched food scraps drop-off program, created to reduce waste in the community.

Differences in opinion are a natural consequence of living together. But a study of one year’s history, as recorded in the pages of our local newspaper, reminded me that our community is at its healthiest and strongest when our ideas are guided by care and consideration for others. 

Tara Terranova, a recent graduate Barnard College/Columbia University, worked as Times Review Media Group’s summer 2025 intern.

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That was a mindset a lot of us kiddos had growing up on the western end of the island, at least in my circle. Part of that was because our whole lives had been in Nassau County — family, school, jobs, girlfriends. Actually, my girlfriend is still there, but we’re working to change that. 

Anyway, let me get back on track here.

Where was I? Oh, yes: Another part is that, frankly, we just didn’t know much about Suffolk County other than that it wasn’t where we lived. I began as a reporter covering Nassau out of college and spent a few years learning more and more about the county I was already familiar with. I mostly covered the City of Long Beach — my hometown — and all the happenings there.

That planted my roots deeper there. Getting the chance to cover the city I grew up in showed me things that I may have otherwise not noticed as a resident. I got to know city officials, business owners and community leaders in ways I wouldn’t have been able to otherwise. All of the connections I made professionally made me feel that I wasn’t just living in the community, but I was a real part of the community.

People in Long Beach — both elected officials and residents — came to me with all sorts of stories: breaking news, feature ideas. Sometimes they didn’t even have stories but just wanted to share their thoughts on something, no matter how big or how small. I loved that, because it showed that people trusted me enough to share whatever was on their mind.

Then this opportunity with Times Review arose, and I went for it.

To me, at least, when I thought about Suffolk County, the North Fork and South Fork didn’t necessarily come to mind. Now, I’m basically two months into my role covering the North Fork, and man, what a way to learn about the county I “didn’t know as much about.” It’s been fun getting acclimated.

I think that was a good way to come into this new role. I didn’t have any real expectations or preconceived notions for what the East End might be like. That’s not to say I wasn’t nervous, though. I was absolutely nervous. Having to learn new communities and people from scratch? Definitely a little nerve-racking. But to me, being nervous shows you care about whatever it is, and I cared.

I’ve had the pleasure of doing some reporting in Riverhead, Southold, Mattituck and Greenport, and it’s certainly been interesting. Everything from ICE agents being spotted and backlash at board meetings to community fundraisers and features, one thing has been apparent to me so far: people love their communities passionately.

That’s what you want to see if you’re a reporter. If people love where they live and care about what’s going on, they’ll talk to you about those things. They’ll share thoughts with you, they’ll tell you the things you want to hear and the things you don’t. But the bottom line is, people who care about their communities will talk, which makes my job more enjoyable, too, because I love to talk to people.

I’ve only been here a short time still, but I feel as though some nice connections have already been made. I’ve met and spoken with some great people who have welcomed me into their communities. It’s made my transition so much easier, so everyone I’ve spoken to so far — and those I hope to speak with in the future — thank you. 

After these two months, I can confidently say that Nassau is not definitely better than Suffolk. Each county has unique aspects that make it great. Each county also has some things that aren’t so “great” that get community members out of their homes and to meetings, voicing their opinions. That is great too, though, because, again, it shows people care.

Now that I look back at this piece of writing that you’ve come this far reading, it seems like a long-winded way of saying: Long Island as a whole is great, and I’ve had the privilege of covering both ends of it. I’m excited to keep going, meet more people, learn even more about the intricacies of each community and get more acclimated. 

The post Reporter’s Notebook: Getting acclimated appeared first on Riverhead News Review.

“What’s for dinner?”

I’ll admit, sometimes that phrase tweaks me, especially when I’m still working at 6 p.m. I do cook most nights, but we fall back on takeout on an as-needed basis.

On this night, my younger son was in his music lesson and the older one was asleep on the couch as I watched a live stream and took notes at the kitchen table. My husband was in the garage, cleaning. I was caught in a cycle of “one more thing-ing,” i.e. procrastinating, switching into home mode because lately I hate everything we eat for dinner.

As my house throbbed with bass lines, I decided it was time to be done. I closed up my computer and went out to the garage to see if my husband could deliver a dinner epiphany.

Mussels almost clinched it, but we decided it would take too long to cook and was too messy. After we finally talked that all the way through, we decided to take a ride to the grocery store to look at food and get ideas in a last-ditch attempt at a home-cooked meal. The youngest came along since his lesson was done.

We parked on the far side of the lot and headed inside. I trailed behind, answering text messages and generally being distracted by my phone. I noticed a trio of young teens sitting on the curb and smiled at them as I passed. They were eating fruit cups and joking with each other in Spanish.

When I caught up to my crew, my husband asked if I saw the kids outside. I said yes.

“They had a sign. They’re asking for food,” he said.

I went into mom mode immediately, turned around and went straight over to the group. When I got closer I could read the sign. On a piece of cardboard, in English, it said they were traveling and asked for food.

“Please help us,” it said. I waved to them as I approached and asked what kind of food they wanted. My Spanish is basic, and we ended up using Google translate so they understood exactly what I was getting at.

“Esta lista?” I asked the girl as she held the phone up to me. She nodded and I repeated my question. “What specific food would you like?”

As soon as the app finished the girl said “chicken” in English and I gave her a thumbs up.

I went back inside with a plan: Get some chicken and drinks for these kids. At the hot food counter there were containers of nuggets, I picked up three and headed to the checkout while my family deliberated on our own dinner. I grabbed three bottles of iced tea from the cold case by the register and checked out. I delivered the food, and they thanked me and dug in, as I would expect any group of hungry kids to do. I smiled and waved and went back to my family. My older son turned 16 on Monday. He lifts weights, talks to girls and goes to work. He’ll start driving soon. He is purposeful and determined. I feel the weight of him stepping into adulthood like a flood against my heart.

My younger son turns 13 next month. He’s almost as tall as me. He is intensely loyal and loves fiercely. The boys are as precious as the day they were put in my arms.

I don’t know the story of how those three teens came to be sitting on the curb in front of the grocery store. I don’t know where they went. After I gave them their food, they went to the other side of the parking lot to sit under a tree and eat. I worry for them, even now, as I write this. I hope they are safe. I hope their mothers know where they are. I hope whoever left them in the parking lot is taking care of them.

I wish I could have learned where they were going, if they had somewhere safe to stay. Give them shelter if they needed it. Do all the mom things I could for them. In the end, we called a local aid agency, but no one was there. We left a message and went home, at a loss for how to help them further.

I can’t do much about most things, but I can choose to treat someone else’s kids the way I would want someone to treat my children if they were far from me.

Amanda Olsen is a staff writer for Times Review Media Group. She holds an MFA in creative writing from Southampton College.

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