father

A Lebanese father mourned the death of his four daughters, mother, father, brother-in-law and nephew, after they were killed in an Israeli attack. Israel has killed at least 770 people in Lebanon since last Monday. Around 750,000 have been forcibly displaced.

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WASHINGTON — Days after he was named Iran’s next supreme leader, and over a week since U.S. and Israeli bombing wiped out much of his family, Mojtaba Khamenei issued his first statement on Thursday demanding vengeance against the alliance over the war it unleashed.

He called on Iranian forces to continue thwarting vital shipping traffic through the Strait of Hormuz. He vowed to open new fronts against the United States and Israel. And he warned that Gulf states hosting U.S. bases would remain targets of Iranian attack.

Yet, what concerned the White House most was what the new supreme leader didn’t say.

Khamenei made no mention of a strategic endeavor that had brought the Islamic Republic to war: Its nuclear program, suspected for decades of harboring military dimensions.

The omission was not lost on officials in the Trump administration, who told The Times they are largely in the dark over the new supreme leader’s stance on whether Iran should break out to build a nuclear weapon.

Khamenei’s deep alliance with the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, which has advocated for weaponization in the past, has raised concern that the new leader will depart from his father’s long-standing position against building a bomb.

U.S. intelligence assessments long held that the late ayatollah, Ali Khamenei, had adopted a strategy of remaining at the threshold of developing a nuclear weapon while avoiding the costs and risks of actually building one. In 2003, as the United States invaded Iraq over false claims that Saddam Hussein possessed weapons of mass destruction, Khamenei issued a religious edict — a fatwa — declaring nuclear weapons to be forbidden under Islam.

That doctrine is now in doubt, with the new supreme leader wounded and stewing underground over the U.S. assault that has devastated Iran’s military and killed his father, his mother and his sister, among other family members.

Concern among U.S. officials comes as Trump has expressed interest in ending the war “very soon,” even though a stockpile of uranium — a key ingredient in the construction of nuclear weapons — remains buried but accessible to Iranian authorities.

Defense officials are skeptical that the nuclear program can be fully dismantled without sending in a substantial U.S. ground force, an escalation that Trump has sought to avoid. But ending the war with Iran’s nuclear infrastructure partially intact could have devastating repercussions. The U.S.-Israeli campaign could force the new Iranian leader to conclude that regime survival requires a nuclear deterrent, one official said.

“Even if President Trump declares victory tomorrow, and points to the damage done to Iran’s conventional military, the fact of the matter is you have a more hardline regime in place with the key ingredients for a nuclear weapon,” said Eric Brewer, deputy vice president of the nuclear materials security program at the Nuclear Threat Initiative, who noted that Tehran still has a stockpile of 60% enriched uranium — close to weapons grade — and advanced centrifuges to take it over the finish line.

“What’s the plan for day after,” Brewer added, “as Iran starts to build back, and potentially seeks nuclear weapons?”

Patrick Clawson, director of the Iran program at the Washington Institute for Near East Policy, said that Mojtaba Khamenei’s position on the nuclear program has been a stubborn mystery. Reports spreading on social media that he opposed the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action, a nuclear deal brokered among world powers and Iran during the Obama administration, are unsubstantiated, he said.

“While Mojtaba often advised his father on domestic issues, there is much less information about his position on foreign affairs, other than opposition to Israel,” Clawson said. “I have never seen any indications he took a position about the JCPOA.”

President Trump has outlined the destruction of Iran’s nuclear capabilities as a major goal. But in closed door briefings to Congress, defense officials have been less emphatic, according to Democratic lawmakers.

On Tuesday, shortly after Khamenei was named to succeed his father, Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth warned him to disavow continued nuclear work in an exchange with reporters.

“He would be wise to heed the words of our president, which is to not pursue nuclear weapons,” Hegseth said, “and come out and state as such.”

One of the biggest takeaways from the biography “Judy Blume: A Life” may not be in the story itself but in its author. Because of her frank talk about puberty and sexual awakenings, Blume’s work is usually associated with young female readers. Her biographer, Mark Oppenheimer, is a middle-aged father of five.

He says he received minimal pushback on the idea that a man should be allowed to write Blume’s definitive life story. If the whole point of her books is that there should be no shame in body awareness, what service does it do to say only a woman has the authority to write her story? Plus, although her books aren’t selling as well as they used to — who’s are? — Oppenheimer’s biography points out that there are still plenty of parents who will throw a copy of her seminal “Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.” at their kids rather than have the menstruation talk or risk any misinformation that may be online.

“No good writer should be ghettoized,” Oppenheimer says during a recent Zoom call with The Times. “If you’re a good writer, you shouldn’t be marketed just to girls or just to boys or just to white people or just to straight people. Good art should be for everyone.”

It is intrinsic and impossible not to parlay Blume’s stories of sibling rivalries, first loves, friends and frenemies, and (most famously) puberty with what was going on in your life when you read them. Books like “Deenie” and “Superfudge” and “Margaret” are also remarkably malleable enough so that, even if a kid picks them up decades after their release or cannot relate with a parallel experience, they can become placeholders and explainers for what must be going on in the minds of their classmates. Last year, TV creator Mara Brock Akil adapted “Forever,” Blume’s 1975 story of the kind of mutually shared devotion that feels like it will last eternally, into a miniseries set in 2018 Los Angeles.

“I think for many of us, Judy’s books are our first crush or our first love and they do hold a special place that no book we read in our world-weary, cynical 40s can hold,” says Oppenheimer.

Some of this can be attributed to time and brain space. Oppenheimer discovered Blume’s work when he was a child. He’s now a parent, with a career and all the other time-sucks that come with adulthood.

“The books I read as a child imprinted on me in a way that books today don’t,” he says. “I probably remember more plot points of the first Judy Blume books that I read than I do of any book I’ve read in the past five years.”

But what of Blume herself? Can America’s mom also be a three-dimensional person who makes her own mistakes? Discovering her four adult novels — especially “Wifey,” a book about a gilded-caged suburban housewife that even Oppenheimer describes as “a very salacious, one might say, smutty, adult novel” that even some of Blume’s collaborators wanted her to publish under a pseudonym — or watching documentaries about her like 2023’s “Judy Blume Forever,” in which she is seen joking about masturbation with employees at her Key West, Fla., bookstore, can seem as evasive and dangerous as reading your mom’s diary.

Author Mark Oppenheimer

(Lu Arie)

There have been other books about Blume and her work, most notably Rachelle Bergstein’s 2024 deep-dive “The Genius of Judy: How Judy Blume Rewrote Childhood for All of Us.” But Oppenheimer’s biography is a more straightforward tracing of Blume’s life and career. He starts with her childhood when she was encouraged to read Philip Roth at home and went to sleepovers at friends’ houses that were more about body awakenings. He discusses her stifling first marriage, which gave her the last name she carries with her to this day and her two children but is also where she hung her college diploma and another award over her washing machine as reminders of her intellect. There’s talk of her second marriage, which Blume has always been reluctant to discuss, as well as the two abortions that resulted from it. And there are details on her life with her third husband, the polymath George Cooper.

Oppenheimer relied on past news stories about Blume, as well as a collection of her work and professional correspondences that are archived at Yale’s Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library and, probably most informatively, his own interviews with Blume and her friends and family. (Although Blume did agree to speak with Oppenheimer for his book, she declined our request to interview her for this story about that book).

“I think that the difficult subjects are sometimes the ones that make her more relatable,” Oppenheimer says of his subject. “I think most of her fans will find it interesting and admirable that she speaks so candidly about her abortions, about especially her divorce from her first husband, which came as she was getting involved in the [second-wave] women’s movement, about her early same-sex experiences, about masturbation as a girl; these are things we would expect Judy Blume to be candid about.”

Oppenheimer matches how these life events correspond with the ones of Blume’s characters because, for better or for worse, she almost always was an author who wrote what she knew even if her fandom transcended it. What her books lack in character diversity, they make up for in specificity. And that, in turn, also makes them relatable.

“Judy found incredibly compelling human drama in books about the New Jersey suburbs, and that’s a testament to her strength as an artist,” Oppenheimer says.

Writer Judy Blume at her nonprofit bookstore Books and Books on March 26, 2023, in Key West, Fla.

(Mary Martin / Associated Press)

Examining and reexamining Blume’s work as an adult also gave Oppenheimer a better perspective of her writing style. Blume didn’t begin to try to write professionally until she was a married mother of two and some have criticized her work for not being as flowery and polished as others’.

“All of her books tend to take a fairly tight focus on the characters,” Oppenheimer says. “They don’t tend to pull back and look at large societal forces or changes going on in the country or the world. And that’s fine. You know, the same could be said of Jane Austen.”

Perhaps the best example of this is Blume’s own religious foundation. Her most autobiographical novel, “Starring Sally J. Freedman as Herself,” has a protagonist who is paranoid that she sees Adolf Hitler on park benches and whose life is imprinted with stories of a relative who followed her mother into the concentration camps and the neighbors sitting shiva (a time of mourning) for their daughter who got pregnant with her non-Jewish boyfriend. And yet, Oppenheimer notes, Blume is not always immediately thought of as a Jewish writer. Nor have most of her readers been Jewish.

“I think that her Judaism is there, if you know where to look,” says Oppenheimer, who spends the early part of his biography looking at how the synagogue and religious community were a normal part of a young Blume’s life. He adds that “she is somebody who speaks really, really well across religious, cultural and racial differences, and that’s partly why she has sold tens of millions of books.”

Oppenheimer acknowledges that Blume’s characters may not be diverse enough by today’s standards; that they don’t usually discuss “gender identities or sexualities; children of multiracial backgrounds; children who have disabilities.” They can also feel like time capsules to other dimensions; his 12-year-old daughter was scandalized by how normative bullying was after she read “Blubber,” Blume’s 1974 novel about tween mean girls and body shaming.

He adds that some of today’s bestselling young adult novels, like Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson series about a teen demigod or Suzanne Collins’ dystopia-set “Hunger Games” books, are “contemporary realism [that] focus on extraordinary or unusual circumstances.” And while he’s happy for these books’ popularities, he says that some subjects may be better told by kids who also aren’t tasked with saving the world. (I am pretty sure I learned more about male puberty from Blume’s 1971 story “Then Again, Maybe I Won’t,” which is as much about wealth divides and questionable friend choices as it is about a 13-year-old boy’s inner monologues about her awkward adolescence).

“If what you’re looking for is realism that isn’t focused on obvious external differences, but rather on interiority,” Oppenheimer says, “then Judy Blume still remains one of the premier novelists that you would want to read.”

Friedlander is a pop culture and entertainment journalist based in Los Angeles who hates coffee but loves Coke Zero.

FANS have been left shocked to discover that a stunning influencer is actually the daughter of a Hollywood star.

The online personality regularly posts lifestyle videos with her dedicated fan base, but would you guess who her A-list dad is?

Shayla Gibson boasts over 7 million likes on her TikTok page and over 130k followers.

From ‘Day In The Life’ videos to health and nutrition clips, the star appears to be carving out a career for herself on social media.

But a deeper delve into 18-year-old Shayla’s account revealed that she’s also the daughter of Fast and Furious actor Tyrese Gibson.

Alongside appearing in the famous film franchise, Tyrese is also famed for his R&B singing career.

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And Shayla is even the inspiration behind one of TikTok’s most famous sound.

A clip of Tyrese exclaiming, “Oh, my Shayla”, in reference to his daughter became one of social media’s most used sounds when it surfaced in 2017 during Tyrese’s custody battle with ex-wife Norma Mitchell.

The clip – initially an emotional video by Tyrese – continues to be one of TikTok’s most popular sound bites.

Poking fun at the viral sensation, Shayla’s TikTok bio reads: “Yes I’m Shayla”.

Tyrese often appears in Shayla’s videos, with the pair clearly boasting a close father-daughter relationship.

He is most famous for appearing in the Fast and Furious franchise as Roman Pearce.

According to IMBD, Tyrese is working on a number of new projects to be released in the coming years.

Following his split from ex-wife Norma, Tyrese married Samantha Lee in 2017, but split just three years later.

The couple, who are parents to daughter Soraya, announced their split via Instagram in a joint statement.

They said at the time that they were to remain “best of friends” and were “deeply grateful” to be married for the last few years.

The actor has continued to appear in action films over recent years, and is currently working on several projects.

A father and his daughter have been killed in an Israeli drone attack in central Khan Younis, southern Gaza, as Palestinians continue to suffer amid worldwide attention on the United States-Israeli war on Iran.

The two were killed early on Saturday. In a separate attack later in the day in Khan Younis, another person was killed and a young girl wounded, according to Al Jazeera correspondents on the ground.

Israeli forces continue carrying out air strikes, artillery shelling, and naval bombardment on Gaza on a daily basis, despite an October 11 “ceasefire” as Israel continues its ongoing genocide.

Suffering in Gaza and the occupied West Bank remains acute as the world focuses on the US-Israeli bombardment of Iran.

In the past 48 hours, two additional people have been wounded, the Palestinian Ministry of Health said.

Israeli army-affiliated militias, meanwhile, have advanced east of Gaza City, with heavy gunfire reported in the area. Initial reports also stated a member of the Palestinian police was abducted.

Israeli warplanes also struck several locations east of the Tuffah neighbourhood, near Gaza City, while the Israeli navy fired heavy machineguns and shells towards the coast of Gaza City, Palestinian news agency Wafa reported.

The Rafah border crossing, meanwhile, remains closed. Israel had shut it amid its attacks on Iran.

The Rafah crossing, located on Gaza’s southern border, had reopened only last month allowing a limited number of Palestinians to leave for the first time in months, including patients in urgent need of medical care. Thousands remain blocked from travelling for treatment.

The Karem Abu Salem crossing, also known to Israelis as Kerem Shalom, is partially open for the entry of humanitarian aid only, under strict restrictions.

Nearly all of Gaza’s population of more than two million people was displaced during Israel’s war on the territory, and the enclave remains heavily dependent on humanitarian assistance.

In a February report, Human Rights Watch said Israeli restrictions had contributed to shortages of medicine, reconstruction materials, food and water inside the Strip.

Since the ceasefire in Gaza, 640 Palestinians have been killed and at least 1,700 wounded, according to the Health Ministry. At least 72,123 Palestinians have been killed since October 2023, while 171,805 people have been injured.

Meanwhile, in the occupied West Bank, the Palestinian Red Crescent Society reported its teams in Hebron are treating a Palestinian injured by live fire near the illegal Karmei Tzur settlement, built on Palestinian land north of Hebron.

Three Palestinians were also injured on Saturday after being physically assaulted by Israeli settlers in the Ras al-Ahmar area, south of Tubas, Wafa reported. Medical sources at the Palestinian Red Crescent Society said their teams responded to three people with injuries.

Israeli forces also conducted raids in the towns of Qaffin and Kafr al-Labad, north of Tulkarem, early on Saturday, Wafa said.

A Palestinian man was also injured after being assaulted by Israeli soldiers near the village of Azmut, east of the occupied West Bank city of Nablus.

Palestinians have faced a wave of intensified Israeli military and settler violence across the West Bank since the war on Gaza began in October 2023.

At least 1,094 Palestinians have been killed by Israeli troops and settlers in the West Bank since October 2023, according to the latest United Nations figures.

As the Chicago Bears were rocketing toward an NFC North title and playoff run, quarterback Caleb Williams made a comment on social media about his Pro Bowl center Drew Dalman that has proven prophetic.

“He’s the brains behind all of it.”

Dalman informed the Bears on Tuesday that he will retire. Now. At age 27. After only five NFL seasons. After playing every snap in 2025, the first year of a three-year, $42 million contract.

Initial reaction around the league was that the decision was bonkers. Upon further review, however, it might be the most rational, reasoned move made this offseason.

Not long ago, most NFL players — linemen, certainly — couldn’t up and quit at the peak of their earning potential because their earnings weren’t enough to ensure a lifetime of financial stability.

Instead, they did what football players do — button their chin strap and play as long as their name remained on a roster. The risk of serious injury — including concussions — was simply the price of staying in the business.

Chronic traumatic encephalopathy? Early-onset dementia? Afterthoughts.

Today, it doesn’t take a mechanical engineering major to recognize that the equation has changed. Dalman, who happened to study mechanical engineering at Stanford, has yet to articulate why he is retiring.

But it is safe to presume that considerations included the roughly $24 million he banked in four years with the Atlanta Falcons and one with the Bears as well as the well-chronicled list of former players whose brains or other body parts no longer function properly because of the violent nature of the sport.

One of those players was Chris Dalman, an offensive lineman for the San Francisco 49ers from 1993-1999. He retired at 29 after suffering a neck injury during training camp in 2000 that left him temporarily paralyzed.

Chris is Drew’s father. He also graduated from Stanford and now is president of the private school in Salinas, Calif., that he and his son attended. This is what Chris told reporters when he retired in 2000:

“When I first got hurt and I couldn’t move, laying on the field for about 30 seconds, I knew it was probably over,” he said. “Still, it’s strange to think that this part of your life is over.”

Abruptly ending a career prematurely can’t be easy. It likely was as difficult for Drew Dalman as it was for his father. Yet the mountain of information regarding the link between repeated helmet-to-helmet hitting and CTE is irrefutable.

A 2023 Boston University study found that 345 of 376 (91.7%) post-mortem brains of former NFL players contained CTE, a progressive neurodegenerative disease caused by repeated head trauma. This condition is linked to dementia, cognitive decline and increased suicide risk among former players.

It remains to be seen whether more players will retire while at the top of their game. Already, several have done so, most prominently linebacker Luke Kuechly at 28 and quarterback Andrew Luck at 29.

Losing Dalman shocked the Bears, but they should be OK. The $10 million in salary cap space freed by his retirement can be spent on one of the several available free-agent centers.

That means Williams — the former USC Heisman Trophy winner and blossoming NFL quarterback — must adjust to a new center a year after he was thrilled that the Bears signed Dalman.

Williams’ words in December about Dalman’s exceptional brain, however, were followed by something less prophetic. While showering the Bears center with praise, Williams said, “And he’s the right guy for the job for my future and our future here.”

Dalman apparently prioritized his own future health instead.

Los Angeles has a secret magic to which you have to earn access, and the way you earn it is by making it, becoming a contributor to the city’s misapprehended culture of spectacle and soul, diversity and monolithic elitism. It’s a get-in-where-you-fit-in or get-edged-all-the-way-out kind of city, wherein a deceptively laissez-faire game of musical chairs can determine your fate. Kahlil Joseph has a private magic to which you have to earn access, and you earn it by resonating with the untapped nerve centers of Black culture that animate this city, and even then you might be denied.

Joseph is like the city (Los Angeles, not Hollywood), and the city enforces confidentiality, drive, wit, style and devotion often mistaken for diva-ism. The filmmaker and video artist moved to Los Angeles from Seattle for university, and was quickly followed by his brother, the painter Noah Davis, who would found the Underground Museum, a venue and near-speakeasy with West Coast casual gravitas and pan-African rigor and breadth, which became as important to the zeitgeist of Black Los Angeles as both brothers have.

Movie still from Kahlil Joseph’s film “Blknws: Terms & Conditions.” Funmilayo Akechukwu (Kaneza Schaal) channels a 93-year-old W.E.B Dubois, 200 years in the past.

(Courtesy Rich Spirit / BLKNWS©)

In somewhat rapid succession, Joseph lost his father, Keven Davis, an accomplished attorney who represented the likes of the Williams sisters and Wynton Marsalis, in 2012, and his brother Noah in 2015. Joseph navigated those years in the wake with unadorned reverence, while starting a family of his own and directing some of the most transcendent music videos of the 2010s. As testament to his resilience and that of the community around him, grief sharpened Joseph’s purpose and became a kind of grace he transmuted into moving images so saturated with feeling, sans easy pathos, they offered new ways of seeing. The stakes were higher and layered with the existential absurdity of abrupt shifts, which he carried with an elegant, slightly seething temperament that has found its expression in the work. It’s relevant that he shares a birthday with Miles Davis — this is Los Angeles, where it’s customary for a person to request your cosmic DNA before asking your name — and it’s relevant that like Miles, Joseph’s vocal tone is whisper-pitched, toward the mode of retreat that begets echo; you lean in and hear him twice. His quiet tone is not shyness or false modesty but circumspection and a sense of boundaries that imply respect and love for real communication. You sense this in his work ethic and what it produces, an intimacy of form that implies an almost ritualistic attentiveness to the world around him on its own terms. In the 2012 Flying Lotus music video “Until the Quiet Comes,” directed by Joseph and set in Los Angeles, death and rebirth are addressed as a duet, companions in the expansion of collective consciousness instead of foils or adversaries, as a fallen child leaves his body and returns more alive than before he was bloodied on screen. And the violent scenes aren’t grotesque or didactic — think of Miles’ muted trumpet sound reconfigured as resurrection visuals, of his ability to play and stage ballads so well that their uptempo momentum moves into territories too macabre to mute. Like Miles, Joseph tests and stretches his range.

With the closure of the family-run Underground Museum, first in 2020 and then officially in 2022, the path uptempo was visited by more obstacles and disappointments, a shift, if temporary, in Joseph’s role in the local community, as he became more private and distant from public elegy. On the phone recently, Joseph and I discussed the trauma economy, how much of a trap it is for Black art and artists, especially in this post-BLM, post-Obama, post-neoliberal dominance, post-nonprofit industrial complex dominance territory we’re all in now, whether we face it or not. As antidote and balm to the market for repackaged abjection, Joseph adapted the sensibility that makes his music video landscapes so lush and transgressive for the art world with “Blknws,” which debuted in 2019 as an imagined syndication or television network, a nonlinear merger of digitized Black archival material pulled from the center to the margins and the radical academic avant-garde — an infinitely looping ensemble wherein Fred Moten enters into conversation with memes of ghetto-fabulous street gymnasts doing backflips into a fried chicken spot, for example, collapsing so-called high and low into an endless woodshed for an impossible concert.

The result was so compelling that the project was commissioned by A24 as a feature film sans script, then purchased from them by Rich Spirit and released last year as “Blknws: Terms & Conditions.” In this longer and more structured form, what began as an intentional scattering of ashes becomes an elegiac letter home mediated by shipwreck. Joseph weaves together an imaginary “Transatlantic Biennial” and W.E.B. Dubois’ “Encyclopedia Africana” — a project that Henry Louis Gates Jr. and Kwame Anthony Appiah transformed into a book, which Joseph’s father had given his brother before they passed. In this way, the film becomes a manifesto for alternate destinies within the Black experience, and a semi-formal goodbye letter to the delusional but politically expedient optimism of the 2010s, wherein the end of the neoliberal order becomes a gateway to renewed self-possession and agency. Since our grief is less of a ready-made commodity lately, we can reorient it around ourselves, a little safer and more sovereign from the gnawing public gaze. And we can be more honest about its paces and paths in that more autonomous landscape. “Blknws” arrives how a successful jazz album does, belligerently inconclusive about the next stylistic leaps the music might make but clearly in the process of launching in that unknown or unspeakable (perhaps secret) direction. The film is agitation made vivid and precise in the dialectic between theorized “Black Study” and practical applications of Black marronage, where we realize that big disembodied ideas are no more sophisticated than what can be danced and gestured at and spoken in our real and virtual conversations. Here, the multiverse becomes one transcendental, transatlantic consciousness where past and present, life and afterlife, blur the way they do in Joseph’s interpretation of “Until The Quiet Comes” to give us a film with a song-like hook and an album’s non-sequitur whimsy.

Movie still from Kahlil Joseph’s film “Blknws: Terms & Conditions.” The underwater study of Funmilayo Akechukwu (Kaneza Schaal) located in the hold of the ship.

(Courtesy Rich Spirit / BLKNWS©)

Over the last several months, I’ve discussed with Joseph what might become of the momentum propelling “Blknws: Terms & Conditions,” after the film’s run, as speculators enclose searching for clues and stake in his next project. He’s considered its potential evolution into a media company, a real paper, a production house, a series of related films, or a hybrid of all of these endeavors. Alongside his experience on all sides of the art world, he has an acute awareness of the wayward state of print and digital culture, writing and production, the constant closure or downsizing of veteran media outlets, the aftermath of diversity fever in the form of shrinking major magazines often starting with those who cover culture explicitly, the mass turn toward brand-name digital platforms that become extractive monopolies and diminish what can be covered and produced as writers and artists are overworked, understaffed and undervalued. Galleries are also closing and downsizing, and films that don’t oblige the content farm aren’t solicited as readily as influencer-helmed or easily digestible projects that can be played as background noise for scrolling.

After a screening last December of “Blknws: Terms & Conditions” at 2220 Arts + Archives, a space I co-curate, the rapt audience of local cinephiles seemed eager for some magic-bullet insight into Joseph’s path to creative breakthrough and relative creative freedom. Rather than hacks and shortcuts, he shouted out collaborators and inspirations — Wales Bonner, who hand-stitched garments for the film’s Ghana-based scenes; British composer Klein, who helped score the film; Joseph’s time in Brazil, where his father was from and where he went to high school. Sensibility and natural eclecticism, rather than unchecked ambition, is what propels Joseph; he has an innate knack for assembling bands and ensembles, good taste and good timing.

Kahlil Joseph with friends at the screening of “Blknws: Terms & Conditions.”

“I found the encyclopedia at the Underground,” he explains, of the DuBois work that became central to “Blknws.” “It seemed no one had looked through it, as if my dad and brother left it for me in the future.” And instead of ruminating on the weight of that inheritance, he integrates it into his film, whose refrain-as-question is do you remember the future? As if his father and brother are awake in some scenes, asking him to remember. Another resurrection. “I just want to make films,” Joseph reaffirms as a personal coda when the questions get too meta or abstract, never conflating the material conditions of the craft with the magical thinking that can unfold in scripts and on screen. Most everyone in attendance at 2220 seemed to be there to meet or support one of their favorite artists, one of the devout purists of our time who manages to remain that without getting smug, lazy or feral, all common pitfalls.

Last October, I gave Joseph a copy of Hemingway’s “A Moveable Feast,” which I’d just finished reading myself for the first time. I was impressed to the point of restlessness with the authority of Hemingway’s memory, his recall; it’s one of those books you wanna throw at the wall and absorb word for word at the same time. Hemingway seemed to effortlessly savor and store every detail of his days, while remaining agile and present enough within them to focus on writing one true thing after another, in his daily sessions at the typewriter, as if possessing two coterminal minds and the capacity to access or silence both at will. A juggler too advanced for the circus, language’s great folk hero. Joseph is kind of like this, capable of intense simultaneous focus on both creative and mundane tasks without complaint, and he took to the book as I expected he might, sharing my sense of awe over the writer’s command of time and scene. They are both among the artists who have a polite way of making those around them feel like a team and want to work a little harder and little less aggressively (more communally) at the same time. Editors at his post-production studio have come from all over the country to work with him based on that leadership.

Joseph’s next feature, he suggests, will certainly be more narrative, more of a linear beginning-middle-end story, more Hemingway-esque in its commitments to the blunt daily reality that “Blknws” blurs with Black myth. He and his family have sacrificed unquantifiably in effort to defy stale archetypes and outdated patterns of art practice, and it might be his time or turn to be reciprocated for having endured those risks, time to give his family unequivocal and vivid afterlives on and off screen.

The ending was not what Jason Crowe Jr. wanted, but he got a hug from his mother and praise from his coach/father after Inglewood’s 84-65 loss to Damien on Tuesday night in the Southern California Division I regional playoff game.

He finished with 34 points, ending his high school career with a state-record 4,718 points in 124 games, according to CalHiSports.com. He’s more than 1,000 points ahead of the next closest player. His scoring average was 38.0 points.

“I think he’s had an amazing high school career,” said his father, Jason Sr., who will join his son at Missouri next season serving as an assistant coach. “He had to go against the best defenses every night. I’m proud of him. He brought this program to the Division I level. He was on honor roll every year.”

Damien (28-7) had too much firepower for Inglewood (28-7). Eli Garner scored 25 points and Zaire Rasshan had 24 points. Garner had a five-point play and Rasshan added a four-point play. Damien will play at No. 3-seeded Crespi on Thursday. Crespi defeated Bishop Amat 83-66. Isaiah Barnes scored 20 points. Sophomore Aiden Shaw had 25 points for Bishop Amat.

Jason Crowe Jr. of Inglewood launches three against Damien. He finished with 34 points in loss.

(Nick Koza)

“Incredible career,” Damien coach Mike LeDuc said of Crowe Jr.

Damien fans get excited in state playoff game.

(Nick Koza)

Mater Dei 86, La Mirada 79: The Monarchs came back from a 12-point halftime deficit to eliminate No. 1-seeded La Mirada on the road in Division I.

St. John Bosco 65, San Marcos 55: Christian Collins scored 30 points and Max Ellis 19 for the Braves.

Venice 61, Riverside Ramona 50: Canaan Rodriguez scored 18 points for Venice in Division IV.

Girls basketball

Oak Park 72, La Jolla Country Day 57: Karisma Flores scored 27 points, including seven of seven from the three-point line, to lead Oak Park.

SUZI Quatro has revealed how her first husband, and the father of her children, has Alzheimer’s and that she’s now in charge of his finances.

The American rock star, 75, who is now married to her second husband Rainer Hass, revealed the sad news whilst speaking to Kaye Adams.

Michigan-born Suzi, who is credited with helping women break into the world of rock and roll music, opened up on the Loose Women star’s podcast, How To be 60.

In a candid interview, the singer talked about how her first husband Len Tuckey is battling Alzheimer’s Disease.

Suzi married Len, who was her long-time guitarist, in 1976, but they divorced in 1992.

During their relationship they had two children together, Laura, 44, and Richard, 42.

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Speaking to Kaye’s podcast, Suzi, who is now married to her second husband Rainer who she wed in 1993, talked about the breakdown of her first marriage to Len.

She then talked about how despite their divorce they remained good friends, and how she became his “power of attorney” because of his Alzheimer’s diagnosis.

Suzi made the admission when she talked about when she decided to leave Len, and how she came about that decision.

“When I did leave, I was sure. I wasn’t doubting. I was sure that it’s time to go,” she revealed to Kaye.

“So I gave it the six years to turn it around. You know, that’s fair.

“You got two kids together, you know. Don’t break it up if you don’t need to. I really tried, but I can’t lie to myself. Nobody can lie to themselves.”

Continuing Suzi said: “I remember saying to him one time during Andy Get Your Gun, actually when that had finished, so it would have been 87, I remember we were sitting in the room here talking. And I said to him, ‘Do you realise how far away you’ve let me go?’

“So I gave him hints along the way, many, many hints, but he didn’t take them.

“And I’m his executor and power of attorney, so we’re still close.

“And he lives in my son’s house because he’s got Alzheimer’s.”

American singer-songwriter Suzi shot to fame in the 70s as the first female bass player to became a major rock star.

The star is known for singles like Can the Can and Your Mamma Won’t Like Me, and has sold more than 50 million albums.

She is credited with helping women become part of the rock and roll era.

Speaking about this, Suzi once told the Metro Times: “Before I did what I did, we didn’t have a place in rock ‘n’ roll.

“Not really. You had your Grace Slick and all that, but that’s not what I did. I was the first to be taken seriously as a female rock ‘n’ roll musician and singer.

“That hadn’t been done before. I played the boys at their own game.

“For everybody that came afterward, it was a little bit easier, which is good.

“I’m proud of that. If I have a legacy, that’s what it is. It’s nothing I take lightly. It was gonna happen sooner or later.”

Over the years Suzi has also dabbled in acting, and was famously on Happy Days.

DENVER — Renee Good loved sparkles and laughter and any excuse for a celebration. She loved pretty much everyone she met, and was late for pretty much everything.

“She had this way of making you feel special and loved that I didn’t even understand … until we lost her,” Donna Ganger said Friday of her daughter, who was shot and killed by an immigration officer during the federal crackdown in Minneapolis.

She was “slow to anger, quick to love, quick to care,” said her father, Tim Ganger. “That’s the essence of who she was.”

Good, a 37-year-old mother of three, was killed Jan. 7 as immigration agents surged through the Minneapolis area, sparking waves of protests. Her death and that of another U.S. citizen, Alex Pretti, weeks later in Minneapolis sparked outrage across the country and calls to rein in immigration enforcement.

In a wide-ranging interview in Colorado, where some of the family lives, Good’s parents and two of her brothers, Brent and Luke Ganger, talked to the AP about the joy Good found in life, their grief and their hopes that her death can bring about change in a deeply polarized nation.

“It’s going to be hard in the future,” Donna Ganger said. “It’s going to be kind of a constant pain.”

Settling in Minneapolis

Good, who graduated from college later in life, was volunteering in a local school district and working as a substitute teacher when she was killed, her parents said.

“She was working so hard to get her education, and then she was finally able to use it, and I could just tell how happy she was and how fulfilled,” Donna Ganger said.

Good, her 6-year-old son and her partner, Becca Good — the women were not legally married, according to a family lawyer, but referred to each other as wives — had only recently relocated to Minneapolis from Kansas City, Mo., settling on a quiet residential street in a tight-knit neighborhood known for its progressive activism.

In social media accounts, Renee Good described herself as a “poet and writer and wife and mom.” On Pinterest, a profile picture shows her smiling and holding a young child, alongside posts about tattoos, hairstyles and home decorating.

The family “settled very quickly into the community in Minneapolis,” said Donna Ganger, describing how the neighborhood had also welcomed the rest of the family when they came after the shooting. They see that as the result of the love that Good had showed her new neighbors.

“It was incredible to receive that back,” Luke Ganger said.

Donna Ganger held a stuffed toy owl as she spoke, a gift from her daughter, who knew how much she loved the birds. It had sparkles on its feet, a reminder of Good’s love for glitter.

At Good’s memorial service, a table of glitter had been set out for guests. Donna Ganger had put a piece on a lens of her glasses and it’s remained there.

“She just kind of sparkled all the way through,” said Donna Ganger. “I think of her and I look down and see my little sparkle.”

‘A very American blend’

The family is “a very American blend,” Luke Ganger said recently in testimony to Congress. “We vote differently, and we rarely completely agree on the finer details of what it means to be a citizen of this country.”

Yet “we have always treated each other with love and respect,” he said.

On Friday, the family didn’t want to discuss the specifics of their differences, but Donna Ganger said she’d long prayed for guidance: “Before all this happened, I said, ‘Make me a wise woman.’”

In the hours after Good’s death, Trump administration officials said she had been shot as she tried to drive her car into an immigration officer. Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem said Good had committed “an act of domestic terrorism.”

But as video evidence and other details of the confrontation emerged, and criticism of the crackdown began growing, administration comments softened.

President Trump said he’d been told that Tim Ganger had supported him.

“He was all for Trump, loved Trump. And, you know, it’s terrible,” he told reporters. “I hope he still feels that way.”

Tim Ganger declined to talk about his political affiliation or whether it had changed with his daughter’s killing.

“I think I’m just going to leave that go,” he said. “There’s so many other important things” to deal with now, he added.

But family members said they hoped their ability to get along would be an inspiration.

“Our purpose through this whole tragic, difficult, unbelievable time, is to have something good come out of this,” Tim Ganger said. “Otherwise the senselessness of this is overwhelming.”

Sadness echoed in Donna Ganger’s voice as she talked about navigating family differences.

“Sometimes I’m just silly, you know, and I joke with them and I’m goofy,” she said. “But I want to be able to talk about hard things — and that’s hard sometimes with your own family to talk about hard things that maybe you don’t agree on. And I don’t want there to be any hardships between us or hurt.

“But it’s important that we learn to be careful with our words, but share them in a deep way,” she said. “It’s really important.”

Family members spoke only in general ways about the change they’d like to see come from Good’s death.

“I think it’s evident that something is broken, right?” said Brent Ganger. “And when something is broken, you have to take a deep look to see what it is that can be changed and fixed in order for it to not happen again.”

The morning of the shooting

On the morning of the shooting, as immigration raids and protests were flaring across the city, Becca Good has said she and Renee stopped their car in the street to support neighbors during an immigration operation.

Video shows Renee Good in a maroon SUV blocking part of the road and repeatedly honking her horn.

Two immigration officers get out of a truck and one orders Good to open her door. She reverses briefly, then turns the steering wheel as the officer says again, “Get out of the car.” Almost simultaneously, Becca Good, standing in the street shouts, “Drive, baby, drive!”

When Good begins pulling forward, an ICE officer standing in front of the vehicle — later identified as Jonathan Ross — pulls his weapon and fires at least two shots into the car, through the driver’s-side corner of the windshield and the driver’s window, killing Good.

Weeks later, Tim Ganger said he hoped the family’s tragedy would lead to change, though “I’m not even sure what that will look like.”

“But for something good, for people to stop and take a breath and take a look and have a dialog,” he said. “That’s the broader mission of what we want, for people to come together and take care of each other.”

The Justice Department has said it sees no basis to open a federal civil rights investigation into Good’s death, but the family has hired a law firm that is conducting its own investigation and exploring potential legal action.

Family members said no one from the federal government has contacted them about Good’s killing, and they are unsure whether anyone will be held accountable.

“All we can do is speak out and hope that our sincere words are enough to enact some kind of change,” Brent Ganger said.

Slevin and Sullivan write for the Associated Press and reported from Denver and Minneapolis, respectively.

Lauren Chapin, the former child actor best known for portraying Kathleen Anderson in the 1950s series “Father Knows Best,” has died. She was 80.

The actor’s son, Matthew Chapin, announced on Facebook that his mother succumbed to her “long hard fought battle” with cancer after five years. He did not disclose additional details about her death or her condition. He said in his post he is “at a complete loss for words right now.”

“Please keep my sister and family in your thoughts and prayers as we go through this incredibly tough time,” Matthew Chapin added.

Lauren Chapin, a Los Angeles native born on May 23, 1945, began her screen career in the 1950s with a minor role in 1954’s “A Star Is Born” starring Judy Garland and James Mason, appearances in TV including the anthology series “Lux Video Theatre” and the family sitcom “Father Knows Best.”

“Father Knows Best” aired from 1954 to 1960 — bouncing between networks CBS and NBC — and starred Robert Young as the patriarch of the middle-class Anderson family. Chapin’s Kathleen, also “Kathy” and nicknamed “Kitten,” was the youngest of Jim Anderson Sr. (Young) and Margaret Anderson‘s (Jane Wyatt) three children. Her screen siblings were played by Elinor Donahue and Billy Gray.

The Emmy-winning sitcom, which ran for more than 200 episodes over six seasons, comprised the bulk of Chapin’s screen career. Chapin followed up her time on “Father Knows Best” with a single appearance on “General Electric Theater,” and nearly two decades later a role in 1976’s “The Amorous Adventures of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza” and two “Father Knows Best” reunion specials. In 1980, she appeared alongside Gary Coleman in the film “Scout’s Honor.”

She would not return to the screen until the late 2010s, starring as an elderly school bus driver in the YouTube series “School Bus Diaries” from 2016 to 2017, according to IMDb.

Off-screen, Chapin was an evangelist who shared her faith through public speaking, ministry and outreach, according to her website. She also concerned herself with various charitable efforts and work as a talent agent, channeling her experience to guide rising stars, including a young Jennifer Love Hewitt. Chapin’s website notes her accolades, including five Junior Emmy awards for child actress and “Honorable Mayor” titles from Oklahoma, Texas and Florida for her charity work.

In 1989, she penned “Father Knows Best: The Lauren Chapin Story,” which chronicled her time on the beloved sitcom but also illuminated the emotional and sexual abuse she allegedly endured from several family members off-screen. The memoir also concerned itself with Chapin’s post-”Father Know Best” life, including struggles with drug addiction, suicide attempts, troubled marriages and legal trouble.

“Lauren Chapin’s story reminds us that while fame may introduce a person to the world, it is perseverance, honesty, and compassion that define a life well lived,” says the description on Chapin’s website.

She is survived by her son, her daughter Summer and her brother Michael Chapin, according to the Hollywood Reporter.

The cause of death for Victoria Jones, the daughter of Hollywood legend Tommy Lee Jones, has been revealed a month and a half after she was found dead in a hotel in San Francisco on New Year’s Day.

The San Francisco medical examiner released a report Tuesday ruling her death accidental, the result of the toxic effects of cocaine. The 34-year-old was discovered dead at the Fairmont San Francisco in the early hours of Jan. 1.

San Francisco police responded to a call at 3:14 a.m. regarding a report of a deceased person at the hotel. Officers met with medics at the scene who declared an adult female dead.

Jones briefly pursued acting, making a cameo alongside her father in “Men in Black II” (2002) and later appearing in “The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada” (2005), which was directed by her father. She later largely remained out of the spotlight and struggled with substance abuse.

In August 2023, her father petitioned that she be placed under temporary conservatorship, according to Marin County court records.

At the time of the filing, she was under a 14-day involuntary psychiatric hold at a hospital in the community of Greenbrae, and her father wanted her to be transferred to a rehabilitation facility, according to a copy of the petition acquired by the San Francisco Chronicle.

“The proposed conservatee needs to recover and work towards sobriety,” the petition stated. “For these reasons, the proposed conservatee will suffer irreparable harm if her residence is not changed from a hospital to a rehab facility.”

Margaret Caron Schmierer was granted temporary conservatorship over Jones in August 2023. Jones retained an attorney and fought the conservatorship.

Then, in December 2023, Tommy Lee Jones filed a petition for the convervatorship to be terminated, which was granted, court records show.

In 2025, Jones was arrested twice in Napa County.

She was charged with three misdemeanor counts — being under the influence of a controlled substance, possession of a narcotic and obstruction of a peace officer — from an incident on April 26. She was later charged with misdemeanor domestic battery from an incident on June 13, court records show. She pleaded not guilty to all charges and the cases remained open at the time of her death.

Jones was the daughter of Tommy Lee and ex-wife Kimberlea Cloughley. She is also survived by her older brother, Austin Jones.

Tommy Lee Jones is known for his Academy Award-winning role as U.S. Marshal Sam Gerard in “The Fugitive” (1993) alongside other iconic roles such as Agent K in “Men in Black” (1997) and as Sheriff Ed Tom Bell in “No Country for Old Men” (2007).

Staff writer Tracy Brown contributed to this report

A 15-day-old baby lost her father in Israel’s latest violation of the Gaza ‘ceasefire’ during attacks that killed at least 11 Palestinians in 48 hours.

SACRAMENTO — Gavin Newsom writes in his upcoming memoir about San Francisco’s highborn Getty family fitting him in Brioni suits “appropriate to meet a king” when he was 20 years old. Then he flew aboard their private “Jetty” to Spain for a royal princess’s debutante-style party.

Back home, real life wasn’t as grand.

In an annual performance for their single mom, Newsom and his sister would pretend to find problems with the fancy clothes his dad’s friends, the heirs of ruthless oil baron J. Paul Getty, sent for Christmas. Poor fit. Wrong color. Not my style. The ritual gave her an excuse to return the gifts and use the store credit on presents for her children she placed under the tree.

California’s 41st governor, a possible suitor for the White House, opens up about the duality of his upbringing in his new book. Newsom details the everyday struggle living with his mom after his parents divorced and occasional interludes into his father’s life charmed by the Gettys’ affluence, including that day when the Gettys outfitted him in designer clothes at a luxury department store.

“I walked out understanding that this was the split personality of my life,” Newsom writes in “Young Man in a Hurry.”

For years, Newsom asserted that his “one-dimensional” public image as a slick, privileged politician on a path to power paved with Getty oil money fails to tell the whole story.

“I’m not trying to be something I’m not,” Newsom said in a recent interview. “I’m not trying to talk about, you know, ‘I was born in a town called Hope with no running water.’ That’s not what this book is about. But it’s a very different portrayal than the one I think 9 out of 10 people believe.”

As he explores a 2028 presidential run and basks in the limelight as one of President Trump’s most vociferous critics, the book offers the Democratic politician a chance to write his own narrative and address the skeletons in his closet before opponents begin to exploit his past.

A book tour, which is set to begin Feb. 21 in Nashville, also gives Newsom a reason to travel the country, meet voters and promote his life story without officially entering the race. He’s expected to make additional stops in Georgia, South Carolina, New York, San Francisco and Los Angeles.

The governor describes the book as a “memoir of discovery” that sent him interviewing family members and friends and digging through troves of old documents about his lineage that his mother never spoke about and his father smoothed over. Learning about his family history, the good and the bad, Newsom said, helped him understand and accept himself. Mark Arax, an author and former Los Angeles Times journalist, was his ghostwriter.

“I’ve changed the opinion of myself,” Newsom said when asked if he believed the book would revise his glossy public image. “It kind of rocked so many parts of my life, and kind of cracked things open. And I started to understand where my anxieties come from and why I’m overcompensating in certain areas.”

Newsom writes that his interest in politics brought him and his father, William, closer. His mother, Tessa, on the other hand, didn’t share his father’s enthusiasm.

She warned him to get out while he still could, worried her only son would eschew his true self.

“My mother did not want that world for me: the shrewd marriage of tall husbands and tall wives that kept each year’s Cotillion Debutante Ball stocked with children of the same; the gritted teeth behind the social smiles; the spectator sport of who was in and who was out based on so-and-so’s dinner party guest list,” Newsom wrote.

At the heart of her concern was her belief that Newsom’s “obsessive drive” into business and politics was in response to his upbringing and an effort to solve “the riddle” of his identity from his learning disorder, dyslexia, and the two different worlds he inhabited.

“As I grew up trying to grasp which of these worlds, if either, suited me best, she had worried about the persona I was constructing to cover up what she considered a crack at my core,” Newsom writes. “If my remaking was skim plaster, she feared, it would crumble. It would not hold me into adulthood.”

Newsom’s mother was 19 years old when she married his father, then 32. He learned through writing the book that his mother hailed from a “family of brilliant and daring misfits who had carved new paths in botany and medicine and left-wing politics,” he writes.

There was also secret pain and struggles with mental health. His maternal grandfather, a World War II POW, turned to the bottle after returning home. One night he told his three young daughters to line up in front of the fireplace so he could shoot them, but stopped when his wife walked in the door and took the gun from his hand. He committed suicide years later.

Newsom’s father’s family was full of more traditional Democrats and Irish Catholic storytellers who worked in banking, homebuilding, law enforcement and law. Newsom describes his paternal grandfather as one of the “thinkers behind the throne” for former California Gov. Edmund “Pat” Brown, but his family never held public office despite his dad’s bids for the San Francisco Board of Supervisors and the California Legislature.

The failed campaigns left his father in financial and emotional turmoil that crippled his marriage when Newsom was a small boy. A divorce set the stage for an unusual contrasting existence for the would-be governor, offering him brief exposures to the wealth and power of the Gettys through his dad.

Newsom said he moved casually between the rich and poor neighborhoods of San Francisco as a boy.

“It was a wonder how effortlessly I glided because the two realms of my life, the characters of my mother’s world and the characters of my father’s world, did not fit together in the least,” Newsom writes.

Mayor Gavin Newsom and his dad, Judge William Newsom, have lunch at the Balboa Cafe in San Francisco.

(Christina Koci Hernandez / San Francisco Chronicle via Getty Images)

Though William Alfred Newsom III went on to become an appellate court justice, Newsom’s father was best known for his role delivering ransom money to the kidnappers of J. Paul Getty’s grandson. He served as an adviser to the family without pay and a paid administrator of the $4 billion family trust.

The governor wrote in the book that the ties between the two families go back three generations. His father was close friends with Getty’s sons John Paul Jr. and Gordon since childhood when they became like his sixth and seventh siblings at Newsom’s grandparents’ house.

Gordon Getty in particular considered Newsom’s father his “best-best friend.” Newsom’s dad helped connect the eccentric music composer “to the outside world,” the governor wrote.

“My father had this way of creating a safe space for Gordon to open up,” Newsom writes. “He became Gordon’s whisperer, his interpreter and translator, a bridge to their friends, a bridge to Gordon’s own children.”

San Francisco Mayor Gavin Newsom and his sister, Hilary Newsom, in a promotional portrait for the Search for the Cause campaign, which raises funds for cancer research, on Nov. 21, 2025.

(Caroline Schiff/Getty Images)

His father’s friendship with Gordon Getty exposed Newsom and his younger sister, Hillary, to a world far beyond their family’s own means. Gordon’s wife, Ann, and Newsom’s father organized elaborate adventures for the Gettys’ four sons and the Newsom children.

Newsom describes fishing on the Rogue River and riding in a helicopter while studying polar bears on the shores of the Hudson Bay in Canada. He recalled donning tuxedos and carrying toy guns pretending to be James Bond on a European yacht vacation and soaring over the Serengeti in a hot air balloon during an East African safari.

Throughout his travels, Newsom often blended in with the Gettys’ brown-haired sons. He wrote that the actor Jack Nicholson once mistakenly called him one of the “Getty boys” at a party in a 16th-century palazzo in Venice where guests arrived via gondola. Newsom didn’t correct him.

“Had I shared this encounter with my mother, she likely would have asked me if deception was something I practiced whenever I hobnobbed with the Gettys,” Newsom said in the book. “Fact is, I was always aware of the line that separated us from the Gettys. Not because they went out of their way to make us aware of it but because we, as good Newsoms, paid constant mind to the distinction.”

Newsom wrote that his mother seemed to begrudge the excursions when her children returned home. She raised them in a much more ordinary existence. Newsom describes his father’s presence as “episodic.”

“For a day or two, she’d give us the silent treatment, and then we’d all fall back into the form of a life trying to make ends meet,” he wrote. “After enough vacations came and went, a cone of silence took hold.”

Newsom’s mother worked as an assistant retail buyer, a bookkeeper, a waitress at a Mexican restaurant, a development director for a nonprofit and a real estate agent — holding as many as three jobs at once — to provide for her children. His mother’s sister and brother-in-law helped care for them when they could, but he likened himself to a latchkey kid because of the amount of time he and his sister spent alone.

They moved five times in 10 years in search of a “better house in a better neighborhood” with good schools, taking the family from San Francisco to the Marin County suburbs. Though his mother owned a home, she often rented out rooms to bring in extra money.

Tired of his mother complaining about finances and his father not coming through, Newsom wrote that he took on a paper route.

In the book, Newsom describes his struggles with dyslexia and how the learning disorder undercut his self-esteem when he was an emotionally vulnerable child.

Eager to make himself something more than an awkward kid with sweaty palms and a bowl haircut who couldn’t read, Newsom mimicked Remington Steele, the suave character on the popular 1980s detective show. He chugged down glassfuls of raw eggs like Sylvester Stallone in “Rocky” and ran across town and back like a prizefighter in training.

He found confidence in high school sports, but his struggle to find himself continued into young adulthood. Newsom wrote that he watched tapes of motivational guru Tony Robbins and heeded his advice to remake yourself in the image of someone you admire. For Newsom, that became Robbins himself.

“Find a person who embodies all of the outward traits of personality, bearing, charisma, language, and power lacking in yourself,” Newsom described the philosophy in the book. “Study that person. Copy that person. The borrowed traits may fit awkwardly at first, but don’t fret. You’ll be surprised by how fast the pose becomes you, and you the pose.”

His father scoffed at the self-help gurus and nurtured his interest in business.

More than a half-dozen friends and family members, including Gordon Getty, invested equal shares to help him launch a wine shop in San Francisco. Newsom named the business, which expanded to include restaurants, hotels and wineries, “PlumpJack,” the nickname of Shakespeare’s fictional character Sir John Falstaff and the title of Gordon Getty’s opera.

“Gordon’s really inspired me to be bolder and more audacious. He’s inspired me to be more authentic,” Newsom said. “The risks I take in business … just trying to march to the beat of a different drummer and to be a little bolder. That’s my politics. But I also think he played a huge role in that, in terms of shaping me in that respect as well.”

Newsom described Gordon and Ann Getty as like family. The Gettys also became the biggest investors in his wineries and among his largest political donors.

In an interview, Newsom said there are many days when he feels his mother “absolutely” was right to worry about the facade of politics and the mold her son stuffed himself into.

Gavin Newsom heads for his home neighborhood on Nov. 3, 2003, to cast hisvote for San Francisco mayor.

(Mike Kepka / San Francisco Chronicle via Getty Images)

He described the day the recall against him qualified for the ballot amid the COVID-19 pandemic as humbling and humiliating, though it later failed by a wide margin. Still today, he said, there’s a voice in his head constantly questioning why he’s in politics, what he’s exposing his wife and children to and doing with his life.

By choosing a career as an elected official despite his mother’s warnings, Newsom ultimately picked his father’s world and accomplished his father’s dream of taking office. But he said the book taught him that so much of his own more gutsy positions, such as his early support for gay marriage, and his hustle were from his mother.

Newsom said he’s accepted that he can’t control which version of himself people choose to see. Writing the book felt cathartic, he said, and left him more comfortable taking off his mask.

“It allowed me to understand better my motivations, my purpose, my meaning, my mission… who my mom and dad were and who I am as a consequence of them and what truly motivates me,” Newsom said. “There’s a freedom. There’s a real freedom. And it’s nice. It’s just so much nicer than the plaster of the past.”