few year

The two Taylor Lautners are expecting a baby.

“What’s better than two Taylor Lautners?”

That’s what the couple — call him Taylor and her Tay — wrote Thursday in a social media post announcing that a newborn was in their future.

The couple included four photos: The first showed the “Twilight” franchise star, 34, kissing the belly of his 29-year-old wife as she stands in a field holding sonogram images. The others showed them having fun in that same field as they celebrated the news.

That last one was in black and white and a little blurry, but it showed her sitting in a low chair, hands on her belly, cracking up as he sat low by her side with a big smile on his face. The sonogram made its way through all of the baby-on-board photos.

The couple offered no further details about the baby, including the due date.

Taylor Lautner met the former Taylor Dome in December 2017, and the two went public with their couplehood the next October and got married in November 2022 after a yearlong engagement. She was a registered nurse when they met; he was a few years off playing werewolf Jacob Black in the blockbuster franchise that brought a sparkly vampire-human love story to life.

While co-stars Kristen Stewart and Robert Pattinson, who played Bella Swan and Edward Cullen, have charted distinctive acting careers since 2012, when “The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn — Part 2” debuted, Taylor has hung back a bit. He met Tay after his sister set them up with invites to the same game night.

Tay, by the way, was Team Edward, crushing on Pattinson more than Lautner when she experienced the “Twilight” franchise. “I was too young for Jacob’s abs,” Tay told Cosmopolitan in a 2025 profile of the Lautners.

“Yeah, when I was walking around in my little booty jean shorts and ripping my shirt off and my abs were on big screens, she’s 11 years old, throwing a ‘Twilight’ birthday party,” he told the magazine. Tay was “a breath of fresh air” for him after years of dating women who worked in the spotlight.

That list famously included Taylor Swift, his co-star in “Valentine’s Day,” with whom he coupled up for several months before that 2010 movie came out.

“Now I have my priorities straight,” Taylor Lautner told Cosmo. “If I do a project and it doesn’t go as planned, I’ll still be coming home to my family that’s always going to be there.”

And soon that family will be more than two.

MONTCLAIR, N.J. — A few years ago, Allison Posner was barely involved in politics.

Now the 42-year-old mother of two from Maplewood, New Jersey, hands out food and diapers to immigrant families outside a nearby detention facility. She waves signs on a highway overpass between school pickups and orthodontist appointments. And this weekend, she’ll lead a No Kings protest march across this affluent town alongside her husband, her children and thousands of others who are convinced President Trump represents a direct threat to American democracy.

“The people in the suburbs are definitely radicalizing,” said Posner, a freelance actor.

A growing faction of concerned citizens living in suburban communities across the United States — places once known for political moderation or even conservatism — are increasingly positioned on the front lines of the anti-Trump resistance. More than a year into the Republican president’s second term, the soccer moms are becoming bona fide activists taking to their well-manicured streets to fight Trump and his allies.

The leftward lurch could cost Republicans control of Congress for the president’s final two years in office. It could also reshape the Democratic Party by elevating a fresh crop of fiery progressive candidates emboldened to push back against the Trump administration more aggressively than the establishment may prefer.

Indivisible, the activist organization spearheading the third round of No Kings protests this weekend, said roughly two-thirds of more than 3,000 planned demonstrations will be held outside urban areas. Overall, more than 9 million people are expected to turn out nationwide for what leaders predict will be the largest day of protesting in U.S. history.

“We’re going to be everywhere,” Indivisible co-founder Ezra Levin said.

Organizers said sign-ups have been especially enthusiastic in suburban areas with high-profile congressional races like Scottsdale, Arizona; Langhorne, Pennsylvania; East Cobb, Georgia; and here in northern New Jersey’s 11th District, which holds a special election April 16.

Democratic voters last month chose Analilia Mejia, a former political director for Vermont independent Sen. Bernie Sanders, as their candidate to replace Mikie Sherrill, the more moderate Democrat who was recently elected as New Jersey’s governor.

Posner said she’s excited to have a fighter represent her district, someone who can channel the outrage she sees every day.

“I’m seeing people from the PTA or the neighborhood who would have never joined a protest in the past, who are now asking how they can get involved,” Posner said. “This is not some other people’s fight. This is our fight.”

‘Our hair is on fire’

For decades, affluent suburbs like those in northern New Jersey helped elect Republicans who fit the districts they represented: business-oriented, culturally moderate and disinterested in ideological fights.

That began to change in the Trump era.

Across the country, college-educated suburban voters recoiled from Trump’s brand of politics. They shifted sharply toward Democrats in the 2018 midterms and in the presidential elections that followed. Districts like New Jersey’s 11th, once a Republican stronghold, have since become part of a new liberal coalition rooted in places that were, until very recently, politically competitive.

Even in Summit, New Jersey, one of the nation’s wealthiest suburbs, Jeff Naiman feels as if he’s living in an “authoritarian nightmare” of Trump’s making.

“It’s like our hair is on fire,” says Naiman, a 59-year-old radiologist who leads his local chapter of Indivisible. “Our country’s being torn apart.”

He’s supporting Mejia, and he has no doubt she’ll win next month’s special election — and again in November’s general election.

“In this environment,” Naiman said, “I think the chances of her losing the general election are basically zero.”

Mejia, an outspoken progressive activist endorsed by Sanders and Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, D-N.Y., emerged from the crowded Democratic primary last month, beating more moderate candidates like former congressman Tom Malinowski.

She’s critical of Israel’s war in Gaza, calls for the abolition of the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement and backs Medicare for All. She’s also eager to raise concerns about what she describes as Trump’s dictatorial tendencies and will be one of the featured speakers at a No Kings protest this weekend.

“A ZIP code does not protect anyone from rising violent authoritarianism,” she said in an interview.

Mejia still describes herself as a soccer mom, even as her Republican critics accuse her of trying to soften her activist image ahead of Election Day.

“My youngest plays baseball and soccer, my oldest lacrosse and basketball,” she said. “And when I take my children to activities, to games, and I speak to other parents, I know that we’re all experiencing this economy and this political moment very similarly.”

Mejia defended herself against accusations of antisemitism for her position on Israel, which she accused of committing genocide in the war in Gaza, a topic that emerged as a key issue in the race.

“When I say Palestinians have rights, like Jewish people and Israelis have rights, that is not antisemitism, that is humanism,” she said while acknowledging there is antisemitism within the Republican and Democratic parties. “I am an Afro Latina raising two Black sons in America. I know othering kills. I know how dangerous it is when we dehumanize communities.”

A Republican balancing act

New Jersey’s 11th District was represented by a Republican until Sherrill was elected during the 2018 midterm elections that served as a harsh verdict at the halfway mark of Trump’s first term.

Joe Hathaway, the Republican nominee in next month’s special election and a town councilman from Randolph Township, hopes to convince voters that Mejia is too radical for them. Republican strategists in Washington, too, believe a surge of far-left Democratic candidates nationwide like Mejia in otherwise moderate districts might help their party maintain its razor-thin House majority this fall.

Yet suburban Republicans are facing serious political headwinds from the leader of their own party in the White House. Hathaway, for example, initially declined to say whether he voted for Trump.

“I don’t think it’s important,” he said in an interview, before acknowledging that he cast his ballot for the president three times. “This job is representing the district. NJ-11 comes first, before a president, before your party.”

Hathaway backs the president’s war in Iran and many of the economic policies in Trump’s big tax and spending cuts bill. But he was also quick to highlight areas of disagreement.

The Republican said he supports most of the Democrats’ demands in the Department of Homeland Security shutdown fight, including proposals to require federal immigration agents to wear body cameras, clearly identify themselves, take off face masks and receive better training.

He also wants Republicans who lead Congress to stand up to Trump, whose use of executive authority Hathaway said is “pressure testing” the checks and balances outlined in the Constitution.

“Congress needs to reassert that it is the first branch of government and take more of a leadership role than it’s been doing,” he said.

Inside the suburban shift

Suburban Americans have been slowly moving away from the Republicans over the past 15 years, according to Gallup polling that tracks party affiliation over time.

Trump was unable to stop the shift despite warnings that Democrats would “destroy” the suburbs with low-income housing.

In 2020, Democrat Joe Biden won 54% of voters who said they lived in the suburbs while Trump won only 44%, according to AP VoteCast. That was a substantial improvement on Democrat Hillary Clinton’s performance in a smaller survey of validated 2016 voters conducted by the Pew Research Center, which found that Clinton and Trump split the group about evenly.

The suburbs have also grown more diverse and educated over the past few decades, demographic shifts that may make Democrats more confident. In both of the past two presidential elections, AP VoteCast found that college-educated and non-white suburban voters were much likelier to support the Democratic candidate.

Naiman, the Summit radiologist, said he’s witnessed a transformation in his town, which was represented by Republicans at the state and federal level for decades until Trump took over.

“I don’t think that Summit is going to be swinging towards Republicans anytime soon — at least not as long as Trumpism is around,” he said.

Peoples writes for the Associated Press. AP polling editor Amelia Thomson DeVeaux in Washington contributed to this report.

Inara George looks back on it now as wistfully as someone remembering a love affair or a semester abroad.

“It was at this tiny theater on Pico near LaBrea, next to a barbecue place,” she says. “Our backstage was behind the theater, so we’d sit out there wearing these crazy corseted outfits while the guy next door was smoking brisket.”

A fixture of the Los Angeles music scene known for her solo records and as half of the Bird and the Bee, George is recalling the summer she spent working as a 20-something actor in “The Wandering Whore,” a musical set in 18th century London by composer Eliot Douglass and lyricist Philip Littell that played L.A.’s Playwrights’ Arena in August 1997.

“There was a scene where I die,” George adds, “and then I get reanimated by a ghost and someone pays — I don’t know if you need to put this in the article — someone pays to have relations with me.” She sighs.

“It was just such a rich time.”

Three decades later, George’s warm feelings for that era — and especially for the duo who soundtracked it — have led to an exquisite new album, “Songs of Douglass & Littell,” on which she sets aside her own songwriting to interpret nine tunes by these under-the-radar veterans of West Coast musical theater: searching, funny, vividly emotional songs like “Tired Butterfly,” about a busy insect in search of “a little nap,” and “The Extra Nipple,” which ponders a “harsh encounter with another heart.”

Think of the record as George’s take on one of Ella Fitzgerald’s classic “Song Book” LPs from the late ’50s and early ’60s, when the jazz star was systematically enshrining the work of Cole Porter, Irving Berlin and other authors of the Great American Songbook.

“These men deserve to have some attention,” George says of Douglass and Littell, the latter of whom she’s known since she was a little girl performing in plays at Topanga Canyon’s Theatricum Botanicum. “I want to give them their flowers.”

Yet if the album is rooted in the creative awakenings of George’s youth, it’s also the 51-year-old’s way of embracing middle age.

Inspired by singers like Helen Merrill and Chet Baker — “Elis & Tom,” a 1974 duo album by Brazil’s Elis Regina and Antônio Carlos Jobim, was another touchstone — George turns on “Songs” from the Bird and the Bee’s blippy electronica and the folky pop of her solo work to a jazzier sound that puts her cool, breathy vocals amid piano, strings and horns.

“This is a grown-up record,” says George, who shares three teenage children with her husband, the movie director Jake Kasdan. “I don’t want to be making music that makes me feel like I’m trying to be younger — I wanted to make something that makes me feel my age.”

Inara George at home this month.

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

The singer is at home near Griffith Park on a recent afternoon; with her kids at school and Kasdan away on a film shoot, the house is quiet, though signs of music are everywhere: a drum set, a grand piano, a guitar once owned by George’s late father, Lowell George, who founded the cult-fave L.A. rock band Little Feat and who died of a heart attack when Inara was only 4.

“As a woman, it’s a weird time in life — there’s something in-between about it,” she says. “Even the question of what do you wear. When you’re younger, you’re like, I’m gonna wear a dress — is it sexy, is it cute? Now, all of a sudden, all I want to do is wear suits.” She laughs.

Douglass, who plays piano on the new album, hears a “groundedness” in George’s singing all the more remarkable given that the arrangements represent “a new kind of school for her,” he says. “I was wondering how she would approach it, and she’s done it with such aplomb and wisdom.”

On Friday night, Douglass will accompany George — along with more than a dozen other players — in a record-release concert at Largo at the Coronet, with proceeds going to the nonprofit LA Voice, which seeks to organize voters on issues related to immigration and affordable housing.

George happily describes “Songs of Douglass & Littell” as a passion project. “I think you get to a certain point where selling a million records is not your intention,” she says. “Obviously, I wouldn’t make a record like this if I had that intention.” (Counterpoint: the arena-filling success of Laufey.)

“I’m just about the experience,” she adds, “and this has been an amazing experience.”

The experience began one night a few years ago when George hosted a wine-soaked reunion of performers who’d worked with Douglass and Littell back in the ’90s on shows like “The Wandering Whore” and “No Miracle: A Consolation,” the latter a song cycle rooted in the losses of the AIDS epidemic.

Philip Littell, from left, Eliot Douglass and Inara George.

(Thomas Heegard)

After her years of childhood dramatics at the Theatricum — Littell remembers meeting “this bird of a girl with these huge eyes” — George had gone to Boston’s Emerson College to study acting but dropped out and returned to L.A., where she eventually made her name as a musician. (In addition to the Bird and the Bee, her duo with the Grammy-winning producer Greg Kurstin, she’s also played with the Living Sisters and sung with Foo Fighters.)

Yet her postcollege stint in the experimental theater scene always stuck with her, she says. Reconnecting with Littell, whose other work includes the libretto for André Previn’s operatic adaptation of “A Streetcar Named Desire,” and Douglass, who played piano for years with Cirque du Soleil, got George thinking about how she might help preserve their music and bring it to a modern audience.

In 2024, she put together a trio for an intimate gig at Pasadena’s Healing Force of the Universe record store; her old friend Mike Andrews, who produced her solo albums, was there and told her they should record the material. Given the number of ballads she’d worked up, George asked Douglass and Littell to write a couple of new uptempo tunes; among the ones they came up with was the frisky “La Lune S’en Va.”

Does George speak French?

“Not at all,” she says, smiling. “But Philip does. It’s so fun — I was like, ‘Yeah, I’ll take it.’ I think the pronunciation’s OK.”

She and a small crew of musicians cut the album live in the studio over three days — in part an attempt to capture some energy, in part an acknowledgment of an economic reality.

“Is music just a hobby for me now? Yeah, it is,” says George, who’s putting “Songs” out through her own label, Release Me Records. “I mean, I’m spending money to do it.” She worries about the disappearance of music’s middle class even as she notes happily that “Again & Again” by the Bird and the Bee “recently had a little TikTok moment,” as she puts it. (With 86 million streams, it’s the duo’s most popular track on Spotify, followed by an ethereal cover of the Bee Gees’ “How Deep Is Your Love.”)

Yet all that seems less important to George than taking the opportunity to honor “these incredibly talented, very sensitive people” who she says shaped the artist she became.

“Their songs just mean so much to me,” she says of Douglass and Littell. “More than ever, this is the music I want to listen to.”