life

THE Bachelor Australia star Megan Marx has given an update on her battle with a degenerative brain condition that has left her “grieving” her “unlived life”.

Megan, 36, was diagnosed with rare Spinocerebellar ataxia in 2023 which targets the part of the brain that controls coordination as well as the spinal cord.

There’s currently no cure for the disease, which affects one to five people in every 100,000 and can impact vision, speech and mobility.

In an essay for Mamamia, Megan wrote: “There is a kind of grief that rarely earns a name. It is not the grief of death, nor even the grief that follows a diagnosis. It is the grief of the life we imagined we might live, and the slow recognition that it will not arrive.”

The reality star said the ever-widening gap between her new reality of survival and the hopes and dreams she harboured should be mourned in a bid to stop feelings of shame developing.

She wrote: “The grief of what-if is often waved away. Be realistic, we’re told. Accept what is. But denial carries its own risk.

“If regret is untreated, if it hardens into identity, it becomes corrosive. It ceases to be grief and becomes a creed. That is where the damage quietly deepens.

“Pretending nothing was lost binds us to shame; naming it allows movement. It challenges the belief that worth is measured by productivity, consistency, or visibility. Survival, when understood honestly, is not failure; it is a form of adaptation.”

Megan said she’s stripped away all unnecessary elements of her life to focus on what she can still do.

She remains active, spending time outdoors when she can, camping, windsurfing and walking her dog on the beach.

Creative activities also feed her soul, from playing the guitar to painting and reading and allow her a certain structure.

The star had an important message for other people living with chronic illnesses: “do not let your grief be dismissed.”

She continued: “Do not bypass it for the comfort of others. Mourn what was lost, but remember what is still left of your life. In doing so, you clear space not for fantasy, but for a life that is honest, inhabitable, and still your own.”

Heartbreakingly, Megan said the day will come when she will no longer be able to talk, walk, or swallow.

She also laments how experimental therapies that could help her condition, like stem cell treatments, are far removed from what she can afford.

Despite this, she has ruled out ever crowdfunding.

Selflessly, she wrote: “I am acutely aware that there are people whose need is far more immediate than mine.”

Megan found fame on The Bachelor in 2016, becoming the first contestant to refuse a rose when offered by Richie Strahan.

She said the situation didn’t feel right and she went on to form a relationship with fellow female contestant Tiffany Scanlon.

Speaking afterwards, she said: “I got along with Richie really well, we had great banter… but for me, it was more the environment of the show that wasn’t very conducive to love.”

Following The Bachelor, she appeared on Bachelor in Paradise and The Challenge Australia.

President Trump honored two storied military veterans during his State of the Union address, including 100-year-old veteran Royce Williams of Escondido, who survived what is believed to be the longest dog fight in military history.

The former Navy fighter pilot, who was seated next to First Lady Melania Trump in the Capitol during the president’s address Tuesday night, flew more than 220 missions in World War II as well as the wars in Korea and Vietnam.

Trump called Williams “a living legend” before describing his war-time heroics.

“In the skies over Korea in 1952, Royce was in the dogfight of a lifetime, a legendary dogfight,” Trump said. “Flying through blizzard conditions, his squadron was ambushed by seven Soviet fighter planes.”

Despite being outnumbered, Williams took down four of the jet fighters as his plane was hit more than 260 times and he was severely injured.

The incident was kept confidential because the Soviet Union was not officially a combatant in the Korean conflict, and American officials feared that if the air battle became known, it could compel the Soviets to formally enter the war.

Williams didn’t speak about the details of the encounter — even with family members — until records about the dogfight were declassified in 2002.

“His story was secret for over 50 years. He didn’t even want to tell his wife, but the legend grew and grew,” Trump said. “Tonight, at 100 years old, this brave Navy captain is finally getting the recognition he deserves.”

Trump then announced that Williams would receive the Medal of Honor, the nation’s highest military decoration. Melania Trump placed the blue-ribboned medal around his neck.

Williams was the guest of Rep. Darrell Issa (R-Bonsall), a fellow veteran.

“My friend, constituent, and lifelong hero Royce Williams is a Top Gun pilot like no other, an American hero for all time, and now, a recipient of the highest honor in the land,” Issa said in a statement. “It was many years in the making, but it is my honor to have fought all these years for Royce to gain a recognition that he has not sought, but so richly deserves.”

Trump also announced that the Medal of Honor would be awarded to Chief Warrant Officer Eric Slover, an Army helicopter pilot who was gravely wounded in the 2026 raid that captured Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro.

“While preparing to land, enemy machine guns fired from every angle, and Eric was hit very badly in the leg and hip. One bullet after another, he observed four agonizing shots shredding his leg into numerous pieces,” Trump said.

Despite the gunshot wounds to his legs, with blood flowing through the helicopter he was piloting, “Eric maneuvered his helicopter with all of those lives and souls to face the enemy and let his gunners eliminate the threat, turn the helicopter around so the gunners could take care of business, saving the lives of his fellow warriors from what could have been a catastrophic crash deep in enemy territory,” Trump said.

Trump added, “Chief Warrant Officer Slover is still recovering from his serious wounds, but I’m thrilled to say that he is here tonight with his wife, Amy. Eric and Amy, come on in.”

Slover, with the aid of a walker, entered the gallery. “In recognition of Eric’s actions above and beyond the call of duty,” Trump said, “I would now like to ask Gen. Jonathan Braga to present Chief Warrant Officer Slover with our nation’s highest military award.”

Trump added that he too hopes to one day receive a Medal of Honor.

“But I was informed I’m not allowed to give it to myself,” Trump said. “But if they ever open up that law, I will be there with you someday.”

Before the onset of YouTube, U.S. parents had very limited options when it came to video programs that helped teach their children Spanish.

There was, of course, the ever-popular Nickelodeon show “Dora the Explorer” and before that, the PBS show “Amigos,” that looked to instill the basics of Spanish into kids across America.

These programs — while useful, innovative and entertaining — never allowed for full-on Spanish-language immersion for viewers, relying heavily on English as their primary tongue.

Now, kid-friendly videos for language acquisition can be found on all corners of the internet with YouTube playing host to the lion’s share of the market, ranging from partially in Spanish to only in Spanish.

The Times spoke to three of the most viewed Spanish-language educators for children on YouTube to see what goes behind creating highly engaging children’s content.

Isa Muñoz — “Aprende Peque”

Isa Muñoz, 33, had known from a young age that she wanted to become a teacher.

Growing up in the Baja California city of Mexicali, Muñoz’s parents worked as teachers, as did many of her aunts and uncles. Seeing how fulfilling her family members’ careers were, she dedicated her life to educating young children.

After graduating with a bachelor’s degree and master’s in special education, she worked as a preschool teacher and a private tutor before one day receiving a call from veteran program producers Alexandra Cohen and Karen Garzon.

Born and raised in Venezuela, but now raising children in Miami, Cohen and Garzon were disappointed after scouring the internet for video tools to help them make learning Spanish fun and effective for their respective children and finding few helpful resources.

To fill this gap in the market, the duo teamed up with their lifelong friend Jessica Rutenberg to create the Spanish-only educational YouTube channel “Aprende Peque.”

As the idea came into fruition, the team searched for the perfect person to be the face of their channel — specifically someone who had experience working with kids and understood how to efficiently communicate with them.

That’s where Muñoz came in.

As part of the auditioning process, she flew out to Miami from Mexicali to try out for the role. The trip resulted in two days of filming which produced three full episodes of the program that included 21 featured songs.

In the almost three years since “Aprende Peque” launched, the channel has gained 1.05 million subscribers on YouTube and posted more than 500 videos, which have amassed more than 500 million views.

The thumbnail of each video features Muñoz’s ever-emotive face, as well as her signature orange-and-white outfit and large orange head bow. More than just adding an energetic face to the videos, she also integrates elements from the latest studies on child education into each episode.

Interwoven between Muñoz’s warm, patient and interactive lessons are musical numbers that range from nursery range to rock to folksy with visuals that fluctuate between grounded and fantastical.

While Muñoz had always envisioned herself as an educator, she wasn’t as ready to be known for singing.

Muñoz works closely with the program’s musical director, Pablo Estacio, to craft the songs featured in each video. The Venezuelan native has served as the bassist and songwriter for the band Bacalao Men for over 27 years and earned a bachelor’s degree in music production and engineering from the lauded Berklee College of Music.

“Pablo has helped me tune, refine and shape my voice to the point that it’s at right now,” she said.

Those musical detours are crucial to breaking up the episodes into distinct sections and provide renewed points of interaction in videos that often last between 40 minutes and an hour.

The process of crafting such long and engaging videos often takes between three and five weeks, Muñoz noted.

“It takes about a week to write one script,” she said. “After that, we film the episode, which takes about 12 hours. Then comes the part that requires the most amount of time, which is editing and integrating any necessary animations.”

The team aims to complete two to three episodes monthly in order to have a constant stream of content year-round.

While making “Aprende Peque” episodes is creatively exhilarating, Muñoz said it’s the fan reaction and interaction that mean the most to her.

“We’re so lucky that our audience has so much love to give and that they send that love through their messages,” she said. “I personally get motivated by knowing that this whole project is actually helping children.

“For a person to reach a point where they believe that the program has worked so well that they feel compelled to write in to thank us is so wonderful,” she said. “That’s something that we’re so thankful for and something that inspires us.

On a personal level, Muñoz has also experienced moments of deep connection with her family thanks to “Aprende Peque.”

“My mom has joined me on several occasions at meet and greets and I’ve seen her shed tears of joy when she sees the impact that the program has had on kids,” she said.

Liz De León — “Spanish with Liz”

In contrast to Muñoz, Liz De León, 39, never really thought of entering the education space before kick-starting her YouTube channel “Spanish with Liz.”

The native Texan was born in El Paso, but spent the first few years of her life just across the Mexican border in Ciudad Juárez. She moved back to Texas for middle and high school before ultimately settling in California for work.

De León was inspired to start her YouTube channel after having kids of her own.

“Once my kids were born, I wanted them to grow up with my culture and my language and the roots that I value so much,” she said.

At first, De León thought she would be able to find plenty of helpful of educational videos online. But much like Cohen and Garzon, she soon found that many of the visual resources out there came up short when it came to teaching fundamental elements of Spanish.

“A lot of it was catered toward only grabbing the attention of the child with a lot of ice cream and candy and sweets and high energy,” she said. “It didn’t teach the true fundamentals of things moms worry about.”

De León’s husband was the one who first suggested that she record herself singing songs that she created to teach her kids. She began to consider it more seriously after a relative told her that her teaching style was similar to the uber-popular kids’ YouTuber Ms. Rachel.

“That’s when I was first introduced to an educator on-screen that I felt aligned with when it came to teaching — with clear pronunciation, a storyline, making sure everything that was spoken was foundational and root words,” she said. “I really liked her format and thought, ‘She’s just a regular person like me and she did it.’ So I just did it.”

Filmed in front of a green screen in one of the rooms of her San Diego home, De León’s videos aim at helping young children learn vocabulary for specific real-life situations.

Donning her signature pink T-shirt and rocking a slicked-back ponytail, she attempts to minimize the stress of things like going to the airport or a dentist visit by introducing kids to the many elements that factor into those experiences. She creates levity in the videos by having colorful animated backgrounds, through the use of puppets and by singing songs throughout.

Raised in a household that put a premium on education, De León had looked at life through the eyes of a student — which proved particularly helpful as a registered nurse specializing in anesthesia.

“If you ask any medical person, they are teachers. Half of your job is education and teaching people how to stay healthy and to take care of themselves,” De León said. “You have to learn to cater to what’s developmentally appropriate to each person. You learn about child behavior, child psychology and the formation of the brain and how they learn.”

Each episode is crafted with two very important subjects in mind for De León: her two kids, who are 4 and 5. As the kids develop, so does the show.

“They are now understanding the episodes at a deeper level,” she said. “For example, we just watched the Halloween episode a couple of months ago and they now understood that October is a month within the year.”

Her children are also her first round of critics and help her understand what works and what doesn’t. Perhaps most importantly, they are De León’s gauge for how engaging her songs are.

“They help me with the music, actually,” she said. “If they don’t learn it and it doesn’t stick with them I know it’s not good enough. Then I redo it. They’re very much my little co-creators.”

One of the reasons “Spanish with Liz” has reached more than 18 million views on YouTube is the obvious care and research that goes into every video. Being a nurse and having a physician husband, De León has extensive access to medical professionals that let her borrow tools and inform her on what they’ve seen be effective methods for working with children.

“Something unique about our channel, is that we’ve thought about the storyline, how we’re gonna say things, the phrases, what works, what doesn’t work, what kids are afraid of and how we’re gonna tackle all that,” she said. “ So much purpose goes into each episode and then we try to borrow the equipment that’s actually going to be used so they can see it.”

And when she doesn’t have an expert on a topic immediately at her disposal, De León seeks out professionals who can thoroughly inform her. For example, when working on an episode about potty training, she took a class from two potty training experts.

Being that making videos is her third job behind being a nurse and a mom, time is a fleeting asset for the YouTuber. Because of that, each video takes about two months to create from start to finish with De León serving as the writer, director, songwriter and preliminary editor. She is aided by her husband who helps record and occasionally functions as a puppeteer, an additional editor, a composer, a designer and a babysitter, whose help allows her the time to record.

But having a team like that doesn’t pay for itself and that’s where De León’s more than 78,000 YouTube subscribers come into play.

According to the content creator, all the money made from the channel goes into paying for the fees associated with production and the rest goes to donating to three different charities — one that helps immigrant families in the U.S.; another is an orphanage in Mexico; and the final one is World Central Kitchen, which provides food relief in response to humanitarian, climate and community crises.

De León still often finds herself shocked that she’s able to have a platform that helps empower people to achieve new goals and that she’s touched so many lives through her videos.

“Isn’t it crazy that YouTube can change someone’s life?” she asked. “I think of all the artists that came up from putting their music out there on YouTube. I feel like it’s a place the whole world can tap into, mostly for good.”

Miss Nenna — “Spanish for Minis”

From her early days of growing up in the L.A. area, Miss Nenna, 32, felt a deep connection to the universal language of math. So profound was her interest that she obtained a bachelor’s degree in civil engineering and now works at a utility firm in the San Diego area.

As an eighth grader, when she served as a math tutor, Miss Nenna thought about what went into becoming an effective teacher.

“I thought about how I could help someone learn to understand it and make it fun,” she said. “So it was always really fun trying to figure out what worked for some students and what what didn’t work for others.”

She has since taken that ethos and turned it into the YouTube channel “Spanish for Minis,” which has 289,000 subscribers and has amassed over 31 million views. As is popular in the genre, her videos are broken into segments that involve a mix of direct instruction, interactive conversation and exceedingly catchy sing-alongs.

Just like with De León, Miss Nenna first got into the video-making game based on a suggestion from her husband made back in 2022.

“He saw a lot of potential in me because I have a bubbly personality around kids,” she said. “He mentioned I should try teaching Spanish and science to kids and added that it would benefit our child.”

It wasn’t until the couple’s 16-month-old son was diagnosed with speech delay that she really got serious about making videos so that her son could interact with her when she was away.

When the project first began, Miss Nenna had no experience with shooting and editing videos.

“I just sat with my husband and we’d watch videos on how to edit, how to use different graphics, how to make sure it’s OK for us to use certain songs,” she said. “So a lot of trial and error and a lot of research, since it’s just the two of us.”

“Spanish for Minis” videos are filmed at the couple’s residence in front of a green screen and each episode takes about 40 hours to complete.

“None of it is ever scripted. I kind of just set the camera myself and all the lighting,” she said. “I get a basket and I put a bunch of toys in it from my kids’ playroom, then I walk into a room and I record myself.”

While filming, Miss Nenna imagines that she is speaking directly to her almost-4-year-old son or 1-year-old daughter in order to make sure she’s in the right headspace.

The topics of the videos aim to evolve with the ever-changing needs of her son. Most of the earlier “Spanish for Minis” videos were focused on babies and now they have transitioned into content for toddlers.

Production on Miss Nenna’s videos has slowed down in recent months as she has focused her time on raising her children, but she has goals to put out two videos each month in 2026.

One of the more rewarding aspects of “Spanish for Minis” is the interactions that Miss Nenna has with parents and children who watch the program.

“I get messages every day, and I try my best to respond to as many as I can because I love connecting with the parents online,” she said. “I also have Cameo where I make personalized videos. Those are a lot of fun because I always message the parents and it’s like, ‘Hey, give me every single detail about what your kid loves. I want to make sure this is a really personalized video and that they enjoy it.’”

This is the Year of the Fire Horse in the Chinese zodiac — but for the White House, it’s more like the Year of Babies.

No, not the ones in the Trump administration. Actual babies.

Parents can take advantage of a larger child tax credit. July 5 will see the launch of $1,000 stock investments funded by the Treasury Department for children born in this country during President Trump’s reign. He has mulled offering $5,000 “baby bonuses” and creating a “National Medal of Motherhood” for women who have six or more children.

All this is happening even as birthrates have plummeted in this country for decades, reaching their lowest point ever in 2024. A reduced population tends to relegate countries to economic and demographic doom — look at Japan and Russia. That’s why one of Trump’s big campaign promises was to Make America Fertile Again.

“I’ll be known as the fertilization president and that’s OK,” he boasted last spring during a women’s history event at the White House.

But even as this administration urges families to grow and single people to marry and welcome little ones into their lives, it’s persecuting children in the name of Trump’s deportation deluge.

While the president told a crowd last October, “We want more babies, to put it nicely” while announcing cheaper in vitro fertilization drugs, the New York Times found his administration was keeping an average of 175 children a day in immigration detention — a 700% increase from the end of the Biden administration.

As Vice President JD Vance bragged during a March for Life rally in January that he “practices what he preaches” by expecting a fourth child this year, 5-year-old U.S. citizen Génesis Ester Gutiérrez Castellanos was adjusting to life in Honduras along with her deported mother.

On the same day last month that Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy posted on social media, “My greatest job is being a dad to my nine kids and family will always come first,” a federal judge ordered the release of 5-year-old Liam Conejo Ramos, an Ecuadorean preschooler grabbed outside his Minneapolis home along with his father in what the jurist described as a “perfidious lust for unbridled power.”

Just last week, Alaska resident Sonia Espinoza Arriaga and her sons, ages 5 and 16, were dumped in Tijuana by la migra even though the family had an active case to determine whether they qualified for asylum. And Trump’s campaign against undocumented children is just beginning on multiple fronts.

Ayaan Moledina protests against Immigration and Customs Enforcement as they march toward the South Texas Family Residential Center on Jan. 28 in Dilley, Texas.

(Joel Angel Juarez / Getty Images)

The Supreme Court has scheduled hearings in April for Trump’s lawsuit seeking to end birthright citizenship for people born to parents who aren’t citizens or permanent residents. U.S. Atty. Gen. Pam Bondi is suing to end policies that protect immigrant children in custody.

Thousands more agents are expected to storm our streets in the coming weeks while the Department of Homeland Security spends billions of dollars to build or retrofit warehouses to stuff with the people they grab. Reports are already emerging from the South Texas Family Residential Center an hour south of San Antonio, which ICE uses to house children slated for removal from this country, of rancid food and overcrowded cells.

Trump’s apologists will claim there’s nothing racist or heartless about removing youngsters in this country illegally — or if their parents are in the U.S. without documentation — while asking citizens to have bigger families, even as the main proponents of the so-called pronatalist movement are white conservatives while nearly all of the kids la migra are booting are Latinos.

But an administration that can’t treat these children humanely shouldn’t be trusted with taking care of even American-born children. And one can’t separate Trump’s supposed pro-baby policies from what this country has historically inflicted on Latino families.

American authorities forced U.S.-born children to leave for Mexico with their parents during the Great Depression, arguing they would become a welfare burden at the expense of white children. Doctors were sterilizing Latinas without their consent in the name of population control as recently as the 1970s. Popular culture ridiculed large Latino families as backward and destined for poverty.

I grew up in a California where politicians railed against Mexican American kids like myself for supposedly overwhelming schools, parks, medical clinics and streets with our numbers. We were supposedly the ground troops in a nefarious conspiracy called Reconquista that sought to return the American Southwest to Mexico.

By the time I reached high school in the 1990s, voters began to pass laws that sought to make life miserable for undocumented immigrants like my father and other relatives, with a special punitive focus on their progeny. The infamous Prop. 187, which passed in 1994, would’ve banned undocumented children from attending California public schools from kindergarten to higher education. Five years later, the Anaheim Union High School District, whose schools I attended, passed a resolution seeking to sue Mexico for $50 million for educating the children of undocumented immigrants.

Board president Harald Martin — who migrated to this country from Austria as a 2-year-old — appeared on NPR to justify his actions by comparing the students he was in charge of to Tribbles, furry little aliens that starred in a famous “Star Trek” episode when they bred in such numbers that the Starship Enterprise was overwhelmed.

“They were so cute and fluffy, nice little things when there were four or five of them,” Martin said. “Then it got to the point down the road when it wasn’t so nice. They were getting in the way because there now were thousands of them on the ship.”

Martin’s example was not only wildly racist, it ignored the reality that Latinos were on the same road to assimilation as other previous immigrant groups ridiculed for their large families. While a March of Dimes study released last year shows Latinas had more children than any other ethnic group in this country as of 2023, the Latina birthrate declined by a third since 2003 — by far the largest drop of those groups.

I’ve seen this play out in my own family. I have 16 aunts and uncles who lived to adulthood and am the oldest of four children born to my parents — but my dad has just one grandchild and probably isn’t getting any more. I agree with Trump, Vance and the rest of them that children bring magic and vitality to communities — but what Latino family would want to raise a family where everything is far more expensive and the threat of deportation is never far away?

In this photo released by U.S. Rep. Joaquin Castro (D-Texas), Adrian Conejo Arias and his son, 5-year-old Liam Conejo Ramos, are seen in San Antonio on Jan. 31 after being released from the Dilley detention center.

(U.S. Rep. Joaquin Castro)

Fatherhood wasn’t in the cards for me, but I love being Tío Guti to my nephew and the children of my friends. That’s why my heart breaks when I hear them say that their classmates left the United States and my blood boils when I hear Vance, Trump and others urge Americans to have more kids. Trumpworld isn’t looking to increase the number of people who look like my loved ones — and that’s something that should frighten us all.

When Jared Snow goes to the hospital, he’s usually in serious pain, which he hopes will be assuaged soon. But living with sickle cell disease as a Black man in America often tests this hope.

The Compton born stand-up comedian and actor has been living with sickle cell disease since he was a child. Hospital visits and pain have always been part of his life. But now he’s using his latest project, a documentary film called “You Look Fine,” to show the world how he copes as an entertainer with living with sickle cell disease in an industry steeped in image and perception.

Alongside actor-comedian Marlon Wayans, Snow wanted to make the film to raise awareness about the realities of sickle cell disease and how it impacts Black communities.

In the United States, sickle cell disease affects about 100,000 people, with more than 90% of cases being among Black people, according to the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Sickle cell disease occurs in about one out of every 365 Black or African American births. People living with sickle cell disease have red blood cells that are crescent shaped due to a gene mutation. Because of this, the red blood cells can block blood flow to the rest of the body and can cause chronic pain, strokes, lung problems, infections and kidney disease.

The nearly 90-minute documentary has Snow filming himself inside small hospital rooms, nurses trying to find a vein in which to stick needles, and even him trying to work on material as he lies in hospital beds. The film also includes interviews with his friends.

Snow was adamant about showing the blood and needles in the film as well as footage of himself writhing in pain on hospital beds and the frustration of waiting hours for doctors to provide adequate dosages of pain medication that can help him. He cracks jokes during his hospital stays, but in between you get a front-row look at how tiring, tearful and emotionally devastating his illness can be. Interspersed within such footage are clips from his stand-up shows and him trying to live his best life by traveling, skydiving and even experiencing New York City snowfall.

The Times caught up with Snow and Wayans to talk about the film, vulnerability, Black men’s health, and finding levity through the pain.

J. Snow in the hospital in “You Look Fine”

(J. SnowPro)

I was struck by the handwritten notes with title ideas. Tell me where “You Look Fine” comes from?

J. Snow: It’s just something I hear a lot. It’s something I’ve heard a lot during my life. It’s cultural Black gaslighting is what it is. When you’re in pain, sometimes you look fine. When you are telling people, “I’m not fine,” they’re like, “Your hair is nice.” I can’t go to the hospital with gold. I had gold beads. Sometimes you go there looking too nice. Sometimes I got to dress down just to try to get the help. But if I dress too far down, I look homeless, and they really won’t be open to helping me. So you got to find the balance. But that’s kind of where it comes from. … I wanted to throw it back into people’s face. This is something that a lot of sickle cell warriors, and people with chronic illnesses in general hear, people with mental illness hear, and so I think it’s important to highlight how that literally is gaslighting.

What was your motivation to do this documentary now?

J.S.: I wanted to show that humor lives within this and that a lot of resilience and strength are also within this, and that was really the motivator. Also, just growing up with it, not having a lot of information, not seeing a lot of men talk about it. I wanted to be different, you know.

Marlon Wayans: For me it fits on brand for several reasons. One is because I love taking the dark things in life and finding some humor in it. And I think I try to do that with my comedy. I try to do it with my specials. I try to do it because I think we need to all find smiles no matter what your situation is; laughter is always healing and always necessary. Being African American, I grew up when sickle cell was like a prominent disease, and in our culture I know even when it came to dating, my mother would ask “Who you dating? You know, because if she got the trait, and you got the trait, you know, what could happen.” So I’ve always been aware of it, and I’ve lost now four friends to sickle cell. I just lost two in the last year. It’s a long fight, and so I’m here to support them and our culture and the awareness. And you know, Jay is a friend, and you know, I want him to see fame.

For Jared, in the film, you say, “I just want to see what my body can do.” I thought that was just so deeply profound. What is your relationship like with your body now, compared with the moment you were filming that?

J.S.: When somebody sees me eating a salad, and they’re like, “Oh, you eating salad?” I’m like, “This could save my life.” When I’m stretching and doing yoga, it’s not because I want to be a yogi. It’s because it literally gets oxygen into the joints that are suffering without oxygen. It stretches my hips and I want the longevity. I see what happens in sickle cell warriors and people without sickle cell who just age without moving frequently.

J. Snow walks through the halls of a hospital while dealing with issues from sickle cell.

(Courtesy of J. SnowPro)

Black people, especially for Black men, don’t have their pain taken seriously — be it their physical pain or their emotional pain. What has it been like for you to publicly show that pain?

J.S.: It’s been challenging. It took awhile for me to get to the point where I could even talk about this publicly, especially being in entertainment and trying to maintain a certain persona and image in entertainment where like your ego clashes against your vulnerability and you feeling like you’re weak. That’s the stigma that comes with people who admit that they have illnesses and stuff like that, especially in entertainment. It makes people not want to work with you. I’ve suffered through that. I’ve lost jobs while in the hospital because of this. And so it got to a place where it just was unavoidable. The pressure built so much and the frequency of the hospital visits became so crazy that it was like, you’re either going to be viewed as this very lazy, sometime-y person, or you’re going to come clean about what you’re actually dealing with and just face it.

M.W.: I live in the pain. I live in the vulnerability. I think that’s why I create my best work. You know, my parents died. I thought it was only appropriate to talk about that thing that hurts me so much. I think part of it takes courage, but at the same time, I know it’s necessary.

What was going through your mind when you first saw that footage of [Snow] in the hospital?

M.W.: “This [man] is crazy. Why you filming?” He made sure he had a GoPro on his foot and set cameras up — dude really wants to make it. Forget this disease. He may be faking it just to make it bigger. I was proud, right? That’s because I love the resilience, I love that you still have a passion, that you still have a thing that you want to do, and you have this art and this vessel and this expression, and I know that even though he’s hurting, that he’s healing at the same time, at least, you know, emotionally and spiritually. Because to put art out there at the time that it’s happening, that you’re in pain, that takes a lot of courage from the artist, and so I was proud. That’s why I stand behind it, because I think it’s something I’ve never seen, and I think it’s something that’s necessary for the culture.

How has this film changed your relationship to your understanding of masculinity and strength?

M.W.: For me, it’s just on theme. It hasn’t changed, it just enforced how I feel. You know, I’ve never been one to hide my feelings. I go to therapy. I have two therapists, I go on my walks. I talk to God. I’m reading my Bible. I understand that life is a long journey of suffering, and you need these outlets, and this movie and art are part of that. I have the stage. I always have this thing that I’m expressing because it helps me reconcile all that’s going on with me, especially when I take this pain and make other people laugh or are entertained by it, then I go, all right, I did something good with that thing that was bad. And so this enforces what I want people to feel. I want people to watch this. That’s why I stand behind this, because it’s on theme spiritually for me.

J.S.: I think when you stand outside of that vulnerability and you’re afraid to really go into it, I don’t know, I feel like that’s orbiting your true power. The most masculine thing you can do is face your highs and lows head on and own them. And that’s where you find out who you really are. This is where you find out what you can really bring to the table for yourself, for others, and where you become fearless. And that’s exactly what this showed me, was that I can do anything, I can conquer a lot of things. I walk around with a new energy because I’ve done this. I literally had a film on hard drives, and I sat for 11 months and edited it relentlessly, and now I have my first feature film because I was fearless enough to at least try to do it and not feel, what are people going to think, or what are people going to say? That didn’t matter to me. Also with this clock over my head, you don’t got time to think about stuff like that. It’s like, what do you want to do while you’re here? And what I wanted to do was make movies, make people laugh and inspire others to do things that they want to do too. And that took letting go of whatever this masculine image was that was blocking me.

J. Snow on stage at the Hollywood Laugh Factory

(Brianna Joseph)

The whole film is endearing, but I found those moments of levity so well- timed and so thoughtful and funny. How do Black people find those moments of levity, oftentimes, during these moments of pain?

M.W.: Because Black people have been through so much trauma before we get into family trauma, just as a people. We have suffered the most trauma from being separated from our family, slavery — we’ve been through it — and yet, and still, we find that funny. And that has been, I think, our saving grace is our sense of humor. It’s been a lifesaver. It’s been a raft in a really rough ocean for us. And I think it’s beautiful that we can. I will always promote laughing when you’re in your most pain to find the funny, because that takes a little pressure off. You’re laughing and crying at the same time. It’s like the best feeling.

J.S.: It’s like oxygen, like when the air is being sucked out of the room by your circumstances, your trauma, your pain or whatever. That little laugh is like a little breath of oxygen. It gives you something to keep going forward, to continue to think, “OK, like, where’s another solution from here? What else can I do here?” It gives you that breath that you need.

Former President Yoon Suk Yeol on Tuesday appealed his life sentence over his insurrection conviction from his failed bid to impose martial law.

The appeal was filed by his lawyers five days after a court sentenced Yoon to life in prison for leading an insurrection when he briefly imposed martial law on Dec. 3, 2024.

“We think we have a responsibility to clearly point out the problems with this decision for not only court records but for future historical records,” the lawyers said in a notice to the press.

“We will not be silent about the special counsel’s overzealous indictment and the contradictory decision of the court of first instance premised on it, as well as its political background,” they added.

The Seoul Central District Court delivered the ruling last Thursday, saying Yoon aimed to cripple the National Assembly by sending troops to the compound after declaring martial law, meeting the definition of an insurrection as stipulated by the Constitution.

It also said the former president planned the crime personally and in a leading role, incurring an enormous social cost, but hardly expressed an apology.

Seven other defendants received their first verdicts alongside Yoon, including former Defense Minister Kim Yong-hyun, former National Police Agency chief Cho Ji-ho and former Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency chief Kim Bong-sik.

The former defense minister was sentenced to 30 years in prison, while Cho was given 12 years and the former Seoul police chief 10 years for their roles in the martial law bid.

Yoon was earlier sentenced to five years in prison in a separate trial on charges that include his alleged obstruction of investigators’ attempt to detain him last year.

Copyright (c) Yonhap News Agency prohibits its content from being redistributed or reprinted without consent, and forbids the content from being learned and used by artificial intelligence systems.

Despite the string of storms that have hit the Los Angeles region in recent days, the skies cleared up long enough on Wednesday for thousands of aspiring actors to swarm a beachfront in Marina del Rey and take their shot at landing a role in the upcoming “Baywatch” reboot.

The open casting call brought old Hollywood magic to Los Angeles, as the show intensified its search for raw and local talent, reminiscent of how original “Baywatch” stars were discovered, said Brittainy Roberts, the vice president of casting at Fox.

The soapy drama series, which premiered in 1989 and ran for 11 seasons, followed the lives and relationships of lifeguards who patrolled L.A. County beaches (and later Hawaii). It was not only a hit stateside — internationally it was a success, becoming the most-watched show in the world at the time. A film adaptation starring Dwayne Johnson and Zac Efron was released in 2017, and despite negative reviews, it was considered a commercial success, signaling an appetite for more.

• Share via Close extra sharing options

The casting team has “big bathing suits to fill,” Roberts said. The show famously created a slew of stars, including Pamela Anderson and Carmen Electra, who got their start on the show, and catapulted David Hasselhoff to new heights of fame.

Uncommon in a post-pandemic era of self-tape auditions, the open and in-person auditions attracted actors hungry for their big break and locals hoping to leave with a fun story to tell. Many donned “Baywatch” visors and sweaters while others sported bright red bathing suits, popularized by the original show. It was “an opportunity to really get people in the room in a large-scale way,” and allow “people an opportunity that maybe they aren’t getting in this new landscape of auditioning,” Roberts said.

The casting team saw live auditions from about 2,000 “Baywatch” hopefuls, and about 14,000 applications were submitted, said Joseph McGinty Nichol, known as McG, the reboot’s executive producer who will direct the first episode. His past projects include the “Charlie’s Angels” movie and “The O.C.”

Pat “The Jaguar” Uland, 31, of San Francisco, on the red carpet at the “Baywatch” open casting call.

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

Beach-ready candidates filed in and out of a Marriott hotel in Marina del Rey for the in-person auditions. The casting call, which ran late into the night, embodied the joy of Hollywood, McG said.

Bri Ana Wagner, a 29-year-old living in Los Angeles, has been pursuing acting for around a decade. The open casting call was a reminder that the Hollywood “dream is alive,” she said.

“It’s like the way it used to be and the way it should be,” McG said. “You can come to a Marriott in Marina del Rey and change your life and blow it wide open.”

Hopefuls try to catch a break

David Chokachi hadn’t acted much before auditioning for “Baywatch” in the 1990s. Douglas Schwartz, one of the show’s original creators, and his wife, Deborah, had seen just about a thousand auditions for the role of Cody Madison. None of the actors matched the couple’s vision for the character, until Chokachi strolled in.

“It’s one of the most surreal things that’s ever happened in my life,” said Chokachi, the only actor from the original series confirmed for the reboot.

David Chokachi, who was on the original “Baywatch,” is reprising his role as Cody Madison.

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

The aspiring actors who auditioned Wednesday hoped to get their chance at a big break similar to the one Chokachi got decades ago. Casting for the reboot began late last year, Roberts said, and people “have come out of the woodwork” since, with some messaging her directly on social media.

“The fact that we’re shooting in L.A., it’s certainly ignited a flame for a lot of agents and managers in town hoping to get their clients working here,” Roberts said.

The casting executive was hopeful that Wednesday’s auditions would bring together a talented pool of actors that the show can continue to pull from.

Massiel Taveras was among the many in attendance at the casting call: “I belong to this group. I belong to the show. I just feel it.”

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

Massiel Taveras was crowned Miss Dominican Republic in 2007 and has pursued acting since, finding success in the Latino market. She arrived to the Marriott hotel sporting a bright red sports bra and leggings, paired with a large fur coat to shield her from the beach chill.

“I just love the show so much … It’s iconic. It’s something that everybody loves,” Taveras said. “I belong to this group. I belong to the show. I just feel it.”

Meanwhile, Dominique Lopez, a broadcast student from Monrovia, had never been to an audition before her boyfriend Colin Bolick, an actor, convinced her to attend the casting call together. The experience was “super easygoing” and intimate, she said as she walked out of the audition room.

“It’s making the industry exciting again. It’s putting people in the mind space of … ‘Let me put myself out there,’” said Lopez, 25. “Just for that, I feel like a better person, that I went and did something new.”

Could ‘Baywatch’ could help revive Hollywood?

Marko Dobrasinovic, 24, who made the trek from Chicago to audition, bumped into an old high school classmate, Alyssa Frey, while in line to check in. The pair attended the same high school as Hasselhoff, who played Mitch Buchannon on “Baywatch,” one of the actor’s best-known roles.

The impromptu reunion felt like a full-circle moment, said Frey, who moved to Los Angeles to pursue acting about two years ago. She landed in the city just as the actors’ and writers’ strikes froze Hollywood. Wednesday’s casting call was “one of the few opportunities to get in front of someone,” she said.

It was one that almost slipped away from the city. Showrunners were eyeing Australia as an alternative to filming in L.A., until Gov. Gavin Newsom and state legislators granted the production, along with 16 others, California’s film and TV tax incentive in November. Hollywood has struggled to return to its former status as a production mecca after the COVID-19 pandemic and 2023’s dual strikes. The wildfires early last year, coupled with studio spending cuts, added another blow to L.A.‘s waning film and TV industry.

The open casting call was a rare event in Los Angeles, as the TV and film industry struggles to recover.

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

Chantal Groves left a stable job in international relations around two years ago, setting her sights set on Los Angeles. The 25-year-old, originally from the Dominican Republic, said acting was always her true passion. The career change has been fulfilling, but navigating such a fraught industry is difficult, she said.

“It’s basic laws of supply and demand,” Groves said. “There’s not a lot out there. There’s not a lot casting, and so just in general, it’s a really hard time to start in the industry.”

The “Baywatch” reboot received a $21-million credit, aimed at revamping the state’s entertainment industry.

“This was about keeping an iconic, world-famous brand right here in L.A.,” said Traci Park, a councilmember for District 11 who helped lead efforts to secure the tax incentive and attended the event. “We have the talent, we have the resources, we have the sets … it is exactly why we are fighting so hard to keep these productions in Los Angeles.”

A love letter to Los Angeles

“Baywatch” showrunner Matt Nix was in the middle of fighting off the wildfire that ravaged his Altadena neighborhood and got dangerously close to his home when he first got the call to lead the reboot. His house survived the fires, and he says a show like “Baywatch” felt like exactly what the city needed after such tragedy.

“This is a show about paradise and the people who keep it that way,” Nix said. “There’s something fundamentally earnest and positive about ‘Baywatch,’ the idea of heroes on the beach taking care of each other and the people that they protect.”

Others can relate to that sentiment. “Baywatch” was “right up my alley,” said Ava Cherlyn, a 19-year-old from Newport Beach. The aspiring actor, who moved to Hollywood six months ago, was a lifeguard growing up and played water polo competitively.

“I’m surprised that I haven’t been nervous,” Cherlyn said as she posed for photos in a red bathing suit.

Aspiring actor Ava Cherlyn, 19, in a red swimsuit made iconic in “Baywatch.”

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

The original show attracted a worldwide audience because of its focus on “heroic people with complicated and interesting lives” while still feeling like an easygoing “hour-long vacation,” Nix said.

That nostalgic magic won’t be lost in the upcoming season, which Nix said is more of a continuation rather than a reboot. It will follow Hobie Buchannon, Mitch’s son, a character featured in the original series, played by “Arrow” protagonist Stephen Amell.

Hobie’s life will be derailed when he meets Charlie, a 21-year-old daughter he never knew he had who’s eager to continue the family’s legacy by becoming a Baywatch lifeguard. Hobie, now a Baywatch captain, will navigate the familial troubles throughout the season, Nix said.

“I don’t want to imply that ‘Baywatch’ is going to save the world or save America,” Nix said. “But, at the same time, I think it’s a good time for an unapologetically heroic show about people who care about each other and the people that they’re trying to save.”

The cast of “Scrubs” knows that the show’s creator, Bill Lawrence, has a habit of building communities with his series, which include “Ted Lasso” and “Shrinking.” But the “Scrubs” crew knows they are the closest.

“Since I work on all those shows, I can say that we’re the tightest-knit group,” says Zach Braff on a video call with his fellow fake doctors Sarah Chalke and Donald Faison. “We vacation together.”

Lawrence, just a day later, has to concede that Braff has a point. “It’s annoying because I have to admit that they are right,” he says. “We’ve stayed the tightest because we all still spend way too much time together.”

And now the gang is back together for a new, nine-episode season of the beloved series premiering Feb. 25 on ABC, and the next day on Hulu. When “Scrubs” debuted in 2001, narrator J.D. (Braff), his best friend Turk (Faison) and on-again, off-again love interest Elliot (Chalke) were interns at Sacred Heart Hospital. Now, J.D. is a concierge doctor, while Turk and Elliot have advanced to leadership positions at Sacred Heart. There’s a new batch of interns, a new cheery hospital representative (Vanessa Bayer) whose job involves making sure no one gets offended, and a new doctor (Joel Kim Booster) who is not too fond of J.D. But there are also other familiar faces including John C. McGinley as J.D.’s begrudging mentor Dr. Cox and Judy Reyes as nurse Carla, who also happens to be Turk’s wife.

“Scrubs” then and now: Sarah Chalke, Zach Braff and Donald Faison in the original series, left, and in the ABC revival. (Chris Haston/NBC) (Brian Bowen Smith/Disney)

In the Season 8 finale — before the show reset with a medical school setting — J.D., always prone to elaborate fantasy sequences, sees a vision of how his life is going to turn out. His reality doesn’t exactly resemble that.

“We say midlife crisis or whatever, but it’s a time of questioning, a time where you take stock of your life,” says showrunner Aseem Batra. “That’s really a cool time to catch up with our characters because when we saw them last, they were in their quarter life.”

Batra herself has followed a similar path to the characters. After working as an assistant at ABC, her first writing gig was on “Scrubs.” Now she’s in a position of authority. “Truly, it was the best job I had and it was my first job and I’m doing it again out of pure love,” she says. (Longtime “Scrubs” writer Tim Hobert was originally announced as co-showrunner but departed the project.)

Lawrence, who serves as executive producer on the new incarnation, can also see a parallel between his path and that of his fictional creations. “I’m only good at writing about stuff that’s at least tangentially part of my life and the idea that of those young goofballs who are the students now being the teachers, it’s very much part of my life right now,” he says.

“Scrubs” creator Bill Lawrence has handed the reins to Aseem Batra, who is the showrunner of the revival. “Truly, it was the best job I had and it was my first job and I’m doing it again out of pure love,” she says.

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

Still, Lawrence says the reason the revival of the show was able to work is because of the closeness of the original cast. Faison and Braff are still constantly collaborating whether that’s on a podcast or commercials, and even though she’s decamped from Los Angeles to Canada, Chalke makes a point to keep in touch. On a boisterous Zoom call, we spoke about returning to their beloved characters.

What were your reactions coming back to this world?

Donald Faison: Please. Please. Revive it. Do me that solid and revive it.

Sarah Chalke: I manifested it. A couple years ago, I was like, “Oh, I miss ‘Scrubs.’ I want to do a comedy like ‘Scrubs’ that shoots in Vancouver, and then it all happened.”

Zach Braff: To be honest, I was very surprised when it actually started happening that ABC was going to put it in prime time. I thought it might be something on Hulu. That felt like a giant audience with Hulu the next day and a really big scale and really a belief in the project. That was really exciting.

Why do you think the show’s legacy is so strong that there is that belief?

Braff: I think that it’s Bill’s unique mix of comedy and pathos and emotion and fantasy. It’s such a unique recipe. But in execution, as he did with the first pilot, it was undeniable. It was so groundbreaking at the time. No one had done that in the network space. It was also at a time when there was no streaming. So, the show was on at 9:30 and Bill was trying to push what you could still do on network [television]. That’s why it was a more risqué version of what we’re doing now. I think now the goal was — well, there’s streaming for that. What’s a show that we can have on at 8 that pairs with “Abbott Elementary” that parents can watch with their kids? Maybe some jokes will fly over the kids’ heads, but it’s not trying to compete with what people are doing on streaming.

What do you remember about getting cast? You were all in your 20s.

Faison: I was the oldest one. Still the oldest one. I remember how big of a deal it was. This was the pilot of the season. I remember everybody and their mama was talking about how great the script was and how they wanted to be on the show. I remember my agent telling me, “This is a big one. The creator of the show really likes you. Let’s see what you can do.”

Chalke: I didn’t know this until two days ago. Our casting director came up to set to visit, and she said I was the first person to audition on the first morning of casting. In the character description, it said she moves and talks at a faster pace than normal humans. And in every single job, I’ve been told, “Slow down.” It felt like the luckiest thing; I’ll never forget when Bill called me and said that I got it and I truly couldn’t believe it. And the experience far exceeded any expectation I could have had about what it was going to be.

When I think back on it, what I remember is what that felt like to be at work every day, genuinely laughing so hard to the point where it would get late at night and there was one sound that Zach and Donald could make that would make me laugh.

Sarah Chalke on being cast in “Scrubs”: “I’ll never forget when Bill called me and said that I got it and I truly couldn’t believe it. And the experience far exceeded any expectation I could have had about what it was going to be.”

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

What was the sound?

Faison: It’s almost like a fart.

Braff: No, it’s not a fart.

Faison: I’m not trying to make a fart joke. But do you know how when you fart, it always sounds like a question mark. So, that’s the sound.

Braff: Esther, do not use this, please. It’s a high-pitched noise like this [does noise]. We would do it quietly enough that no one would hear we were doing it. And then she would break down laughing and ruin the take and we’d be like, “Sarah, what are you doing? It’s late. We want to go home.”

Zach, what were your initial thoughts about the project?

Braff: I was waiting tables at a French-Vietnamese restaurant called Le Colonial at Beverly and Robertson [in L.A.]. And I had to wear a tunic, which I put into “Garden State.” I’d been auditioning for so many things and not really getting much traction in the sitcom space, but I read this and I thought it was so funny. I was like, “Oh, I think I could really sell this because I find it so funny.”

How did you know the chemistry between the three of you was going to work?

Braff: When we were shooting the pilot, I was just like, “Wow. I really love these people.” I was obsessed with Sarah. I thought Donald was the funniest person I’d ever met. And then Bill was legitimately the funniest person I’ve ever met. I just felt in really good hands.

Chalke: We were all so excited to be there and we’d just hang out and watch the other scenes that we weren’t in. And I remember just being by the monitor, watching everybody else work and just being so blown away.

Braff: We would hang out after we were wrapped, which Sarah still does occasionally. This time Donald came early because there’s this really weird coffee robot in the production office that Donald seems to think is amazing coffee. So, I caught him a few times coming in early for the coffee robot.

Faison: That’s not why I came in early. I was notoriously late and unprepared the first go of “Scrubs.” I heard Tom Hanks talking about how he was a young actor and a very established actor kept forgetting their lines. And the director finally goes, “Ah, come on, come on guys. Three things. Show up early, know the text, have an idea. Let’s take 10,” and walks away. And Tom Hanks goes, “Oh, if that’s what it takes, I can do that s—.” So, I took that to heart and this is the second opportunity.

Braff: I thought it was the coffee robot.

Zach Braff on his co-stars: “When we were shooting the pilot, I was just like, ‘Wow. I really love these people.’ I was obsessed with Sarah. I thought Donald was the funniest person I’d ever met.” (Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

But Sarah would hang out after you wrapped?

Chalke: We are all executive producers on this. Zach is producing and directing and editing and writing and doing all of the things, and that’s been really neat to watch. I legitimately do want to learn. Obviously, there’s a balance of that with also going back into work full-time and having two kids.

Braff: Sarah gave me this whole speech at the top of the show. She’s like, “Hey, I really do want to learn this stuff. I want to sit by your director’s chair. I want to ask you questions. I want to learn to genuinely [executive produce], genuinely direct.” And I was like, “Great.” The first week I was like, “All right. Sarah, we’re going on a big tech scout. It’s probably going to be about…”

Chalke: “In a van for seven hours.”

Braff: I go, “You’re going to learn more on the tech scout than you could in film school.” And she’s like, “No, I won’t be able to do that.” And then by the end of the nine episodes, Sarah was like, “I think my EP thing is morale.”

Faison: I want to piggyback on something Sarah said though. Zach has done a lot, these nine episodes. For this revival, he’s done so much and has worked so hard on this. And that’s made us all feel very safe and secure also because we know we have the No. 1 guy on the call sheet who cares about the show completely putting in 100% to make sure that we’re coming out the gate with something very, very, very, very strong and undeniable for the fans.

What were your conversations about where your characters would be after all these years?

Braff: One of the big conversations we had was we wanted to reground the show because the show got really broad over the years and we wanted to dial it back and go back to where we started, where it exists in a real place. We have the luxury of the fantasies where we can be super silly. And obviously, we dip our toe over the line sometimes and stuff is a little broad. But for the most part, the new show is back to Season 1 and grounded again.

As we all know, especially when you reach 50 years old, a lot of things in life don’t turn out the way you hope they would. And that’s why we opened the show with J.D. living this fantasy that he is this heroic trauma ER guy when in fact he’s fixing toes in the suburbs. Also, I think with regard to me and Donald, [Lawrence] said, “I want them to be silly as those two guys are in real life, but … when they drop in and they’re teachers, they’re really good teachers.”

Donald Faison on returning for the revival: “When we did the table read, I laughed so hard when the first voice-over kicked in, when Zach read the voice-over.”

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

Was it easy to fall back into your rhythms?

Faison: When we did the table read, I laughed so hard when the first voice-over kicked in, when Zach read the voice-over.

Braff: The whole room did. It was really funny because no one had heard me do that voice in 20 years.

Chalke: One of the coolest things that helped with the show was Bill would just write to everybody’s strengths or write to their quirks or write to their personalities and weave it in. That happened this season, but it happened all through the first eight years. And so, to a certain extent, the lines blurred sometimes between ourselves and our characters. So, stepping back into them, there’s a reason why it felt so comfortable.

Braff: Sarah is a fast-talking klutz.

Chalke: I am. We met all the interns and Zach said, “So, guys, Chalke’s going to come in every day and something’s going to be broken. Every day there’s going to be a story.” And then I proceeded the very next day, which was the day before filming, to fall and break my finger. So, I did have to come in on the first day and say, “So, I broke my finger.”

How did you break your finger?

Braff: Walking.

Chalke: It’s part of who I am, but it’s also part of who Elliot is.

Braff: I think if we put in the show how really klutzy you are, people would think it’s too much.

Was there anything you were nostalgic for that wasn’t in the new incarnation?

Chalke: Sam Lloyd.

Braff: Sam Lloyd who played the lawyer was such a big part of the show and not only a fan favorite, but our favorite. He was just the funniest, nicest man. And Bill calls people like Sam Lloyd “comedy assassins.” They come in and they have one line and you’re laughing. And he was one of the greats.

Faison: It’s not the same “Scrubs.” And I kind of miss a little bit of that. There are so many new stories to tell. And you get nostalgic when you see the stuff that we’re doing in it, but I do sometimes miss some of the stories that we told in the past. It’s like capturing lightning in the bottle again, and I feel like we did it. I really do hope we have that opportunity again. I really do hope that this isn’t just nine. But it’s important for the audience to know that we’re definitely older. That’s just real talk. I’m not a 26-year-old man anymore. I’m 50.

Teddy Riley took to social media late Thursday to walk back earlier comments he’d made about wanting to work with the disgraced R&B singer R. Kelly.

In an interview with The Times published on Wednesday, the veteran producer and musician — widely known as the architect of the New Jack Swing sound that dominated Black pop in the late 1980s and early 1990s — said he’d “talked a few times” with Kelly, who’s serving a 30-year prison sentence after a jury convicted him of racketeering and sex trafficking charges, and that he’s “bringing in investors” to help release some portion of the 25 albums Kelly has said he’s recorded in prison.

“Everybody deserves a second chance,” Riley told The Times. “Everyone deserves to repent, and everyone gets forgiven by God when you come to him. People miss [Kelly’s] music. I’m the messenger to bring R&B back.”

Yet Thursday he appeared to changed course.

“As a producer, I’ve always been excited about the possibilities of music and creative collaboration,” he wrote in an Instagram post. “That excitement has defined my career. But I also understand that words carry weight, and I never want my passion for music to overshadow the very real pain that many people have experienced.

“If my comments caused hurt, I sincerely apologize,” he added. “That was never my intention. I take seriously the impact that abuse and misconduct have had on survivors and their families. Their experiences matter, and they deserve to be acknowledged with care and respect.”

Riley, whose long career has included collaborations with Michael Jackson, Bobby Brown and Keith Sweat, described his plan to work with Kelly as “a creative idea discussed in passing. It is not something that will move forward. Loving music and recognizing its cultural impact does not mean condoning harmful behavior, and I want to be clear about that.

“I have spent my life building a legacy rooted in innovation, integrity, and love for the art form. That remains my focus. I appreciate the dialogue, and I remain committed to moving forward with intention and accountability,” said Riley, who this month published a book, “Remember the Times,” about his life and work.

“Thank you to everyone who continues to support me, my memoir, and the journey,” he wrote on Instagram.

A sparkly pink electric guitar hangs on a wall of the recording studio where Hilary Duff made her new album. The cozy, gear-filled joint near the Van Nuys Airport belongs to her husband, Matthew Koma, who produced “Luck… or Something,” the singer and actor’s first LP in more than a decade. But as Duff points out on a recent afternoon, the paisley-print guitar is all hers.

“I got it for my 16th birthday,” she says proudly — a gift from the Fender company. “I found it in the storage unit and Matt was like, ‘Oh, that’s going up there.’”

Before Miley Cyrus, before Sabrina Carpenter, before Olivia Rodrigo, Duff arrived in the early 2000s as a Disney kid with pop-idol ambitions. She broke out in the endearingly awkward title role of the Disney Channel’s “Lizzie McGuire” then went on to star in family-friendly movies like “Agent Cody Banks” and “Cheaper by the Dozen.” By the time she received that guitar, she’d topped the Billboard 200 with her album “Metamorphosis,” which sold 4 million copies and spawned hit singles like “So Yesterday” and “Come Clean.”

Duff stepped away from music for most of her 20s to focus on acting and starting a family. (An attempted comeback album in 2015, “Breathe In. Breathe Out.,” didn’t really go anywhere.) Now, at 38, she’s returned with a bracingly honest record full of the texture and detail of her life as a wife, sister and mother of four.

In frank yet wordy songs that layer guitars and synths over shimmering grooves, Duff sings about trying to overcome old habits and about her fear that her best times are behind her. “We Don’t Talk” appears to address her estrangement from her older sister, Haylie, while “Weather for Tennis” describes her tendency to keep the peace as a child of divorce. In “Holiday Party,” she recounts a recurring dream in which Koma cheats on her with her friends.

“I wake up in a rage and he’s like, ‘I didn’t do anything!’” she says with a laugh. “And I’m like, ‘But you want to.’ A lot of this stuff came out of the hormonal boom of: I’ve just had a baby and I’m nursing and I’m trying to get my two feet back on the ground again.” (Duff and Koma have three daughters aged 7, 4 and 1, while Duff shares a 13-year-old son with her ex-husband, former hockey player Mike Comrie.)

Asked how he hopes the album fares commercially, Koma says, “I don’t [care]. Public perception or sales, that’s all cool, but it’s a separate experience from why we did it.” The producer, who’s known for his work with Zedd and Shania Twain, adds, “The whole purpose was to make something that Hilary could feel good about stepping into.”

Yet early-2000s nostalgia led to a recent run of sold-out theater gigs, and this summer it’ll carry her into arenas around the world, including Inglewood’s Kia Forum on July 8 and 9. (Less happily for Duff, it also made a viral sensation of an essay in the Cut by her fellow millennial Ashley Tisdale in which Tisdale wrote about leaving a “toxic mom group” that allegedly included Duff and Mandy Moore.)

Curled on a sofa in the studio’s control room, Duff says, “I’m finally at this place where I’m zero percent ashamed of my past and any of the things that used to embarrass me” — one reason she made the bold choice to open her set at the Wiltern last month with two of her biggest hits, “Wake Up” and “So Yesterday.”

After those songs came “Roommates,” perhaps the most vulnerable track on Duff’s new album. It’s about navigating a dry patch in a marriage, and the language is as vivid as it is unsparing: “I only want the beginning / I don’t want the end,” she sings, adding that she longs to be in the “back of a dive bar, giving you h—.”

A surprising word choice.
How would you have said it? Sometimes you need to make the lyrics fit — you need it to rhyme with something. [Laughs] It’s meant to be polarizing because it’s such a desperate plea. I can say I haven’t actually given h— in the back of a dive bar. But it’s just trying to capture the feeling of a time when you felt alive.

Like all teen stars, you had to figure out how to grow up and talk about sex as a public figure. Now there’s the idea that it’s better left to the young.
I finally feel like I know a lot about sex. My whole 20s, sex was not always enjoyable — it was so much to figure out. Now I finally understand it. Maybe that’s a female thing, but I’m not ready to be put out to pasture. People come up to me all the time and they’re like, “Wow, you aged really well.” I’m like, “I’m only 38! Just because you’ve known me since I was 9…”

You’re handling senior citizenship well.
When do I start getting the discounts? I feel like 38 is not old, although when I thought about my parents at 40, they looked so different than we look now.

I always stop at those TikToks where it shows what 35 looked like in 1982.
I don’t think anyone drank water back then. They were, like, dusty-crusty.

Hilary Duff, left, and Matthew Koma at Apple Music Studios in Los Angeles in December.

(Amy Sussman / Getty Images for Apple Music)

You borrow the chorus of Blink-182’s “Dammit” for your song “Growing Up.” Why?
Blink is one of my favorite bands. I remember getting my driver’s license, and that was what was playing on my iPod. “Growing Up” is such a deeply personal song to me, talking about sitting in the backyard with one of my best friends and just needing to drink too much wine and unload about life. But it also feels like a love letter to my fans. I don’t like saying that word, but I genuinely feel like I’ve had fans for 25 years, and getting to see them now in adulthood — I didn’t know I was going to have this opportunity.

What’s the problem with “fan”?
It puts me on a pedestal that makes me feel uncomfortable. If you were to talk to Matt or someone close to me, they’d probably say, “Hilary doesn’t understand what she’s meant to some people.” And I think that’s true. When I think of myself, I’m not like a grand pop star — I feel more like a woman of the people.

A woman of the people?
Am I allowed to say that? [Laughs] Is that offensive in any way? My feet hit the ground in the morning, and I’ve got a million things to do. Sometimes my baby’s still sleeping. And I have a teenager to get ready for school that we’re always all waiting on.

Why do you have four children?
I know — we’re sick.

Did you expect to have four?
I thought I would have at least three. I always wanted a big family because I come from a super small family and I always wanted more siblings. I had Luca obviously pre-Matt, and then we had Banks before we got married. Then the pandemic hit — we had a pandemic baby like everybody else. The fourth was just a crazy-a— decision. Matt was like, “Everybody’s gonna think we’re really Christ-y if we go for No. 4.” We also have three dogs, two cats and eight chickens.

As two artists, how do you sort out the work of child-rearing?
I don’t know if I’ve actually said this out loud — to Matt I have for sure — but I think that part of my wanting to make a record was coming out of having my fourth child. I love motherhood, obviously — I wouldn’t have four kids if I didn’t. But I think I felt really jealous that he got to go to work every day and just be alone with his thoughts. I was like, I need to stretch. That’s what it felt like after the fourth baby: I’m either gonna lose myself completely and just become a stay-at-home mom and wait for the phone to ring, or I’m gonna go make something that moves me.

You don’t need me to tell you that our culture is always happy to make moms feel guilty. Was it a journey to accept that it’s OK to do something for yourself?
That’s what the healthy part of the brain says. But the other part that’s wired to be with the children you birthed — sometimes that part overshadows it. And it’s very hard to fight that. I could probably cry right now thinking about all the things I’m gonna miss this year.

Hilary Duff in the studio where she recorded her new album.

(Jay L Clendenin / For The Times)

You’ve got a line in “Roommates” where you say, “Life is life-ing and pressure is pressuring me.” At the shows you just played, did you think of your audience as being at the same place in life as you?
For sure. When they were scream-singing it back to me, I was like, “Oh, you know.” That doesn’t mean you have to be a parent. “Life is life-ing” is the bills and the monotony and the traffic and the family — it’s all the things. I knew that if it’s bumping around inside my head, and I’ve been living a pretty normal life for 10 years — normal as I can get — then people would see themselves in it.

Twenty-five years ago, you were playing to 10-year-olds. Would a 10-year-old today be interested in your new songs?
I don’t think so. But I mean, I used to sing Natalie Imbruglia’s “Torn” all the time, and I had no idea what it was about.

The last decade has been a golden age for young female songwriters: Taylor Swift, Billie Eilish, Olivia Rodrigo.
You forgot Chappell Roan.

“Luck… or Something” feels aligned with that deepening craft. But maybe your early stuff felt sophisticated to you.
I don’t think the intent back then was sophisticated songwriting. There was no Taylor Swift yet — it’s like before Christ and after Christ.

She changed the game?
On all the levels.

How’d you end up on Atlantic Records? I wondered whether this was a product of personal friendships — the Elliot Grainge and Sofia Richie and Good Charlotte of it all.
We’re more personally friends with them now. I finished making the record and for the first time ever was like, “It’s done — do you like it?”

You weren’t looking for notes from the label.
I’m not saying I didn’t have meetings with A&R. But pretty much the record was created, and that was that. I didn’t go shopping anywhere else, which was fantastic because I hate a dog-and-pony show.

Did you feel like you’d been chewed up by the record industry in any way?
After “Breathe In. Breathe Out.,” it was very easy to be like, “RCA forced me to lead with this song when I knew it should’ve been this song.” But that was me not having [courage], you know what I mean? It was a joint effort of [messing] it up. But I learned a lot from that. I don’t think I would’ve made this record if I hadn’t fumbled the ball a little.

The story about the toxic mom group blew up just as you were launching this album. Did that experience give you pause about reentering the pop world?
I mean, this is not new for me. I’ve had this since I was maybe 15 and starting to get followed around by paparazzi. Everything starts getting documented and everyone knows my life and all the players in it. So the stories that get news pickup — it’s not what happens to a normal person who maybe became an actor as an adult. And now it’s escalated by the talking heads on TikTok that need clickbait. It’s hard because you’re like, “Wait, whoa, that person kind of got it right,” and “Whoa that person doesn’t know what they’re talking about.” I saw something that was like, “None of the moms at school actually like her and neither do the teachers,” and I was like, “First of all…”

Is it hard or easy for you to tune out —
By the way, the women at school are lovely and I’m obsessed with all of them.

But can you ignore the chatter about you on social media?
It just depends on the day. Knowing that I get to open up the backdoors and play soccer as a family and take a hot tub and go get our chicken eggs — that’s the purpose of life. On the days when crazy s— happens, I go home and quiet the noise.

Our present podcast era has bred a new generation of interlocutors from the public sphere, veteran interviewees turned journalists. Harper Simon is among the many pro musicians who have taken on the role of insatiably curious interrogator. The singer-songwriter, who is the son of Paul Simon, has made four solo albums and toured the country both as a solo artist and sideman, but it wasn’t until he was tapped by music manager Michael Lustig in 2016 to host an internet series called “Talk Show” that Simon found his new avocation.

The cream of Simon’s interviews have now been collected in “Thinking Out Loud,” which is published by L..A. imprint Hat & Beard Press. I chatted with Simon about the art of the interview, Pink Floyd and Ed Snowden.

✍️ Author Chat

I have found that people who have been interviewed a lot are good at interviewing others. They know how to avoid the banal and obvious questions.

I’m not a trained journalist, so the conversations were closer to what Andy Warhol’s “Interview” magazine used to be. More of a casual back-and-forth, rather than me trying to ask questions or having someone promote their product. So the book is really a combination of folks that I’ve known my whole life and others that I just asked to interview.

Interviewing public figures can be a very stilted experience. And then you wind up not getting much of anything.

Interviews with journalists are a funny thing. There is always this weird, uncomfortable hierarchical relationship, where the journalist might feel superior, or the subject feels that way. It creates this strange imbalance. The journalist might feel the need to wrest some hot information from the subject, or find some aha moment and then the subject gets their guard up. I feel like the interviews in my book are very relaxed. You’re going to get some truth, even if it’s a modest truth. There were some interviews I left out of the book because the subjects seemed too media trained or too guarded.

Some of your interviewees, like Eric Idle and Buck Henry, are people you’ve known your entire life, having grown up with your dad in that kind of very stimulating artistic milieu. Does that help or hurt?

I think I might get better material from folks like that. There’s a warmth there, but I’m also a huge fan of their work, so I want to hear about Eric Idle’s work with Monty Python, or Buck Henry hosting “Saturday Night Live.” There are still plenty of stories that I’ve never heard.

Harper Simon, the artist and son of Paul Simon, has released three solo albums and toured the country. His latest project is a collection of interviews.

(Demme)

Someone like Pink Floyd’s David Gilmour has been interviewed hundreds of times in his career. What is there left to ask?

It’s kind of like my father, where the legacy is so familiar and well-known, what is there left to be said? What is there left to say about “Dark Side of The Moon”? But it turned out to be a really good interview. He had some great things to say about [Pink Floyd founder] Syd Barrett, how Gilmour felt like the other members had behaved callously towards him at times. He also speaks with great warmth about his own family.

Harry Dean Stanton is in the book, and I have to empathize. He was by far the most difficult interview subject I’ve ever had to deal with. A man of few words.

It’s funny, because I wound up doing some projects with Harry Dean, like this big tribute event to help raise money for Vidiots in Eagle Rock, but even after all of that, we didn’t get any closer. He was a very hard person to know.

You interviewed James Woolsey, and you guys were definitely not on the same page, but the tone remains civil. Don’t you think it’s important to have a reasoned discourse with someone you don’t agree with politically?

Absolutely, but that was one that definitely became contentious at times. James Woolsey had been the former head of the CIA under Clinton. So I came into the interview feeling very outgunned. I’m not a trained political journalist. But somehow I had gotten it in my head that I was Abbie Hoffman and he was J. Edgar Hoover or something. This was 10 years ago, and Edward Snowden was the big story in the news. So I led with that, and Jim Woolsey, being a good CIA man with very strong convictions, felt that Snowden was a traitor. But then he said he would like to see him hung by his neck, which felt aggressive. Then things really went off the rails when we somehow got locked into a discussion about Israel and Palestine. I remember him saying to me, “You’re just parroting the talking points of the Muslim Brotherhood.” Now I found those words echoing in my thoughts when I listen to some people discuss the current situation. I respected him and enjoyed the conversation but it was intense. I thought I held my own reasonably well but he was a tough guy to get in the ring with.

(This Q&A was edited for length and clarity.)

📰 The Week(s) in Books

“‘Second Skin’ is more sociological than sexy; more anthropological than animalistic,” writes Meredith Maran.

(Los Angeles Times illustration; book jacket from Catapult)

Meredith Maran thinks Anastasiia Fedorova’s book “Second Skin” does a great job of busting open the taboo of what is commonly regarded as deviant sexual desire. The book “advocates for a person’s right to like what they like and to get it consensually,” writes Maran.

Victoria Lancaster has a chat with Emily Nemens about her new novel “Clutch” and the challenges of writing about midlife among a clutch of close female friends. “I was cognizant of balance and understanding the lazy-Susan of it,” says Nemens. “Making sure I was spinning all the way around the table and touching each piece in each storyline.”

Two new novels about game-changing women in history — Janet Rich Edwards’ “Canticle” and Paula McLain’s “Skylark” — find favor with Bethanne Patrick. What these books “get right about their very different heroines and time periods is that change doesn’t happen overnight. … [But] change can and does happen, one determined woman at a time.”

Finally, on the occasion of the new screen adaptation of “Wuthering Heights,” six authors weigh in on their love of Emily Brontë’s enduring romance novel.

📖 Bookstore Faves

Skylight Books on Vermont is a staple of the Los Feliz literati.

(Joel Barhamand/For the Times)

Let us praise Skylight Books, which for over 30 years has remained a pillar of its Los Feliz community, with the main shop and the arts annex just a few doors away from each other on Vermont Boulevard. Store manager Mary Wiliams tells us what her customers are sweeping off the shelves right now.

What is selling right now?

“Vigil” by George Saunders is our biggest seller right now. Aside from that, it seems like great recent fiction in paperback is dominating the bestseller list — “Rejection” by Tony Tulathimutte, “The City and Its Uncertain Walls” by Haruki Murakami, “Martyr!” by Kaveh Akbar, and “All Fours” by Miranda July all are books that keep on selling really well for us, month after month.

Do you sell more fiction than nonfiction, or is it a tie?

We sell a good amount of both, but fiction is the bigger seller. Especially literary fiction, which is our bread and butter. On the nonfiction front, “Everything Now” by Rosecrans Baldwin is a perennial bestseller out of our Regional section — it’s a great collection of essays about Los Angeles. And everything Patti Smith touches turns to gold, so her book “Bread of Angels” is also a hit here.

Your arts annex is unlike anything else in L.A. I suppose there is still a market for cool periodicals and expensive art books that the internet hasn’t knocked out?

Our goal with the annex is for it to be a place of discoverability — where you can find the weird cool art book, comic or magazine you didn’t know you needed. We hope even our customers who are well-versed in art books find something new every visit. A fair amount of what we carry isn’t widely available online in the U.S., so when we put it on our website in our Annex Picks section and advertise it in our newsletter, we get orders from around the country.

Skylight Books in Los Angeles is located at 1818 North Vermont Ave.

(Please note: The Times may earn a commission through links to Bookshop.org, whose fees support independent bookstores.)

The Gaza Strip – As soon as the “ceasefire” in Gaza began in October, Palestinian farmer Mohammed al-Slakhy and his family headed straight for their farms in the Zeitoun area of Gaza City.

After more than two years of Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza – and despite ongoing Israeli attacks – it was finally safe enough to return, and attempt to rebuild and restore.

Mohammed and his family spent months clearing rubble from the ground and whatever was left of their greenhouses, which were flattened during the fighting, like many of the buildings in Gaza.

With very limited resources, they prepared the soil and planted the first courgette crop, hoping it would be ready to harvest by early spring.

But even this limited attempt to bring the family’s land back to life is not without risk. As Mohammed explains, every time he goes to tend to his field, he is risking his life. A few hundred metres away sit Israeli tanks, and the sound of bullets flying by is common.

Before the war, Mohammed’s farm produced large quantities of vegetables.

“I learned farming from my father and grandfather,” he told Al Jazeera. “Our farm used to produce abundant, high-quality crops for the local market and for export to the [occupied] West Bank and abroad. Now, everything we had has been destroyed in the war.”

Levelled to the ground

More than three hectares (7.5 acres) of Mohammed’s greenhouses were levelled to the ground. The destruction also included his entire irrigation network, all nine of his wells, two solar power systems, and two desalination plants.

Mohammed’s losses reflect the wider extent of the damage to the agricultural sector in Gaza. According to a July 2025 report by the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO), more than 80 percent of cropland was damaged, and less than 5 percent remained available for cultivation.

And even with the “ceasefire”, the losses have not stopped for Gaza’s farmers, as Israel expands a so-called buffer zone, within which its forces are based.

In fact, many Palestinians fear that Gaza’s agricultural lands will be forcibly taken by Israel if the buffer zone becomes a permanent fixture. Blueprints released as part of United States President Donald Trump’s “Board of Peace” plan for Gaza show many agricultural areas erased.

Expanding buffer zones

Israel still controls about 58 percent of the Gaza Strip, calling it a security buffer zone in the east, north, and south of the Gaza Strip. The majority of that buffer zone is Palestinian agricultural land.

Mohammed has only been able to return to one hectare (2.5 acres) of the more than 22 hectares (54 acres) of farmland his family had cultivated in Gaza City before the war. The other 21 hectares lie within the Israeli buffer zone, and he cannot access them.

The solitary hectare is only about 200 metres (650 feet) from the “yellow line”, which marks the border between the buffer zone and the rest of Gaza. Mohammed says that Israeli tanks frequently approach and fire randomly.

One such incident occurred on February 12, when Israeli tanks advanced into Salah al-Din Street and opened fire. Two Palestinians were killed, and at least four others were reported wounded. Mohammed was in his farmland, close to the Israeli tanks.

“We were working in the field when suddenly a tank approached and opened fire towards us. I had to take cover behind a destroyed building and waited there for more than an hour and a half before I could escape west,” Mohammed said.

The dangers to Mohammed’s farm are mirrored in central Gaza, where 75-year-old Eid al-Taaban is increasingly worried.

His land in Deir el-Balah lies only about 300 metres (980 feet) from the yellow line and the Israeli areas of control.

“We planted eggplants in an open field after the ceasefire. Now, we can’t reach it and harvest the crop because of the expansion of the buffer zone,” Eid told Al Jazeera.

“The sounds of Israeli heavy machineguns are heard every day in our area. Every time my sons go to irrigate the crops in the greenhouses, I just pray that they come back alive,” he added.

On February 6, the Palestinian news agency Wafa reported that the Israeli army killed Palestinian farmer Khaled Baraka while he was working on his land in eastern Deir el-Balah. Khaled was Eid’s neighbour and friend.

“Khaled Baraka was a great farmer,” Eid said. “He dedicated his life to cultivating his land and teaching his sons and daughters about farming.”

Israeli blockade

According to Palestinian farmers, the Israeli blockade of Gaza is one of the biggest challenges they face in their efforts to reclaim agricultural land.

Since October 7, 2023, Israel has largely prevented the entry of any agricultural equipment or supplies, such as seeds, pesticides, fertilisers, irrigation networks, or tractors.

That has led to a huge shortage, with what is available still liable to being damaged in bombing, or in the case of seeds, pesticides, and fertilisers, reaching expiry. The prices of what little is available have also skyrocketed due to the Israeli restrictions.

And even when the materials can be obtained, they do not guarantee a return.

Eid said that he had planted tomatoes in his greenhouses to harvest in the spring, paying an exorbitant amount to acquire the seeds, fertilisers, and pesticides.

After 90 days of costly care for the plants, and when it was time to start harvesting, the entire crop was ruined because the pesticides and fertilisers he had bought turned out to be ineffective. He was forced to replant the crop.

Market difficulties

Eid noted that the current economic conditions in Gaza mean that it is hard to find customers for the produce.

“Even when we manage to keep the plants alive and harvest the crop, we don’t know if we’ll be able to sell it,” Eid said.

The instability of the market in Gaza is causing heavy losses for local farmers.

Waleed Miqdad, an agricultural produce wholesaler, explained that Israeli authorities sometimes close the crossings and at other times flood the market with various goods, causing significant losses for Palestinian farmers.

He added that Israeli goods are usually of a lower quality and are priced more cheaply.

“Our local produce, although much fewer in quantity than before the war, still has a distinctive quality and taste. Many of our customers prefer local produce,” Waleed told Al Jazeera.

But many residents of Gaza, whose economy has been devastated as a result of the war, do not have the money to be able to choose the higher-priced items.

The competition from Israeli produce is therefore making it difficult for Palestinian farmers to market their produce and make a profit.

“I was recently forced to sell large quantities of my produce for less than the cost of production because of the competition from imported goods that are widely available in the market,” said Mohammed, the farmer from northern Gaza. “I had to sell and lose or watch my produce rot. And of course, we haven’t received any compensation or support.”

Despite the challenges facing the farmers in Gaza, they remain determined to reclaim agricultural fields across the Gaza Strip. These areas have always been adored by Palestinians in Gaza, where most had lived in the built-up cities. The farms provided a respite from Israel’s control over the territory and its constant wars.

“Agriculture is our life and our livelihood,” said Mohammed. “It is an important part of our Palestinian identity. Despite the destruction and danger, we will remain steadfast on our land and will replant all the land we can reach. Our children will continue after us.”

For Eid, farming is a continuation of the work of his ancestors – in towns that are now in Israel, and where he can never set foot.

“I’m 75 years old, and I still work in the fields every day,” Eid said. “My grandfather was a farmer in our hometown of Beersheba before the [1948] Nakba.”

“He taught my father, my father taught me, and today I’m passing on my agricultural expertise to my grandchildren,” Eid added. “The love of the land and agriculture is passed down from generation to generation in our family, and it can never be taken away from us.”

Welcome to Screen Gab, the newsletter for everyone who is feeling mighty nostalgic about the ’90s and early aughts.

On Thursday night, we learned that Eric Dane died at 53 after a battle with ALS, also known as amyotrophic lateral sclerosis or Lou Gehrig’s disease. The actor was known for his mid-2000s role on ABC’s medical drama “Grey’s Anatomy,” where he earned the moniker “McSteamy” as Dr. Mark Sloan, a plastic surgeon. Coincidentally, yesterday marked the 20th anniversary of his first appearance on “Grey’s.” More recently, he appeared in HBO’s teen drama “Euphoria” as Cal Jacobs, a very complex father to Nate (Jacob Elordi), one of the central characters. The actor will appear posthumously in the show’s third season when it returns in April. Dane remained busy in the past couple of years, having also appeared in the one-season action series “Countdown” on Prime Video and in an episode of ABC’s “Brilliant Minds.” If you want to go further on Dane, Netflix announced this morning that an episode of the docuseries “Famous Last Words” featuring the actor was available. The show consists of an interview with a notable subject, and is only released posthumously.

If you want another trip down memory lane, last week saw the arrival of FX’s “Love Story: John F. Kennedy Jr. & Carolyn Bessette,” which takes a closer look at the famous couple who unexpectedly met a tragic end. The show fully immerses you in the culture of New York in the ’90s, complete with Calvin Klein ads, tabloid magazines with zany headlines and partying at the Roxy nightclub. Connor Hines, the creator of “Love Story,” spoke to us about the show, which you can read below.

Also in this week’s Screen Gab, we recommend an Irish series on Netflix from the creator of “Derry Girls” and another nostalgic docuseries about “America’s Next Top Model.”

ICYMI

Must-read stories you might have missed

Grace Van Patten and Jackson White of “Tell Me Lies” at American Quick Start & Gas Inc. in Brooklyn, N.Y.

(Dutch Doscher / For The Times)

On ‘Tell Me Lies,’ Grace Van Patten and Jackson White’s toxic (onscreen) relationship ends: After three seasons, “Tell Me Lies” comes to an end. Creator Meaghan Oppenheimer unpacks the series finale alongside stars Grace Van Patten and Jackson White.

Missed ‘Scrubs’? They did too, and now they’re back making the rounds: Donald Faison, Zach Braff and Sarah Chalke spoke about reuniting for the revival of the beloved medical comedy created by Bill Lawrence and now helmed by Aseem Batra.

‘Baywatch’ casting call brings back ’90s with in-person auditions, red suits and ripped bods: About 2,000 people flocked to Marina del Rey on Wednesday in hopes of landing a role in the upcoming “Baywatch” reboot, which the production hopes will be a boon for Hollywood.

How ‘The Pitt’ portrayed a rape kit exam sensitively with the help of experts: To portray the exam shown in Episode 7 accurately, the show’s writers and actors consulted with experts from the UCLA Health Rape Treatment Center and Pittsburgh Action Against Rape.

Turn on

Recommendations from the film and TV experts at The Times

Bronagh Gallagher, back left, as Booker, Shauna Bray as Midwife, Saoirse-Monica Jackson as Feeney in “How To Get To Heaven From Belfast.”

(Christopher Barr / Netflix)

“How to Get to Heaven From Belfast” (Netflix)

Lisa McGee, whose “Derry Girls” was the toast of 2018, returns with another comedy of Irish women in a mad place. Three friends since school travel to a one-taxi, one-hotel town for the wake of an estranged fourth: Saoirse (Roisin Gallagher), an award-winning television writer who can’t seem to keep her engagement ring on her finger; Robyn (Sinéad Keenan), a busy, bored rich wife and mother; and Dara (Caoilfhionn Dunne), who has been stuck, or has stuck herself, caring for her mother. All share a dark secret they hope to keep buried, but which has begun to poke its head above ground. What, and who, they find, and don’t find, kicks off a manic mystery, served with a side of car trouble, hangovers, a storm, a blackout, oddball supporting characters and a little romance, not necessarily in that order, with sharp, funny dialogue driving it along. And that’s just the beginning. — Robert Lloyd

A still of “America’s Next Top Model” contestants, clockwise from far left, Nicole Panattoni, Adrianne Curry, Elyse Sewell, Kesse Wallace, Robbyne Manning, Giselle Samson, Shannon Stewart and Ebony Haith as featured in “Reality Check: Inside America’s Next Top Model.”

(Courtesy of Netflix)

“Reality Check: America’s Next Top Model” (Netflix)

“We were all rooting for you!” was the cry heard ‘round the world from Tyra Banks, the host and creator of the reality TV series that aimed to find the next fresh face of magazine covers and fashion runways. But viewers learn in this docuseries that what we saw on screen didn’t tell the whole story. From allegations of sexual assault to discord among the judges, “America’s Next Top Model” had a lot of problems, many of them relating to the fact that a show like it hadn’t been done and producers were inexperienced in handling serious issues on set. “Reality Check” features candid interviews with former contestants including Shandi Sullivan, Keenyah Hill, Tiffany Richardson (recipient of that famous “rooting” speech) and Banks herself. — Maira Garcia

Guest spot

A weekly chat with actors, writers, directors and more about what they’re working on — and what they’re watching

Sarah Pidgeon as Carolyn Bessette Kennedy and Paul Kelly as John F. Kennedy Jr. in “Love Story: John F. Kennedy Jr. & Carolyn Bessette.”

(FX)

The latest anthology series produced by Ryan Murphy dramatizes the true-life romance between John F. Kennedy Jr. and Carolyn Bessette that gripped the culture in the ’90s. Nearly three decades after their tragic deaths, FX’s “Love Story” revisits the tumultuous seven-year relationship between the pair. JFK Jr. (Paul Anthony Kelly) spent his life navigating the public spotlight as the son and namesake of an assassinated (and beloved) president, and Bessette (Sarah Pidgeon) was a publicist working at Calvin Klein. Inspired by Elizabeth Beller’s book “One Upon a Time: The Captivating Life of Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy,” the nine-episode series chronicles the couple’s whirlwind romance and their struggle to maintain their relationship under intense media scrutiny before their deaths in a 1999 plane crash. The first four episodes are streaming now on Hulu and Disney+, with new episodes released weekly on Thursdays. Connor Hines, who created the series, stopped by Guest Spot to discuss what intrigued him about the couple’s plight and the early aughts rom-com that he admires. — Yvonne Villarreal

You were a child when the love story of John F. Kennedy Jr. and Carolyn Bessette — as well as that fateful flight — generated intense media attention. What do you remember about their story? What stood out then?

My father commuted into Manhattan every day for work and always brought home the New York Post. I have vivid memories of seeing photos of them splashed across the cover. I knew about the Kennedy family, of course, but I couldn’t fully grasp the choke hold John F. Kennedy Jr. had on the country at the time. The scale of the fascination was something I only truly understood later.

Why does this story feel worth revisiting now? And did any modern couples in the spotlight become reference points as you unpacked questions about public fascination while weaving together this story?

We’re living in an attention economy, so a couple beset by obsession and scrutiny feels especially resonant right now. There are, unfortunately, far too many examples of women who marry high-profile figures only to be harangued for expressing anything other than gratitude and graciousness. That dynamic hasn’t disappeared — it’s simply evolved.

The series grapples with the media invasion that swirled around them. Some critics contend that dramatizing their story for television reignites it. How do you see it? And how did that inform your approach to telling this story?

They’ve been memorialized as these beautiful, one-dimensional fashion figures whose marriage buckled under immense pressure. The series felt like an opportunity to course-correct a dated and misogynistic narrative, especially surrounding Carolyn — and to add dimension to two people who were far more complex than the images and tabloid stories written about them.

You seemingly had a lot of material to draw from and public moments in their relationship timeline to focus on. What was a moment that most fascinated you?

I was personally drawn to Carolyn’s rich life before she became a public figure. She was incredibly sharp, savvy and dynamic — she ascended from folding sweaters at a Calvin Klein store in the mall to becoming a muse and trusted advisor to Calvin Klein himself. I don’t think people fully appreciate how much she gave up to be with John.

What have you watched recently that you are recommending to everyone you know?

“Dying for Sex” [Hulu, Disney+]. “Adolescence” [Netflix].

What’s your go-to “comfort watch,” the movie or TV show you go back to again and again?

“Something’s Gotta Give” [Tubi], or anything by Nora Ephron. I’m also an unapologetic champion of the Bravo network.

Eric Dane said he first shut down emotionally at just 7 years old, when navigating his father’s sudden death from a gunshot wound in a bathroom at his family’s home.

It wasn’t until his diagnosis with ALS decades later that the seasoned actor felt his own spirit return, Dane said in an interview released Friday on Netflix. The actor died Thursday at 53 following a public battle with the disease. The nearly hour-long interview, filmed in November, is part of the docuseries “Famous Last Words,” which features posthumous interviews with notable figures — the first centered on conservationist Jane Goodall and released two days after her death.

The actor spoke candidly about his debilitating disease, saying it “made me a little bit softer, a little bit more open.” The intimate conversation was conducted by television producer Brad Falchuk, who executive produces “Famous Last Words.”

“All I’m left with is me,” Dane said. “It’s kind of a f— up way of realizing that you were enough the whole time, when everything gets taken away and all you have left is this person.”

In the episode, Dane’s speech is noticeably slurred, and he sits in a motorized wheelchair while speaking to Falchuk. He’s thoughtful and responsive throughout as he reflects on his life and career, which spanned more than three decades.

“I didn’t think this was gonna be the end of the road for me. This was never part of the story I created for myself,” Dane said.

The actor described himself as a complainer during the interview, adding that he’s “always historically been the guy that would b— and moan on his way to doing anything, but my spirit has been surprisingly pretty buoyant throughout this journey.”

A final message to his daughters

Dane stared straight into the camera in the last few minutes of the Netflix special, his voice wavering when tears welled up in his eyes. He directed his parting words to his two daughters, Billie, 15, and Georgia, 14, sharing four lessons he’s learned from ALS.

“Billie and Georgia, you are my heart. You are my everything. Good night. I love you. Those are my last words,” Dane said.

Dane married Rebecca Gayheart, the mother of his children, in 2004 and the couple separated in 2017, though the divorce was never finalized. They maintained a friendship after their separation, though, and Dane said he had “never fallen in love with another woman as deeply as I fell in love with Rebecca.”

Dane said he spent most of his life “wallowing and worrying in self-pity, shame and doubt.” But with ALS, he was “forced to stay in the present,” he said, which he encouraged his daughters to do.

Eric Dane, left, in conversation with Brad Falchuk on “Famous Last Words.”

(Courtesy of Netflix)

“I don’t want to be anywhere else. The past contains regrets. The future remains unknown, so you have to live now,” Dane said. “The present is all you have. Treasure it. Cherish every moment.”

Dane also encouraged his daughters to fall in love, not just with people, but with something “that makes you want to get up in the morning,” he said. For Dane, that love was acting, which “eventually got me through my darkest hours, my darkest days, my darkest year,” he said.

The actor, who was open about his struggles with addiction, had been sober for nine years before slipping back into drug and alcohol use during a writer’s strike that halted “Grey’s Anatomy” production in 2007.

Dane told his daughters they inherited his resilience and urged them to “fight with every ounce of your being, and with dignity.”

Dane added: “This disease is slowly taking my body, but it will never take my spirit.”

ALS diagnosis brought peace

Aside from throwing a few punches to people who “deserved it,” Dane said he had no crazy confessions to make as the interview came to a close.

“I’ve never murdered anyone, Brad,” the actor joked to Falchuk.

The actor assured he lived a life full of fun, whether healthy or unhealthy. His fruitful career took off with his role as Dr. Mark “McSteamy” Sloan in “Grey’s Anatomy.” The gig started as a one-time guest role but “ignited a fan hysteria so intense,” Falchuk said, that the show was rewritten to make Dane a leading man.

Dane further cemented his legacy when he portrayed Cal Jacobs in “Euphoria,” a complicated character who leads a double life, which Dane said he related to. “I know what it’s like to not have my inside match my outside,” he said, referencing his long-standing battle with drugs and alcohol addiction.

His ALS diagnosis freed him from a constant state of self-judgment, Dane said, and helped him realize that he was always “absolutely more than enough.”

“I hope I’ve demonstrated that you can face anything. You can face the end of your days, you can face hell, with dignity,” he said.

Feb. 19 (Asia Today) — Internal divisions resurfaced within the conservative People Power Party on Thursday after former President Yoon Suk Yeol was sentenced to life in prison in a first-instance ruling on charges of leading an insurrection.

Younger lawmakers within the party called for an apology and a clear break from Yoon, while party leader Jang Dong-hyuk refrained from issuing an immediate statement.

The party said it plans to announce an official position as early as Friday after gathering views from within the leadership and rank-and-file members. Chief spokesperson Choi Bo-yoon said a consolidated statement is likely to be released after further deliberation.

Some party members interpreted Jang’s silence as a strategic move aimed at broadening the party’s appeal to centrist voters. In a television interview the previous day, Jang said “transition is more important than severance,” a remark seen by some as signaling a shift toward focusing on economic and livelihood issues rather than internal factional conflict.

However, several figures urged the leadership to distance the party from what they described as “Yoon Again” supporters.

Seoul Mayor Oh Se-hoon said he felt “devastated” by the court’s ruling as a member of the party that produced the former president and argued that cutting ties with Yoon is an unavoidable step for the conservative movement.

Lawmakers affiliated with the reform-minded group Alternative and Future also called for an official declaration of separation from pro-Yoon factions, warning that continued alignment with far-right elements could harm the party’s future.

The group urged the leadership to demonstrate “new leadership that unites rather than divides,” as the party weighs its response to the unprecedented life sentence handed to a former president.

— Reported by Asia Today; translated by UPI

© Asia Today. Unauthorized reproduction or redistribution prohibited.

Original Korean report: https://www.asiatoday.co.kr/kn/view.php?key=20260220010005937

Artist Ako Castuera is best known for her work on the award-winning animated series “Adventure Time.” As a writer and storyboard artist, she helped intrepid heroes Jake the Dog and Finn the Human become iconic toon characters.

Though she brought flying rainbow unicorns and a platoon of plotting penguins to life on screen, there’s more to Castuera’s resume than hyper-imaginative animation.

Ceramist, writer and storyboard artist Ako Castuera in her studio.

(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)

The Echo Park-based creative is also a professional ceramicist whose hand-built vessels and sculptures have been on display at the Japanese American National Museum of Art, Oxy Arts and the Oakland Museum of Art.

In this series, we highlight independent makers and artists, from glassblowers to fiber artists, who are creating original products in and around Los Angeles.

While Castuera’s studio is filled with its fair share of playful “Pee-wee’s Playhouse”-themed ceramic charms and anthropomorphic banana figurines, her craft is just as much devoted to highlighting Southern California’s natural resources and Indigenous people, as well as her own Mexican-Japanese heritage.

“‘Whimsy’ is a word that’s been applied to my work a lot. This is not my word,” she said during a recent tour of the Monrovia workspace she shares with her husband, artist Rob Sato, and fellow ceramicist Rosie Brand.

Ako Castuera’s work is anthropological and at times unusual, like her foot box sculptures. She also feels a special connection to her tools. (Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)

“Not that whimsy is negative, but I do feel like it doesn’t really get a handle on the substance of what I feel I’m working with, as far as the depth of the clay, the depth of the experience, of the land.”

She sat perched on a stool at her workbench, using a smooth stone to grind soil clumps into fine dust as she talked. She collects the red earth during nature walks around the San Gabriel Mountains area — whether the riverbed of the Arroyo Seco, or the foothills of Claremont, her hometown.

“This is special dirt,” she explained.

To her, it has a presence, a life of its own and a cherished history. She uses it to make anything from trinket boxes to ornate geometric vases to statuettes of quizzical creatures.

Some of her most recent creations stand on a nearby wooden shelf. They’re ceramic depictions of Pacific tree frogs and great herons, both denizens of the L.A. River. The waterway has long been a source of inspiration for Castuera.

Ako Castuera’s work ranges from massive pieces to the miniature, like these figurines.

(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)

“I love the L.A. River,” she said. “It’s my neighbor. It’s my teacher. It’s a place where I walk and bike.”

She regards the river as a muse and wants to inspire Angelenos of all ages to appreciate it. To that end, she teaches youth workshops at the riverside arts hubs Clockshop and Sooki Studio. What’s more, the river was a “main character” on “City of Ghosts,” the L.A.-celebrating, Emmy-winning Netflix animated series she directed. She’s even been known to use some of its water to transform soil into moldable clay.

“The more people who are brought into a sense of kinship with the river, the better,” she said. “Because then, they really feel like ‘The river takes care of me; I want to take care of the river.’”

Castuera’s work has an anthropological bent, as well as an ecological one. For example, her research into Southern California’s Kumeyaay and Cahuilla Indigenous tribes inspired a series of large jars patterned after ollas, traditional pots used for water and seed storage. She plans to incorporate these jars into an immersive installation that will be on view at the Candlewood Arts Festival in Borrego Springs in March and April. And last fall, she hosted a community event with Los Angeles Nomadic Division in which she discussed how soil played a vital role in the societies of both the Gabrielino-Tongva tribes of L.A. and the Ryukyuan people of her mother’s native Okinawa.

Finding the sweet spot where cultures combine is a constant source of motivation for Castuera. She’s created her own twist on shisa, lion-dog statues that are common sights all around Okinawa. And she’s currently working on a collection of small sculptures honoring her patrilineal ties to Puebla, Mexico. Her “taco babies” were inspired by one of the region’s best-known dishes, tacos árabes, which combine flavors from Mexico and the Middle East.

“I was thinking about the beauty of being in a living mix and what that would look like personified,” she said of the wee figures wrapped in colorful tortilla-like blankets.

Ako Castuera makes ceramics for the love of the process, not the final product.

(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)

Some of Castuera’s work makes it into gallery shows and some she sells. But just as often, she smashes it and takes the soil back to where she originally found it. It’s a habit of creating and destroying that she formed as a student at Claremont High School, where she studied the craft for two semesters, yet fired zero pieces.

“I don’t think I could’ve articulated this at 15, but it’s about the process of building, not the process of creating a product. It’s about working with the material — just making the space and the time for that practice,” she said.

“The excitement and the magic is really about the discovery of the unexpected. It’s so engrossing and it really just gets me engaged with life.”

Feb. 16 (UPI) — Ryan Routh, who was convicted of attempting to kill then-former President Donald Trump, has filed an appeal of his life sentence and his conviction.

Routh, 60, was convicted of hiding in the bushes at Trump International Golf Club in West Palm Beach in September 2024. He pointed a military-grade SKS rifle toward Trump, who was then a candidate running for his second term, and a Secret Service agent.

He defended himself in the trial that ended in September. When the verdict was read, he stabbed himself in the neck with a pen.

Routh was given an attorney for the sentencing portion of his trial. That attorney, Martin L. Roth, filed a notice Friday with the U.S. Court of Appeals stating that Routh will fight the conviction and his sentence, ordered Feb. 4. Routh was sentenced to life plus seven years.

He was convicted in October of all five charges of attempting to assassinate a major presidential candidate, assaulting a federal officer, possession of a firearm in furtherance of a crime of violence, being a felon in possession of a firearm and ammunition, and possessing a firearm with an obliterated serial number.

Secret Service agent Robert Fercano testified that Routh hid behind a shrub-covered fence near the sixth hole of the course, aiming an AK-style weapon at Trump. Routh was found with a handwritten note that stated his intention to kill Trump.

Routh argued that he had a right to peacefully protest at the golf course.

“This is as far [from] peaceful assembly as you can imagine,” Assistant U.S. Attorney John Shipley responded. “Peaceful protest is one thing. An assassination attempt is another.”

Prosecutors said in a court filing that Routh deserved a life sentence.

“Routh’s crimes undeniably warrant a life sentence — he took steps over the course of months to assassinate a major presidential candidate, demonstrated the will to kill anybody in the way, and has since expressed neither regret nor remorse to his victims.”

Routh’s attorney argued that his conviction was faulty.

“Defendant recognizes that he was found guilty by the jury but asserts that the jury was misled by his inability to effectively confront witnesses, use exhibits, or affirmatively introduce impeachment evidence designed to prove his lack of intent to cause injury to anyone,” Roth wrote.

CORTINA D’AMPEZZO, Italy — World-class athletes, thrilling events, stirring medal ceremonies, I will remember all of those from the Winter Olympics. But what I experienced Sunday on my 45-minute bus ride from my hotel to Cortina will stay with me longer.

There was a young woman sitting across the aisle. She looked to be in her mid-20s, about the age of my daughter, and was wearing a knit cap with a Switzerland logo. Her dark hair was in long, thin braids and framed her friendly face.

“How’s it going?” I asked, setting down my backpack.

“Nervous,” she said with a faint smile.

That started the conversation, one that would have me repeatedly wiping my eyes with my sleeve.

Her name was Michelle Gloor. She’s 25 and from a small town outside of Zurich. Her boyfriend, Cedric Follador, is pilot of the Swiss bobsled team and has races throughout the week. She was heading to watch him practice.

Michelle knows all about the sport. In fact, she had been the brake woman on the Swiss national team and had hoped to be competing in these Olympics herself. She grew up as a track-and-field athlete, a sprinter, and only took up bobsled in 2022.

Women’s bobsled — or bobsleigh, as Europeans call it — is a two-person operation with a pilot in front and brake woman in back.

“The first responsibility is pushing the sled as fast as I can, together with my pilot,” she said in a German accent and near-flawless English. “I have to sit still and count the curves until we reach the finish line, when I have to pull the brakes. I’m responsible that the sled won’t crash into something.”

Her best friend had made the transition from track to bobsled, was looking for a brake woman, and convinced Michelle to give it a try.

“My first bobsleigh ride was in St. Moritz and I was so nervous,” said Gloor, a third-year law student at the University of Zurich. “I think I was crying in the back of the sled because I’d never felt anything like that, all the G-forces and you don’t have any cushion in the sled. It all hurts.

“But after the second run, I felt the adrenaline and it was great. It caught me from then. It took me two runs.”

She was 22 and the future was bright. They entered the Swiss championships and won. Michelle got serious about her new sport, training every day, eating right, building muscle.

Immersed in that world, she met Cedric but for the first 1½ years they were just casual friends. Their conversations were all bobsled-related.

“Then in spring 2024 he texted me and asked, ‘How are you?’” she said. “More personal stuff.”

They had been dating for about six months when a discovery would dramatically change their lives.

In November 2024, during a routine check-up, a gynecologist found evidence of cancer in Michelle’s ovaries. If there were signs she was ill, Michelle hadn’t noticed them. She had been tired the prior summer, yes, but she attributed that to her training.

“It was pretty advanced,” she said of the cancer. “I went to the women’s doctor every year and they couldn’t explain why they couldn’t see it earlier. I don’t know. I’m not questioning that anymore. It’s just … yeah.”

There was no time to wait. By December, she was in surgery. Doctors opened her abdomen from her breast bone down, looking for more growths. They deemed the operation a success, and six months of chemotherapy began in February.

“I lost my hair,” she said. “I had long, black hair. Losing that wasn’t bad. But I lost the hair on my face — my eyebrows, my eyelashes — that was hard. But I always knew it just had to be.”

Her doctor told her her cancer was Stage 3.

“That means it’s on the other organs too,” she said. “But the difference between Stage 3 and Stage 4 is it’s not in my lungs. It’s in my tummy area but not more upwards.”

Cedric was by her side.

“I asked him after the diagnosis if he wants to join me in this journey or not,” she said. “I can understand if he won’t because we were together not even half a year, and I can understand if he said, ‘Hey, it’s too much for me. I can’t do that.’

“Then he took time for himself, and he came back and said he wants to stay with me. He wants to support me in every imaginable way.

“He drove me to therapy when he was in town because he had a bobsleigh season going on from November until March, in my toughest time. Every time he was home, he was there for me. When he wasn’t there, we were phoning every day. He was there all the time, even when he wasn’t there physically.”

Her parents and younger brother were there for her too, of course, but she wanted to give them some time to themselves. Cedric was her rock.

There are elements in his job as a driver that both help him in his sport, and her in her disease.

“As a driver, you really need to focus on what’s going on straight ahead of you,” she explained. “You can’t really switch away your thoughts. You have one minute of full concentration. I think you can compare it to Formula One because you only see the next curve in front of you.

“He’s very calm and I think that helps him in a sporting way to not overreact emotionally and stuff like that. But also for me as a partner, I’m very emotional. When I’m too excited or too sad or too angry, he can calm me down to a normal level. On a stress-less level, and to be stress-free is very important for someone who has cancer.”

Switzerland’s Cedric Follador, right, and Luca Rolli compete in two-man bobsled at the Milan-Cortina Olympics on Monday.

(Richard Heathcote / Getty Images)

Michelle, petite and pale, has lost about 40 pounds over the past year. Mostly muscle.

“I was avoiding sugar in the beginning of the illness,” she said. “You read so much stuff. But after losing so much weight, doctors told me just eat what you want to eat. Because having energy is more important than eating too much sugar.”

In August, doctors discovered more cancer in her. Another surgery to open her abdomen.

“They said it’s still there,” she said. “Those microcells which they couldn’t remove because they couldn’t see them, they grew. But once all those microcells have grown up and been removed, or have been killed by therapy and medication, there won’t be any new cells because the ovaries have been removed, so they don’t produce any more.”

She tries not to Google her illness anymore. It doesn’t help her frame of mind. She’s changed in other ways, too.

“I was a very direct person before my illness,” she said. “Now I’m even more direct and straight-forward. I say no, and I don’t explain myself. If I don’t want to do something, I don’t have to. I just say no.

“Before that, I had a bad feeling about myself and explained myself just because I say no. I don’t do that anymore.”

In December, she began radiation. She has another scan after the Olympics.

There are times she just can’t believe this is happening.

“Women or even men my age, you live in your world, you are following your dreams,” she said. “And you don’t think about something happening in your life. I only know young people in Switzerland, so I can only speak for them. But they don’t talk about that.

“They are not sensible about what can happen, and that’s why it’s important for me to speak out about it. For example, with a women’s doctor, you have to go. It can happen to anyone.

“I’m a young woman. I do sports since I’m 10 years old. I don’t drink alcohol. I don’t smoke. But it still can happen.”

Her illness has shined a spotlight on her friendships. Lots of her old friends showed concern at first, then went on with their lives. A handful checked in on her frequently. Some are new.

“I got in touch with a woman during chemotherapy, she was there too,” Michelle said. “She has breast cancer. She saw my cross necklace, and we were talking about faith and how it helped in those hard times.

“We are still in contact now. We are writing letters to each other. We’re not texting or phoning, just writing letters and sending postcards. She’s as old as my mom, but it’s very cool to have someone with almost the same story.”

How will that story end? Michelle has her hopes, this fearless young woman who took to bobsledding on her second time down the track.

“My goal is to be in the Olympics in four years,” she said. “I’ll be 29 by then. The age is still good — even better than now for a bobsleigh athlete. And I have a great team. My bobsleigh pilot is very supportive and she said she always has a place for me in the sled.”

This week, Michelle is supporting Cedric — just a sliver, she said, of the way he has supported her. They got engaged in December. It happened at sunset in his little hometown in the Swiss Alps.

“He was talking about himself and us, and then he proposed to me,” she said. “I said yes. Of course.”

Markets reopen in Dilling, South Kordofan’s second largest city. Yet residents face critical medical shortages and persistent aerial attacks.

Life is cautiously returning to the streets of Dilling, the second largest city in South Kordofan state, after the Sudanese army broke a suffocating siege that had isolated the area for more than two years.

For months, the city had been encircled by the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF) and the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement-North (SPLM-N), cutting off vital supply lines and trapping civilians in a severe humanitarian crisis.

While the lifting of the blockade has allowed goods to flow again, local authorities and residents said the city remains under the threat of drone attacks.

Al Jazeera Arabic’s Hisham Uweit, reporting from Dilling, described a city “recovering slowly” from the economic strangulation.

“For over two years, heavy siege conditions were imposed on the city. Movement disappeared, goods vanished and livelihoods narrowed,” Uweit said.

“Now the eyes of buyers pick through the few available goods … as if the market itself is announcing its recovery at a leisurely pace, drawing determination from the patience of its residents.”

Markets return to life

The immediate impact of the army’s advance is visible in the local markets, which were largely shuttered during the blockade. Fresh produce, absent for months, has begun to reappear in stalls.

“The market and vegetables have all returned,” a local trader told Al Jazeera. “Before, the market didn’t exist. Now we have okra, potatoes, sweet potatoes, chillies and lemons. Everything is with us, and the market has returned to normal.”

However, the resumption of trade masks deep scars left by the isolation. The blockade devastated the local economy, stripping residents of their savings and leaving infrastructure in disrepair.

‘The price of isolation’

While food supplies are improving, Dilling’s health sector remains in critical condition. The city’s main hospital is struggling with a severe lack of equipment and essential medicines, a shortage that has had life-altering consequences for the most vulnerable.

Abdelrahman, a local resident suffering from diabetes, paid a heavy price for the siege. During the months of encirclement, insulin supplies ran dry. His condition deteriorated rapidly, ultimately leading to the amputation of both his legs.

“He had a medical appointment after a month, but the month closed off his check-ups,” a relative of Abdelrahman said. “He is suffering severely. He is missing his insulin. There is a shortage of food, and he is tired. His health has declined sharply.”

‘Chased like locusts’

Despite the Sudanese army asserting control over access routes, the security situation in Dilling remains precarious. Authorities said the city is subjected to almost daily drone strikes launched by the RSF and SPLM-N, targeting infrastructure and residential areas.

For Maryam, a mother displaced multiple times by the conflict, the breaking of the siege has not brought peace. She described the terror of the unmanned aerial vehicles that hover over their homes.

“Now the drones bombard and chase us. They chase us like locusts,” Maryam said. “When they come, we just run to hide. When they hover over us, they burn the thatch [roofs], start fires and force you to leave your home.”

She added that the constant threat of aerial bombardment makes normal life impossible: “If you are having a meal, like porridge, … the moment you see them, you leave it.”

Uweit said that while the lifting of the siege is a “glimmer of hope” and a first step towards recovery, the dual challenge of rebuilding a shattered health system and fending off persistent military attacks means Dilling’s ordeal is far from over.

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.”

To age is to find one’s appreciation for life’s daily joys sharpen, especially as more inconvenient realities assert themselves. Lifelong Tangier resident Maria Angeles (Carmen Maura), part of the bustling Moroccan city’s entrenched Spanish community, is one such grateful senior. We see her at the beginning of “Calle Málaga” in a state of smiling contentment, walking her neighborhood streets and being greeted by vendors.

What she surely isn’t expecting, however, as she buys food and makes croquetas in preparation for an eagerly awaited visit from her daughter from Madrid, is that this trip will threaten all she holds dear. That’s because Clara (Marta Etura), a divorced mom struggling to pay the bills, arrives with the news that she’s selling the grand old apartment her widowed mother has lived in for 40 years. Won’t it be nicer for Maria to live with her in Spain and be closer to her grandchildren? Or at the very least be taken care of locally in Spanish-specialized assisted living?

The look on Maura’s face — this celebrated actor’s most well-honed tool — suggests a range of emotions regarding forced elderhood or grannydom that are far less accommodating.

How Maria handles her imminent uprooting is at the core of Moroccan filmmaker Maryam Touzani’s third feature, her follow-up to the similarly sensitive family drama “The Blue Caftan.” “Calle Málaga,” written with Touzani’s husband Nabil Ayouch, is not a passive narrative, though, merely content with the internalized ache of acceptance. It is to some extent an emotional heist film and protest tale in delicate harmony, in that after initially agreeing to be placed in that Tangier senior center while her possessions are boxed up or sold, Maria schemes to steal her life back from under her absent daughter’s nose.

If you don’t look too closely at the details of Touzani’s charming scenario — which requires that a lot of things to fall into place, if enjoyably so — the movie becomes a sweet and spicy counternarrative to stories about aging that patronize their protagonists. (Another noteworthy example was last year’s rapturous American indie “Familiar Touch.”) Maria essentially becomes a crafty squatter in her own up-for-sale apartment, reclaiming some items from a hard-nosed but increasingly understanding antiques dealer (a well-cast Ahmed Boulane) and engineering a clever way to earn money with the help of friendly neighborhood kids who adore her. Her gambit even opens the door for unexpected romance, giving her frequent chats with Josefa (María Alfonsa Rosso), a childhood friend, an increasingly eye-opening frankness.

It’s hard to imagine anyone other than Maura, her almond-shaped eyes as powerfully suggestive as ever, conveying Maria’s rejuvenated spirit and sensuality with as much magnetism. Touzani, an unfussy, patient director with a fondness for the simplicity of human interaction, implicitly trusts her star to carry the film’s effervescence and complexity, although you may wish the filmmaking was a little less straightforward.

There is, after all, a reckoning for Maria’s situation we can’t help but keep in the back of our mind. Because our first brief glimpse of Clara is a sympathetic one — as opposed to conveniently antagonistic — we know “Calle Málaga” won’t settle for a tidy resolution. And it doesn’t, save leaving us with a view of Maria’s bid for freedom that, like the rose petal that is one of Touzani’s go-to visuals, beautifies the air whether still connected to the roots or separated and strewn like so much that’s fragile in life.

Lyndon J. Barrois Sr. always knew he wanted to be an artist, even as a child.

From crafting figures out of chewed gum stuck underneath the pews at his Catholic school’s church after he was forced to scrape them as punishment from teachers to collecting his mother’s discarded gum wrappers, Barrois felt a creative itch to make something out of nothing.

“I had seen too much art [and thought to myself], ‘Someone had to be doing this, why not me?,’” Barrois said with a chuckle. “I always dreamt of doing this. Other kids played with Play-Doh. I made stuff with anything I could get my hands on like clay, aluminum foil and discarded phone wire.”

• Share via Close extra sharing options

Now the 61-year-old New Orleans native is debuting his latest project at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art: “Fútbol Is Life.” It depicts some of the most iconic plays and political moments in the 95-year history of the FIFA World Cup, coming to L.A. this summer, with “humble” gum wrappers.

Barrois and LACMA curator Britt Salvesen assembled 60 works, including 40 vignettes from past World Cups and four animated short films, among them the movie “Fútballet,” which re-creates 21 famous scenes on a 50-inch soccer pitch.

Suspended artwork of Brazilian Swedish footballer Marta Vieira da Silva, known mononymously as Marta, made by Barrois. He made a conscious effort to feature women’s contributions to soccer.

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

A large-scale projection of a miniature of French footballer Kylian Mbappé hangs on the wall. Two life-size replicas of Argentina’s Lionel Messi and Brazil’s Marta Vieira da Silva hang from the ceiling, the first of their kind for the artist, who has done miniatures of NBA legend Kobe Bryant and NFL star Patrick Mahomes.

The exhibition is laid out to resemble a playing field.

“We really wanted to create that environment that you feel like you’re in a separate world, and my colleague Darwin Hu took a personal and creative interest in this,” Salvesen told The Times. “He did a bunch of visual research on soccer fields in schools and prisons, where fields were improvised in whatever spaces were available. We wanted to wrap the lines up the walls and have the turf. Your sense of the space changes when you go from a hard floor to a softer floor.”

With a suspended Lionel Messi at right, Noa Carter, 4, and dad Darius L. Carter of Pasadena get a preview of artist Lyndon J. Barrois Sr.’s LACMA exhibition, “Fútbol Is Life.”

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

Barrois’ 1-inch tall “sportraits” are carefully painted to capture even the tiniest detail. The majority of the installations include a mirror, allowing the viewer to see themselves as part of the moments “frozen in time,” he said.

A total of 325 individual mini soccer and football players, including Portugal’s Cristiano Ronaldo, are included in the show.

“I had so much fun making the sculptures that when I was done, it was like hitting a wall after all that adrenaline,” Barrois said. “Now we get to hang it. Install it. You just start to see all the things we envisioned just come to life. I love this s—.”

Before sculpting, Barrois did “tons of research, a lot of reading, [looking at] photography and video.” He and a friend rewatched the most famous plays and examined the history surrounding the World Cup, stretching back to the 1930s, and before the Women’s World Cup started in 1970.

A “Sportraits” work shows the German soccer team highlighting migrant workers’ rights ahead of the 2021 World Cup. “I chose moments that I personally thought would be important, there’s a lot of politics involved,” Barrois said.

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

“I just wanted to tell a story with the politics involved, like in 1938, the German team was all Nazis, and they’re doing the salute, and by 2022, the German team has human rights on their T-shirts,” Barrois said. “We also had the Iranian women project. All these things happened on such a huge platform. So it was a tough editing process to bring that down to 40.”

Barrois spent seven months completing his pieces.

Curator Sandra Jackson-Dumont, former director and CEO of the Lucas Museum of Narrative Art, applauded Barrois’ use of gum wrappers.

“I like that Lyndon is using materials that are a part of our everyday lives that we take for granted and we discard,” Jackson said. “He’s using those materials to make something creative.”

Barrois was surrounded by family and friends for the exhibition’s preview, most of whom grew up with the artist. Dany Wilson, who went to elementary school with Barrois, said he was “proud of him.”

The exhibition also features works from scientist Harold Edgerton and photographer Eadweard Muybridge that explore the history of motion studies and time-lapse photography.