many people

VATICAN CITY — Pope Leo XIV has called for “deep reflection” in the United States about the treatment of migrants held in detention, saying that “many people who have lived for years and years and years, never causing problems, have been deeply affected by what is going on right now.”

The Chicago-born pope was responding Tuesday to a variety of geopolitical questions from reporters outside the papal retreat at Castel Gandolfo, including what kind of spiritual rights migrants in U.S. custody should have, U.S. military attacks on suspected drug traffickers off Venezuela and the fragile ceasefire in the Middle East.

Leo underlined that scripture emphasizes the question that will be posed at the end of the world: “How did you receive the foreigner, did you receive him and welcome him, or not? I think there is a deep reflection that needs to be made about what is happening.”

He said “the spiritual rights of people who have been detained should also be considered,’’ and he called on authorities to allow pastoral workers access to the detained migrants. “Many times they’ve been separated from their families. No one knows what’s happening, but their own spiritual needs should be attended to,’’ Leo said.

Leo last month urged labor union leaders visiting from Chicago to advocate for immigrants and welcome minorities into their ranks.

Asked about the lethal attacks on suspected drug traffickers off Venezuela, the pontiff said the military action was “increasing tension,’’ noting that they were coming even closer to the coastline.

“The thing is to seek dialogue,’’ the pope said.

On the Middle East, Leo acknowledged that the first phase of the peace accord between Israel and Hamas remains “very fragile,’’ and said that the parties need to find a way forward on future governance “and how you can guarantee the rights of all peoples.’’

Asked about Israeli settler attacks on Palestinians in the West Bank, the pope described the settlement issue as “complex,’’ adding: “Israel has said one thing, then it’s done another sometimes. We need to try to work together for justice for all peoples.’’

Pope Leo will receive Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas at the Vatican on Thursday. At the end of November he will make his first trip as Pope to Turkey and Lebanon.

Maria worked cleaning schools in Florida for $13 an hour. Every two weeks, she’d get a $900 paycheck from her employer, a contractor. Not much — but enough to cover rent in the house that she and her 11-year-old son share with five families, plus electricity, a cellphone and groceries.

In August, it all ended.

When she showed up at the job one morning, her boss told her that she couldn’t work there anymore. The Trump administration had terminated the Biden administration’s humanitarian parole program, which provided legal work permits for Cubans, Haitians, Venezuelans and Nicaraguans like Maria.

“I feel desperate,’’ said Maria, 48, who requested anonymity to talk about her ordeal because she fears being detained and deported. “I don’t have any money to buy anything. I have $5 in my account. I’m left with nothing.’’

President Trump’s sweeping crackdown on immigration is throwing foreigners like Maria out of work and shaking the American economy and job market. And it’s happening at a time when hiring is already deteriorating amid uncertainty over Trump’s tariffs and other trade policies.

Immigrants do jobs — cleaning houses, picking tomatoes, painting fences — that most native-born Americans won’t, and for less money. But they also bring the technical skills and entrepreneurial energy that have helped make the United States the world’s economic superpower.

Trump is attacking immigration at both ends of the spectrum, deporting low-wage laborers and discouraging skilled foreigners from bringing their talents to the United States.

And he is targeting an influx of foreign workers that eased labor shortages and upward pressure on wages and prices at a time when most economists thought that taming inflation would require sky-high interest rates and a recession — a fate the United States escaped in 2023 and 2024.

“Immigrants are good for the economy,’’ said Lee Branstetter, an economist at Carnegie-Mellon University. “Because we had a lot of immigration over the past five years, an inflationary surge was not as bad as many people expected.”

More workers filling more jobs and spending more money has also helped drive economic growth and create still more job openings. Economists worry that Trump’s deportations and limits on even legal immigration will do the reverse.

In a July report, researchers Wendy Edelberg and Tara Watson of the centrist Brookings Institution and Stan Veuger of the right-leaning American Enterprise Institute calculated that the loss of foreign workers will mean that monthly U.S. job growth “could be near zero or negative in the next few years.’’

Hiring has already slowed significantly, averaging a meager 29,000 a month from June through August. (The September jobs report has been delayed by the ongoing shutdown of the federal government.) During the post-pandemic hiring boom of 2021-23, by contrast, employers added a stunning 400,000 jobs a month.

The nonpartisan Congressional Budget Office, citing fallout from Trump’s immigration and trade policies, downgraded its forecast for U.S. economic growth this year to 1.4% from the 1.9% it had previously expected and from 2.5% in 2024.

‘We need these people’

Goodwin Living, an Alexandria, Va., nonprofit that provides senior housing, healthcare and hospice services, had to lay off four employees from Haiti after the Trump administration terminated their work permits. The Haitians had been allowed to work under a humanitarian parole program and had earned promotions at Goodwin.

“That was a very, very difficult day for us,” Chief Executive Rob Liebreich said. “It was really unfortunate to have to say goodbye to them, and we’re still struggling to fill those roles.’’

Liebreich is worried that 60 additional immigrant workers could lose their temporary legal right to live and work in the United States. “We need all those hands,’’ he said. “We need all these people.”

Goodwin Living has 1,500 employees, 60% of them from foreign countries. It has struggled to find enough nurses, therapists and maintenance staff. Trump’s immigration crackdown, Liebreich said, is “making it harder.’’

The ICE crackdown

Trump’s immigration ambitions, intended to turn back what he calls an “invasion’’ at America’s southern border and secure jobs for U.S.-born workers, were once viewed with skepticism because of the money and economic disruption required to reach his goal of deporting 1 million people a year. But legislation that Trump signed into law July 4 — and which Republicans named the One Big Beautiful Bill Act — suddenly made his plans plausible.

The law pours $150 billion into immigration enforcement, setting aside $46.5 billion to hire 10,000 Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents and $45 billion to increase the capacity of immigrant detention centers.

And his empowered ICE agents have shown a willingness to move fast and break things — even when their aggression conflicts with other administration goals.

Last month, immigration authorities raided a Hyundai battery plant in Georgia, detained 300 South Korean workers and showed video of some of them shackled in chains. They’d been working to get the plant up and running, bringing expertise in battery technology and Hyundai procedures that local American workers didn’t have.

The incident enraged the South Koreans and ran counter to Trump’s push to lure foreign manufacturers to invest in America. South Korean President Lee Jae Myung warned that the country’s other companies might be reluctant about betting on America if their workers couldn’t get visas promptly and risked getting detained.

Sending Medicaid recipients to the fields

America’s farmers are among the president’s most dependable supporters.

But John Boyd Jr., who farms 1,300 acres of soybeans, wheat and corn in southern Virginia, said that the immigration raids — and the threat of them — are hurting farmers already contending with low crop prices, high costs and fallout from Trump’s trade war with China, which has stopped buying U.S. soybeans and sorghum.

“You’ve got ICE out here, herding these people up,’’ said Boyd, founder of the National Black Farmers Assn. “[Trump] says they’re murderers and thieves and drug dealers, all this stuff. But these are people who are in this country doing hard work that many Americans don’t want to do.’’

Boyd scoffed at Agriculture Secretary Brooke Rollins’ suggestion in July that U.S.-born Medicaid recipients could head to the fields to meet work requirements imposed as part of the One Big Beautiful Bill Act. “People in the city aren’t coming back to the farm to do this kind of work,’’ he said. “It takes a certain type of person to bend over in 100-degree heat.’’

The Trump administration admits that the immigration crackdown is causing labor shortages on the farm that could translate into higher prices at the supermarket.

“The near total cessation of the inflow of illegal aliens combined with the lack of an available legal workforce results in significant disruptions to production costs and [threatens] the stability of domestic food production and prices for U.S. consumers,’’ the Labor Department said in an Oct. 2 filing to the Federal Register.

‘You’re not welcome here’

Jed Kolko of the Peterson Institute for International Economics said that job growth is slowing in businesses that rely on immigrants. Construction companies, for instance, have shed 10,000 jobs since May.

“Those are the short-term effects,’’ said Kolko, a Commerce Department official in the Biden administration. “The longer-term effects are more serious because immigrants traditionally have contributed more than their share of patents, innovation, productivity.’’

Especially worrisome to many economists was Trump’s sudden announcement last month that he was raising the fee on H-1B visas, meant to lure hard-to-find skilled foreign workers to the United States, from as little as $215 to $100,000.

“A $100,000 visa fee is not just a bureaucratic cost — it’s a signal,” said Dany Bahar, senior fellow at the Center for Global Development. “It tells global talent: You are not welcome here.”

Some are already packing up.

In Washington, D.C., one H-1B visa holder, a Harvard graduate from India who works for a nonprofit helping Africa’s poor, said Trump’s signal to employers is clear: Think twice about hiring H-1B visa holders.

The man, who requested anonymity, is already preparing paperwork to move to the United Kingdom.

“The damage is already done, unfortunately,’’ he said.

Associated Press writers Wiseman and Salomon reported from Washington and Miami, respectively. AP writers Fu Ting and Christopher Rugaber in Washington contributed to this report.

Madonna’s “MDNA.” Bruce Springsteen’s “The Rising.” Mariah Carey’s “Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel.”

According to the Recording Industry Assn. of America, none of these albums — each the 12th studio LP by its respective maker — has sold 4 million copies in the United States in the decade or more since it was released.

Yet that’s what Taylor Swift just did in a single week with her 12th album, “The Life of a Showgirl,” which Billboard reported Monday had moved 4.002 million copies in the seven days between Oct. 3 and 9.

That figure, which combines sales and streaming numbers, represents the biggest opening week for an album in modern history, breaking the record set by Adele 10 years ago when her “25” moved 3.482 million units in its first week.

Swift marked the achievement on Instagram on Monday with a note to her 281 million followers.

“I’ll never forget how excited I was in 2006 when my first album sold 40,000 copies in its first week,” she wrote. “I was 16 and couldn’t even fathom that that many people would care enough about my music to invest their time and energy into it. Since then I’ve tried to meet and thank as many people as I could who have given me the chance to chase this insane dream. Here we are all these years later and a hundred times that many people showed up for me this week.

“I have 4 million thank you’s I want to send to the fans,” she added, “and 4 million reasons to feel even more proud of this album than I already was.”

The speed with which Swift hit the 4-million mark is undeniably impressive. Morgan Wallen’s “I’m the Problem,” the biggest album of 2025 so far, has sold and streamed the equivalent of 4.2 million copies, according to the trade journal Hits. But “I’m the Problem” has been out since mid-May; “Showgirl” will almost certainly have surpassed Wallen’s LP by the end of this week (if it hasn’t already).

What’s more remarkable is where “Showgirl’s” blockbuster success comes in the arc of Swift’s career.

Madonna and Springsteen were both in their early 50s when they released their 12th LPs; Carey was 40 when “Imperfect Angel” came out. Swift, in contrast, is only 35 — one advantage of starting out professionally as a teenager.

Still, Swift has been a star for nearly two decades, a point at which many pop musicians have shifted the focus of their work to touring even as they continue to make new records generally ignored by all but their most devoted fans. In 2024, according to Pollstar, Madonna’s and Springsteen’s latest road shows — each drawn from a catalog packed with hit songs — were among the year’s 10 highest-grossing tours.

And indeed Swift has been amply rewarded on the road: At No. 1 on Pollstar’s list was her Eras tour, which sold more than $2 billion in tickets across 149 dates on five continents.

Yet unlike virtually every other veteran act in music, Swift’s recording business is growing along with her live business.

“Everything that’s happening here is historic and unprecedented,” said Hits’ editor in chief, Lenny Beer. “Maybe if the Beatles had stayed together, we’d have seen something like it.”

Also worth considering: Nobody seems to think “The Life of a Showgirl” is Swift’s best album. Reviews have been mixed, and even some fans have expressed disappointment with the record on social media — a once-unthinkable development among the fiercely loyal Swifties.

So how did the singer pull off such a feat?

First, a little math: Of “Showgirl’s” 4 million units, approximately 3.5 million were sales of either digital or physical versions of the album (including CDs, cassettes and vinyl LPs); the remaining half-million came from streams of the album’s songs on platforms like Spotify and Apple Music, which the data firm Luminate counts toward what it calls streaming equivalent albums.

“Showgirl’s” 12 songs racked up 681 million streams in all, Billboard said — the fourth-biggest streaming week of all time, behind Swift’s “The Tortured Poets Department” and Drake’s “Scorpion” and “Certified Lover Boy.” But the album’s sales number is the largest ever recorded since Luminate started tracking sales electronically in 1991.

Among Swift’s strategies to get to that number was selling more than three dozen editions of the album, each with its own artwork and bonus material designed to lure collectors. On vinyl alone, “Showgirl” came out in eight so-called variants, which helped drive the album’s first-week vinyl sales to a modern record of 1.3 million copies.

Offering something for sale doesn’t necessarily mean anyone will buy it, of course. Yet Swift was positioning “The Life of a Showgirl” as a juggernaut from the moment she announced it. Appearing with her fiancé, the NFL player Travis Kelce, on his “New Heights” podcast in August, the singer described the album as a return to the hit-making ways of albums like “Red” and “1989” after the relatively experimental “Folklore” and “Tortured Poets Department.”

To make “Showgirl,” she reteamed with the Swedish producers Max Martin and Shellback, with whom she’d collaborated on some of her biggest singles, including “Blank Space,” “Bad Blood” and “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together.” On “New Heights” she and Kelce talked about the new album as a “180” from the moody confessions of “Tortured Poets,” whetting appetites for the kind of crisply hooky Taylor Swift songs that blanketed Top 40 radio in the mid-2010s.

Promised the football star: “12 bangers.”

Fans visit an activation for Taylor Swift’s “The Life of a Showgirl” at the Westfield Century City mall on Oct. 4.

(Christina House/Los Angeles Times)

Once “Showgirl” was out, Swift jumped into the promotional fray with more gusto than she’d summoned in years, sitting for numerous radio interviews and putting in appearances on Graham Norton’s, Jimmy Fallon’s and Seth Meyers’ late-night shows; the weekend after the album’s release, a glorified sizzle reel called “The Official Release Party of a Showgirl” played in AMC movie theaters across the country.

On Monday, Swift kept the conversation going with the announcement that two Eras-related projects are headed to Disney+ in December: a six-part behind-the-scenes docuseries and a concert film of the tour’s finale in Vancouver.

“One of the hardest parts of ensuring you have a record-setting first week is making sure that everyone who could possibly be interested in your album knows about it,” said Bill Werde, director of the Bandier Program for Recording and Entertainment Industries at Syracuse University. “I’m not sure anyone has ever covered that need the way Taylor did with this album cycle.”

Yet “The Life of a Showgirl” has not been greeted as enthusiastically as some of Swift’s earlier work.

Pitchfork said “her music’s never been less compelling,” while The Guardian called the album “dull razzle-dazzle from a star who seems frazzled.” Fans on TikTok have complained that Swift’s lyrics — which take up her romance with Kelce, the burdens of fame and an apparent beef with Charli XCX — are unusually shallow; some have even formulated a kind of tradwife critique of “Showgirl” in which Swift is seen as upholding regressive ideas about marriage and domesticity.

The album has also attracted criticism from people who say Swift’s songs recycle familiar elements from other pop tunes without giving credit: the Jackson 5’s “I Want You Back” in “Wood,” for instance, and the Jonas Brothers’ “Cool” in the LP’s closing title track.

“When every song is a derivative of another song, that’s an issue,” said one hit songwriter who asked not to be named in order to speak freely. “That one song is the Jonas Brothers song — the exact same melody. And here’s how lazy that is: It’s the same key and the same tempo.”

In Werde’s view, Swift’s place atop the pop hierarchy makes such carping inevitable. “Anytime an artist gets this big, there’s going to be backlash,” he said — a take with which Swift would likely agree.

“I welcome the chaos,” she said in an interview with Apple Music’s Zane Lowe. “The rule of show business is: If it’s the first week of my album release and you are saying either my name or my album title, you’re helping.”

Even so, the polarized reaction to “Showgirl” — Swift’s 15th album to debut at No. 1 on the Billboard 200 — raises questions about the breadth of Swift’s popularity as compared to its depth. Should the album’s gargantuan numbers be taken as a sign that she appeals to a wide spectrum of pop music lovers or to a committed group of hardcore Swifties willing to spend untold amounts of money to demonstrate their loyalty?

“Showgirl’s” second-week stats should provide the beginnings of an answer, given that they won’t be shaped by one-time sales of all those limited-edition variants.

Then again, another unprecedented chart achievement from the album’s first week is already shedding some light on the matter: “The Fate of Ophelia,” the album’s lead single, is the first song ever to debut inside the top 10 of Billboard’s Pop Airplay chart — an indication of the heavy Top 40 radio play it’s getting along with the millions of daily streams that have kept it atop Spotify’s U.S. Top 50 tally since the song came out.

That’s one banger certified, with more perhaps to come.

SEATTLE — Ramón Rodriguez Vazquez was a farmworker for 16 years in southeast Washington state, where he and his wife of 40 years raised four children and 10 grandchildren. The 62-year-old was a part of a tight-knit community and never committed a crime.

On Feb. 5, immigration officers who came to his house looking for someone else took him into custody. He was denied bond, despite letters of support from friends, family, his employer and a physician who said the family needed him.

He was sent to a U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement detention center in Tacoma, Wash., where his health rapidly declined in part because he was not always provided with his prescription medication for several medical conditions, including high blood pressure. Then there was the emotional toll of being unable to care for his family or sick granddaughter. Overwhelmed by it all, he finally gave up.

At an appearance with an immigration judge, he asked to leave without a formal deportation mark on his record. The judge granted his request and he moved back to Mexico, alone.

His case is an exemplar of the impact of the Trump administration’s aggressive efforts to deport millions of migrants on an accelerated timetable, casting aside years of procedure and legal process in favor of expedient results.

Similar dramas are playing out at immigration courts across the country, accelerating since early July, when ICE began opposing bond for anyone detained regardless of their circumstances.

“He was the head of the house, everything — the one who took care of everything,” said Gloria Guizar, 58, Rodriguez’s wife. “Being separated from the family has been so hard. Even though our kids are grown, and we’ve got grandkids, everybody misses him.”

Leaving the country was unthinkable before he was held in a jail cell. The deportation process broke him.

‘Self deport or we will deport you’

It is impossible to know how many people left the U.S. voluntarily since President Trump took office in January because many leave without telling authorities. But Trump and his allies are counting on “self-deportation,” the idea that life can be made unbearable enough to make people leave voluntarily.

The Justice Department’s Executive Office for Immigration Review, which oversees immigration courts, said judges granted “voluntary departure” in 15,241 cases in the 12-month period that ended Sept. 30, allowing them to leave without a formal deportation mark on their record or bar to re-entry. That compares with 8,663 voluntary departures for the previous fiscal year.

ICE said it carried out 319,980 deportations from Oct. 1, 2024 to Sept. 20. Customs and Border Protection declined to disclose its number and directed the question to the Department of Homeland Security.

Secretary Kristi Noem said in August that 1.6 million people have left the country voluntarily or involuntarily since Trump took office. The department cited a study by the Center for Immigration Studies, a group that advocates for immigration restrictions.

Michelle Mittelstadt, spokesperson for the Migration Policy Institute, a nonpartisan think tank, said 1.6 million is an over-inflated number that misuses the Census Bureau data.

The administration is offering $1,000 to people who leave voluntarily using the CBP Home app. For those who don’t, there is a looming threat of being sent to a third country like Eswatini, Rwanda, South Sudan or Uganda,.

Department of Homeland Security Assistant Secretary Tricia McLaughlin said the voluntary departures show that the administration’s strategy is working, and is keeping the country safe.

“Ramped-up immigration enforcement targeting the worst of the worst is removing more and more criminal illegal aliens off our streets every day and is sending a clear message to anyone else in this country illegally: Self-deport or we will arrest and deport you,” she said in a statement sent to The Associated Press.

“They treat her like a criminal”

A Colombian woman dropped her asylum claim at a June appearance in a Seattle immigration court, even though she was not in custody.

“Your lawyer says you no longer wish to proceed with your asylum application,” the judge said. “Has anyone offered you money to do this?” he asked. “No, sir,” she replied. Her request was granted.

Her U.S. citizen girlfriend of two years, Arleene Adrono, said she planned to leave the country as well.

“They treat her like a criminal. She’s not a criminal,” Adrono said. “I don’t want to live in a country that does this to people.”

At an immigration court inside the Tacoma detention center, where posters encourage migrants to leave voluntarily or be forcibly deported, a Venezuelan man told Judge Theresa Scala in August that he wanted to leave. The judge granted voluntary departure.

The judge asked another man if he wanted more time to find a lawyer and if he was afraid to return to Mexico. “I want to leave the country,” the man responded.

“The court finds you’ve given up all forms of relief,” Scala said. “You must comply with the government efforts to remove you.”

“His absence has been deeply felt”

Ramón Rodriguez crossed the U.S. border in 2009. His eight siblings who are U.S. citizens lived in California, but he settled Washington state. Grandview, population 11,000, is an agricultural town that grows apples, cherries, wine grapes, asparagus and other fruit and vegetables.

Rodriguez began working for AG Management in 2014. His tax records show he made $13,406 that first year and by 2024, earned $46,599 and paid $4,447 in taxes.

“During his time with us, he has been an essential part of our team, demonstrating dedication, reliability, and a strong work ethic,” his boss wrote in a letter urging a judge to release him from custody. “His skills in harvesting, planting, irrigation, and equipment operation have contributed significantly to our operations, and his absence has been deeply felt.”

His granddaughter suffers from a heart problem, has undergone two surgeries and needs a third. Her mother doesn’t drive so Rodriguez transported the girl to Spokane for care. The child’s pediatrician wrote a letter to the immigration judge encouraging his release, saying without his help, the girl might not get the medical care she needs.

The judge denied his bond request in March. Rodriguez appealed and became the lead plaintiff in a federal lawsuit that sought to allow detained immigrants to request and receive bond.

On September 30, a federal judge ruled that denying bond hearings for migrants is unlawful. But Rodriguez won’t benefit from the ruling. He’s gone now and is unlikely to come back.

Bellisle writes for the Associated Press. AP reporter Cedar Attanasio contributed to this story.

More than a thousand chanting healthcare workers, activists and local officials filled the Los Angeles Convention Center on Thursday afternoon to protest pending trillion-dollar healthcare cuts contained in Trump’s “Big Beautiful Bill.”

“Healthcare right now in America is bad,” said Romond Phillips, a mobile clinic driver, who attended the rally. “I’m out on the front lines, so I see the need for it.”

David Rolas, a community advocate from South L.A., came out to the rally to show his support. He says, growing up, he remembers how hard it was to get access to healthcare and how many people died because of it. He was diagnosed with diabetes over 20 years ago, and today, he gets healthcare through Covered California.

“It’s helped me get the medicine I need, like my insulin,” said Rolas. “As I get older, I want to make sure I’m around for my kids. But my insulin isn’t cheap, so thankfully, I have affordable healthcare right now, but I will be affected by these changes.”

Earlier this week, Democrats in the Senate refused to vote for a Republican short-term funding bill, which excluded an extension of enhanced premium tax credits. These credits, enacted in 2021, helped healthcare plans offered through the Affordable Health Care Act (known as Obamacare) to remain affordable. Without an extension, the credits will expire.

Trump’s “Big Beautiful Bill,” which was passed earlier this year, proposes nearly a trillion dollars in cuts to Medicare and Medicaid. With these changes, millions of Americans will face higher insurance premiums and possibly lose coverage. Democrats are fighting to get the subsidies extended and are demanding that Republicans reverse the Medicaid cuts.

The dispute over healthcare cuts led to the government shutdown this week.

At the rally, Holly Mitchell, a member of the Los Angeles County Board of Supervisors who represents the city’s 2nd District, says she’s fearful of going back to the days before Obamacare. Her district is made up of 2 million Angelenos, with 850,000 enrolled in MediCal.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not going back there,” Mitchell said. “Those are horrible, inhumane, dangerous times. Black, brown and poor people die at a higher rate than they should have because they didn’t have access to healthcare.”

The rally was organized by St. John’s Community Health, a nonprofit aimed at providing healthcare to underserved communities.

Jim Mangia, president of the organization, announced that St. John’s plans to build a coalition of community-based organizations, labor unions, clinics and hospitals that would get an affordable healthcare measure on next year’s county voting ballot.

“It would go directly to voters and raise hundreds of millions of dollars to save healthcare for our most vulnerable neighbors,” said Mangia. “It would build a national example that can be replicated across the country, to undermine Trump’s billionaire tax cuts, and restore the programs and healthcare our communities need so desperately.”

The working title for the initiative is the Los Angeles County Emergency and Essential Healthcare Restoration Measure. It’s still in its early stages, with ballot language being drafted. Mangia expects that the county would need to gather around $500 million to fill the new gaps Trump’s “Big Beautiful Bill” will leave in residents’ healthcare plans.

Congresswoman Sydney Kamlager-Dove, who represents California’s 37th District, said cuts will hit her constituents hard, noting that there are 400,000 people who rely on Medicaid. About 3.5 million people in the state could lose their health insurance, she said.

“It’s about kicking people off of their healthcare benefits,” said Kamlager-Dove.

She blames the Republican party for the government shutdown, saying, “If they want to keep the government open, they would have, they would have negotiated with Democrats, but they chose not to.”

Republicans have, in turn, blamed Democrats for the closure and have said they are open to making changes to healthcare policy later.

For the past five years, I’ve been interviewing Hollywood professionals about what they wish they’d known when they were starting out. The entertainment business can feel opaque and overwhelming, and many who navigated it the hard way said they want to help level the playing field for those arriving with passion but without connections.

The best advice — which is collected in a book I co-wrote with my former Times colleague Jon Healey, “Breaking Into New Hollywood: A Career Guide to a Changing Industry” — was often about how they handled chaos. The key to longevity, many said, is how you manage the rejection, instability and heartbreak that are unavoidable in the industry.

And as Hollywood has weathered the COVID-19 pandemic, strikes, recessions and periods of contraction — some reports estimate Hollywood jobs were down 25% in 2024 from their 2022 peak — many of them have had to take their own advice. Decades-long industry veterans have pivoted to adjacent professions, including teaching and advertising. Some of them have left Hollywood altogether.

But others have landed their dream jobs. They’ve learned how to build something from nothing. They’ve gotten to show what they’re capable of, once someone finally gave them a chance.

The most sensible advice to give young people who dream of working in the entertainment industry, they said, is to run in the other direction — or at least have a backup plan. There are so many practical, safer choices that can result in a happy, fulfilling career.

But dreams have a way of resurfacing, no matter how deep you try to bury them. So here’s what I would tell my own kids if they felt Hollywood was their calling.

Learn how all the different parts of Hollywood come together and figure out which jobs best suit your skills.

Many people, when they imagine working in Hollywood, think of only the most high-profile jobs: actor, writer, director and producer. But Hollywood is made of hundreds, if not thousands, of careers, from pre-production, production and post-production, to representation (publicists, agents and managers), design and more.

Some questions you can ask yourself: Do I like being in front of the camera or do I prefer being behind it? Do I want to be on set or would I prefer a desk job? Do I want a leadership role or do I prefer going deep into the day-to-day details? This can help you determine which path you should pursue.

Consider whether this is something you’d do even if no one paid you to do it.

Many Hollywood professionals will tell you not to take unpaid gigs, as it devalues your work and the industry itself. But that’s different from the time and effort you’ll have to devote to becoming extremely reliable at your craft — as well as the work you’ll do to convince people to give you the job (filming auditions, developing pitch decks, building portfolios and creating demo reels).

People across the industry consistently told us it often takes five to seven years before you earn a living wage. You not only have to keep wanting to do it for that long, with no guarantees of success, but you have to see it as an investment in yourself as an artist.

Anchor yourself with two essentials: money and community.

People who come into the industry with wealth and connections will have an advantage. But if you don’t know anyone in the industry, be diligent about saving and investing the money that you’re making from your day job or side gigs.

Prioritize networking by joining or creating your own communities. Networking isn’t just about attending intimidating Hollywood events — it can also mean going to film festivals, taking classes, joining a gym, engaging with your favorite social media influencers, collaborating on passion projects, joining Facebook groups or finding other whisper networks.

Make friends inside of the industry who are going through the same struggles so you can lift each other up. But also make friends outside of the industry who will remind you that there is life outside of Hollywood.

Figure out how you’re going to distinguish yourself.

Hollywood is an extremely competitive industry. The harsh reality is that most people are replaceable. So why would a producer or showrunner hire you over someone else? What unique skills or viewpoints could you bring to a project? Figure this out; it will be your advantage and calling card.

And once you pinpoint what sets you apart, create your own work (whether it’s sketches, designs, animations, TikTok videos or web series) and put what you’re proud of online. You’ll need to get very comfortable with self-promotion. Make sure that you’re on people’s minds if a job opens up that you’d be perfect for.

Learn AI tools.

If I were talking to a current working professional about AI, we would discuss its ethical and legal implications and what unions can do to protect worker rights and fight for fair compensation.

But if I were talking to a young person starting their career, I’d say, embrace the technology and figure out how it can make you more — not less — creative.

Know that it’s good to take breaks from Hollywood — and OK to leave.

Hollywood veterans will tell you that they’ve seen the industry rise and fall, again and again. Each time there’s an upturn, it feels like it won’t last. And each time there’s a downturn, it feels like it might be the end.

If Hollywood is your calling, you owe it to yourself to try, but if your experience in the industry starts to resemble a destructive relationship, you owe it to yourself to take some space or call it quits.

But for as long as you’re out there hustling, have fun on the roller coaster and appreciate every moment you get paid to do what you love.

George Retes Jr. grew up in Southern California, and when he turned 18, he decided to serve in the U.S. Army, he said, because he wanted to be part of something bigger than himself.

After a tour of duty in Iraq, Retes moved back to Ventura County this year to find a job and spend more time with his wife and two young children. In February, he began working as a contracted security guard for Glass House Farms at its cannabis greenhouses in Camarillo. Then, on July 10, everything changed as ICE raided Glass House — one of its largest immigration raids ever — while he was trying to get to work.

Federal officers surrounded Retes and pushed him to the ground. He could hardly breathe, he said, as officers knelt on his back and neck. He was arrested, jailed for three days and was not allowed to make a phone call or see an attorney, according to the Institute for Justice, a public-interest law firm that is representing him.

President Trump’s Department of Homeland Security never charged Retes with a crime. But after he wrote an op-ed about his experience this month, DHS started issuing new accusations against him — saying he was arrested for assault during the raid, which the 25-year-old veteran has denied. Retes said he never resisted, and now is being targeted for retaliation because he spoke out about an arrest he sees as unlawful.

“My whole point in sharing my story, I’m trying to warn as many people as possible,” he said in an interview this week. “It doesn’t matter if you’re [politically] left, right, if you voted for Trump, hate him, love him, it doesn’t matter. This affects all of us.”

On July 10, Retes was headed to work around 2 p.m., and the narrow road leading to the farm was logjammed, he said. He weaved his compact white Hyundai forward, past parked cars and protesters, determined to make it to his shift.

He stopped short when he came upon a line of federal officers who blocked his path to the farm. Retes, 25, wearing shorts and a hoodie, got out of his car and tried to tell the federal agents that he worked at the farm.

Agents ignored him, he said, and instead told him to get out of the way. So he got back in his car, and as he tried to back up, agents began lobbing tear gas canisters toward the crowd to disperse them. Retes began hacking and coughing as the gas seeped into his car and federal officers began pounding on his car door. He said they gave him instructions to move that were contradictory.

The agents smashed his car window, pepper sprayed him, pulled him out of the car and arrested him, he said. He was handcuffed, and after his three days in jail, he was released without any explanation.

In his Sept. 16 opinion piece for the San Francisco Chronicle — entitled “I’m a U.S. citizen who was wrongly arrested and held by ICE. Here’s why you could be next” — Retes detailed his ordeal. He has begun to take legal action to sue the U.S. government under the Federal Tort Claims Act. More than 360 people were arrested in the raid, including numerous undocumented immigrants, and one person died.

“I served my country. I wore the uniform, I stood watch, and I believe in the values we say make us different. And yet here, on our own soil, I was wrongfully detained,” he wrote. “Stripped of my rights, treated like I didn’t belong and locked away — all as an American citizen and a veteran … if it can happen to me, it can happen to any one of us.”

Homeland Security officials did not respond to a request for comment or answer questions about their claim of assault.

Previously, an unnamed spokesperson for Homeland Security said he was released without a charge, and his case was being reviewed, along with others, “for potential federal charges related to the execution of the federal search warrant in Camarillo.”

A day after Retes’ opinion piece was published, the agency said Retes “became violent and refused to comply with law enforcement. He challenged agents and blocked their route by refusing to move his vehicle out of the road. CBP arrested Retes for assault.”

The agency denied that U.S. citizens were being wrongfully arrested by Immigration and Customs Enforcement. The post stated that operations were “highly targeted.”

“This kind of garbage has led to a more than 1000% increase in the assaults on enforcement officers,” the agency said.

Retes said he was astounded to learn the agency’s latest claims about July 10 — moments that were captured on video. He says DHS officials are lying.

“I was in shock,” he said. The agency had “an opportunity to say ‘OK, what we did was wrong, we’ll take responsibility.’ … It’s crazy that they’re willing to stand 10 toes down and die on a hill of lying and say I assaulted officers.”

Anya Bidwell, his attorney and senior attorney at the Institute for Justice, said it is significant that the government chose to respond only after his piece was published.

“When people in this country stand up to this government, this government responds with fury,” Bidwell said. “They’re trying to impose their own version of reality. It’s so important for people like George to say, ‘I know who I am and I know what happened to me, you can’t just frame it as something that it’s not.’”

In an aerial video that captured the initial confrontation, Retes is seen driving up to the line of agents. He steps outside of his car and remains by the driver side as he tries to reason with the agents. About 20 seconds later, he gets back in his car as the agents press forward. Within seconds they surround his car, at the same time pressing protesters back as they begin to lob tear gas canisters.

Inside his car, Retes starts to record on his phone. He’s backing up slowly, at an angle, until tear gas makes difficult to see where he’s going, he said.

“I’m trying to leave!” he says as agents bang on his car. There’s a loud crack as they break his car glass window. “OK I’m sorry!”

The agents pepper-spray him and detain him. One video posted online shows a group of agents surrounding Retes, who is face down on the road. Another agent hops in his car and drives it forward and off to the side of the road.

Retes said one agent knelt on his neck and another on his back. He was taken to the Metropolitan Detention Center in Los Angeles, and he was kept in a cell with a protester who was also arrested. While in jail, he said, he missed his daughter’s third birthday.

After he was released, Retes said he was suspended from his job without pay for two weeks because of the arrest, and when he came back, his regular shifts were no longer available. Staying on would make it difficult to see his family, so he had to leave, he said.

He also had to spend about $1,200 getting his car window fixed and detailed from the tear gas, he said.

Despite the Trump administration’s actions, Retes said his faith in the government and accountability for justice remains steady. Just like when he joined the Army, he said, he still hangs on to a sense of unity to stand up for the country’s values.

“I still believe justice can be restored — that’s why I’m standing up and speaking out,” he said. “I think it’s important now more than ever for us to be unified and standing up for our rights together. Especially when they have the audacity to try to lie, especially to the public.”

U.S. tennis star Taylor Townsend wasn’t prepared for some of the food she would be offered while taking part in the Billie Jean King Cup Finals tournament in Shenzen, China.

She apparently was also not expecting the backlash she faced after she posted her criticism of some of the local dishes — which included bullfrogs, turtles, sea cucumbers and, in her words, “an animal lung” that was “sliced up” and on a skewer — on Instagram.

Those posts have since been removed, and Townsend has posted a video on her Instagram Story in which the world’s top-ranked doubles player apologizes “sincerely from the bottom of my heart.”

“I understand that I am so privileged as a professional athlete to be able to travel all around the world and experience cultural differences, which is one of the things that I love so much about what I do,” Townsend said.

“I have had nothing but the most amazing experience and time here … and everyone has been so kind and so gracious. And the things that I said were not representative of that at all.”

The 29-year-old Townsend’s name was in the headlines during last month’s U.S. Open. After Taylor defeated Latvia’s Jelena Ostapenko in the second round of the singles competition, the players appeared to have a heated discussion.

Afterward, Townsend told reporters that Ostapenko “told me I have no education, no class.”

Ostapenko later apologized on her Instagram Story and explained that English isn’t her native language. “So when I said education,” Ostapenko wrote, “I was speaking only about what I believe [is] tennis etiquette, but I understand how the words I used could have offended many people beyond the tennis court.”

Townsend is one of six players representing the U.S. in the international team tournament in Shenzen. Earlier this week, she posted video of some of the food she and her teammates had been offered, apparently as part of a buffet. She also added a video of herself from later in the evening in which she criticized some of the offerings.

“I’m honestly just so shocked I like what I saw in the dinner buffet … These people are literally killing frogs. Bull frogs. Aren’t those poisonous? Like, aren’t those the ones that be giving you warts and boils and stuff?” Townsend said. “And turtles? And the fact that, like, it’s all stewed up with, like, chilies and peppers and onions and like, ‘Oh, you really made this a dish?’

“And then you got the sea cucumbers just staring there, like with the noodles, the only thing that we eat. So all in all, gotta give this like a solid 2 out of 10 so far, because this is crazy.”

One portion of the video, which showed portions of the buffet spread, featured the caption, “This is the craziest thing I’ve ever seen … and people are eating this,” followed by emojis of a melting face and a face screaming in fear.

The comments went viral on Chinese social media, with many commenters slamming Townsend as culturally insensitive.

Townsend’s apology comes as the U.S. prepares to face Kazakhstan on Thursday in the quarterfinals.

“I just truly wanted to apologize,” Townsend said in the new video. “There’s no excuse, there’s no words, and for me, I just — I will be better.”

At a time when its leadership is in question and its mission challenged, the Library of Congress has named a new U.S. poet laureate, the much-honored author and translator Arthur Sze.

The library announced Monday that the 74-year-old Sze had been appointed to a one-year term, starting this fall. The author of 12 poetry collections and recipient last year of a lifetime achievement award from the library, he succeeds Ada Limón, who had served for three years. Previous laureates also include Joy Harjo, Louise Glück and Billy Collins.

Speaking during a recent Zoom interview with the Associated Press, Sze acknowledged some misgivings when Rob Casper, who heads the library’s poetry and literature center, called him in June about becoming the next laureate.

He wondered about the level of responsibilities and worried about the upheaval since President Trump fired Librarian of Congress Carla Hayden in May. After thinking about it overnight, he called Casper back and happily accepted.

“I think it was the opportunity to give something back to poetry, to something that I’ve spent my life doing,” he explained, speaking from his home in Santa Fe, N.M. “So many people have helped me along the way. Poetry has just helped me grow so much, in every way.”

Sze’s new job begins during a tumultuous year for the library, a 200-year-old, nonpartisan institution that holds a massive archive of books published in the United States. Trump abruptly fired Hayden after conservative activists accused her of imposing a “woke” agenda, criticism that Trump has expressed often as he seeks sweeping changes at the Kennedy Center, the Smithsonian museums and other cultural institutions.

Hayden’s ouster was sharply criticized by congressional Democrats, leaders in the library and scholarly community and such former laureates as Limón and Harjo.

Although the White House announced that it had named Deputy Atty. Gen. Todd Blanche as the acting librarian, daily operations are being run by a longtime official at the library, Robert Randolph Newlen. Events such as the annual National Book Festival have continued without interruption or revision.

Laureates are forbidden to take political positions, although the tradition was breached in 2003 when Collins publicly stated his objections to President George W. Bush’s push for war against Iraq.

Newlen is identified in Monday’s announcement as acting librarian, a position he was in line for according to the institution’s guidelines. He praised Sze, whose influences range from ancient Chinese poets to Wallace Stevens, for his “distinctly American” portraits of the Southwest landscapes and for his “great formal innovation.”

“Like Emily Dickinson and Walt Whitman, Sze forges something new from a range of traditions and influences — and the result is a poetry that moves freely throughout time and space,” his statement reads in part.

Sze’s official title is poet laureate consultant in poetry, a 1985 renaming of a position established in 1937 as consultant in poetry to the Library of Congress. The mission is loosely defined as a kind of literary ambassador, to “raise the national consciousness to a greater appreciation of the reading and writing of poetry.”

Sze wants to focus on a passion going back more than a half-century to his undergraduate years at UC Berkeley — translation.

He remembers reading some English-language editions of Chinese poetry, finding the work “antiquated and dated” and deciding to translate some of it himself, writing out the Chinese characters and engaging with them “on a much deeper level” than he had expected. Besides his own poetry, he has published “The Silk Dragon: Translations From the Chinese.”

“I personally learned my own craft of writing poetry through translating poetry,” he says. “I often think that people think of poetry as intimidating, or difficult, which isn’t necessarily true. And I think one way to deepen the appreciation of poetry is to approach it through translation.”

Sze is a New York City native and son of Chinese immigrants who in such collections as “Sight Lines” and “Compass Rose” explores themes of cultural and environmental diversity and what he calls “coexisting.”

In a given poem, he might shift from rocks above a pond to people begging in a subway, from a firing squad in China to Thomas Jefferson’s plantation in Virginia. His many prizes include the National Book Award for “Sight Lines.”

He loves poetry from around the world but feels at home writing in English, if only for the “richness of the vocabulary” and the wonders of its origins.

“I was just looking at the word ‘ketchup,’ which started from southern China, went to Malaysia, was taken to England, where it became a tomato-based sauce, and then, of course, to America,” he says. “And I was just thinking days ago, that’s a word we use every day without recognizing its ancestry, how it’s crossed borders, how it’s entered into the English language and enriched it.”

Italie writes for the Associated Press.

For the 79th year, mariachi musicians, waving Mexican flags and shouts of “Viva Mexico,” flooded Cesar Chavez Avenue in East Los Angeles on Sunday for the annual Mexican Independence Day parade and celebration.

But this year, in the face of the Trump administration’s relentless immigration crackdown — recently bolstered by the Supreme Court decision that allows federal agents to restart their controversial “roving patrols” across Southern California — there was a renewed sense of defiance, and of pride.

For many, it was even more important to show up. To stand tall.

“We’re here and we’re going to continue fighting for our rights and for others who cannot fight for themselves,” Samantha Robles, 21, said as she watched the parade roll by. “I’m happy that many people are here so they can raise their flags — just not the Mexican flag, but also the American flag, because we’re both Mexican American.”

Members of the Mexican Consulate in Los Angeles hold a Mexican flag at the East L.A. Mexican Independence Day Parade & Festival on Cesar Chavez Avenue on Sunday in Los Angeles.

(Carlin Stiehl/Los Angeles Times)

But the parade was also a bittersweet moment for Robles. This year, her grandmother opted to stay home, given ongoing sweeping immigration raids across the region. A new Supreme Court ruling authorized U.S. immigration agents to stop and detain anyone they might suspect is in the U.S. illegally, even if based on little more than their job at a car wash, speaking Spanish or having brown skin. Immigration rights attorneys and local leaders have denounced that as discriminatory and dangerous, and it has stoked fears in Robles, who describes herself as an East L.A. native.

“I have my brown skin, I have my Indigenous features,” Robles said. “I’m afraid not just for myself, [but] for my friends who are also from Mexico and they came here for more opportunities, for a higher education. … I’m afraid for those who are getting taken away from their families.”

The Comité Mexicano Civico Patriotico Inc., which organized Sunday’s parade and celebration, addressed those fears in a press conference on Friday, but decided to move ahead with its celebration of Mexican independence from Spain, as it has done so in September for decades.

That decision seemed to drive a sense of proud resistance on Sunday.

“Aqui estamos y no nos vamos!” (“We are here and we are not leaving!”) yelled Rosario Marín, the former mayor of Huntington Park and the parade’s madrina, or godmother.

Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass holds TJ’s parrot Pepe Hermon at the East L.A. Mexican Independence Day Parade & Festival on Sunday in Los Angeles.

(Carlin Stiehl/Los Angeles Times)

When Mayor Karen Bass rode by the crowd, she read aloud a sign from the sidewalk that said: “Trump Must Go!”

The crowd cheered.

“I was just reading the sign,” she said, with a smile on her face. But Bass reiterated her support for her Latino constituents, and her opposition to the ongoing immigration raids, calling them horrible.

“Our city stands united,” Bass told the crowd. “We are a city of immigrants. We understand that 50% of our city is Latino, and the idea that Latinos would be targeted is abhorrent.”

The Trump administration has insisted its immigration actions are merely an attempt to enforce the law, and has blasted Bass and other city leaders for stoking resistance. But many Latino leaders say the administration’s use of force is an abuse of power, stoking fears that have hurt people and the region’s economy.

Alfonso Fox Orozco wears traditional Mexican dress at the East L.A. Parade & Festival on Sunday in Los Angeles.

(Carlin Stiehl/Los Angeles Times)

Such concerns may have affected Sunday’s parade, which seemed less attended than prior years. Anti-Trump and Immigration and Customs Enforcement, or ICE signs, lined the street. Organizations such as the United Teachers Los Angeles yelled out “La migra no, la escuela si.” (“No immigration enforcement, yes schools!”)

Jenny Hernandez, a fifth-generation East L.A. resident, held up a homemade sign that read “Crush ICE.” The 51-year-old has been disturbed by the recent raids, many of which have targeted individuals in the workplace.

“What they’re doing is wrong,” she said. “We are not criminals. We’re Mexican, Hispanic, Latino, Chicano, whatever you want to call it…. We do not deserve this treatment.… There needs to be a change.”

La Catrina Andante sits atop a car in traditional face paint at the parade Sunday in Los Angeles.

(Carlin Stiehl/Los Angeles Times)

But mostly, the day emanated Latino joy, unseen in recent months. Burnt sage filled the air at one intersection, courtesy of a Danza Azteca group, while attendees — some in traditional embroidered dresses and shirts — relished the cumbia song blasting from a nearby radio.

A young girl, no more than 5 years old, belted out a call for “fresas” alongside her mother, a street vendor. A grandmother sat with her lap covered in a blanket, knitted with the colors of the Mexican flag. Politicians, teenagers, dancers and charros, or men riding dancing horses, shouted, “Viva Mexico!”

Girls dressed as vendors from Patzcuaro, Michoacan, balance on pots at the East L.A. Parade & Festival Sunday in Los Angeles.

(Carlin Stiehl/Los Angeles Times)

Other ethnic groups joined the popular celebration, including waves of Puerto Ricans, Bolivians and Salvadorans. Notable faces included Snow Tha Product and Real 92.3 FM radio host Big Boy, who at one point took the reins as an elotero vendor. Space shuttle astronaut José M. Hernández led the parade as grand marshal. , His journey from migrant farmworker to NASA astronaut was detailed in the Amazon Prime film “A Million Miles Away.”

Giselle Salgado, also an East L.A. native, said it was important to see a good turnout from her community, as well as from public officials, though she noticed a smaller crowd this year.

“We’re not afraid,” she said. “This is our tradition, we’ve always come out here. … I’m sure a lot of people are scared, but they’re still here. We’re not going to let fear and intimidation work against us.”

It’s been said many times before.

In Los Angeles, for many people, the neighborhood park is their frontyard and backyard.

It’s where tables are staked out early and birthdays are celebrated.

It’s where kids learn how to swim and all ages play soccer, baseball and basketball.

It’s where neighbors gather to beat the heat, hike, catch a concert, slow down, escape the madness.

But as I said in my last column, L.A.’s roughly 500 parks and 100 rec centers, occupying 16,000 acres, are generally in bad shape and not easily accessible to many residents. In fact, in the latest annual ranking by the Trust for Public Land, they fell to 90th out of the 100 largest recreation and parks systems in the nation on the basis of access, acreage, amenities, investment and equity.

That’s shameful and inexcusable, especially for a city prepping to host World Cup soccer championships and the Olympics. But in every corner of Los Angeles, residents now have a chance to weigh in on what they like or don’t like about parks, what went wrong and what to do about it.

A months-long study, commissioned by the city and compiled by landscape design company OLIN with input from multiple urban planners, community groups and thousands of residents, was posted online Tuesday, explaining the long history of decline and laying out strategies for turning things around.

Residents have 45 days to weigh in online or at community meetings (details below). The final report will be delivered to the recreation and parks board of commissioners and then, in a perfect world, someone at City Hall will lead the way and restore pride in an essential but neglected community asset.

Among the key findings of the nearly 500-page needs-assessment study:

Fewer than half of survey respondents said there are enough parks and rec centers within walking distance of their homes.

Fewer than 40% said parks are in either excellent or good condition.

L.A. invests less per capita in parks ($92 annually) than many other large cities, including Chicago ($182), Dallas ($232), Washington, D.C. ($407) and San Francisco ($583).

The department’s maintenance and operations budget has been stagnant for years and its staff has been shrinking, with more trouble on the horizon as temporary funding sources dry up in the next few years.

Nearly two-thirds of survey respondents would support a bond, tax or levy for additional funding.

“I think it validated what we already knew,” Department of Recreation and Parks general manager Jimmy Kim said of the needs assessment study, adding that it provided a framework for making smarter use of existing resources while going after new sources of revenue. “My message to Los Angeles [is] please participate in this process.”

Kim told me last week that the current workforce is half what it once was, and basic park maintenance is like a “game of whack-a-mole.” The department’s budget has grown in the last 15 years, but lagged way behind growth of the citywide budget. In that time, it’s been hit by inflation, the citywide budget deficit and the rising cost of maintaining aging facilities (the deferred maintenance tab is greater than $2 billion).

The department is also hamstrung by a Charter-mandated, per-capita funding formula that hasn’t been tweaked since the 1930s. And because it’s a proprietary department, meaning that it raises some money through programs and concessions, it’s required to pay its own utility bills and reimburse the city for employee benefits, two expenses that swallow 40% of its budget.

“For the last century,” said Jessica Henson, of OLIN, “the same percentage of the city budget has been allocated to parks, but they’re doing a lot more today, and are on the front lines of so many critical public services like COVID response and fire response. They’re doing more with less over the last 15 years.”

In my last column, I laid out one of the easiest and quickest ways to add more park space — unlock the gates of L.A. Unified schoolyards. Ten have been opened so far, and a new agreement between the city and school district paves the way for more, although two major obstacles are funding and the need to replace blacktop with greenery.

To calculate how to make better use of existing resources, the study used an approach developed in part by UCLA’s Institute of the Environment and Sustainability. The PerSquareMile tool broke the city into tiny grids and identified two dozen park sites where improved facilities could impact the largest number of people, and three dozen sites where conversion of schools and other public spaces into parks would serve hundreds of thousands of people.

“It’s the greatest good for the greatest number of people in the most efficient way,” said Jon Christensen, of the UCLA institute.

But transforming the system will take more than that, said Guillermo Rodriguez, a member of the study’s steering committee and California state director of the Trust for Public Land, the nonprofit that ranked L.A. near the bottom of the 100 largest park systems.

“Cities have made investments across the board, and L.A. is lagging,” Rodriguez said.

The study cited several revenue-generating options, including a charter amendment to increase the percentage of funding that goes to parks, expanded nonprofit partnerships, extending Proposition K, the 1996 park improvement measure that is about to expire, and putting a new fundraising initiative on the ballot in the fall of 2026.

“In every administration since [Mayor] Tom Bradley, the park system was taken for granted,” Rodriguez said. “There’s no more tape, no more paint, no more magic tricks that they can use to fix the parks. It really requires leadership and a significant investment, and I think Angelenos are ready to step up.”

That leadership is going to have to come from Mayor Karen Bass and each member of the City Council. So if you’d like to get their attention, two public meetings are coming up:

Thursday from 6 to 8 p.m. at the Bellevue Recreation Center in Silver Lake, and Saturday from 10 a.m. to noon at the Westwood Recreation Center.

For a schedule of future virtual meetings, and to read an online copy of the needs assessment study, go to needs.parks.lacity.gov.

[email protected]

Greg Louganis is starting a new chapter in his life.

The U.S. diving legend has auctioned off three of the five Olympic medals he won between 1976-1988, sold his home and is parting with most of his other possessions as part of a journey of self-discovery that is taking him, at least for now, to Panama.

“So, as life moves forward, what are you prepared to leave behind?” Louganis wrote Friday in a Facebook post. “I am 65 years old, and I am asking just that. I am no longer who I used to think I was. Not even close to ‘What’ other people or ‘Who’ other people think I am.”

Louganis shared some details of his plan in that post and expanded on them on two Instagram Live posts, one recorded from Los Angeles in his final night in the United States and the other recorded the following day from Panama City, the first stop in a journey that will eventually take him and his dog Gerald to Boquette.

That’s where they’re going to settle down — “for now,” Louganis said on Instagram.

“I don’t know how permanent, or, you know, I don’t know how long it’s gonna be,” he said. “I’m just embracing the ‘I don’t know,’ and also staying open for discovery. I think that’s what this part of my life is about, being open to discover what’s next and really, really, really do my best at being present in every place I go with every person I meet.”

About a year ago, Louganis said, he was in a bad place mentally, feeling “really, really alone and isolated.”

“It was really, really severe, real bad depression,” Louganis said. “And now I’m realizing, I have things to offer. So what that is and what that looks like, I haven’t figured it out. And I think that that’s what this is kind of about, is recalibration and figuring out what is next. … and just discover who I am too. I mean, that’s a big question.”

U.S. diver Greg Louganis spreads his arms and bends at the waist while in mid-dive during a springboard diving competition.

(Sadayuki Mikami / Associated Press)

Louganis says part of the process has been letting go of many of the items he didn’t realize were weighing him down. Last month, he received more than $430,000 at auction for three of his Olympic medals ($201,314 for his 1988 gold medal in 10-meter platform, $199,301 for his 1984 gold medal in 3-meter sprinboard and $30,250 for his 1976 silver medal in 10-meter platform).

“I needed the money,” Louganis wrote on Facebook. “While many people may have built businesses and sold them for a profit, I had my medals, which I am grateful for. If I had proper management, I might not have been in that position, but what is done is done; live and learn.”

Louganis has not mentioned what, if anything, happened with his other two gold medals, won in 1984 for 3-meter springboard and in 1988 for 10-meter platform.

Also on his posts, Louganis mentions that he sold his home last week. Public records list Louganis as the owner of a residence in Topanga. According to Zillow, a house at that address sold on Aug. 28 for $750,000.

As for most of his other belongings, Louganis wrote, “I decided to donate, sell what can be sold, give gifts, and give where things might be needed or appreciated. … A thought occurred to me, I had many friends, people I was close to, lost everything in the Woolsey Fire, and then the Palisades Fire just this year.

“I know I am choosing to do this, but their resilience is an inspiration for me to start anew, with an open heart and an open door. Opening up to possibilities.”

On Instagram, Louganis described the experience as “freeing.”

“The memories will always be in here,” Louganis said, placing his hand over his heart. “And so the other things are just stuff, you know? We don’t realize how much we hang on to, and what I’m also learning now in this process is how oftentimes we don’t realize they weigh us down. You know, like the shipping, the storage, all of that stuff.

“Actually, I was kind of discussing that with Michael Phelps, because he heard that I auctioned my medals. He said, ‘How was that?’ I said, ‘You know what it was? It was a relief, you know, because then it was like it was a weight off my shoulders.’”

TELLURIDE, Colo.  — Jeremy Allen White asked all the questions any normal human being would ask when offered the chance to play Bruce Springsteen in “Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere.” In theaters Oct. 24, it’s a movie that examines a slice of the rock legend’s career when he was battling depression and creating 1982’s incomparable exploration of alienation “Nebraska,” a record he didn’t know he was making when he recorded the songs on a primitive four-track tape machine in a rented New Jersey home. It turned out to be his favorite of all his albums.

Most of those questions could be boiled down to: Why me? White didn’t know how to play the guitar. He loves to sing but would never call himself a singer. And while he has a relationship with an audience, particularly those who have white-knuckled their way through his Emmy-winning work as Carmy, the talented and troubled chef on “The Bear,” he says it’s a far cry from the bond Springsteen has forged with his fan base for the past 50-plus years.

“The relationship a musician has with fans is so intimate,” White, 34, tells me the morning after the movie had its world premiere at the Telluride Film Festival. “You listen to him in the car, you go to see him live. He’s there in your ear and it’s just the two of you. You feel like you’re being spoken to. Bruce is so important to so many people. It was daunting. I didn’t want to disappoint.”

By the time we talked, though, White was well past any anxiety about disappointing, if only because he had the approval of the person who mattered the most: Springsteen himself.

“Jeremy tolerated me and I appreciated that,” Springsteen said at a festival Q&A, suggesting that his input on the movie was ongoing and significant — and also welcome. He noted that it was easy to sign off on director Scott Cooper’s vision for the movie, which, with its narrow focus on the deep dive of “Nebraska,” he called an “antibiopic.”

“And I’m old and I don’t give a f— what I do,” Springsteen added, laughing.

White and I are sitting in the sun outside his hotel, basking in the warmth the day after a steady rain. Wearing a battered Yankees cap, jeans, boots and a blue pullover, he’s sporting the casual uniform of the festival, if not the Boss himself. White asks if I mind if he lights an American Spirit. He reaches for his lighter. The premiere is over and his mood is light. We dive right in.

Jeremy Allen White in the movie “Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere.”

(Macall Polay / 20th Century Studios)

Was there an immediate point of connection with Springsteen?
The more I talked with him, the more I learned. And at the point in his life we show in the movie, he was feeling so fraudulent. Not in his work, but as a human. He felt like he was being caught in a lie all the time. And I don’t want to speak for all actors, but I’ve certainly dealt with that kind of feeling.

It feels like there’s a line between your Springsteen and Carmy on “The Bear,” two men carrying generational trauma and emotional baggage they have no idea how to deal with. Do you see that?
For sure, you can draw that line. They’re cousins. And they’ve both got their art, something they feel confident about. What Bruce was feeling in his relationship with his father and the environment he grew up in, is he felt incredibly unsafe. And that made it difficult for him to trust people and form real connections. For a long time, the only connection he felt was in that three hours he spent on stage.

But then what do you do the rest of the time?
Absolutely. And I’m familiar with those feelings. But my home life as a child was more loving and supportive, so I had to do some creative work to find that tether to Bruce.

You mentioning Springsteen’s dad just popped a thought into my head. Is Carmy’s dad alive?
[Long exhale] We don’t know. That’s a decision that’s up to [showrunner] Chris [Storer].

It’s above your pay grade.
Well above.

You’re really good at playing men who have trouble articulating their feelings, which puts a lot of weight on your shoulders to convey an interior life through close-ups. Do you like that kind of acting?
I do. You have to have an understanding. The camera knows. If you’re just staring at a wall and you don’t have anything going on, the camera will know. The audience will, too.

You do also get to rock out and sing “Born to Run” and “Born in the U.S.A.” How did your vocal chords feel afterward?
I spent an afternoon singing “Born in the U.S.A.” and I got a migraine and I lost my voice. I saw Bruce afterward and he asked, “What’d you do today.” And I said [affecting a hoarse voice], “Uh, I recorded ‘Born in the U.S.A.’” And he smiles and says, “Sounds about right.”

Most of your singing is the “Nebraska” songs, these delicate acoustic songs about despairing characters who have lost hope. Putting across their stories in these songs feels like its own imposing challenge.
I was so focused on just sounding like Bruce and my coach, Eric [Vetro], asks, “What are you singing about? What’s the story? Where’s Bruce coming from? Is he singing from his perspective? Is about his childhood? Is he playing a character?” All these questions that, for an actor, should be right at the front of mind. Because I was so anxious about sounding like him, I found myself blocked by the real thing, which was: How can I just sing the song as honestly as possible?

What song was the breakthrough?
“Mansion on the Hill.” Bruce listened to it and said, “You do sound like me. But it’s you singing the song.” And that gave me permission, not just in recording the music, but making a film where I could tell his story but not be afraid to bring myself to it.

Did you have a favorite song?
Probably “My Father’s House.” It seemed like a warning for me. There’s regret in it. What I heard is a song about a young man not wanting to regret that he didn’t reach out for his father, who he had a love and connection with earlier. There was an immediacy to it, which you then see with Bruce and his father in the film.

Did it make you want to call your dad?
I called him right after recording that song in Nashville. Like many fathers and sons, we have a loving relationship, but we’ve also gone through periods where things have been difficult and it was hard to communicate. Making this film and singing this song has given me another perspective. It also coincides with getting older and having children of my own.

I’m glad you made the call. You can’t have those conversations after a certain point.
That’s what I mean about the warning of that song.

You told me yesterday that you and Springsteen had a debate about “Reason to Believe.” What was the source of the disagreement?
It’s the last song on the album and Bruce says people confuse it as being hopeful. He says that’s not correct. The song is about a woman whose husband has left her and she stands at the end of the driveway every day, waiting for him to come home. And I hear that, and I think, “Oh, that’s real love. That’s romance. Someone’s gonna drive down that road at some point.”

Either that or this poor woman is just going to be walking up and down her driveway the rest of her life.
And no one’s gonna be there. It depends how your ear is on a song.

But you choose to believe.
I choose to walk to the end of the driveway. Absolutely.

Would you call yourself an optimist?
No. [Laughs] Not really.

“Nebraska” came out in 1982 and was informed by the idea that there was a growing divide between the wealthy and the poor and that what we think of as the American Dream was becoming more elusive. Where do you think the album sits more than four decades later?
People are angry. That’s what seems to define our country right now. Anger. And it doesn’t seem to be going away. The songs on “Nebraska” are still going to be speaking to us four decades from now. They’re timeless.

Jeremy Allen White in the movie “Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere.”

(Macall Polay / 20th Century Studios)

Did your early dance background help you with the physicality of the role, the way he carries himself on stage or even just walking around?
For sure. Finding the way he holds his gravity was important. I put little lifts in the boots and that made my posture change, my legs a little longer. Wearing the pants up to here [he points to a spot above his hips], that gets your gravity in your belly button, where I’m crouched over all the time.

There’s a lot of scenes in diners where he’s sitting with one arm over the back of the booth …
… like he’s on his way out almost all the time. One foot in, one foot out.

Musician friends turned you on to “Nebraska” in your early 20s. What music were you listening to then?
My folks are a little older so I grew up listening to a lot of music that Bruce listened to — Sam Cooke, Otis Redding, the Beatles, the Stones, Aretha Franklin.

Your parents had a strong record collection.
Still do. And I grew up in in Brooklyn in the ’90s, so I got really heavy into hip-hop in my teenage years. I discovered Nas and Jay-Z and Big L and Wu-Tang. Tribe. De La Soul. And then I was around for an exciting time in the New York scene. I was young so I couldn’t really experience it, but the Strokes were coming out and LCD Soundsystem. I felt lucky to be close that stuff as it was happening.

The way you’re talking about all this, it feels like music is a fundamental part of your life.
Absolutely. I love that it’s always with you. I’ve taken a couple of cross-country trips, and I love putting on Motown. I go through periods where I listen to the same 20 songs for a couple of weeks. But then I’ve got thousands of “liked” songs. And the nice part about a long drive is you can shuffle that and it’s like you’re traveling in time. I love getting to visit past versions of myself through music.

Springsteen takes an eventful cross-country trip in the film. What’s your most memorable one?
I did one by myself when I was about 24. I thought I was going to give myself about two weeks to go from New York to L.A. The first week was great. I was enjoying my solitude, listening to a lot of music. Then when I hit Utah, I got incredibly lonely.

Did the landscapes get to you?
Maybe. I had a certain amount of anonymity, which I enjoy on a road trip. You don’t know anybody in these towns and that allows you to be whoever you want to be, passing through. I remember getting to Utah and just being desperate to see somebody who knew who I was. And I got a flat in St. George, Utah. It was a disaster. My phone had died. I didn’t have a spare. I was out on the side of the road trying to borrow somebody’s phone. I took that as a sign. After I got it repaired, I raced to have dinner with a friend, because I felt this this crazy loneliness.

Springsteen says everyone has their “genesis moment,” an experience that charts your path. His was watching Elvis Presley perform on “The Ed Sullivan Show” in 1956. What’s your genesis moment?
I had been dancing on stage but I didn’t act until I was 14 when I got up in front of a group in middle school. I had this great teacher, John McEneny, and he was having us do this improvisational exercise — two characters, one speaking, one quiet. And my friend, Yael, was playing a mother and I was playing her child who didn’t know how to speak yet. So I wasn’t speaking, like so much of my work [Laughs].

It’s Carmy’s genesis moment too.
Yes. And I remember feeling a presence. I had a hard time focusing as a child, a hard time being present. Still do. But I remember even in silence feeling so at ease and present. And of course I remember the eyes. And even without me doing anything or speaking, I felt attention, people waiting to see what I would do next. And I went, “Whoa.” I felt at peace. I felt present and people were interested. And I thought, “Let me follow this a little bit and see where we can go.”

There’s a scene in the movie, taken from real life, where Springsteen is flipping through the channels one night and stumbles upon Terrence Malick’s “Badlands,” a movie that ultimately influences “Nebraska.” With streaming, we don’t really have those serendipitous discoveries any more. Have you ever had a moment like that?
I can’t think of one. But “Badlands” was a favorite of my parents and they showed it to me when I was 13 or 14. Martin Sheen was cool as hell in that role, and I was so impressed with his commitment to that character. And Sissy Spacek conveys so much with so few words.

And like “Nebraska,” “Badlands” was difficult to make. There was a lot of pushback against Malick and what he was trying to do.
There was a lot of confusion going on. They weren’t on the same page. Like with Bruce, it took a lot of diligence on Terrence Malick’s part to realize his vision. It’s so beautiful when you hear about the process of making a film is so difficult, and then something so beautiful and perfect comes out.

Where do you like to see movies in L.A.?
I love the New Beverly. I saw “2001: A Space Odyssey” at the Egyptian not long ago. The Aero, if I’m on the Westside. I miss the Cinerama Dome and the Arclight. New movies, probably the Sunset 5. My favorite thing is go to a movie on a Tuesday at like one in the afternoon. You’re there by yourself. I like seeing movies by myself. Some people get out of a movie and like to start talking about it. I like getting out of a movie and being quiet for awhile.

Did you see “Weapons”? That was my favorite movie theater experience this summer.
I loved “Weapons.” And obviously, it’s a great horror film and funny at times and that ending is just crazy. But also I found myself very emotionally affected. To me the horror of the movie was about, from the child’s perspective, looking at all these adults who were totally incapable, whether it was due to addiction or narcissism.

Bringing this full circle, I’m watching this movie about kids feeling unsafe and I thought of the times in Bruce’s upbringing where he felt a similar way and how that made it so difficult to grow up and be trusting. That he ultimately got to that place is so beautiful. I hope people come away from watching this movie feeling that and, if they’re in a place that’s not so good, maybe thinking that connection can still be possible.

Devon Newberry is closing in on two years as a professional beach volleyball player. Yet for the last 731 days, “professional” has always felt like an elusive label.

The former UCLA standout is accustomed to life as a beach volleyball player — hauling her equipment on the beach, tugging her bag across the uneven sand while weaving through sunbathers and surfboards. She’s used to hearing provisional bleachers creak under sunscreen-slathered fans as music buzzes through nearby portable speakers.

There’s charm in that chaos. But it’s nothing like the entrance Newberry made Friday at the Intuit Dome.

Above her, the sweeping halo scoreboard glowed, flashing beneath the thump of blasting pop anthems. Around her, where NBA chants once echoed, beach volleyball fans cheered. And strangest of all, tons of sand created a faux indoor shoreline.

After two years chasing it, Newberry found her label.

“I walked into the Intuit Dome today and I was like, ‘I feel like a professional athlete walking in,’” Newberry said. “I haven’t felt like that as a beach player. There’s very rare moments when you’re like, ‘Wow, I am really a professional athlete.’ And when I was going underground here and looking all around me, I was like, ‘I really am a professional athlete.’ And that’s because we’re playing at the Intuit Dome.”

In what began as a head-scratcher for the players themselves, 300 tons of sand were poured into the Intuit Dome, turning the Clippers’ arena into a pop-up beach — where the L.A. Launch kept their perfect run afloat for the start of AVP League Week 5.

The Launch struck first and last — with Megan Kraft and Terese Cannon opening with a win, and Hagen Smith and Logan Webber closing it out — both pairs dismantling the San Diego Smash. Sandwiched between those victories, Palm Beach Passion’s men’s and women’s teams both made quick work of the Miami Mayhem.

The moment Newberry described — descending into an NBA arena re-imagined as a sand-strewn battleground — was the AVP’s moonshot: to re-imagine the sport in lights, not solely sunlight.

“Playing in such an amazing place, brand new building, with everything going on, with the new building around here, it’s really cool,” said 2016 Olympian Chaim Schalk. “To get to play at such an iconic arena is an honor.”

Logan Webber of the L.A. Launch spikes over Chase Budinger of the San Diego Smash at the Intuit Dome on Friday night.

(Joe Scarnici / Getty Images)

Beach volleyball rarely has ventured beyond its coastal roots. But at the Intuit Dome, the sport embraced a new direction.

“This shows that beach volleyball is growing and it’s trying to adapt to the world we live in, finding a new way for fans to interact with the players, and new ways for the sport to be exciting,” said Chase Budinger, a former NBA player who became a beach volleyball player. “This will get more people in the stands because it’s so new and so different.”

In place of sun-worshiping fans camped out on makeshift bleachers, parents lounged on cushioned seats as kids nestled beside them balancing chicken wings and pizzas on their laps.

The sport welcomed a combination of newcomers hunting for Friday night entertainment and AVP devotees.

“There’s so many people who love beach volleyball, and so many people who would love beach volleyball if they were just given the opportunity to go watch,” Newberry said. “And not everybody can make it out.”

Change comes with tradeoffs. With no wind, the court became something of a power chamber — the compact sand lending itself to higher and cleaner jumps, the still air enabling blistering serves and monstrous spikes that might have drifted wide on the beach.

Rallies became quicker and tighter. The margin for error shrank, tightening the grip on the crowd.

“For a lot of people watching beach volleyball for the first time, it’s really hard to conceptualize how wind, how deep the sand is, might affect play,” Newberry said. “So it feels like more of an even playing field which allows everybody to watch really entertaining volleyball.”

By re-imagining the boundaries of where its sport can potentially thrive, the AVP might have sketched out a novel blueprint for other sports.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if other sports follow and start expanding their ideas of where they could play,” said Olympic silver medalist Brandie Wilkerson. “I’m excited to see where this is going to go and see other sports try to catch up.”

On the stunning “What’s It All For” on her new album, “I Want My Loved Ones to Go With Me,” Noah Cyrus sings: “Why have a family/If that ain’t what you want?/Why have a child/You don’t know how to love?

I’ve asked all of these questions/And I got one more/If that’s all there is/Then what’s it all for?/What’s it all for?”

Cyrus, often writing with Australian singer-songwriter PJ Harding, has a way of storytelling that captures the grit and highs and lows of real life the way Kris Kristofferson does on the classic “Sunday Morning Comin’ Down,” or John Mellencamp and Lucinda Williams do.

Her song, “July,” released when she was 19, was praised by the likes of John Mayer and Leon Bridges and has more than a billion streams. So the potential for something special has always been there. But now that she has put it all together on “I Want My Loved Ones to Go With Me” the result transcends special. The 11 songs on the album bridge storytelling with classic country and folk sounds that hark back to the ‘70s, a la songs like the Eagles’ “Wasted Time.”

“I hope that this record, when I hear it, I hear something that’s very classic and reminds me of music that’s been around for a very long time,” she says.

Cyrus has that “classic” music in her blood and bones. Old soul is often a trite, overused expression, but when you grow up in a famous family in the public eye, as Noah Cyrus has, it is an accurate one — her father is country music veteran Billy Ray Cyrus and her sister is pop star Miley Cyrus.

Cyrus said she grew up faster than most people her age. “I’ve been touring since I was 16, I’ve been making music since I was 16,” she tells The Times. “ I grew up in a family that was in the public eye. I think with that there were certain things that we could and couldn’t do, that felt restricted because of the public eye or the way we’d be judged or the way we were judged whenever we made mistakes just as kids.”

She turned 25 in January, which brought a new maturity. Like another all-time great songwriter, Jackson Browne, who famously wrote “These Days” when he was 16, Cyrus has shown a wisdom beyond her years.

“I found out a lot about my senses on a song and learning to trust that as a songwriter,” Cyrus said. “I learned a lot how to lead for myself as a musician.”

(Jason Renaud)

She addresses growing up throughout the album. “I turned 25 this January and I talk about this on the record It’s one of the themes of the album … growing up and new countries about walking on your own two feet and going into unknown land and no matter where you go, there you are. And just learning how to deal with that and cope with that as a young adult,” she says. “That was something that was going on at the time of creating this record. That’s why I just fell into the themes because as a person I was like, ‘How do I not second-guess myself with every single move? How do I learn to trust myself? How do I learn how to become an adult that’s going to be a mother one day? How do I grow up so one day I can take care of another actual person?’”

Having confronted fame and the insecurity that comes with youth, she was ready to take control of her artistic vision with this album.

“I found out a lot about my senses on a song and learning to trust that as a songwriter. I learned a lot how to lead for myself as a musician. This is the first record that I have actual producer credits on and I actually produce some of these songs with Mike [Crossey],” she says. “It was a really beautiful experience and a great learning experience. I really was surprised by those intuitions. And when I listened to the final product, I think it’s the first time in my career where I’m actually really proud of myself.”

Cyrus made sure her personal touch was felt on every aspect of the record, including the eclectic quartet of guests: Robin Pecknold of Fleet Foxes, Bill Callahan, Ella Langley and Blake Shelton.

She made sure the invite to Shelton on “New Country” came directly from her. “I really wanted to personally talk to Blake and wrote him a letter and did all the things to really make this a personal connection,” she says. “Blake and I have a mutual friend on the song — Amy Wadge, she’s one of my favorite songwriters and I love her so much. It was like a God thing telling me you have to reach out to Blake. When I heard that song, it was Blake’s from the beginning. And Blake made it happen. It felt like this spiritual thing that was bound to happen and something that was just written up there in the stars was having Blake on this record.”

For all the notable guests, the centerpiece of the album fittingly features Cyrus’ grandfather. The mesmerizing spiritual hymn “Apple Tree,” which is like the love child of a Nick Cave song and Dolly Parton track, is built around her grandfather’s voice.

“I do feel like ‘Apple Tree’ is a song from God because of the prayer that is said at the end and spoken by my grandfather Ron Cyrus,” she says.

It’s fitting that the song features her grandfather because “I Want My Loved Ones to Go With Me” is very much Cyrus returning to her Nashville roots and the music she grew up around. Though she says it’s just a happy accident, her embracing the music that is her birthright coincides with the surge in popularity of country music.

“When I was making this album, country was really getting its mainstream momentum again and taking over the world again as it was when I was a baby, when CMA fans used to have Fanfare and stuff. I remember my dad doing Fanfare. For me it’s really awesome because I think country music has so much more of a wider audience and so many people are starting to connect with country,” she says. “I think that was just God’s timing with the album and everything and it all lining up.”

While artists have been increasingly embracing country, for Cyrus this wasn’t about a trend — she was following the natural order of things. Many musicians will say that as they get older, they return to their roots.

So this was Cyrus coming home. “The more freedom I got I just kept putting more and more of myself into the record, which is metaphorically and literally back to my roots. I think I’ve been longing to feel closer to where I come from. I put that into my music and that’s such a beautiful outlet for me. And I think there’s so many people, not just kids, as an adult, as your parent, you feel things, they’re just like you and the child inside you, it’s all still broken, no matter how old you get, you still have that inner child inside of you. I think a lot of that inner child goes into my music and you hear a lot of my inner child.”

Though Cyrus loves the storytelling aspect of classic country records, it is just as much about the sound of those albums and artists as it is the lyrics. She reveled in that raw, organic sound in making this album.

“The more freedom I got I just kept putting more and more of myself into the record, which is metaphorically and literally back to my roots,” Cyrus said.

(Hannah DeVries)

“That was a fun thing for me again to learn is when you take all the bells and whistles away on a vocal and you just have that person’s originality and that person’s personality and let that shine through on a vocal. That’s the best thing you can do, just have the most amazing and natural raw vocals for people to hear and that’s what I love about the genre of country music and especially older records where you’re singing full takes and that’s what the record is. That’s a lot of the time what Mike and I like to do with our songs, is our songs are full takes of everything. We like everything to feel live, and I think that’s an important part of the record.”

The goal was an album that defies categorization and time. She wanted a record that if you had found it in 1975 and put it on right next to Bob Dylan’s “Blood on the Tracks” or you played it in 2025 it would have sounded of that time. In her pursuit of that lofty goal, she transcends the genre tag. This isn’t what most people think of as country today. The closest contemporary artist would be Chris Stapleton, who, when seen live, embodies a Neil Young solo acoustic; it could be country, folk, rock.

That’s what Cyrus set out to do. “When I hear it, I hear a record that will hopefully give the listener a chance to heal as it was a really healing experience for myself,” she says. “And I hope that this record, for me, is something that in 20 years … people are still mentioning and it’s a monumental album in the timeline of my career.”

Noah Cyrus performs Friday at The Ford at 8 p.m.

Jewel Thais-Williams, the founder of the pioneering Black lesbian and queer nightclub Jewel’s Catch One in Los Angeles, has died. She was 86.

Thais-Williams’ death was confirmed by KTLA and by several friends and employees of the club. No cause of death was immediately available.

For decades, the Mid-City nightclub — known to regulars as The Catch — was L.A.’s hallowed sanctuary for Black queer women, and a welcoming dance floor for trans, gay and musically adventurous revelers. Artists like Ella Fitzgerald, Madonna and Whitney Houston sashayed down Catch One’s winding halls, while the indomitable Thais-Williams fended off police harassment and led care programs during the height of the AIDS crisis.

The Catch was singularly important to the development of Black and queer nightlife in L.A., and belongs beside New York’s Paradise Garage and Chicago’s Warehouse in any account of the most important nightclubs in America.

“It was a community, it was family,” Thais-Williams told The Times in a 2018 interview. “To be honest myself, I was pretty much a loner too. I always had the fears of coming out, or my family finding out. I found myself there.”

Thais-Williams, born in Indiana in 1939, opened Jewel’s Catch One in 1973. She didn’t have ambitions to open a generationally important nightclub, just a more resilient business than her previous dress shop. However, her experience of being shunned as a Black woman by other local gay clubs bolstered her resolve to make the Catch welcoming for those left out of the scene in L.A.

Jewel’s Catch One on West Pico Boulevard.

(Ricardo DeAratanha / Los Angeles Times)

“I didn’t come into this business with the idea of it becoming a community center,” she said in 1992. “It started before AIDS and the riots and all that. I got the first sense of the business being more than just a bar and having an obligation to the community years ago when Black gays were carded — requiring several pieces of ID — to get into white clubs. I went to bat for them, though I would love to have them come to my place every night.

“The idea is to have the freedom to go where you want to without being harassed. The predominantly male, white gay community has its set of prejudices. It’s better now, but it still exists.”

Jewel’s Catch One became a kind of West Coast Studio 54, with disco-era visionaries like Donna Summer, Chaka Khan, Sylvester, Rick James and Evelyn “Champagne” King performing to packed rooms. Celebrities like Sharon Stone and Whoopi Goldberg attended the parties, glad for wild nights out away from the paparazzi in Hollywood.

Thais-Williams “opened the door for so many people,” said Nigl “14k,” the Catch’s manager, doorperson and limo driver for 27 years up until its sale in 2015. “A lot of people that felt not wanted in West Hollywood had nowhere to go. But people found out who she was and put word out. She was a great friend and a shrewd businessperson who allowed people to just be themselves.”

The club’s many rooms allowed for a range of nightlife — strip shows, card games and jazz piano sets alongside DJ and live band performances [along with Alcoholics Anonymous meetings]. The boisterous, accepting atmosphere for Black queer partiers contrasted with the constant surveillance, regulation and harassment outside of it.

“There was a restriction on same sex dancing, women couldn’t tend bar unless they owned it,” Thais-Williams said in 2018. “The police were arresting people for anything remotely homosexual. We had them coming in with guns pretending to be looking for someone in a white T-shirt just so they could walk around.”

A fire in 1985 claimed much of the venue’s top floor, closing it for two years. Thais-Williams suspected that gentrifiers had their eye on her building.

“It’s very important not to give up our institutions — places of business that have been around for years,” she said. “Having a business that people can see can offer them some incentive to do it for themselves. I’m determined to win, and if I do fail or move on, I want my business to go to Black people who have the same interest that I have to maintain an economic presence in this community.”

Thais-Williams’ AIDS activism was crucial during the bleakest eras of the disease, which ravaged queer communities of color. She co-founded the Minority AIDS Project and served on the board of the AIDS Project Los Angeles, which provided HIV/AIDS care, prevention programs and public policy initiatives.

With her partner, Rue, she co-founded Rue’s House, one of the first dedicated housing facilities in the U.S. for women living with HIV. The facility later became a sober-living home. In 2001, Thais-Williams founded the Village Health Foundation, a healthcare and education organization focused on chronic diseases that affected the Black community.

Jewel Thais-Williams in 2015.

(Katie Falkenberg / Los Angeles Times)

“Jewel is a true symbol of leadership within our community,” said Marquita Thomas, a Christopher Street West board member who selected Thais-Williams to lead the city’s Pride parade in 2018. “Her tireless efforts have positively affected the lives of countless LGBTQ minorities, [and her] dedication to bettering our community is truly inspiring.”

After decades in nightlife, facing dwindling crowds and high overhead for a huge venue, in 2015 Thais-Williams sold the venue to nightlife entrepreneur Mitch Edelson, who continues to host rock and dance nights in the club, now known as Catch One. (Edelson said the club is planning a memorial for Thais-Williams.)

“People in general don’t have appreciation anymore for their own institutions,” Thais-Williams told The Times in 2015. “All we want is something that’s shiny because our attention span is only going to last for one season and then you want to go somewhere else. The younger kids went to school and associated with both the straight people and non-Blacks, so they feel free to go to those spots. The whole gay scene as it relates to nightclubs has changed — a lot.”

After the sale, the importance of the club came into sharper focus. A 2018 Netflix documentary, “Jewel’s Catch One,” produced by Ava DuVernay’s company Array, highlighted The Catch’s impact on Los Angeles nightlife, and the broader music scene of the era. When Thais-Williams sold it, the Catch was the last Black-owned queer nightclub in the city.

In 2019, the square outside of Jewel’s Catch One was officially named for Thais-Williams.

“With Jewel’s Catch One, she built a home for young, black queer people who were often isolated and shut out at their own homes, and in doing so, changed the lives of so many” said then-City Council President Herb Wesson at the ceremony. “Jewel is more than deserving to be the first Black lesbian woman with a dedicated square in the city of Los Angeles for this and so many other reasons.”

L.A.’s queer nightlife scene is still reeling from the impact of the pandemic, broader economic forces and changing tastes among young queer audiences. Still, Thais-Williams’ vision and perseverance to create and sustain a home for her community will resonate for generations to come.

“Multiple generations of Black queer joy, safety, and community exist today because of Jewel Thais-Williams,” said Jasmyne Cannick, organizer of South L.A. Pride. “She didn’t just open doors — she held them open long enough for all of us to walk through, including this Gen-X Black lesbian. There’s a whole generation of younger Black queer folks out here in L.A. living their best life, not even realizing they’re walking through doors Jewel built from the ground up.”

“Long before Pride had corporate sponsors and hashtags, Jewel was out here creating space for us to gather, dance, organize, heal, and simply exist,” Cannick continued. “We owe her more than we could ever repay.”

Thais-Williams is survived by her wife and partner for 40 years, Rue.

Hollywood’s relationship with artificial intelligence is fraught, as studios balance the need to cut costs with growing concerns from actors, directors and crew members. But in China, efforts to use AI in entertainment are taking a more no-holds-barred approach.

The China Film Foundation, a nonprofit fund under the Chinese government, plans to use AI to revitalize 100 kung fu classics including “Police Story,” “Once Upon a Time in China” and “Fist of Fury,” featuring Jackie Chan, Jet Li and Bruce Lee, respectively. The foundation said it will partner with businesses including Shanghai Canxing Culture & Media Co., which will license 100 Hong Kong films to AI companies to reintroduce those movies to younger audiences globally.

Chow Yun-fat stars in director John Woo’s “A Better Tomorrow” in 1986.

(Cinema City)

The foundation said there are opportunities to use AI to tell those stories through animation, for example. There are plans to release an animated version of director John Woo’s 1986 film “A Better Tomorrow” that uses AI to “reinterpret” Woo’s “signature visual language,” according to an English transcript of the announcement.

“By empowering cultural storytelling with technology, we can breathe new life into the classics and tell China’s stories farther and louder,” said Zhang Pimin, chairman of the China Film Foundation, at the Shanghai International Film Festival earlier this month.

The project raised eyebrows among U.S. artists, many of whom are deeply wary of the use of AI in creative pursuits.

The Directors Guild of America said AI is a creative tool that should only be used to enhance the creative storytelling process and “it should never be used retroactively to distort or destroy a filmmaker’s artistic work.”

“The DGA strongly opposes the use of AI or any other technology to mutilate a film or to alter a director’s vision,” the DGA said in a statement. “The Guild has a longstanding history of opposing such alterations on issues like colorization or sanitization of films to eliminate so-called ‘objectionable content’, or other changes that fundamentally alter a film’s original style, meaning, and substance.”

The project highlights widely divergent views on AI’s potential to reshape entertainment as the two countries compete for dominance in the highly competitive AI space. In the U.S., much of the traditional entertainment industry has taken a tepid view of generative AI, due to concerns over protecting intellectual property and labor relations.

While some Hollywood studios such as Lionsgate and Blumhouse have collaborated with AI companies, others have been reluctant to announce partnerships at the risk of offending talent that have voiced concerns over how AI could be used to alter their digital likeness without adequate compensation.

But other countries like China have fewer guardrails, which has led to more experimentation of the technology by entertainment companies.

Many people in China embrace AI, with 83% feeling confident that AI systems are designed to act in the best interest of society, much higher than the U.S. where it’s 37%, according to a survey from the United Nations Development Program.

The foundation’s announcement came as a surprise to Bruce Lee Enterprises, which oversees legal usage of Lee’s likeness in creative works.

Bruce Lee’s family was “previously unaware of this development and is currently gathering information,” a spokesperson said.

Woo, in a written statement, said he hadn’t heard from the foundation about the AI remake, noting that the rights to “A Better Tomorrow” have changed hands several times.

“I wasn’t really involved in the project because I’m not very familiar with AI technology,” Woo said in a statement to The Times. “However, I’m very curious about the outcome and the effect it might have on my original film.”

David Chi, who represents the China Film Foundation’s Special Fund for Film and Urban Development, said in an interview that Chan is aware of the project and he has plans to talk with Chan’s team. A representative of Chan’s did not respond to a request for comment.

“We do need to talk … very specifically how we‘re using animated or AI existing technology, and how that would combine with his image rights and business rights,” Chi said. Chi did not have an immediate response to the DGA, Bruce Lee Enterprises and Woo’s statements.

AI is already used in China for script development, content moderation and recommendations and translation. In postproduction, AI has reduced the time to complete visual effects work from days to hours, said He Tao, an official with the National Radio and Television Administration’s research center, during remarks at the festival.

“Across government agencies, content platforms, and production institutions, the enthusiasm to adopt and integrate AI has never been stronger,” He said.

During the project’s announcement, supporters touted the opportunity AI will bring to China to further its cultural message globally and generate new work for creatives. At the same time, they touted AI’s disruption of the filmmaking process, saying the “A Better Tomorrow” remake was completed with just 30 people, significantly fewer than a typical animated project.

China is a “more brutal society in that sense,” said Eric Harwit, professor of Asian studies at the University of Hawaii at Manoa. “If somebody loses their job because artificial intelligence is taking over, well, that’s just the cost of China’s moving forward. They don’t have that kind of regret about people losing jobs and there are less opportunities for organized protest against the Chinese government.”

A scene from the movie “Once Upon A Time In China.”

(Golden Harvest)

Hollywood guilds such as SAG-AFTRA have been outspoken about the harm AI could have on jobs and have fought for protections against AI in contracts in TV shows, films and video games. The unions have also pushed state and federal legislators to create laws that would give people more protections against deep fakes, or videos manipulated to show a person endorsing an idea or product that they don’t actually support. There is no equivalent of that in China.

“You don’t have those freestanding labor organizations, so they don’t have that kind of clout to protest against the Chinese using artificial intelligence in a way that might reduce their job opportunities or lead to layoffs in the sector,” Harwit added.

U.S. studios are also going to court to challenge the ways AI companies train their models on copyrighted materials. Earlier this month, Walt Disney Co. and Universal Pictures sued AI startup Midjourney, alleging it uses technology to generate images that copy the studios’ famous characters, including Yoda and Shrek.

In China, officials involved in the project to remaster kung fu films said they were eager to work with AI companies. They said that AI will be used to add “stunning realism” to the movies. They are planning to build “immersive viewing experiences” such as walking into a bamboo forest duel and “feeling the philosophy of movement and stillness.” In areas such as animation, new environments could be created with AI, Chi said.

“We are offering full access to our IP, platform, and adaptation rights to partners worldwide — with the goal of delivering richer, more diverse, and high-quality AI enhanced film works to global audiences,” said Tian Ming, chairman of Shanghai Canxing Culture & Media Co. in his remarks earlier this month. Tian said there is no revenue-sharing cap and it is allocating about $14 million to co-invest in selected projects and share in the returns.

The kung fu revitalization efforts will extend into other areas, including the creation of a martial arts video game.

Industry observers said China is wise to go back to its well of popular martial arts classics out of Hong Kong, which have inspired U.S. action movies for decades.

There’s also not as much risk involved for China, said Simon Pulman, a partner at law firm Pryor Cashman.

“They’ve got very little to lose by doing this,” Pulman said. “If it can potentially enhance the value of those movies, there’s very little downside for them.”

China’s film industry has grown significantly compared to decades ago, boosted by the proliferation of movie theaters, including Imax screens, in the country.

In the past, China’s box office relied heavily on U.S. productions like movies from the “Fast & Furious” and Marvel franchises, but now local movies dominate the market. The Chinese animated movie “Ne Zha 2” grossed $2.2 billion at the box office globally.

But those Chinese productions generally don’t draw large U.S. audiences when they’re released in the States. The classic martial arts movies, however, have a global following and enduring legacy.

“People love martial arts movies, because action travels,” said Paul Dergarabedian, senior media analyst at Comscore. “It doesn’t matter what language it’s in, if you have a great action sequence and great fighting sequences.”

TAHOE CITY — Today I offer boating tips for Lake Tahoe — actually, for any body of water.

That’s not one of my usual column topics. Normally I write about California government and politics.

But this time I’m writing about boating because I’ve been wincing after reading and watching news reports of the horrific accident on Tahoe that killed eight people June 21.

Moreover, the Fourth of July means we’re in the heart of boating season. There are 4 million recreational boaters in California, according to the state Division of Boating and Waterways. There’s an average of 514 boating accidents a year. And July is the worst month.

I’ve been boating at Tahoe for 55 years, and on some water since I was a teen.

These are my basic rules for safety and enjoyment, at least in a vessel up to about 30 feet. My Tahoe boats mostly have been 22 to 24 feet.

For starters, if Lake Tahoe winds are already blowing at 10 mph and it’s not even noon, be smart. Don’t venture out in a recreational powerboat. The water’s likely to get much choppier in the afternoon.

If you’re out there and see white caps forming, head for shore.

If lots of sailboats show up, you don’t belong on the water with them. Get off.

And another thing: Don’t pay much attention to the manufacturer’s claim of how many people a boat will hold. Boat makers tend to exaggerate. If it says 10 people will fit, figure on maybe eight tops.

Sure, 10 may be able to squeeze aboard, but the extra weight causes the boat to ride deeper in the water and become more vulnerable to taking on water in heavy swells. That can lead to capsizing. And all those passengers squirming around makes driving more difficult because of the constantly changing weight balance.

But most important: Monitor the weather forecasts before you even get near the water.

Lake Tahoe is big and beautiful — 22 miles long and 12 miles wide, at 6,224 feet in the Sierra mountains. It holds enough water to cover all of California by 14 inches. Two-thirds of the lake is in California, one-third in Nevada.

Weather patterns vary. Scary winds and thunderstorms can be at one end of the lake, and calmer water and blue skies at the other.

Even on calm mornings, Lake Tahoe’s weather and boating conditions can turn hazardous quickly.

(Max Whittaker / For The Times)

My wincing at reports of the multi-fatality accident and many other boating mishaps that Saturday afternoon off the south and west shores stem from repeated references to all of it being caused by a sudden, unexpected storm.

The intensity of the storm may have been unexpected — north winds up to 45 mph, producing eight-foot waves. But winds had been forecast by the National Weather Service in the high teens and into the 20s. And that should have been enough warning for boaters: Stay off the water.

The person who made the most sense after the tragedy was Mary Laub, a retired financial analyst who lives in Minden, Nev., over the steep hill from South Lake Tahoe. She and her husband keep a 26-foot Regal cabin cruiser in Tahoe Keys on the south shore. And she habitually watches weather forecasts.

She had planned to go for a cruise that Saturday but dropped the idea after seeing the forecast.

“The afternoon winds pick up at Tahoe. If they’re approaching 10 [mph] before noon, I don’t go out,” she told me. “I saw that forecast and said, ‘No way.’

“If there’s any whisper of wind, I don’t go out. We’ve been caught out there before. I don’t take a chance.”

The people who died were in a practically new 27-foot Chris-Craft Launch, a high-end, gorgeous open-bow boat. It was the vessel’s third time on the water. Ten people were aboard, mostly in their 60s and 70s. They were relatives and lifelong friends, celebrating a woman’s 71st birthday. She was among the fatalities.

They were trying to return from popular Emerald Bay to their west side home in midafternoon when eight-foot swells swamped the boat, deadening the engine and capsizing the vessel off rocky Rubicon Point near D.L. Bliss State Park. They were tossed into the abnormally cold water and presumably drowned, perhaps paralyzed by hypothermia.

A mother and daughter in the party, both wearing life jackets, were rescued by a Washoe County sheriff’s team. Whether the others were wearing life jackets hadn’t been revealed as of this writing.

Meanwhile, boats all along the southwest shore were being swamped or ripped from their moorings and piling up on rocks or beaches, often crashing into other vessels.

One four-person crew in a 24-foot open-bow MasterCraft grabbed their life jackets, wisely abandoned the boat and swam to shore. They scampered up rocky cliffs in their bare feet to safety. The boat was practically totaled.

I called meteorologist Dawn Johnson at the National Weather Service in Reno.

She said the forecast for that Saturday afternoon had been for winds up to 20 mph and gusts to “25 or so.”

There also was up to a 25% chance of thunderstorms. “If you have thunderstorms on the lake, make sure you get off the water,” Johnson said. “You have a higher risk of being struck by lightning on open water.”

There were strong winds Friday night, she recalled, but by 11 a.m. Saturday they had dropped to 5 to 10 mph. Then they picked up as forecast.

“We see winds gust at that magnitude multiple times a month, most likely in the afternoon,” she said. “Sustained winds reach 25 to 30 mph.”

But normally they produce waves of only 2 to 4 feet, she added. “We’re trying to figure out exactly what happened.”

Four-foot waves are a hurricane in my book.

And Mother Nature doesn’t care about a boater’s weekend plans.

Mandonna “Donna” Kashanian lived in the United States for 47 years, married a U.S. citizen and raised their daughter. She was gardening in the yard of her New Orleans home when U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement officers handcuffed and took her away, her family said.

Kashanian arrived in 1978 on a student visa and applied for asylum, fearing retaliation for her father’s support of the U.S.-backed shah. She lost her bid, but she was allowed to remain with her husband and child if she checked in regularly with immigration officials, her husband and daughter said. She complied, once checking in from South Carolina during Hurricane Katrina. She is now being held at an immigration detention center in Basile, La., while her family tries to get information.

Other Iranians are also getting arrested by immigration authorities after decades in the United States. The U.S. Department of Homeland Security won’t say how many people they’ve arrested, but U.S. military strikes on Iran have fueled fears that there is more to come.

“Some level of vigilance, of course, makes sense, but what it seems like ICE has done is basically give out an order to round up as many Iranians as you can, whether or not they’re linked to any threat and then arrest them and deport them, which is very concerning,” said Ryan Costello, policy director of the National Iranian American Council, an advocacy group.

Homeland Security did not immediately reply to an email seeking comment on Kashanian’s case but have been touting arrests of Iranians. The department announced the arrests of at least 11 Iranians on immigration violations a week ago, during the weekend of the U.S. missile strikes on Iranian nuclear facilities. U.S. Customs and Border Protection said, without elaborating, that it arrested seven Iranians at a Los Angeles-area address that “has been repeatedly used to harbor illegal entrants linked to terrorism.”

The department “has been full throttle on identifying and arresting known or suspected terrorists and violent extremists that illegally entered this country, came in through Biden’s fraudulent parole programs or otherwise,” spokeswoman Tricia McLaughlin said of the 11 arrests. She didn’t offer any evidence of terrorist or extremist ties. Her comment on parole programs referred to former President Biden’s expanded legal pathways to entry, which President Trump shut down.

Russell Milne, Kashanian’s husband, said his wife is not a threat. Her appeal for asylum was complicated because of “events in her early life,” he explained. A court found an earlier marriage of hers to be fraudulent.

But over four decades, Kashanian, 64, built a life in Louisiana. The couple met when she was bartending as a student in the late 1980s. They married and had a daughter. She volunteered with Habitat for Humanity, filmed Persian cooking tutorials on YouTube and was a grandmother figure to the children next door.

The fear of deportation always hung over the family, Milne said, but he said his wife did everything that was being asked of her.

“She’s meeting her obligations,” Milne said. “She’s retirement age. She’s not a threat. Who picks up a grandmother?”

While Iranians have been crossing the border illegally for years, especially since 2021, they have faced little risk of being deported to their home countries due to severed diplomatic relations with the U.S. That seems to no longer be the case.

The Trump administration has deported hundreds of people, including Iranians, to countries other than their own in an attempt to circumvent diplomatic hurdles with governments that won’t take their people back. During Trump’s second term, countries including El Salvador, Costa Rica and Panama have taken back noncitizens from the U.S.

The administration has asked the Supreme Court to clear the way for several deportations to South Sudan, a war-ravaged country with which it has no ties, after the justices allowed deportations to countries other than those that noncitizens came from.

The U.S. Border Patrol arrested Iranians 1,700 times at the Mexican border from October 2021 through November 2024, according to the most recent public data available. The Homeland Security Department reported that about 600 Iranians overstayed visas as business or exchange visitors, tourists and students in the 12-month period through September 2023, the most recent report shows.

Iran was one of 12 countries subject to a U.S. travel ban imposed by Trump that took effect this month. Some fear ICE’s growing deportation arrests will be another blow.

In Oregon, an Iranian man was detained by immigration agents this past week while driving to the gym. He was picked up roughly two weeks before he was scheduled for a check-in at ICE offices in Portland, according to court documents filed by his attorney, Michael Purcell.

The man, identified in court filings as S.F., has lived in the U.S. for more than 20 years, and his wife and two children are U.S. citizens.

S.F. applied for asylum in the U.S. in the early 2000s, but his application was denied in 2002. His appeal failed, but the government did not deport him and he continued to live in the country for decades, according to court documents.

Due to “changed conditions” in Iran, S.F. would face “a vastly increased danger of persecution” if he were to be deported, Purcell wrote in his petition. “These circumstances relate to the recent bombing by the United States of Iranian nuclear facilities, thus creating a de facto state of war between the United States and Iran.”

S.F.’s long residency in the U.S., his conversion to Christianity and the fact that his wife and children are U.S. citizens “sharply increase the possibility of his imprisonment in Iran, or torture or execution,” he said.

Similarly, Kashanian’s daughter said she is worried what will happen to her mother.

“She tried to do everything right,” Kaitlynn Milne said.

Chandler, Rush and Spagat write for the Associated Press.

When you gather the creative minds behind six of the most entertaining and acclaimed shows of 2025, the conversation is destined for narrative intrigue. The writers who took part in this year’s Envelope Roundtable touched on social media blackouts, release strategies, runaway production, even the wonder of Bravo’s “The Valley.” How’s that for a twist?

This panelists are Debora Cahn of “The Diplomat,” about an American foreign service officer thrust into a thorny web of geopolitics; R. Scott Gemmill of “The Pitt,” which focuses on front-line healthcare workers inside a Pittsburgh hospital during a single 15-hour shift; Lauren LeFranc of “The Penguin,” a reimagining of the Batman villain Oswald Cobblepot as a rising Gotham City kingpin, Oz Cobb; Craig Mazin of “The Last Of Us,” an adaptation of the popular video game series about survivors of an apocalyptic pandemic; Seth Rogen of “The Studio,” a chronicle of the film industry’s mercenary challenges as seen through the eyes of a newly appointed studio chief; and Jen Statsky of “Hacks,” about an aging comic’s complicated relationship with her outspoken mentee.

Read on for excerpts from our discussion.

The 2025 Writers Roundtable: Lauren LeFranc, left, Jen Statsky, Craig Mazin, Seth Rogen, Debora Cahn and R. Scott Gemmill.

Lauren, you’re making a series that is tethered to source material that’s really beloved by fans. I’m curious what the conversations are like with DC, or “The Batman” director Matt Reeves, when your series has to fit into a larger canon.

LeFranc: I knew where Oz ended in “The Batman.” I knew my job was to arc him to rise to power and achieve a certain level of power by the end. Outside of that, I was given carte blanche and I could just play. And that’s the most exciting thing to me. We both were in agreement that this should be a character study of this man. I love digging into the psychology of characters.

So many people were like, “Do you feel pressure? What’s this like for you?” And I was like, “Am I numb as a human?” I don’t feel that kind of pressure. I feel pressure to tell a great story and to write interesting, engaging characters that are surprising and to kind of surprise myself. I’m not the first type of person you would think who would get an opportunity to write a guy like Oz, necessarily, and to write into this type of world. I think there’s been a lot of crime dramas and a lot of genre shows or features that don’t have the lens that I have on a man like that. So I took that seriously. And I also really wanted to pepper the world with really interesting, complicated women as well. I felt like, in some of these genres, sometimes those characters weren’t as fully formed.

Craig Mazin of “The Last of Us.”

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

Craig, you know what it’s like working with source material, and we knew the fate of fan-favorite character Joel, who dies in Part 2 of the video game. Tell me about your experience of the death of Joel in the video game — playing it — and how that informed what you wanted to see out of Season 2 and where exactly it would fall.

Mazin: I was upset when it happened, but I wasn’t upset at the game. It was, narratively, the right thing to do. If you make a story that is about moral outcomes and the consequences of our behavior, and somebody goes through a hospital and murders a whole lot of people, and kind of dooms the world to be stuck in this terrible place, and takes away the one hope they have of getting out of it, yeah, there should be a consequence. If there’s no consequence or even a mild consequence, then it’s a bit neutered, isn’t it? It made sense to me and it made sense that if we were going to tell the story, that was the story we were going to tell. Sometimes people do ask me, “Was there any part of you that was like, ‘Hey, let’s not have Joel die?’” No. That would be the craziest thing of all time.

How quick were you watching the real-time reaction from fans?

Mazin: I don’t do that.

Rogen: But how do you get validation? How do you know to feel good?

Statsky: Can you teach me not to look?

Mazin: I think I’m looking for validation. Really what I’m looking for is to repeat abusive behavior toward me — that’s what my therapist says. For all of our shows, millions and millions and millions of people are watching these around the world. And if 10,000 people on Twitter come at you for something, that is a negligible number relative to the size of the audience, but it sure doesn’t feel [like it]. So I made a choice. The downside is I do miss the applause. Who among us doesn’t love applause? I’ve just had to give that feeling up to not feel the bad feelings.

Seth Rogen of “The Studio.”

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

With a show like “The Studio” or “Hacks,” does it feel cathartic to lampoon the industry or show the ridiculous nature of the business and the decision–makers sometimes?

Rogen: What’s funny is, as we were writing the show, we never used the word “satire.” To us, the goal was not to make fun of any element of the industry — honestly, it’s mostly based on myself and my own fears, as someone who’s in charge of things, that I’m making the wrong choices, and that I’m prioritizing the wrong things, and that I’m convincing my idols to work with me and then I’m letting them down, and I’m championing the wrong ideas. That I’m making things worse and that I’m giving notes to people that are detrimental rather than exciting, and that I’m mitigating my own risks rather than trying to bolster creative swings. That was the startling moment where I realized I personally relate in my darkest moments to a studio executive more than I do a creative person in the industry in many ways. And that was kind of the moment where I was like, “Oh, that’s a funny thing to explore.”

Jen Statsky of “Hacks.”

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

Statsky: But it’s interesting when you put it like that, because of the part of showrunning where you become management and you’re much more on that business side [of] running a show. We’re executives in many ways too.

Mazin: I have a question for you. How do you deal with the fact that — as we kind of move through things as writers, we are always comrades, we are colleagues of people. When you become a showrunner, you don’t notice it at first, but there is this barrier between you and everybody, and one day you wake up and realize, “Oh, it’s because they look at me and see someone who can fire them, who can elevate them, who can change their lives for better or worse.” And you start to feel very, very lonely all of a sudden.

Statsky: Oh, there’s a group text you’re not on.

Mazin: And it’s about you.

Statsky: It’s about you. It’s such a hard part of this job that I struggle with very much because as writers, we are empathetic to others, and we are observing the world, and we are trying to commune with people as best as possible. But then you do this thing and you’re like, “I like writing, I like writing, I like writing.” And they’re like, “Great. Now here’s a 350-person company to manage and you become a boss.” I struggle with it a lot, the thinking of people’s feelings, thinking of people’s emotions, wanting to be in touch with them, but then also, at the end of the day, having to sometimes make really difficult management-type decisions that affect people’s livelihood. I find it very challenging. I need your therapist for that as well.

Debora Cahn of “The Diplomat.”

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

Debora, you have a character, a female vice president, who’s been doing the bidding of an older president whose capabilities have been called into question, and spoiler alert, she becomes president. The season launched a week or so before the 2024 presidential election. What was that like? And how is it writing a political drama now versus when you were working on “The West Wing”?

Cahn: Back in “The West Wing” days, we would have people come in, people who worked in the field, and we would say, “What are you worried about that we don’t know to worry about yet?” And that was a pretty good barometer for getting an interesting story that was likely to still be topical in a year. That’s all you want, really, is to not be completely lapped by the news when you’re trying to tell a story that’s not going to go to air for a year. Now, we’re released from any boundaries of any kind. There’s nothing that we can do that’s more absurd than what’s happening. Suddenly, we’re doing a documentary, or we’re doing a balm for what you wish government was like or what you vaguely remember it was like. But we’re trying to stay in the headspace of, “What is the foreign policy community going to be thinking about in the next two years?” and trying to find something that will continue to feel relevant. But more and more it’s like, “What are the conflicts that sane people have with each other in this field? What happens when you can look at two people and you feel like they both have good values and they are kind to children? What do they fight about?”

R. Scott Gemmill of “The Pitt.”

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

Let’s talk about release strategies. There’s the traditional, week-to-week model and the more modern, all-at-once model. There’s a mix of both in the marketplace. Scott, with “The Pitt,” you could just see the way people rallied around every week to see what happened next. What do you like about the weekly release?

Gemmill: I’ve only ever done that. This is my first streaming show, and we are doing it in a traditional drop a week. So I’ve never had a show that was bingeable. I don’t know any other way. At one point, they were going to release three episodes at once, but they only released two [at the start]. I don’t have a dog in that fight. I think my show, just because of the nature of it, would be very hard to binge.

Rogen: As someone who’s been bingeing it, I can attest to that. [To Cahn] Yours comes out all at once.

Cahn: It does. I don’t love that. It’s not what I would choose. I think Netflix offers a lot of other pluses. [It’s] got a big audience all over the world and that’s really nice. But I came up in broadcast television, and the idea that you’ve created this thing and it’s a story that you’ve experienced over time, and then people are like two days and done, it just —

Mazin: It’s weird.

Cahn: And it changes the way that you write.

Mazin: Over the last few years, what’s happening is, for shows that are coming out week by week, people will now save up three at a time. So they don’t want to watch week after week. There’s this weird accordion thing going on, and I don’t know where this is going. I don’t think any of us do. I’m a little nervous about the week by week. I am just hoping that it remains.

I thought for sure one day Netflix would go, “Why are we doing this?” Because I really didn’t understand. I still don’t understand.

Cahn: I have this question every three months.

Rogen: They don’t have an answer.

Cahn: It works for them.

Gemmill: Wonder why they complain about grind. Because it’s not there. Well, it’s because you put it all out at once.

Mazin: But then what I’m worried about is that they’re right. I’m just wondering if people are starting to lose their patience.

Statsky: Attention span. I think they are. I’ve even noticed, because we used to drop two a week. In this season for “Hacks,” we’ve done one a week. I saw a couple tweets where people were like, “Why are the episodes shorter this year?” I was like, “Well, they’re not. You used to watch two.” But I do think the one-a-week model, because now people are so trained [to binge] — like you’re saying, the attention span, it’s scary. I don’t think people want to watch like that anymore.

Rogen: I produced “The Boys,” and we actually went from them all coming out at once to weekly. And it did not affect the viewership in any way, shape or form was what we were told. What it did affect, that we could just see, was it sustained cultural impact. People talked about it for three months instead of three weeks of incredibly intense chatter. It just occupied more space in people’s heads, which I think was beneficial to the show.

Cahn: When they’re coming out one a week, you can repeat things that you can’t when they’re coming out all together. You have to look at them in terms of, did they each have the same rhythm? Are they each really featuring the same characters and storylines? You have to think about it in terms of, “If people do three at a time, what’s their experience going to be?” It’s terrible.

The talk of the town is runaway production and how to stop it. Scott, “The Pitt” is set in Pittsburgh and you did film exteriors there, but principal production happened on the Warner Bros. lot. Talk about why that was important for you.

Gemmill: The show could have been shot in Moose Jaw. But it was important to bring the work here, so we fought really hard to get the California tax credit. The most important part of my job besides writing producible scripts that are on time is to keep my show on the air as long as possible, to keep everyone employed as long as possible. And that’s the thing I like the best about it. This is the first show that Noah [Wyle]’s done since he left “ER” that’s shot in Los Angeles. It’s a shame. There’s more production now, but when we first were at Warner Bros. for this, it was a ghost town. It’s so sad because I’ve been in the business for 40 years and still get excited when I go on a lot. And to see them become unused just because it’s cheaper to shoot somewhere else … and there’s so many talented people here, and it’s hard on their families if you have to go to Albuquerque for six months. I don’t ever want to leave the stage again.

Mazin: We did our postproduction on the Warner Bros. lot, but we shoot in Canada. And I love Canada. But yeah, of course, I’d love to be home. I like doing postproduction here. I’ll take what I get. The financial realities are pretty stark, that’s the problem. If you are making a smaller show, the gap is not massive. If you’re making a larger show, every percentage becomes a bigger amount of money and also represents a larger amount of people to employ. But what’s good is it seems like they’re starting to get their act together in Sacramento. I do worry sometimes it’s a little bit too late, because the rest of the world seems to be in an arms race to see how many incentives they can give to get production to go there.

I’m hoping that at least we can start to move the needle a bit because, listen, that Warner Bros. lot, when I was a kid starting out, I would go on that lot, I would see the little “ER” backlot with the diner and all of it. And I was like, “That’s on TV. It’s here.” And now I walk around the Warner Bros. lot and it’s just a single tram full of tourists and no one else. And it’s so, so sad.

Lauren LeFranc of “The Penguin.”

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

LeFranc: It’s really heartbreaking. You used to be able to write what you’re doing, produce, do post all on the same lot. You had a family that you were able to form, and you could mentor writers. I would not be able to be a showrunner if not for all the people who came before me who mentored me, and I could walk to set, produce my own episode, and then I can walk to post. It’s so hard now where you’re asking writers, especially if networks aren’t paying for writers to go to set, “Can you pay for yourself to fly to New York?” It just makes it so hard to be able to educate people in the way that I feel like I was privileged enough to be educated. What are we going to do about that?

Gemmill: Mistakes get made. The best part about the whole business is it’s collaborative. But when you’re separated by thousands of miles, sometimes there’s a disconnect.

Before we wrap, please tell me what you’re watching. Jen, we were talking about “The Valley” earlier.

Rogen: Oh, I watch “The Valley” too. It’s amazing. Do you watch “The Valley” aftershow? It’s almost as good as “The Valley.”

Statsky: I’m really worried about Jax.

Rogen: We watch reality television. I see the blank looks on everybody’s face.

Statsky: We’re in comedy.

Mazin: I can’t believe how scared I was when you were talking, and then how good I felt when you’re like, “It’s a reality show.”

Statsky: So, you know “Vanderpump Rules”?

Mazin: Ish.

Statsky: It’s an offshoot.

Rogen: Which is an offshoot of —

Statsky: “Real Housewives.”

Mazin: This is an echo of an echo. Go on.

Statsky: Yes, it’s an echo of an echo of garbage.

Rogen: But it’s so good.

Statsky: But it is the worst indictment of heterosexual marriage I’ve ever seen.

Rogen: Yes, it really is.

Mazin: Oh, so incidentally, the San Fernando Valley is what it’s [about]? It’s about Valley Village.

Statsky: Valley Village. It’s the couples that have moved to the Valley and are having children and —

Rogen: And they are all in very bad places in their lives. It’s amazing.

Statsky: You think [in] reality shows most people are in bad places. That’s sadly what people want to watch. These people are in particularly bad places.

Rogen: And the show seems to be compounding it, I think.

Statsky: Yeah, weirdly, being on a reality show is not helping their problem.

Rogen: I find that I watch reality TV because when I watch all of your shows, I find them intellectually challenging. They make me self-conscious, or they make me inspired or something, which is not how I want to feel necessarily after a long day at work just watching something. And so reality TV makes me feel none of those things. It in no way reminds me of what I’ve done all day.

Mazin: If you make me dissociate, I’m watching.

Statsky: You’re going to love it. But once you start watching, Jax owns a bar in Studio City. We can all go. We can reunite.

Mazin: I’ve gone to that bar.

Rogen: You been to Jax’s?

Mazin: Yes, I’ve been to that bar.

Statsky: Wait, hold on. But everyone else in that bar was there because they watched the reality show. Why were you there?

LeFranc: Out of context, I’m so invested in all this.

Rogen: You’ve got to watch it. … Nothing I will ever make is as good as “The Valley.”