Snoop Dogg‘s daughter Cori Broadus and her fiancé Wayne “Duece” Polk bid a final farewell to their baby girl, less than a year after welcoming her into the world.
Broadus and Polk celebrated the life of their infant daughter, Codi, over the weekend in a memorial attended by family and friends. On Sunday, Broadus shared various scenes from her baby’s funeral to her Instagram page, including pictures from the church reception, of loved ones wearing matching “Codi’s Crew” outfits and of the infant’s casket in the ground with flowers and a teddy bear laying atop.
“Part of me went with you,” Broadus captioned her Instagram carousel. “My girl for life.”
In a video from the memorial, Broadus mourned her daughter’s short life and all the moments they could have shared in a moving eulogy. Broadus lamented being unable to see her baby girl take her first steps, bring her to her first day of school and support her through the highs and heartbreaks of life together.
Broadus, with Polk by her side, said “I don’t understand why this happened.”
“I’m trusting God, but that doesn’t mean it makes sense to me. Some days I wonder if this world was just too cruel for someone as pure as you,” she continued. “Other days, I wonder how I’m supposed to live in a world without you in my arms.”
Broadus, 26, and Polk became parents to baby Codi last February. The baby girl arrived prematurely, after Broadus’ 25-week pregnancy. The happy mom at the time detailed her emotional pregnancy journey, which she said included “blaming myself because I wasn’t able to give her all that she needed.” Broadus said she praised God for supporting her and making her daughter’s birth possible.
Broadus had detailed her infant’s health issues in December, describing her daughter in a poem as a “miracle wrapped in tubes and tape” with “lungs trying to catch up to the life inside her.” The Choc Factory Co. makeup executive said she felt guilty that her daughter might also suffer from lupus, an autoimmune condition she was diagnosed with in childhood. In her poem, Broadus said she was hopeful her daughter would live a healthy life beyond the hospital walls of the NICU.
In January, Broadus revealed that her baby girl was back home in her arms and shared photo and video to Instagram. Weeks later, she announced she “lost the love of my life.”
Broadus said in her eulogy that amid her mourning she feels relief that her daughter is at rest.
“I find comfort knowing you have your angel wings now, knowing you are home, safe.”
MINNEAPOLIS — The sites of the three consequential deaths span just over two miles of south Minneapolis. George Floyd in 2020, Renee Good and Alex Pretti last month.
The death of Floyd, after a police officer dug a knee into his neck for more than nine minutes, was a catalyst for the nationwide Black Lives Matter protests that sought law enforcement reforms and accountability.
Those of Good and Pretti, shot by federal immigration agents, have similarly sparked demands that federal agents to stop using violence in pursuit of President Trump’s mass deportation effort.
The sites are close enough to walk in an hour. So, on Sunday, I did.
Mementos, drawings, signs and flowers are covered by fresh snow outside of Unity Foods where George Floyd was killed in Minneapolis.
George Floyd
Floyd was killed just outside of Cup Foods, since renamed Unity Foods. On a wall outside the convenience store, Esther Osayande’s painting “Sankofa” depicts a bird with its head turned back, surrounded by flames.
The description says it is a metaphorical symbol used by the Akan people of Ghana to express “the importance of reaching back to knowledge gained in the past and bringing it into the present.”
“Sankofa tells us that we as a people can rise above conflicts of ego and treat all beings we meet as brothers and sisters,” it states.
On the same wall, someone spray painted, “My cries are 4 humanity.”
The memorial, known locally as George Floyd Square, encompasses a nearby covered bus stop, where a visitor had written that “race is a made up idea to keep ppl down.” Against the shelter glass, someone had taped a typed notice of emergency. It lists “martyrs” killed by authorities — Good, Floyd, Philando Castile and others before them.
“This ICE operation is somehow simpler AND more malicious than the kill count accumulated by our PD,” the notice reads. “This is slave catching. This is gestapo.”
A memorial to Renee Good at the location where she was shot in Minneapolis.
Nearly six years after Floyd’s death, some of the memorial art has begun to fade under the sun. A metal archway gives way to a plastic A-frame board describing Floyd and the global movement that his murder inspired.
“George’s name has become a rallying cry for those who believe in a better future, one where all people are treated with dignity and respect,” it reads.
Few people gathered at the memorial Sunday morning, but real and fake flowers, blanketed by snow, covered the site. A family with children got out of an SUV and walked around. A young photographer snapped some shots. And a couple took their time weaving through the makeshift garden.
Floyd’s cousin Paris Stevens is co-chair of Rise and Remember, which preserves the memorial and leads tours of the area. She said the organization wanted to give the community a safe space to grieve, “because everybody has lost someone.”
The thread linking the deaths of her cousin, Good and Pretti, Stevens said, is that they all could have been prevented. The fact that people have begun to visit all three sites is a sign of how unjust killings bring out the humanity in people, she said.
“How do we care for one another in times of need?” she asked. The answer, in part, is found in the artwork, writings and flowers at the three memorials.
“For this to happen, it’s like we’re picking up the ball and running again,” she said. “We’ve been here before and we know what to do.”
A memorial for Renee Good marks the location the 37-year-old woman was shot by ICE agent Jonathan Ross on Portland Avenue near East 34th Street in Minneapolis.
Renee Good
Portland Avenue, where Good died less than a mile from Floyd, is lined with Craftsman-style homes. Many displayed “ICE OUT” or “Black Lives Matter” signs — or both — in their front windows.
One window posed a question: “How many weren’t filmed?”
Stapled to a telephone pole was a letter addressed to federal agents: “It might be hard to understand why almost all Our City’s residents are angry with Your Mission (which has changed radically over the past year). This handbill intends to resolve confusion. I hope it finds you well.”
Another telephone pole struck a different tone:
“ICE ARE TERRORISTS KIDNAPPERS MURDERERS.”
On a wooden fence, Good’s portrait accompanied those of Floyd and other Black men killed by police in Minnesota in recent years, among them Daunte Wright, Winston Boogie Smith Jr. and Amir Locke.
A handwritten sign quoted Good’s last words: “I’m not mad at you, dude.”
Keeping snow off of Good’s memorial — not far from where George Floyd was killed — has been a losing battle.
In the center of Good’s memorial, a man gingerly brushed snow from cardboard signs, shook out bouquets of flowers and wiped off teddy bears. It was a losing battle. Snow was falling, leaving fresh white dots on everything he cleared.
A woman walked up with a handful of yellow tulips. “Hello, is there somewhere I should put these in particular?”
“Anywhere is fine,” said the man.
American, Mexican and LGBTQ+ flags hung from the site. One handwritten note, signed by “A DHS employee,” stated: “We will never forget you.”
A sign hangs between two trees near the Good memorial and reads, “The resistance is rooted in love — ICE out!”
Some mourners had shared small tokens of positivity. “Please take a pocket heart,” read one laminated sign. “Keep it with you to be a constant reminder that you are loved!”
Others, knowing Good had been a poet, wrote poems of their own:
Towards new ages imagined yet still out of hand
We’ll build a place safe for us all where you stood
Where love’s lyrics echo we’ll compose what we can
To that I offer these words, would they were as good as
Good’s.
Among the couple dozen people at the site were Kayla Gardner, 29, and three friends. Gardner said she had brought flowers to place at each of the three memorials.
“I wanted to get to Renee and Alex’s,” she said, “but we didn’t want to leave out George, too. He’s right here.”
A memorial for intensive care nurse Alex Pretti.
Alex Pretti
On a traffic pole down the street, above a “Lost Cat” sign, a note in Spanish warns residents of increased immigration police presence since Dec. 22. It advises residents not to leave their homes unless necessary, to have groceries delivered and to establish an emergency plan for their children.
“These are difficult and uncertain moments for our community,” it says.
Lake Street, a hub of Latino businesses, is about halfway between where Good and Pretti were killed. Murals on side streets depict women cooking tortillas on a comal and musicians playing guitar and accordion. Businesses there have responded to the immigration raids in a variety of ways.
A notice in Spanish posted on the door of a western wear shop says, “Closed for the security of our clients.”
A nearby Ecuadorean restaurant, meanwhile, offers delivery but not sit-down service.
A person wipes tears away while visiting the Pretti memorial on Feb. 1.
Pretti died near Glam Doll Donuts, along another vibrant stretch of diverse, immigrant-owned restaurants known as Eat Street. As the days went on after his killing, fewer news cameras turned up, but mourners kept coming.
Standing over the memorial that has grown to take up the length of a building, a man in a The North Face jacket sobbed quietly. Another lighted incense sticks and stuck them in the snow.
Votive candles depicted Jesus, the Virgin of Gudalupe and Mister Rogers.
Candles burn near the Pretti memorial. Some depicted Jesus, the Virgin of Guadalupe and Mister Rogers.
A letter offers a source of comfort: “If I have two rooms, one dark, the other light, and I open the door between them, the dark room becomes lighter without the light one becoming darker. I know this is no headline, but it’s a marvelous footnote.”
Also on display were lyrics from Bruce Springsteen’s new protest song, “Streets of Minneapolis,” which call out White House Deputy Chief of Staff Stephen Miller and Home Security Secretary Kristi Noem:
It’s our blood + our bones
And these whistles + phones
Against Miller +
Noem’s Dirty Lies.
New artwork appears daily. An oil painting depicting a smiling Pretti in glasses, a beanie and a scarf, was among the most recent.
Leah Dunbar, 50, was moved to tears looking at it. Dunbar, who lives nearby, had brought Somali chicken sambusas for fellow mourners standing in the cold.
The George Floyd memorial marks the spot at the intersection of East 38th Street and Chicago Avenue where he was killed in 2020 at age 46.
Reflecting on his death, she had asked herself, “What is the good that is coming out of this? Do we have space in our lives to see the good?”
“Of course we do,” she said. “Look — people are making, people are creating, people are sharing.”
Last Tuesday, Philip Glass withdrew the delayed premiere in June of his latest symphony, No. 15. Originally meant to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in 2022, it is a portrait of Abraham Lincoln, but the composer decided the values of the current Kennedy Center were “in direct conflict to the message of the symphony,” which is inspired by Lincoln’s 1838 Lyceum Address.
In rebuke to Glass, Kennedy Center spokesperson Roma Daravi’s quick response was: “We have no place for politics in the arts.”
Two nights later, the chairman of the Kennedy Center board (who also happens to be president of the United States) hosted at the “no place for politics” center a bevy of Republican politicians and donors for the gala premiere of “Melania,” a documentary about and produced by his wife, the first lady.
Three days after that, the president, with no warning to Congress (which administers the Kennedy Center), center staff or the public, announced on his social media platform that he would close the facility July 4 for two years to undertake a major renovation. This may get the center off the hook for putting together a new season, what with all its departures (voluntary and not) of competent artistic directors, but it also means the center’s one remaining major institution, and its crown jewel, the National Symphony, is suddenly homeless.
The fact is, the Kennedy Center has always been political. The same goes for orchestras. And Lincoln’s seeming role as a symphonic football is nothing new, either.
But political doesn’t — or, at least, once didn’t — necessarily imply partisan. In March 1981, two months into his presidency, Ronald Reagan turned up at the Kennedy Center for the premiere of a new production of Lillian Hellman‘s “The Little Foxes,” and was photographed happily congratulating a smiling Elizabeth Taylor backstage. Also present was the gruff playwright.
Hellman, who had been a member of the Communist Party and was called up in front of the House Un-American Activities Committee in 1952, and Reagan, an avid anti-Communist, couldn’t have had much use for each other politically. But there they were, soaking up art and glamour (if maybe not in that order) together. It was also in 1952 and thanks to Sen. Joseph McCarthy’s Communist witch hunts that the first inklings of a national performing arts center in Washington, D.C. developed.
Aaron Copland’s “Lincoln Portrait,” for speaker and orchestra, written in 1942 in the wake of the Pearl Harbor attack, had been slated for a performance at Dwight D. Eisenhower’s inauguration in 1952. Complaints about Copland’s leftist leanings pressured Eisenhower to cancel the performance, but left inklings in Ike’s mind that the nation needed a performing arts center in Washington, D.C. In 1955, he instituted a District of Columbia Auditorium Commission and that led to the National Cultural Center Act of 1958.
Bipartisan support became a no-brainer. Kennedy was an enthusiast and, in his presidency, both First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy and former First Lady Mamie Eisenhower worked together to support the cultural center. In 1963, just days before his assassination, JFK hosted a White House fundraiser for the center. A year later, President Lyndon B. Johnson broke ground for what was to become “a living memorial to John F. Kennedy” with the gold-plated spade that President Taft had used for the Lincoln Memorial.
President Lyndon B. Johnson lifts a shovel full of dirt during ground-breaking ceremonies for the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in 1964 while members of the Kennedy family look on.
(Bettmann Archive / Getty Images)
The Kennedy Center proved political from Day 1. Leonard Bernstein was commissioned to write a theatrical piece for the center’s opening in 1971, which turned out to be an irreverent “Mass” — musically, liturgically, culturally and, most assuredly, politically. Most of all it was an unmistakably protest against the Vietnam War. In his own protest, President Nixon stayed home.
“Mass” was ridiculed by critics and sophisticates. And so was the Kennedy Center in its monstrosity. But the composition ultimately came to be seen as a precursor of musical Postmodernism and possibly Bernstein’s greatest work, a monument in its own right. The Brutalist monumentalism of the Kennedy Center also grew over time to be loved, increasingly bringing cachet to a diverse nation’s artistic needs.
All of that has, however, been called into question by a new administration noisily remaking the center as partisan and politicizing even renovation and Lincoln.
You don’t take on renovation of a single concert hall overnight, let alone an entire performance center with several theaters, including a major concert hall and opera house. This requires architects and acousticians deeply schooled in theaters, and each has its own acoustical needs. You touch anything, and it will affect the sound. Both the opera house and concert hall could use acoustical work, but that is a very big deal. If this sudden renovation comes as a surprise to staff, that means there have been no consultations, no proposals, no models, no feedback. Best to add to the budget some hundreds of millions of dollars to fix mistakes.
Before even considering anything else, a space has to be found for the National Symphony. It is possible to create temporary structures or renovate existing buildings into acoustical wonders, as architect Frank Gehry and acoustician Yasuhisa Toyota have proved. In Munich, the temporary Isarphilharmonie, which has Toyota acoustics, is so successful that some are saying the city doesn’t need a new concert hall after all.
So, given the timing of this precipitous announcement, it is hard to believe that something isn’t also going on with attitudes toward Lincoln and Glass’ displeasure with the Kennedy Center administration. For what it’s worth, Presidents Ford, Carter, George H.W. Bush, Clinton and Obama have all narrated Copland’s “Lincoln Portrait.”
Lincoln has been central to Glass’ work for more than four decades. The composer first used Lincoln in Act V (known as “The Rome Section”) of Robert Wilson’s 12-hour opera, “the CIVIL warS: a tree is best measured when it is down” (a prescient title for current Kennedy Center thinking), which had been intended for the 1984 Olympic Arts Festival in L.A. but was never produced here for lack of funds.
Lincoln shows up in Glass’ 2007 opera, “Appomattox,” commissioned by San Francisco Opera and later revised and expanded for Washington National Opera in 2015. The opera offers a look at how the Civil War ended with high-minded statesmanship. The first act of Glass’ 2013 opera, “The Perfect American,” about the last days of Walt Disney, ends with a flashback of Walt, who idolized Lincoln, visiting Disneyland and getting into an argument about slavery with the animatronic Lincoln, which gets so worked up it attacks Walt.
Politics are rarely far away from orchestral or operatic life. At a recent appearance of the Chicago Symphony at the Soraya, Italian conductor Riccardo Muti followed an impressively grand performance of Brahms’ Fourth Symphony by telling the audience how the arts keep us honest and played as an encore the overture to Verdi’s “Nabucco,” as an example of how an opera could motivate public support for Garibaldi’s nationalist movement. Garibaldi also makes an appearance with Lincoln in the Glass/Wilson “Rome Section.”
A few days later at the Renée and Henry Segerstrom Concert Hall, the thrilling Orquesta Sinfónica de Minería from Mexico City revealed an inspiring model of Latin American cooperation. On the program was Cuban composer Paquito D’Rivera’s “Concerto Venezolano,” featuring the fearless improvising Venezuelan trumpet soloist Pacho Flores. The concerto also featured solos on the Venezuelan cuatro by Héctor Molina, but his name was only announced last minute, due to current travel uncertainty.
One of the greatest recordings of Shostakovich’s Fifth Symphony, his grab-you-by-the-gut answer to Stalin and celebration of Russia, is by the National Symphony under Mstislav Rostropovich, recorded in 1994 at the Kennedy Center. Stalin saw the symphony as his deification. Rostropovich exuded, in the Kennedy Center aura, the expression of an overwhelmingly triumphant celebration of the end of the Soviet repression. You can take the symphony and the opera out of the Kennedy Center, but you can’t take the essence of the Kennedy Center, the living memorial to the ideal of something larger than political ego, out of the symphony and opera.
