sense

When Xavier “X” Atencio was plucked by Walt Disney in 1965 to be one of his early theme park designers, he was slotted on a number of projects that placed him out of his comfort zone.

Atencio, for instance, never would have envisioned himself a songwriter.

One of Atencio’s first major projects with Walt Disney Imagineering — WED Enterprises (for Walter Elias Disney), as it was known at the time — was Pirates of the Caribbean. In the mid-’60s when Atencio joined the Pirates team, the attraction was well underway, with the likes of fellow animators-turned-theme park designers Marc Davis and Claude Coats crafting many of its exaggerated characters and enveloping environments. Atencio’s job? Make it all make sense by giving it a cohesive story. While Atencio had once dreamed of being a journalist, his work as an animator had led him astray of a writer’s path.

Atencio would not only figure it out but end up as the draftman of one of Disneyland’s most recognizable songs, “Yo Ho (A Pirate’s Life for Me).” In the process, he was key in creating the template for the modern theme park dark ride, a term often applied to slow-moving indoor attractions. Such career twists and turns are detailed in a new book about Atencio, who died in 2017. “Xavier ‘X’ Atencio: The Legacy of an Artist, Imagineer, and Disney Legend” (Disney Editions), written by three of his family members, follows Atencio’s unexpected trajectory, starting from his roots in animation (his resume includes “Fantasia,” the Oscar-winning short “Toot, Whistle, Plunk and Boom” and even stop-motion work in “Mary Poppins”).

For Pirates of the Caribbean, Atencio is said to have received little direction from Disney, only that the park’s patriarch was unhappy with previous stabs at a narration and dialogue, finding them leaning a bit stodgy. So he knew, essentially, what not to do. Atencio, according to the book, immersed himself in films like Disney’s own “Treasure Island” and pop-cultural interpretations of pirates, striving for something that felt borderline caricature rather than ripped from the history books.

Xavier “X” Atencio got his start in animation. Here, he is seen drawing dinosaurs for a sequence in “Fantasia.”

(Reprinted from “Xavier ‘X’ Atencio: The Legacy of An Artist, Imagineer, and Disney Legend” / Disney Enterprises Inc. / Disney Editions)

Indeed, Atencio’s words — some of those quoted in the book, such as “Avast there! Ye come seeking adventure and salty old pirates, aye?” — have become shorthand for how to speak like a pirate. The first scene written for the attraction was the mid-point auction sequence, a section of the ride that was changed in 2017 due to its outdated cultural implications. In the original, a proud redheaded pirate is the lead prisoner in a bridal auction, but today the “wench” has graduated to pirate status of her own and is helping to auction off stolen goods.

At first, Atencio thought he had over-written the scene, noticing that dialogue overlapped with one another. In a now-famous theme park moment, and one retold in the book, Atencio apologized to Disney, who shrugged off Atencio’s insecurity.

“Hey, X, when you go to a cocktail party, you pick up a little conversation here, another conversation there,” Disney told the animator. “Each time people will go through, they’ll find something new.”

This was the green light that Atencio, Davis and Coats needed to continue developing their attraction as one that would be a tableau of scenes rather than a strict plot.

Tying it all together, Atencio thought, should be a song. Not a songwriter himself, of course, Atencio sketched out a few lyrics and a simple melody. As the authors write, he turned to the thesaurus and made lists of traditional “pirating” words. He presented it to Disney and, to Atencio’s surprise, the company founder promptly gave him the sign off.

“Yo Ho (A Pirate’s Life for Me),” Atencio would relay, was a challenge as the ride doesn’t have a typical beginning and ending, meaning the tune needed to work with whatever pirate vignette we were sailing by. Ultimately, the song, with music by George Bruns, underlines the ride’s humorous feel, allowing the looting, the pillaging and the chasing of women, another scene that has been altered over the years, to be delivered with a playful bent.

The song “altered the trajectory” of Atencio’s career. While Atencio was not considered a musical person — “No, not at all,” says his daughter Tori Atencio McCullough, one of the book’s co-authors — the biography reveals how music became a signature aspect of his work. The short “Toot, Whistle, Plunk and Boom,” for instance, is a humorous tale about the discovery of music. And elsewhere in Atencio’s career he worked on the band-focused opening animations for “Mickey Mouse Club.”

“That one has a pretty cool kind of modern instrument medley in the middle,” Kelsey McCullough, Atencio’s granddaughter and another one of the book’s authors, says of “Mickey Mouse Club.” “It was interesting, because when we lined everything up, it was like, ‘Of course he felt like the ride needed a song.’ Everything he had been doing up to that point had a song in it. Once we looked it at from that perspective, it was sort of unsurprising to us. He was doing a lot around music.”

Xavier “X” Atencio contributed concepts to Disneyland’s Haunted Mansion, including its famous one-eyed cat.

(Reprinted from “Xavier ‘X’ Atencio: The Legacy of An Artist, Imagineer, and Disney Legend” / Disney Enterprises Inc. / Disney Editions)

Atencio would go on to write lyrics for the Country Bear Jamboree and the Haunted Mansion. While the Haunted Mansion vacillates between spooky and lighthearted imagery, it’s Atencio’s “Grim Grinning Ghosts” that telegraphs the ride’s tone and makes it clear it’s a celebratory attraction, one in which many of those in the afterlife prefer to live it up rather than haunt.

Despite his newfound music career, Atencio never gave up drawing and contributing concepts to Disney theme park attractions. Two of my favorites are captured in the book — his abstract flights through molecular lights for the defunct Adventure Thru Inner Space and his one-eyed black cat for the Haunted Mansion. The latter has become a fabled Mansion character over the years. Atencio’s fiendish feline would have followed guests throughout the ride, a creature said to despise living humans and with predatory, possessive instincts.

In Atencio’s concept art, the cat featured elongated, vampire-like fangs and a piercing red eye. In a nod to Edgar Allan Poe’s story “The Black Cat,” it had just one eyeball, which sat in its socket with all the subtlety of a fire alarm. Discarded eventually — a raven essentially fills a similar role — the cat today has been resurrected for the Mansion, most notably in a revised attic scene where the kitty is spotted near a mournful bride.

Xavier “X” Atencio retired from Disney in 1984 after four-plus decades with the company. He drew his own retirement announcement.

(Reprinted from “Xavier ‘X’ Atencio: The Legacy of An Artist, Imagineer, and Disney Legend” / Disney Enterprises Inc. / Disney Editions)

Co-author Bobbie Lucas, a relative of Atencio’s colloquially referred to by the family as his “grandchild-in-law,” was asked what ties all of Atencio’s work together.

“No matter the different style or no matter the era, there’s such a sense of life and humanity,” Lucas says. “There’s a sense of play.”

Play is a fitting way to describe Atencio’s contributions to two of Disneyland’s most beloved attractions, where pirates and ghosts are captured at their most frivolous and jovial.

“I like that,” Lucas adds. “I like someone who will put their heart on their sleeve and show you that in their art.”

I thought I’d noticed everything on the four-mile stretch of the Gabrielino Trail from its western trailhead near Pasadena to the Gould Mesa campground in Angeles National Forest.

I have a favorite sycamore tree about a mile in that, if it weren’t surrounded by poison oak, I would climb. I know some of the best water spots to splash around in the Arroyo Seco. I know how to identify and spot sacred datura, a common sight along the path.

But then I hiked the trail with a group of children (and a handful of grown-ups) from the L.A.-based adventure club Hiking Adventures With Kids (or HAWKs for short) and was reconnected with the childhood sense of wonder that our day-to-day adult lives grind down.

I saw the trail through the eyes of tweens who love nature so much, they screamed multiple facts at me, often all at once, including how cool vampire squid are, that rolly-pollies are related to crabs and that my skin was actively dying and falling off my body. It was such a comfort.

Here’s what I learned from my new trail buddies. I hope these tips help remind you to slow down and appreciate the wonders of our local flora and fauna.

Children from a HAWKs group slide down a concrete channel just off the Gabrielino Trail near Pasadena.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

1. A group of canines being walked on the trail by a human is a ‘dog parade.’

Wave accordingly.

2. If you see poison oak, tell a friend.

These kids saved me multiple times from brushing up against the woody shrub. They reminded me: “Leaves of three, let it be; if it’s hairy, it’s a berry!”

3. Eggnog.

This is less of a tip and more of an inside joke between best friends Lila and Elliot, both 10, who asked really nicely for me to include it. May they forever remember the time one of the largest newspapers in America published this.

Children from HAWKs, an L.A.-based company that takes kids on outdoors adventures, cross the Arroyo Seco near Pasadena.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

4. Put animals down that don’t want to be touched.

Bradley Rydholm, a HAWKs educator co-leading the day’s hike, found a diabolical ironclad beetle to show the kids. It was at first playing dead, and some of the children reached out to touch it.

“You need to put him down because he looks like he doesn’t want to be touched,” Kaija, 8, said. “If they’re moving in your hand, that means it’s OK, but if they’re playing dead, you gotta put them back.”

Rydholm gently agreed and placed the beetle back in its pile of dirt and leaves.

5. When naming bugs, consider a compromise.

OK, perhaps this is a lesson the kids learned from me. The group was in a debate over whether to name the aforementioned diabolical ironclad beetle, with some voting for “Desi” and others voting for “Jim.”

This reporter, in the name of peace, suggested Desi Jim. “Bye, Desi Jim!” they called in unison as we continued onward.

6. Follow the ethics of frog catching.

Kaija, who asked whether I could make her a wolf in my story, told me that it’s best to catch frogs, name them and then release them.

I asked her whether she had any tips for naming frogs. “Jeremy, Fred, Pineapple,” she said, adding that she names them by their color.

I wanted to learn what color Jeremy was, but she discovered something far more interesting than me on the trail and ran off.

HAWKs hike leader Bradley Rydholm leads children down the Gabrielino Trail near Pasadena.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

7. If you want to touch a bug, take a picture first.

Ella, 8, told me that after you take a picture of the insect, you can use a smartphone to identify it and figure out whether it is venomous. (Note: Unlike plenty of adults, she knew the difference between “poisonous” and “venomous” and used the words correctly!)

“If it isn’t [venomous] and it’s totally safe, I would probably bring gloves because I’m scared of picking up bugs,” Ella said. “One time a lady bug peed on me.”

8. It is important to have a compass.

“Because if you get lost, it’s not very efficient to always rely on the North Star. Because it’s only around for a little bit [of] time. So if you don’t have a compass and you get lost, you’re going to have to wait until night to be able to move,” said Luca, 9, who bought himself a compass in a local shop in Felton.

Luca and I swapped adventure stories, as he is quite the world traveler. As a bonus tip, he informed me that it’s easier to roast marshmallows on a volcano (he visited one in Guatemala) than over a campfire. The volcano’s heat slow roasts the marshmallows; with a campfire, you’re more likely to accidentally light them on fire.

9. Avoid hills.

A few of the kids recently went on a HAWKs hike that apparently involved a “death road” that felt like “the stairwell of a million stairs” that went “pretty much nowhere” and had no real views, per Luca’s description.

Elliot, when asked for tips that adults should consider while hiking, told me that she enjoys being outside, but “I don’t really like going uphill.”

Same, girl. Same.

Kelly Knowles, a HAWKs educator, explains to the group the cultural significance of sacred datura to local Indigenous peoples.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

10. Appreciate the beauty of nature.

“I really like water,” Luca said. “Just enjoy the sound of water and just enjoy the nature, and check out the animals, lizards, snakes, butterflies and moths.”

“It’s really beautiful to see all these paths,” Lila said. “The beauty of nature is so fun, and it’s a good way to get a workout in or just get off screens because kids these days are on screens a lot. Brain rot!”

“I just remember it’s really good for me,” Elliot said. “The same thing about screens too, even though I don’t have an iPad since my brother broke it. … Honestly, I don’t want to think about anything from school or anything. Just want to be in the moment, ya know?”

3 things to do

The Bixby Marshland, a 17-acre marsh, is located to the northwest of the A.K. Warren Water Resource Plant (formerly the Joint Water Pollution Control Plant) near the intersection of Figueroa Street and Sepulveda Boulevard in Carson.

(Los Angeles County Sanitation Districts)

1. Explore a marsh in Carson
The Los Angeles County Sanitation Districts will host a tour from 8 a.m. to noon of the Bixby Marshlands, a 17-acre marsh near the intersection of Figueroa Street and Sepulveda Boulevard in Carson. Formerly part of a large freshwater marshland area called Bixby Slough, the Bixby Marshland was cut off from its water supply when the Wilmington Drain was installed in the mid-1970s, according to the agency. Docents will be at the event to help visitors spot the dozens of ducks, herons, hummingbirds and many other animals that frequent the marsh. Learn more at lacsd.org.

2. Yank weeds in Chino Hills
Volunteers are needed from 9 a.m. to noon Saturday at Chino Hills State Park to help restore a walnut woodland. Participants will pull and dig up invasive weeds, bagging and removing them from the area. The exact location of the volunteer opportunity and directions will be emailed upon registration. Sign up at volunteer.calparks.org.

3. Can’t fight the moonlight in Burbank
The Stough Canyon Nature Center in Burbank will host a full moon hike at 7 p.m. Monday. Hikers will meet at the Stough Canyon trailhead. This is a free all-ages hike. Children younger than age 12 must be accompanied by an adult. Register using the “Stough Canyon Nature Center” tab at burbankparks.com.

The must-read

Lightning strikes over Mt. St. Helena in Napa County.

(Kent Porter / AP)

Even with months of training and prep work, Megan Eskew did not stay long at the Mt. Whitney summit. There was a chance of thunderstorms in the area. Eskew was on her way down when she felt the first sprinkle. “Before you could even process the thought, ‘Oh, that’s rain,’ thunder boomed,” Eskew said. Times staff writer Jack Dolan wrote about the dangers that hikers faced as late-summer monsoons spread across California in recent weeks. Jack also covered the perils of trying to hide from the storm — and the importance of knowing when to turn around. Stay safe out there!

Happy adventuring,

P.S.

I love looking for signs of our local mammal population on trails. In a recent Instagram post, So Sinopoulos-Lloyd, co-founder of Queer Nature, explained how to identify mountain lion markings left on a tree, including how to distinguish between scratches left by a big cat versus a bear. The grooves left in the tree reminded me of the marks that my cats leave on their scratching posts (and other less-than-ideal places around our home!). Let me know if you notice similar out on the trails.

For more insider tips on Southern California’s beaches, trails and parks, check out past editions of The Wild. And to view this newsletter in your browser, click here.

Kamala Harris picked her way through several sticky subjects in a Tuesday night TV interview, including her account of being ghosted by Gov. Gavin Newsom when she called for his support during her brief, unsuccessful 2024 presidential campaign.

On the eve of the public release of her book detailing that campaign, Harris spoke with MSNBC’s Rachel Maddow on her relationship with Newsom as well as the redistricting ballot measure Californians will vote on in November — and she also hailed “the power of the people” in getting Jimmy Kimmel back on ABC.

Kimmel was indefinitely suspended last week by the Walt Disney Co. over remarks he made about the suspect in the shooting of conservative activist Charlie Kirk. After fierce protests, consumers announcing subscription cancellations, and hundreds of celebrities speaking out against government censorship, Disney announced Monday that Kimmel would return on ABC the following day.

“Talk about the power being with the people and the people making that clear with their checkbooks,” Harris said of Kimmel’s return. “It spoke volumes, and it moved a decision in the right direction.”

Harris was speaking with Maddow about her new book, “107 Days,” which details her short sprint of a presidential campaign in 2024 after then-President Biden decided not to seek reelection.

The book discloses which Democrats immediately supported her to become the Democratic nominee, and which didn’t, notably Newsom. She wrote that, when she called, he texted her that he was hiking and would call her back but never did.

After Maddow raised the anecdote in the opening of the show, Harris said she had known Newsom “forever.”

“Gavin has a great sense of humor so, you know, he’s gonna be fine,” Harris said.

Newsom was icier when asked by a reporter about the interaction — or lack thereof — on Friday.

“You want to waste your time with this, we’ll do it,” Newsom said, adding that he was hiking when he received a call from an unknown number, even as he was trying to learn more about Biden’s decision not to run for reelection while also asking his team to craft a statement supporting Harris to be the Democratic nominee. “I assume that’s in the book as well — that, hours later, the endorsement came out.”

Harris brought up Newsom when asked about Proposition 50, the redistricting ballot measure championed by the governor and other California Democrats that voters will decide in November. If approved, the state’s congressional districts will be redrawn in an effort to boost Democratic seats in the house to counter efforts by President Trump to increase the number of Republicans elected in GOP-led states.

“Let me say about what [Newsom] is doing, redistricting, it is absolutely the right way to go. Part of what we’ve got to, I think, challenge ourselves to accept, is that we tend to play by the rules,” Harris said. “But I think this is a moment where you gotta fight fire with fire. And so what Gavin is doing, what the California Legislature is doing, what those who are supporting it are doing is to say, ‘You know what, you want to play, then let’s get in the field. Let’s get in the arena, and let’s do this.’ And I support that.”

But Harris was more cautious when asked about other electoral contests, notably the New York City mayoral race. Zohran Mamdani is the Democratic nominee and has large leads in the polls over other candidates in the race, including former Gov. Andrew Cuomo and incumbent Mayor Eric Adams.

Asked whether she backed Mamdani, a Democratic socialist, Harris was measured.

“Look, as far as I’m concerned, he’s the Democratic nominee, and he should be supported,” Harris said, prompting Maddow to ask whether she endorsed him.

“I support the Democrat in the race, sure,” she replied. “But let me just say this, he’s not the only star. … I hope that we don’t so over-index on New York City that we lose sight of the stars throughout our country.”

Harris, who announced this summer that she would not run for California governor next year, demurred when asked about whether she would run for president for a third time in 2028.

“That’s not my focus right now,” she said.

O’Neill was left to lament some soft defending as a defensive mix-up allowed Amiri to pounce for Germany’s second, whilst he also questioned the awarding of the free-kick which Wirtz superbly dispatched.

“For 60 or 65 minutes we were well in the game. The second goal is a bit of a freak goal, we could have defended it better. The third goal isn’t a free-kick. It’s a fantastic finish but it’s a soft free-kick,” he explained.

“I thought the referee was a bit fussy in the second half. He refereed it well in the first.

“We were well in the game and needed to get to that final 15 minutes and we might have had a final chance, but the game drifted away from us.”

Northern Ireland sit second in Group A following a win and a defeat from their opening two games.

O’Neill believes his side are where they expected to be at this stage of qualifying, with two huge home games against Slovakia and Germany to come in October.

“It’s tough to play two games away from home,” he said. “We got what we hoped for, but we’re a bit disappointed it’s not a little bit more.

“We have to be ready to play back-to-back at home and we know two good results will put us in a good position.”

ISTANBUL — During a pool training session months ago, Ukrainian war veteran Oleh Tserkovnyi was struck by an idea: What if a group of veterans swam across the strait of Bosphorus, between Turkey’s European and Asian shores? And if they did it on Aug. 24, Ukraine’s Independence Day?

The symbolism of the day would draw attention to the toll and devastation inflicted by Russia’s full-out war on Ukraine, now in its fourth year.

When the 34-year-old pitched the idea to fellow veterans in their One for Another support group, none raised injuries, particularly their amputations, as a barrier. Two joined him right away.

They trained for months, with the support of Superhumans Center, a veterans’ rehabilitation clinic in Ukraine, and coached by CapitalTRI, an amateur triathlon team in Kyiv. They agreed their race would have another goal — to raise money for prosthetics, which remain costly and urgently needed by many of Ukraine’s wounded.

“We’re not asking for pity,” Tserkovnyi told The Associated Press shortly before the competition. “We’re asking for support.”

A race that links continents

After months of rigorous training, discipline and physical challenges, the three Ukrainian veterans on Sunday joined more than 2,800 swimmers from 81 countries in the 6.5-kilometer (4-mile) crossing from Asia to Europe.

The Bosphorus Intercontinental Swimming Race is an open-water event held each year in Istanbul, organized by the Turkish Olympic Committee since 1989.

All three Ukrainians completed the crossing, each swimming for more than an hour. The two veterans with amputations faced setbacks even before the start — the organizers initially barred them from competing, insisting they have to be in a separate category for people with disabilities.

But they persevered and swam the race, alongside the others.

For the Ukrainians, it wasn’t just about endurance but about reclaiming control over bodies transformed by war — and sharing their recovery with a world that often seems indifferent to the injuries they carry.

Seeking balance in the water

Sports had always been a part of Tserkovnyi’s life, but war and injury pushed him to use it as a survival tool after two severe, life-changing concussions — a bridge back to life for war veterans with disabilities.

“Sport itself heals — we’ve seen that firsthand,” he said. “And the community, it pulls you through. It pushes you, it disciplines you.”

When he speaks, he’s quick to point out the changes he sees in himself — the stutter, the involuntary twitch in his eye.

“It’s what’s left over. It used to be much worse,” he said.

Both of his concussions were the result of prolonged exposure to artillery fire while serving on the front line. He was a sniper when the second one hit. Afterward, he said, it felt like he had lost his sense of balance entirely.

“There were times I could walk, but then suddenly I’d just tip over like a pencil,” Tserkovnyi said. “I have third-degree hearing loss on one side, no peripheral vision.”

The sense of being “a sick person,” he said, felt so foreign to him that he threw himself into recovery with everything he had. For a long time, he also had PTSD symptoms, including dramatic flashbacks to the war.

But it was in the pool that he found a way to recognize the warning signs. “I began to understand what triggers them, when they come, and how to stay ahead of them,” he said.

A path back to oneself

Engineer Pavlo Tovstyk signed up as a volunteer in the early days after Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022. Serving as a driver in an intelligence unit, he stepped on a landmine in June 2023.

The blast took his foot and subsequent surgeries led to a partial amputation of his left leg.

The 47-year-old, who used to be an active swimmer as a child, never thought swimming would become a lifeline. He was still recovering from his injury when he began sneaking into the swimming pool, keeping it a secret from the doctors.

“Water became a kind of savior for me,” he said. “At the time, everything felt disoriented. But in the water, my thoughts, my strength, my body — it all came together again. I became myself again. Just … different.”

The idea to swim the strait in Turkey started almost as a dare, then became a plan.

“To cross the Bosphorus, you need not just physical strength, but a certain mindset — a state of determination that all of us managed to find within ourselves,” he said.

Calm found in purpose

Oleksandr Dashko discovered swimming only after losing his left leg.

The 28-year-old had joined the military at the start of the Russian invasion and served in the infantry in various front-line areas.

In June 2023, a mine exploded near him and shrapnel tore into his knee.

“I didn’t take it very graciously, let’s say,” he said as he recounted the conflicted feelings that tormented him for so long. Adjustment to life with an amputation has been slow and mentally taxing.

It was only over the past year that he was able to focus on physical rehabilitation — and swimming, he said, has become the activity that brings him a sense of calm.

The challenge of swimming the Bosphorus became a purpose for Dashko.

“When I do nothing, I slip back to that state right after the injury — depression, apathy, the feeling that the amputation is winning,” he said. “But when something like this shows up on my path, it gives me a jolt — to live, to move forward, to motivate others.”

Physical goals, he said, help anchor him. He hopes for more such challenges, not just for himself, but for other veterans.

“Honestly, if it weren’t for this, I’d probably be drunk and lying under a fence somewhere,” he said.

Maloletka and Arhirova write for the Associated Press. Arhirova reported from Kyiv, Ukraine.

In the tangled family of Hollywoods, Hollywood would be the obvious golden child, West Hollywood its ritzy older sister and East Hollywood its indie-cool younger brother. North Hollywood, however, is harder to classify. Perhaps you can call it the elusive half-sibling — sharing the family name but somewhat lacking in family resemblance.

Separated from its siblings by sprawling mountains, the oft-slighted San Fernando Valley neighborhood has been described as a bedroom community and a way station for fledgling actors. It’s a socio-architectural liminal space, one in which a historic train depot is home to a hip coffee shop and downtown streets are immediately bordered by suburbia.

Get to know Los Angeles through the places that bring it to life. From restaurants to shops to outdoor spaces, here’s what to discover now.

North Hollywood’s lingering sense of fragmentation is consistent with its slew of past lives — from late-1800s wheat titan to modern cultural center — punctuated by infrastructure milestones like the 1913 completion of the L.A. Aqueduct and the 2000 extension of the Metro Red Line.

The neighborhood has even gone by a few different names: first Toluca, then Lankershim, for the real estate pioneer Isaac Lankershim, who helped catalyze the development of the San Fernando Valley. North Hollywood adopted its current moniker in 1927, as film studios poured into the area and residents at the behest of enterprising developers petitioned to rebrand their town as a Hollywood hot spot. It was, as Tom Link wrote in his 1991 book about the neighborhood’s history, “like a new movie star discarding an old name in order to appear more attractive.”

Today, North Hollywood is an eclectic nook with its cultural epicenter in the Noho Arts District. Dotted with petite theaters, boutiques and pie shops, the 1-square-mile patch was revitalized at the turn of the century with the northward extension of the Metro Red Line and the concurrent opening of the North Hollywood Metro Station. At a critical time for its development, the Metro made North Hollywood an anomaly: a hip and walkable L.A. suburb.

Especially for a locale beyond the hills, North Hollywood is remarkably central, nestled among popular neighbors Burbank and Studio City but boasting reported monthly rent averages hundreds of dollars cheaper than both. And while it’s already home to a high population of young, single professionals, it’s poised to draw even more millennial and Gen Z renters with a transit-oriented development projected to create swaths of affordable housing units in the next decade. Surely, the barcades and artisan coffee shops will be glad to see them come in.

Whether you get there by car, train or bike, here’s how and where to spend your time in North Hollywood, the enigmatic neighborhood whose charm sneaks up on you. — Malia Mendez

My 8-year-old daughter hates sand in her shoes, but loves to play in the sand. She doesn’t like very loud environments, but enjoys thrill rides at amusement parks. She gets uncomfortable when the playground is too full, but loves to make friends. She wants to explore new places, but often needs to take breaks. And she needs to feel safe expressing and processing her emotions — whether that means crying or crying out — without being stared at or feeling judged.

As you can see, my daughter has particular sensory needs that some may call a “sensory diet.” When she was 3, I realized she is a Highly Sensitive Child. HSC is not a diagnosis or a disorder— rather, it’s a personality trait defined by psychologist Elaine Aron in her 1996 book “The Highly Sensitive Person.” Most people think “sensitive” means emotional, but that’s not the case here. “Sensitive” refers to our senses. In their book “Raising a Sensory Smart Child,” Lindsey Biel and Nancy Peske explain that when it comes to our understanding of sensory experiences, there are seven: the five we’re all familiar with — taste, touch, smell, sight and hearing — along with proprioception (knowing how one’s body moves) and vestibular (how one feels their body in space).

HSCs and neurodivergent kids with autism spectrum disorder, sensory processing disorder, ADHD or other neurodivergent conditions have something in common: differing sensory needs.

An occupational therapist can prescribe a sensory diet as treatment for kids who need help calming down or being alert — in other words, to help them self-regulate. Finding or creating the right atmosphere also takes some trial and error from parents and caregivers.

I, too, am Highly Sensitive and have been mining L.A. County for play environments that are well suited for my daughter and perhaps other kids with similar sensory needs. I’ve learned the hard way that the usual loud, crowded bouncy house birthday party isn’t fun for everyone, and that’s OK. Luckily, Los Angeles has plenty of play spaces that are intentional about being inclusive to all kids.

In my experience, the best play places include a quiet room or an area for kids and their parents to be alone or separate if they need an escape. Some provide sensory bags from KultureCity, a nonprofit focused on sensory inclusion. These bags include noise-cancelling headphones, fidget toys and a nose plug to help the experience. Many places offer a social narrative or story online — with pictures of what happens and where they will be — so kids know what to expect. Some have specific “sensory hours” when the lights are dimmed and the number of guests is limited. All of these inclusive spots invite kids to use their senses — to touch, feel, see, hear, sense, taste, smell or move.

Here are 10 great play places around L.A. for highly sensitive and neurodivergent kids. For each place, I’ve noted whether it’s suited well for neurodivergent kids or highly sensitive kids, or both.

Of course, the best play space isn’t some magical destination, and you don’t need a ticket for it. It’s a space where kids don’t feel judged because of their actions or reactions. It’s a space that gives them the comfort of being accepted, no matter what. You can provide your child with that space wherever you go.

On a wide, empty stretch of Venice Beach in 1980, seven Los Angeles architects — Frank Gehry, Thom Mayne, Eric Owen Moss, Coy Howard, Craig Hodgetts, Robert Mangurian and Frederick Fisher — gathered for a group portrait by photographer Ave Pildas. Clad in mismatched outfits and standing casually in the sand, they looked more like a rumpled rock band than the future of American architecture.

The resulting image, published in Interiors magazine, distilled a seismic moment in L.A.’s creative history. Those seven, gazing in their own directions yet joined in a sense of mischievous rebellion and cocky exuberance, represented a new generation that was bringing a brash, loose creativity to their work and starting to distance itself from the buttoned-up codes and expectations of the architecture establishment.

Each would go on to have a successful career, from Pritzker Architecture Prize winners to directors of architecture schools. And they and their compatriots would, for a while at least, help put a rapidly changing L.A. at the center of the built culture.

“That one photograph contains a whole world,” notes filmmaker Russell Brown, who recently directed a 12-part documentary series about that Venice architecture scene. “There was risk going on, and freedom; it was all about ideas.”

“It’s become a kind of reference point,” adds architectural journalist Frances Anderton, host of the series. “It just keeps reappearing whenever there’s a conversation about that period.”

The 1980 image is the jumping-off point for “Rebel Architects: From Venice to the World Stage,” produced by Brown’s nonprofit, Friends of Residential Treasures: Los Angeles. Four of the architects — now in their 70s and 80s — gathered for a (far less brash) new photo and an honest conversation about their early careers in L.A., and what’s transpired since for the series, which began streaming monthly on FORT: LA’s website July 1.

A native Angeleno with a background in feature and documentary filmmaking, Brown conceived of the concept after a chat with architect Robert Thibodeau, co-founder of Venice-based DU Architects. After a deeper dive into the image with Anderton, the idea for a reunion was born.

“We thought, why don’t we restage the photo and then use that as an excuse to get the guys together?” Brown explains.

He preferred a spontaneous, lighthearted group discussion to the typical documentary, with its one-on-one interviews and heavy production.

Frances Anderton, from left, Frederick Fisher, Craig Hodgetts, Thom Mayne and Eric Owen Moss catch up for “Rebel Architects,” a 12-part series.

(FORT: LA)

“It’s about the chemistry between creative peers,” says Brown. “The real legacy of these architects isn’t just in the buildings. It’s in the conversations they started — and are still having.” He added: “There’s a spark that happens when they’re together … They talk about failure, competition, teaching, aging. It’s a very human exchange.”

Episode 1, titled “Capturing a Moment in L.A. Architecture,” opens with four of the surviving architects — Fisher, Mayne, Moss and Hodgetts — recreating that seminal photograph for Pildas and sitting down for an interview. (Howard was interviewed separately, Gehry declined and Mangurian died in 2023.) The group dissects the photo’s cinematic, informal composition, in which Pildas aims down from a berm, the neglected buildings behind the eclectic crew shrinking into the horizon, merging with the sand. And they remember a time in which the city’s messy urban forms and perceived cultural inferiority provided endless creative fuel, and liberation.

Pildas recalls how the original shoot came together at the request of British design editor Beverly Russell, who was looking to capture “Frank Gehry and some of his Turks.” (The international design press was gaga for L.A. at the time. Anderton notes that her move from the U.K. resulted from a similar assignment, on the “subversive architects of the West Coast,” for the publication Architectural Review in 1987.)

At the time, most of the architects were working in garages and warehouses, forming their studios and collaborating with equally norm-busting and (relatively) unheralded artists in the scrappy, dangerous, forgotten, yet exploding Venice scene. In a later episode, the architects start listing the art talents they would run into, or befriend, including Larry Bell, James Turrell, Ed Ruscha, Fred Eversley, Robert Irwin, Robert Rauschenberg and Jean-Michel Basquiat, to name a few.

Basquiat was then living and working in Hodgetts’ building. “It was a spectacular fusion of all this creative energy,” Hodgetts remembers. “There was no audience, there were no guardrails, and one did not feel constrained.” He adds, later: “We all felt like we were marooned on a desert island.”

Pildas, who had studied architecture before switching to design and, eventually, photography, was uniquely suited to capture the group. He had shot some of the small, quirky experiments of Mangurian and Mayne, and knew most of the others through social and professional circles. (He even knew Hodgetts from high school back in Cincinnati.)

The first attempt at the photo seemed stiff, says Pildas, so he took out a joint, which all except Hodgetts accepted, he says. The icebreaker worked. In a later image, says Pildas, Fisher is hugging Gehry’s leg, the others huddled around. “It got pretty friendly in the end,” he jokes.

Pildas argues that the photo is much more layered with meaning (not to mention nostalgia) now than it was at the time. “Back then, it was just another magazine shoot. Now, it’s history,” he says. Adds Moss: “Its relevancy, or not, is confirmed by the following years. Otherwise it’s gone.”

Frederick Fisher, from left, Thom Mayne, Craig Hodgetts and Eric Owen Moss recreate their famous 1980 photo.

(Ave Pildas)

Each episode explores the image’s layers, and the unfolding stories that followed — the challenges of maintaining originality; crucial role of journalists in promoting their work; maddening disconnect between L.A.’s talent and its clients, along with the mercurial, ever-evolving identity of Los Angeles. The tone, like the photo, is unpretentious and playful, heavy on character and story, not theory. This was not always an easy task with a group that can get esoteric quite quickly, adds Anderton. “I was trying to keep it light,” she laughs. “I don’t think I even have the ability to talk in the language of the academy.”

“They’re cracking jokes, interrupting each other, reminiscing about teaching gigs and design arguments,” says Brown. “There’s real affection, but also a sense of rivalry that never fully went away.” Hodgetts doesn’t see it that way, however. “It was really about the joy of creating things. We wanted to jam a bit, perform together; that’s really life-affirming,” he says.

There are some revealing moments. Mayne, whose firm Morphosis is known for bold, city-altering buildings such as Caltrans HQ in downtown L.A., reflects on teaching as a way of “being the father I never had.” (His father left his family when he was a young boy.) He tenderly discusses the seminal role that his wife Blythe — a co-owner of Morphosis — has played in his career. Fisher reveals that Gehry was the chief reason he dropped everything to come out to L.A. (At the time, he was working as a display designer at a department store in Cincinnati.) “I remember seeing this architect jumping up and down on cardboard furniture. I could see there was something going on here. Something percolating,” he says. Moss opens up about his struggles to negotiate the demands of the practical world, while Hodgetts performs brilliant critiques of the others’ work, sometimes to broad smiles, others to cringes.

Notably absent from the reunion is Gehry himself, who is now 96. “He’s at a point in his life where trudging through sand for a photo wasn’t going to happen,” says Brown. “But his presence is everywhere. He’s still the elephant in the room.”

One episode explores how Gehry, about a decade older than the others, both profoundly influenced and often overshadowed the group — a reality that was perhaps reinforced by his nonchalant dominance in the photo itself. “Frank takes up a lot of oxygen,” Mayne quips. Still, all admire Gehry’s unwillingness to compromise creatively, despite often heavy criticism.

Another prevailing theme is the bittersweet loss of that early sense of freedom, and the Venice of the 1970s, with its breathtakingly low rents and abandoned charm. Today’s architects — wherever they are — face higher stakes, infinitely higher costs and tighter regulations.

“The Venice we grew up with is completely gone,” says Fisher. “But maybe it’s just moved,” noted Moss. Distinguishing L.A. as a place whose energy and attention is constantly shifting, he wonders if creative ferment might now be happening in faraway places like Tehachapi — “wherever land is cheap and ambition is high,” he says.

While Pildas was capturing the seven architects 45 years ago, he was also busy chronicling the city’s street culture — jazz clubs, boulevard eccentrics, decaying movie palaces and bohemian artists. All were featured in the 2023 documentary “Ave’s America” (streaming on Prime Video) directed by his former student, Patrick Taulère, exploring his six decades of humbly perceptive, deeply human work.

After reviewing the recreation of the photo — the architects are still smiling this time, but their scrappy overconfidence feels eons away — Pildas wonders who the next generation will be, and how they will rise.

“Maybe it’ll happen that they’ll have another picture someday with a bunch of new architects, right?” he says. “This is a fertile ground for architecture anyway, and always has been.”

Exposing that “fertile ground” to Angelenos of all kinds is FORT: LA’s overarching goal. Founded in 2020, it offers architecture trails, fellowships and a surprising variety of programming, from design competitions to architecture-themed wine tastings. All, says Brown, is delivered, like “Rebel Architects,” with a sense of accessible joy and exploration — an especially useful gift in a turbulent, insecure time for the city.

“Suddenly, you kind of think about the city in a different way and feel it in a different way,” says Brown. “This is a place that allows this kind of vision to come to life.”

Keenan Allen achieved quite a bit in his career with the Chargers — and that’s probably one of the reasons why they’d like to give him another chance.

The veteran wide receiver, who was a salary-cap casualty when the Chargers traded him last year, was scheduled to meet with the team Friday to discuss a possible reunion, according to a person with knowledge of the situation not authorized to speak publicly.

A potential move to sign the six-time Pro Bowl selection makes sense for a Chargers team in need of a veteran receiving option after Mike Williams’ surprising retirement at the start of training camp.

Allen was the longest-tenured player on the Chargers when they traded him to the Chicago Bears in March 2024 to become cap compliant. He caught 904 passes for 10,530 yards and 59 touchdowns over 11 seasons with the franchise. He caught 380 passes for 4,125 yards and 25 touchdowns playing alongside Justin Herbert.

Allen caught 70 passes for 744 yards and seven touchdowns with the Bears last season, but at 33, his best days are probably behind him — which explains why he’s still a free agent in August.

Still, with some unknowns in the Chargers’ receiving corps outside of Ladd McConkey and Quentin Johnston, it makes sense that they would want to bolster their passing game with a more known quantity in a player such as Allen.

Staff writer Sam Farmer contributed to this report.

In 2012, Cassidy Krug competed in her first and last Olympics. Raised by two diving coaches, Krug was in diapers when she started dreaming of competing.

At 27 years old, she had a shot at the Olympic bronze medal but landed in seventh place instead. Krug decided to retire, something she’d already been considering for three years. But how do you move forward in life when diving is the only thing you’ve ever known?

Shelf Help is a wellness column where we interview researchers, thinkers and writers about their latest books — all with the aim of learning how to live a more complete life.

Krug tried to replace her passion for diving with a corporate career. But after seven years in advertising and brand strategy, she felt lost and without the purpose and motivation she’d once felt for her sport. Fascinated by the endless options of what to do next, Krug wrote “Resurface: A Guide to Navigating Life’s Biggest Transitions.”

The Times spoke with Krug about why we’re so resistant to uncertainty and what tools we can use to get comfortable with change.

This interview has been condensed and edited for clarity.

Why do you think transitions are an important part of life?

Transitions are an important part of life because they’re an inevitable part of life. An author named Bruce Feiler estimates that we have three to five “lifequakes” in our lives — major shifts that change our habits, our identities, our communities and our sense of purpose. These shifts are even more frequent now that it feels like the pace of change in the world is speeding up. The more we can embrace change, rather than try to hold on to our old ways, the more set up we will be to adapt and move forward.

“During a transition, we often need to change our definition of success,” says Cassidy Krug, author of “Resurface: A Guide to Navigating Life’s Biggest Transitions.”

(Natalie Fong)

For this book, you interviewed people going through all kinds of life transitions, from changing careers to leaving prison. What did you find to be universal truths about these transitions?

There were two: that transitions take away our sense of community, and that during a transition, we often need to change our definition of success. Stanley — the man I interviewed who left prison after 20 years — told me that when he did, he lost the sense of camaraderie he felt while there. He also realized that he’d previously defined success by having a family and a stable job. When he left prison, he needed to redefine success to include the impact he’d had on other people’s lives while in prison. Though my experience was not the same, I also felt a huge loss of community and the need to redefine success while leaving diving.

In the book, you write that as humans, we are resistant to change and feel a need for certainty. Why are we so resistant to such an inevitable part of our lives, and how can we overcome this?

We often waver between the need for stability and a desire for change and growth. Right now, as a society, our expectations for certainty are ever-increasing. Twenty years ago, there were no dating apps that could assess my compatibility with a partner and no Yelp reviews that could predict if I’d like where I chose to eat dinner. Now with generative AI, there are many more avenues that market a false sense of security, and I think those avenues give us even more anxiety when it comes to the inevitable moments when we are uncertain. One way to fight that need for certainty is to put ourselves in difficult and uncertain situations. The ability to live in uncertainty is a muscle: The more we rely on external things to give us a sense of certainty, the less capable and the more anxious we feel when we don’t have those crutches around.

In the book, you write that a transition never ends. What do you mean by that?

I used to think of transitions as beginning, middle, end. Instead, psychologists use the phrases moving into, moving through, and moving out of to describe transitions, acknowledging that they rarely yield a clear-cut endpoint. My friend Nora, whom I write about in the book, expected that once she was in remission from cancer, she would move forward and thrive. In reality, she’s in remission, but she has brain fog, fatigue and lingering health issues that will change her life moving forward. The damaging and false expectation is that transitions end. Often, in reality, we don’t return to our previous state, and our transition instead ripples into our future — but that rippling change means ongoing growth and forward movement.

In Cassidy Krug’s “Resurface: A Guide to Navigating Life’s Biggest Transitions,” interviewees range from a cancer survivor to injured athletes to a man starting over after 20 years in prison.

(Cassidy Krug)

How can we move forward after leaving something important to us behind?

Rituals are a great way to honor what we’re leaving behind, commemorate how it shaped us and help incorporate the lessons from it into our evolving identities. Just like holding a funeral for a lost loved one, people find creative ways to honor different parts of their lives coming to a close. One woman I interviewed who struggled with infertility threw herself a menopause party complete with tampons wrapped in ribbons and women telling their first period and menopause stories. [Author] William Bridges said that change is something that happens to us, and transition is how we choose to react to that change. I think there’s a third step to that — how we interpret that transition — and rituals can help us do so in a way that moves us forward.

What would you recommend someone do when they’re paralyzed by the thought of an upcoming change?

Firstly, I’d recommend someone reframe their anxiety by spinning those fears into opportunities. “I’m afraid to leave this job because I don’t know what will happen” can become “If I leave, there will be so many opportunities open for me, and I’m going to have my own back.” Secondly, it’s important to start with something small and concrete. The idea of finding a new passion is paralyzing, but asking yourself what you’re interested in and finding a small step you can take in the direction of exploring that interest feels much more manageable.

What would you say to someone who’s not sure if they’re ready to make a big jump?

An author named Annie Duke wrote a book called “Quit” — in it, she writes that by the time a decision appears to be 50/50, it is probably better for your upcoming happiness if you move on. We have a societal bias towards grit, and every success story seems to be of someone who had an idea and then overcame obstacles and then succeeded. Stories forget to include all the things that person quit before they chose and invested in the right path. We don’t quit nearly as often as we should, so if you’re thinking about quitting something, do it.

Now that you’ve finished writing your book, you’re going through a period of transition again. How do you feel about it this time around?

There’s grief and loss associated with all transitions. Something I have to remind myself of with each transition I face is that there will be a period where I don’t know what’s next, and that’s normal. Things aren’t supposed to last forever, and I have to remind myself to breathe into the opportunity that temporariness brings, rather than the fear. I think many of us are overwhelmed by possibilities — there are many things we could do, but we don’t know which path to take. I’m in the aftermath of a project I felt so certain about, and my instinct is to wait for that certainty to hit me again before taking a step in any direction. But if I do that, I’ll be waiting forever. What I need to do is ask myself is, “What am I curious about? What is driving me?” and then invest time into exploring it — that is how I’ll figure out what my passion is going to be next.

(Maggie Chiang / For The Times)

WASHINGTON — As Republicans gather this week in Houston, we hear much talk of conservatives and conservatism. Is George Bush a true conservative? Will conservatives support the President, or stay home? Is the movement intellectually exhausted? Who will emerge to lead conservatives in 1996?

But these discussions all overlook one significant point: The Republicans are not really a conservative party. Indeed, we might say of American conservatism, as Mohandas K. Gandhi said of Western civilization–”It would be a good idea.”

True conservatism is a philosophy committed to conserving– conserving families, communities and nation in the face of change. Committed to preserving fundamental values, such as accountability, civic duty and the rule of law. And committed to a strong government to realize these ends. What passes for conservatism in America today bears only a passing resemblance to this true conservatism. It worships at the twin altars of free enterprise and weak government–two decidedly unconservative notions.

Real conservatism values security and stability over the unfettered free market. In Germany, for example, it was the conservative Otto von Bismark–not socialists–who developed social insurance and built the world’s first welfare state. Today conservatives throughout the world–but not here–endorse government-provided national health care, because they recognize public needs are not always met by the private sector. And they see a role for government in encouraging national economic development.

A true conservative movement would not ignore the decay of our great cities, or see the disorder of the Los Angeles riots only as a political opportunity. Nor would they pay homage to “free trade” while the nation’s manufacturing base withered. Nor would a conservative President veto pro-family legislation requiring companies to provide leave to new mothers, in deference to business prerogatives.

Traditional conservatives champion community and nation over the individual. They esteem public service, and promote civic obligation. They reject the “invisible hand” argument, that everyone’s pursuit of individual self-interest will magically yield the best public outcome, believing instead in deliberately cultivating virtue. Authentic conservatives do not assail 55 m.p.h. speed limits and seat-belt laws as encroaching totalitarianism.

Finally, a genuine conservatism values the future over the present. It is a movement of elites to be sure, but of elites who feel that their privilege entails special obligations. The old word for this was “stewardship”–the obligation to care for the nation’s human and natural resources, and to look out for future generations’ interests.

Such conservatives would not open up public lands for private commercial exploitation, or undermine environmental regulations for short-term economic growth. They would not cut funding for childrens’ vaccinations, knowing that the cost of treating illness is far greater. And a conservative political party would never preside over a quadrupling of the national debt.

In America, then, what we call conservatism is really classical liberalism: a love of the market, and hatred of government. Adam Smith, after all, was a liberal, not a conservative. As the economist Gunnar Myrdal once noted: “America is conservative . . . but the principles conserved are liberal.”

American conservatives have often celebrated the country’s historically “exceptional” character: the acceptance of capitalism and the absence of any significant socialist movement. Curiously, though, they often miss their half of the story: the absence of a real Tory conservatism. What Louis Hartz called America’s “liberal consensus” excluded both of the great communitarian traditions–ain’t nobody here but us liberals.

True conservatism’s weakness as a political tradition in America is thus an old story. When values confront the market here, the market usually wins. In recent years, though, conservative social values seem to have been eclipsed. Many of today’s conservatives are really libertarians–proponents of a radical individualism that has little in common with conservatism. Consider some very non-conservative messages that conservatives have delivered in the past two weeks.

Conservative GOP leaders called on the President to propose massive new tax cuts as the centerpiece for a possible second term. Fiscal responsibility, apparently, is no longer part of conservative doctrine–if it gets in the way of a nice capital gains tax cut.

The Wall Street Journal assailed Maryland for introducing a new 75-hour community-service requirement for high school students. What about teaching values in school? Or putting nation before self?

When it comes to good conservative values, today’s conservatives talk the talk, but they don’t walk the walk. Look at Dan Quayle, the elected official who supposedly most speaks to real conservatives. Every day, the vice president is out there talking about traditional values, and slaying liberal dragons like Murphy Brown. His agenda: tax dollars for parochial schools, banning abortion, allowing school prayer. This is the 1980 Moral Majority program. Yet, after 12 years in power, the Republican Party has delivered nothing to social conservatives–the closest thing we have in this country to authentic conservatives. Republicans’ business allies, on the other hand, have reaped tremendous gains in such areas as taxation, regulation and labor relations. There are many social-issue conservatives in the GOP, but when it comes to governing, they are clearly the junior partners.

These social issues are trotted out every four years, but it’s just a ritual, like hanging Christmas lights on the front porch. The rest of the time, they sit in the Republican basement. For them, it’s simply a matter of electoral opportunism–a way to attract working-class voters whose economic interests drew them to the Democrats. Now Barry M. Goldwater, the grand old man of American conservatism, has called on the party to abandon its anti-abortion commitment. The political calculus has changed, and so must the platform. Individual liberty is the important point now. It would appear that the ban on abortion was only in there to win votes in the first place–if it doesn’t do that, what’s the point?

The future seems to lie with the libertarians. We should expect more Republicans like Gov. Pete Wilson, who prides himself on savaging the social safety net. Personal freedom is the message: free to have an abortion, also free to go hungry.

However, this does not bode well for conservatives’ long-term electoral fortunes. Economic liberalism is a weak political force in countries with conservative and social-democratic alternatives. Historically, lower-class voters have been mobilized by appeals to class solidarity on the one hand, or religion and nationalism on the other. Liberalism is the credo of the upper middle class.

The historical failure of American elites to embrace authentic conservatism is a loss for the nation. Even liberals–in the American sense–should regret this void. In fact, they should be most concerned. Conservatives would resist the relentless privatization of our social and economic life, and help rein in the nation’s free-market excesses. If real conservatives had been in charge in the 1980s, we might have been spared the orgy of speculation, takeover and deregulation that so weakened our economy.

The free market, after all, is a powerful force for change. It creates and destroys communities, sunders families and undermines traditional values. People desire protection from it for sound conservative reasons–they want security and stability. A genuine conservatism would provide a kind of social ballast for a nation constantly buffeted by change.

America is too liberal for its own good. Our brand of conservatism is too American for its own good. Maybe it’s time to let conservatives be conservatives.

IF you’re prepping your outdoor area for the relaxing summer ahead, a budget buy can level it up.

Lidl shoppers can elevate their garden or balcony’s privacy with this simple addition.

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Whether you’re lying back and soaking up the sun or enjoying a meal al fresco, you don’t want to feel as though you’re on display to everyone in your neighbourhood.

If your outdoor area is a little too exposed for your liking, there’s no need to write it off.

You can now shield yourself from nosy neighbours with this colourful item.

As well as shielding you from prying eyes, this Lidl buy can also help to brighten up your garden.

Shoppers can pick up a Large Hanging Planter for just £6.99 from the middle aisle.

Customers can “choose from a wide range of colours to brighten up their outdoor space”.

According to the experts at Monrovia, staggering your hanging planters at different levels can help to create a natural separation from the outside world.

And it does so without adding an unsightly privacy fence or screen to your space.

“It creates the sense of separation without shouting ‘keep out,'” they explained.

But the gardening pros highlighted the importance of taking care of your planters.

They recommended watering your natural barrier regularly, especially in the hot weather.

Or you can opt for a more classic privacy product to shield your garden from public view.

Amazon also has a £14 privacy buy that is described as “perfect” for summer.

Another privacy fence is also available from Amazon, for just £5.

B&Q has an affordable privacy fence currently on sale, and you can put it up yourself.

And a £10 B&M product adds inches to your fence, elevating your garden’s privacy.

You can also add a stylish touch to your privacy fence with another B&M buy.

A £3 buy from B&M is can also help to add privacy to your garden this summer.

And its not just fences that can help give you privacy in your garden, one B&M item can help shield you from nosy neighbours and the sun.

Meanwhile, a Home Bargains buy is said to add a touch of glamour to your garden.

Another item from the bargain retailer is perfect for attracting birds to your space.

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Zhajiangmian was one of the first dishes my mother taught me how to make. I’d stand beside her in the kitchen, watching her stir fermented soybean paste into sizzling ground pork, the smell sharp, earthy and instantly familiar. A pot of noodles boiled nearby as I carefully julienned cucumbers, proud to contribute to one of my favorite comfort meals. When the ingredients were ready, we’d build our bowls with noodles, sauce and a handful of crisp veggies. Then came the best part — mixing it together until every noodle was slick with sauce. It wasn’t fancy, but it was fast, filling and always hit the spot.

According to Tian Yong, head chef of Bistro Na in Temple City, humble zhajiangmian may date back to the Qing Dynasty, when minced meat noodles became popular in Beijing for its affordability and ease of storage. Another origin story tells of an empress dowager who, fleeing an invasion, encountered a zhajiangmian-like dish in Xi’an.

However it came to be, zhajiangmian, or “fried sauce noodles,” is everyday comfort food in China and a staple of northern Chinese cuisine. “It carries cultural nostalgia and a sense of regional identity, particularly for Beijing natives,” says chef and cookbook author Katie Chin, founder of Wok Star Catering in Los Angeles. At its core, the dish is built on a simple foundation of wheat noodles (often thick, chewy and hand-pulled or knife-cut), ground pork and a deeply savory sauce made from doubanjiang, fermented soybean paste.

Like many regional Chinese dishes, zhajiangmian is fluid, shaped by geography, ingredients and personal taste. “It doesn’t just vary between regions of China — it even varies between households in different parts of Beijing,” Yong explains.

Chin uses several types of soybean paste in her zhajiangmian, each bringing its own personality to the bowl. Traditional Beijing-style relies on pungent yellow soybean paste for its salty, umami-rich depth. Tianjin-style leans on sweet bean sauce for a milder, more balanced flavor, while some versions use broad bean paste to add heat and complexity.

Then there’s the Korean-Chinese adaptation, jjajangmyeon, introduced to Korea by Chinese immigrants in the early 20th century. It swaps fermented soybean paste for chunjang, a Korean black bean paste that’s sweeter and less salty. “The dish is served over softer noodles and typically mixed together before eating, unlike the Chinese version where toppings are placed separately,” Chin says.

The vegetable toppings are essential to the dish’s character. “They can vary according to Beijing’s four seasons and traditional agricultural calendar,” says Yong. In spring, you might see spinach shoots, mung bean sprouts or radish greens; summer brings julienned cucumber, lotus root and edamame; fall offers carrots, garlic chives and bok choy; winter, Napa cabbage and wood ear mushrooms. While zhajiangmian is one of China’s most beloved noodle dishes, in the U.S., the spotlight tends to shine on familiar favorites like chow mein, lo mein or dan dan mian. But zhajiangmian has a deserved place alongside those staples in the canon of Chinese noodles.

I set out to find the best versions in Los Angeles and discovered dozens of interpretations. Some stayed true to tradition, others took creative liberties. But each bowl shared the same sense of comfort I remembered from my childhood — that salty, savory, soul-satisfying mix of noodles and sauce. Here are 11 of the best places to try zhajiangmian and jjajangmyeon in L.A.