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In this week’s episode of The Envelope podcast, the Welsh actor joins The Envelope for a conversation about his Emmy-nominated roles in “Widow’s Bay” and “The Beast in Me.”

Kelvin Washington: Hello, and welcome to this week’s episode of The Envelope. Kelvin Washington, Yvonne Villarreal and Mark Olsen here. We’ve been talking about it now for the last couple of weeks, but we’re less than a month away from the Emmys. Mariska Hargitay is gonna be the host. I’m looking forward to that because who’s living a better life than her? She’s nominated, of course. She’s hosting. And her Knicks won the NBA championship — she’s at this point an honorary Knick. I mean, it’s like she’s on the team.

Yvonne Villarreal: And she went to the Taylor Swift wedding.

Washington: That’s a good point.

Villarreal: Don’t forget that. And starring on Broadway.

Washington: So she is living her best life, yeah.

Villarreal: She’s living a better life than I am.

Washington: So I’m going to answer the question first. I’m gonna ask you, what are you looking forward to [at the Emmys]? Maybe some things you’re excited for. For me, it’s just seeing this culmination of all these things for her and just having a big moment there. I think she’s gonna own that space and I think everybody’s gonna enjoy it as well. What are you looking forward to?

Villarreal: I’m really, really excited to see my beloved Philip and Elizabeth Jennings as nominees — Matthew Rhys and Keri Russell. Not to be parasocial, but I just love that they’re both nominated. I just want a magical night for them both.

Mark Olsen: I don’t want to be a bring-down bummer here, but, you know, I find that the Emmys in particular, even more than the Oscars, kind of play favorites, and the same winners can happen again and again. It’s not as bad as it may once have been, but I’m always rooting for new blood, first-time nominees, people that it’s exciting to see them kind of get this platform. So nothing against your beloved, but I would be excited to see an underdog or somebody kind of an outsider. Say, for example, the rest of the cast of “Widow’s Bay,” which as you’ve said before, really came out of nowhere, [and] it’s become a bit of a favorite this season. And there’s some other performers there, Dale Dickey, Stephen Root, Kate O’Flynn, and I think any of them winning would be really exciting.

Villarreal: I won’t argue with that.

Washington: I was waiting on an argument.

Villarreal: We fight off camera.

Washington: And by the way, Mark, I mean, can good be good? Or great be great? If I’m great 10 years in a row, can I just be great 10 years in a row and win? You’re putting limitations on my victories.

Olsen: Yeah, but at some point, your shelf is full.

Washington: That’s true. Don’t worry about what’s going on in my mantle, all right?

That being said, we got Matthew Rhys, who you had a chance to speak to. Double nominee here, “Widow’s Bay” and “The Beast in Me.” Tell me a little bit more about your conversation.

Olsen: Just a rare double nominee, lead actor in a comedy series with “Widow’s Bay,” and then lead actor in a limited or anthology series or movie with “The Beast in Me.” And I think what’s exciting here is that these are just two very different performances. He’s this manipulative, maybe psychopathic real estate developer in “The Beast in Me,” and then this kind of harried, put-upon single dad and mayor of a small, cursed New England island in “Widow’s Bay,” and I think both of these roles show new sides of Matthew to audiences. But then when you take them together, it just feels like something else entirely.

Washington: All right, well let’s take a look. It’s M&M — Matthew and Mark — here now.

Matthew Rhys.

(Ebru Yildiz / For The Times)

Mark Olsen: For the Los Angeles Times and The Envelope, I’m Mark Olsen. I’m here today with Matthew Rhys, who is nominated for an Emmy for lead actor in a comedy series for “Widow’s Bay” [and] lead actor in a limited or anthology series [or movie] for “The Beast in Me,” and another nomination as executive producer on “Widow’s Bay.”

Matthew Rhys: I forgot about the executive producer part. It’s an exciting time.

Olsen: And now being nominated for these two performances, which are very different performances —

Rhys: [whispers] They’re not really.

Olsen: Now tell me about that. You don’t think they are?

Rhys: Look, I think I was about to speak for a number of actors and I shouldn’t. I can only speak for myself. Sometimes there’s seemingly or feels like there’s very little difference in them. I’m not, I don’t pretend to be an enormously transformative actor, hunting for the “chameleon” praise.

Olsen: But do you consider yourself versatile? It’s so interesting to me to hear you say you don’t see these roles as that different.

Rhys: I wouldn’t say I’m versatile in that chameleon-like way or transformative way, I just try to work from a place… We’re already into it.

Olsen: That’s what we’re here for.

Rhys: I know. It always makes me nauseous. I do try to live in a place that feels real to me and that what we talk about, working from your center. So when I move away from that, things start to feel insincere, so I tend not to.

Olsen: With “Widow’s Bay,” a lot of the coverage around it has been talking about how it’s been a real surprise hit. And I’m just wondering, what is it that you think that audiences are responding to?

Rhys: You know, timing is everything. I do think there was a place that was ready for “Widow’s Bay,” whereby nothing of the sort had been around for a while. You hadn’t had “Twin Peaks,” although we were kind of slightly “The Office,” “Twin Peaks,” sprinkling of “Northern Exposure” maybe, but nothing I think of that sort had been for a while. So I think people were just ready for something different, and then we’re certainly different.

Olsen: Betty Gilpin, your co-star on the show, she is also a nominee, in a recent interview said that she feels like it’s as if audiences are rejecting this idea of a really sort of safe, algorithm-approved show. And do you feel the same?

Rhys: Absolutely, and it’s wildly refreshing to know that people are going, “No, we want something different. And we are intelligent enough to deal with it. So give it to us.” And that I found very, very inspiring, very encouraging — that television and film should be pushing itself continually for that original material and not relying on remakes.

Olsen: When did you realize that the show was connecting in the way that it is? I’ve seen in some other interviews you say that even when you were shooting it, you weren’t totally sure, didn’t totally think that it would connect with people.

Rhys: No, none of us — a lot of us were like, “Are we getting the tone right? Is this right? Is this going to work?” It was a swing. It was an absolute swing. A kind of beautiful one, nonetheless. But we were all concerned — not concerned, maybe just intrigued — as to how it would be received. And it was a little bit more word of mouth. Friends were saying, “Oh, I’ve seen your show.” And then throughout my career, it’s probably the job I’ve been stopped most for. And I’m not saying that happens often. But at least twice I’ve been stopped for it. So that’s been refreshing.

Olsen: And people are really talking a lot about this mix of tones. It’s a horror-comedy that’s both very much funny and scary. What was the challenge of getting that mix right?

Rhys: Making both real, ultimately. I know that sounds very obvious and stupid, but it’s true. And also Katie Dippold spoke to this, the creator and writer, where she said she kind of thought one can almost relieve the other. When there’s incredible tension from horror, when the laugh comes in, it’s almost a big laugh because it’s the relief of being allowed to laugh. So she says sometimes that can pay off in a way. It’s much harder the other way around, but it also works the other way around where you catch an audience off guard because they’re laughing and then you hit them with horror. So I think both bizarrely can help each other.

Olsen: I’m thinking about something like the episode that’s mostly on a boat, that gets very sort of slapstick-y at moments, but then there’s still something very terrifying about what’s happening there.

Rhys: Yes, we’ve hit the nail on the head. That kind of tone I found very hard. There are these borderline farcical moments of wrestling with a man who’s 400 years old and it becoming kind of very comedic physically and yet it has to remain that there’s this element of danger or threat that’s very real and palpable. And so those are the moments you try and ground in a way so that the extreme elements can also live in a real place.

Olsen: Because you mentioned a man who’s 400 years old, the mythology of the show gets more complicated as it goes along, right up until the very last episode. Were there moments where you had to sort of step aside and ask people to explain it to you?

Rhys: No, because I think the chronology is laid out beautifully throughout the series and you’re kind of led in a way where it unfolds very organically. So I was very relieved that to be the case that there’s no kind of, “Wait, where are we? What’s, who’s this?” So that I thought was kind of beautifully executed. And because of that, because of the detail in the backstory, then the story I think pays off far greater.

Olsen: The final episode really lands it so well as far as being both funny and scary and also the way that it sets up a next season, which happily is happening. The finale promises even more murder and mayhem for Season 2. I know the writers room is already hard at work. Do you have any insights on what at least you would like to see happen?

Rhys: No, I’m desperately intrigued as to what she has in mind because I wouldn’t have the first clue as to where to start Season 2. I’m very assured that the warped mind of Katie Dippold will helm us into a giddy storm.

Olsen: One thing I have to ask about “Widow’s Bay” is simply, in preparing to play this small-town mayor who’s very concerned about tourist season, did you refer at all to maybe the most famous other small-town mayor played by Murray Hamilton in “Jaws”?

Rhys: Well, I would like to say yes because “Jaws” is an enormous favorite of mine, but he’s a very different mayor, if you look at his mayor. He’s very assured. He gets a little frustrated with Brody, but he’s not that kind of cortisol-burning, wild-eyed panic that Tom Loftis is. He is far more assured of what he should be doing for the municipality than Tom is. I even said at one point, I said, “Can we get away with the jacket, you know, the anchor jacket?” And they were like, no, because that would be too obvious.

Olsen: I like that you had the impulse.

Rhys: A lot of my performances have some reference to “Jaws,” regardless of the piece, because I’m usually Quint. So I was very upset in the boat scene you referenced when obviously myself, Stephen Root and Hamish Linklater sat around and said, OK, Stephen Root, you are obviously Quint, what does that make Hamish and myself? Who’s [Richard] Dreyfuss and who’s Roy Scheider in this? And Hamish went, “Well, I’m Dreyfuss.” I was like, “I am not Brody.” They’re like, “You’re wearing the life jacket. Of course you’re Brody!” This is the kind of thing actors talk about.

Olsen: But you weren’t happy with that?

Rhys: I’ve always wanted to be Quint. I love Brody, but my heart lies with Quint

Olsen: Now, I came to realize that “Brothers and Sisters,” it goes back 20 years now that you were on that show. And I’m just so curious, working steadily in TV for 20 years now, how has the job of being an actor on TV changed in that time?

Rhys: I don’t think it’s changed, per se. From a personal point of view, it’s been incredible to play the wide variety that I’ve been allowed to. I think the scope of television has changed wildly in 20 years and the length and breadth of the variety there is kind of remarkable at times. And sometimes you wonder if it’s sustainable. If anything, it’s offered more opportunities, I think, for actors, but the kind of core fundamentals I think are still the same.

Olsen: Do you yourself watch a lot of TV?

Rhys: Yes, yes. I never watch myself, but yes. I tend to lean towards more documentaries than anything else. Fiction, I’m always like, “Oh, that’s the day job.”

Olsen: Because I know you’ve talked a lot about your interest in boats, and is there a lot of boats-and-restoration content out there?

Rhys: What, fiction or documentary-wise?

Olsen: I wonder what your algorithm is like.

Rhys: I don’t do much with Instagram but my algorithm is generally older men showing you how to kind of spile a garboard plank next to a keel, things like that.

Olsen: And are there a lot of documentaries about boats and restoration?

Rhys: There’s a lot on YouTube, none of which really hold your attention. What I think is like, where is the kind of “Chef’s Table” of boat restoration? That’s what I’m waiting for.

Olsen: I think you maybe have to be the one to make that show.

Rhys: I might have to, but I worry about the breadth of audience we’d have there. Or how to make boat restoration interesting to the masses. Therein lies the challenge.

Olsen: Well, they say niche markets sometimes …

Rhys: You can capture a zeitgeist moment.

Olsen: With your work on television, you have a really strong track record between “Brothers and Sisters,” “The Americans,” “Perry Mason,” now with “Widow’s Bay,” and also with “The Beast in Me.” For you, what goes into choosing a role?

Rhys: This is the real luxury of having a degree of choice. It’s not always choice, but more often than not, a project comes along that I’ll read and there’ll be a number of things. I’ll be like, “Ooh, I’ve never done it.” Like “Widow’s Bay,” I read it and I went, “The scripts are fantastic and I have never done anything like this in my life.” “Beast in Me,” the same, the writing’s so strong, but also that role is something I’d never done before. And the same, obviously, for “The Americans” and “Brothers and Sisters.” So if there’s an opportunity to try something very new, to me, it’s the ultimate luxury. And so that’s been a real driving force. And strong stories, the want of knowing how it ends, just simple storytelling.

Olsen: Do you find that your instincts have changed over the years? Are you looking for the same things that you feel like you were when you were starting in television 20 years ago?

Rhys: No, not necessarily. I always wanted, if I was fortunate enough, to do something that would challenge me, that would push me, that I hadn’t done, that’d scare me, that’d make me nervous every day on set, which a lot of these projects have done. I thought that would be all that I’d want.

Olsen: Because your character in “The Beast in Me,” again, I have to come back to this idea that you think these two roles are kind of similar, because your character on “The Beast in Me” seems so self-assured, like he has a confidence that Loftis does not have.

Rhys: Yes, that is very true and it was the observation of the wealthy that kind of led me there and especially uber-wealth, where there’s a real assurance of not having to try almost because there’s no need and this innate feeling that you will absolutely get your own way and people will bend to your will purely because of wealth.

Olsen: And now playing that role, getting a little taste of that, like, is that a nice place?

Rhys: What, self-assured?

Olsen: Is that a good position to be in, that people do what you want.

Rhys: Oh, I’m sure it’s great. I’ve never tasted it. It’s something I aspire to by the hour. And being riddled with all the cliched insecurities that every other actor, when you’re playing it, you go, “God, this feels great. To not even have to try with people must be so wonderful.” I’ve no desire to kind of glean the kind of affirmation from the person I’m talking to. Almost quite the opposite.

Olsen: “Widow’s Bay” has such a big ensemble, and then in “The Beast in Me,” really most of your scenes are just you and Claire Danes in this series of escalating conversations. Did you like that distinction? For “The Beast in Me,” did you like the pared-back intimacy of those scenes that the two of you have?

Rhys: Absolutely. I think that was the big draw of the piece, these two people who are kind of, they’re like two magnets in a way, they’re so drawn, they are so repulsed, they’re kind of images of each other’s shadow self, they see so much of each other while [being] polarizingly different. That to me was part of the great draw of that piece, with these two people and how they connected or seemingly didn’t.

Olsen: I don’t think you’ve worked with Claire Danes before?

Rhys: Prior to that, no.

Olsen: Because just in a practical sense, what is it like for two actors when you have so many of your scenes together? Like you sort of have to feel out not only how the characters are, but also how you as performers, as work colleagues, get through the day. What is that process like?

Rhys: I mean, look, with Claire, having known and watched her body of work, [I knew] she’s like a powerhouse and kind of brings that to set. And from day one of rehearsals, I kind of sat up and went, “Oh God, right, come on, let’s focus here,” because she has that laser that is on a switch. And when it’s switched, it’s on. And woe betide you if you haven’t prepared as well as she has. So that was very quick. The ascent of going, “Right, yes, A-game at all times, please.” Which is fantastic. It’s everything you want in a scene partner. It’s someone who kind of scares you and kind of raises your game and demands, you know, a kind of a better tennis game, although I’ve never played tennis. I’m sure it’s great.

Olsen: Do you feel like you’re that kind of actor too?

Rhys: No. I’m the one making fart jokes and then kind of going, “Will you concentrate?” I don’t think I have that kind of prowess, that kind of switch [that] is so alarmingly kind of night and day. I creak into it.

Olsen: Because there’s an intensity to your performance here. I mean, it goes big at times, there’s the “Psycho Killer” dance —

Rhys: The Achilles’ heel. I begged them to remove that scene because anywhere I see the scene direction “He dances” or “[Character] dances,” I can taste the vomit in my own mouth.

Olsen: And now did you choreograph that ahead of time?

Rhys: Nope, I just went for it. In fact a very charming woman came up to me on the street and she goes, “I love ‘The Beast in Me’ and I loved how camp your dancing was.” And I went, “Oh, it wasn’t meant to be necessarily camp.” Well, clearly it was to her. And also playing drunk, drunk and dancing, I was like, “Oh, some vicious planets are aligning.”

Olsen: And do you have a trick to drunk acting?

Rhys: Yes, I get drunk. It’s a very simple trick that most actors overlook. You just drink and then you’re drunk. The only time I venture into Method acting.

Olsen: But then about how many takes do you have in you?

Rhys: Two. No, no, I didn’t get drunk. I got tipsy. No, no it’s very different. It’s hard, it’s hard. That’s always a hard one because also we shot that over the entire day. So it started at like 8 a.m.And to be perfectly honest, sometimes you’ll do a take and it’s like, the drunk acting is too apparent. Let’s bring it back. Claire Danes nailed drunk acting from take one. And I was like, god— it! I mean, she’s done it again.

Olsen: And then also the chicken scene, how many chickens did you have to eat?

Rhys: I come into my own. Eating on screen is not and never has been a problem for me. I will take down any amount of food and I will not ask for a spit bucket. They were like, “Oh, we have a spit bucket.” I think, “No, I’m not spitting up perfectly good chicken” — and it was really good chicken. I think I went through about three chickens. What I loved about that scene, and this is what I love about all good writing, is when a brief element, usually it’s wordless, can say so much about a character or what the character is trying to do to the person in the room through a very simple action. So I loved that from what it did in that moment. He’s doing it overtly to try and intimidate her. It’s something which says so much about him and the way he does it, I thought it was an incredibly beautiful and shrewd piece of writing.

Olsen: Over the course of the series, how did you modulate how crazy to seem?

Rhys: Because it’s kind of present from the get-go. And that was a heavy reliance on the directors. We had some incredible directors on that. Antonio Campos, who kind of began and ended us, we had a little bit of a dial, and he was like, “Bring it back a bit” or “I think it needs a little more.” He was very good at truly kind of conducting in that moment. And we had the luxury of being able to do a few takes where he’s like, “Bring it up a bit” or, “OK, that’s good, let’s take it down a bit.”

Olsen: Were you happy with how that ended up?

Rhys: I don’t watch it. I haven’t watched myself in about 10 years. I get stuck on the wrong things. I become too concerned about the way I use my hands or how strange my walk is or the weird kind of idiosyncrasy of my mouth. So then when I’m doing it next, I’m like, “I am not going to do anything with my hands and I’m going to change my walk.” And then the director is like, “What is wrong with your walk and why are you sitting on your hands?” So I tend not to watch myself.

Olsen: You said 10 years ago. Did something really make you be like, “I’m not doing that anymore?”

Rhys: In fairness, it was more than 10 years ago. It was “Brothers and Sisters.” I started watching that and I was like, “Oh my God. Why has no one said anything? Look at my posture.” And then you become obsessed with sitting with better posture. And then everyone’s like, “Why are you sitting weirdly?” I was never clever enough to take from it a kind of positive critical foundation. I was taking the wrong things, usually physically attributed, that would get in my head when I was acting. And then that’s all I could think about while I was doing it, and I was on a road to ruin.

Olsen: So often you’re doing an American accent or a voice that is not your own and I know for myself I feel like I wouldn’t be able to think about anything but that, that’s all I would be able think about while I was performing.

Rhys: The accent is strange because I think in one way such an enormous part of my head is always working on the next sound to come out of my mouth. I think it stops you in a way from kind of acting, if that makes sense. It takes the self-conscious element out of you because you’re so busy working on something else. My acting teacher from drama school would always say, “Give yourself something to do to stop yourself acting.” It’s like you’re spending so much time thinking about the way you sound, it can relax you in a different way because you’re not thinking about acting.

Olsen: And then is it also a big challenge for you to try to make different American accents? How hard is it for you to do those different American sounds?

Rhys: It depends on the accent. I mean, sometimes the more extreme sounds are easier to hook into, like, you know, the Southern states or Boston or New York. Then you get, you know, California’s kind of softer, so it’s harder. It doesn’t have that extreme hook to find. And then there are just simply words in the American dialect that can take me down, like “murderer” or “world,” sometimes “girl” is tricky. But “murderer.” Which is unfortunate, because I played lawyers, spies who kill people. I’ve had to say it a lot. So I always go, “Can I say ‘killer’?” I just sound like I run out of battery.

Olsen: Do you find that living in America, has it helped you?

Rhys: Oh, without question, because going into a job, a couple of weeks before, I’ll be doing it — not at home, because it drives the kids crazy. They’re like, “He sounds so fake.” And then they’re like “Oh, here he is, he’s doing that again.” I’m like, “I’m not Dick Van Dyke, so I don’t know who you’re impersonating.” So yeah, you can go into the bodega and pretend to be American.

Olsen: On the day that Emmy nominations were announced, you did an interview with my colleague, Yvonne Villarreal, and you told her that you were meeting your partner, Keri Russell, also an Emmy nominee, at a mystery location. Would you mind completing that story? Where did you go?

Rhys: We went to the U.N. No, we didn’t, but I wish I could say that. We went to the Armory in New York with, oh God, I can’t remember the name of the exhibition. It was an incredible exhibition where three enormous tanks of water were filled with water and ceramic bowls and a current was introduced and then these ceramic bowls would clank into each other to make different noises in this incredible space. It was wondrous. Now, if the artist, for some unknown reason, watches this and goes, “I can’t believe he didn’t remember my name or the name of the exhibition,” I apologize profusely. But it was incredible.

Olsen: That sounds like a great way to spend the day.

Rhys: Yeah, it was. It was fantastic. And then we had a great dinner and celebrated and said, you know, “This is the high point, it’s downhill from here on out.”

Olsen: Well, the two of you were recently referred to as television’s first couple.

Rhys: I said that.

Olsen: And I’m wondering, I can only imagine you don’t walk around thinking of yourself —

Rhys: Oh, no, I do. I have a badge and a T-shirt, but no one believes me.

Olsen: But what does that make you think of when you hear yourselves referred to in that way?

Rhys: It kind of makes me laugh. You go, “Oh, God.” And also — and I hate to sound like I’m some bitter old fool, but I am — we’ve done it a long time. We’re of a certain age. You kind of know tomorrow there’s another first couple. So you go, “We’re today’s first couple, and it’s great. And we’ll take it and we’ll enjoy it.”

Olsen: Do you find, especially in the way that your personal and professional lives are intertwined, is it good that you have each other to keep yourselves in check?

Rhys: Yes, it also helps that you have a partner that fully understands what you do, because it’s a mad circus life and sometimes, you know, it’s hard, I think, for partners who don’t quite understand how crazy it is. So it is great in that respect that you fully understand what the other one is doing.

Olsen: And is that also part of where your interest in boats comes from? Is it something that’s totally separate?

Rhys: So she could kick me out of the house is why she bought me the boat.

Olsen: There’s something just totally separate from your work life.

Rhys: Absolutely, absolutely. And it’s something so other. … Opinions can vary so wildly, you know, critics can contradict each other in certain criticisms. The kind of more simple aspect, especially when I was restoring the boat, was that it felt a lot purer and simpler. That you can, at the end of the day, you look back at this piece of wood you’d be working on and go, “There we are, I did that.” And there’s no one saying, “Well, you could have done it this way.” You know what I mean? I always enjoyed the satisfaction it gave me in that sense.

Olsen: Wait, how many boats do you have?

Rhys: I only have one. She’s for sale, if anyone’s interested.

Olsen: Do you want to now find another boat to do this all over again?

Rhys: I don’t, because my wrists have given up. It was much harder than I thought it was going to be. It was an incredible journey, and it was kind of inspired by Hemingway, in a way, it was the same class of boat that he had. So I had all these giddy, kind of rose-tinted romantic notions of what I was doing until I was knee-deep in fiberglass, going, “Why did I think this was a good idea?”

The Emmys’ writing and directing categories sometimes offer a window into the eventual winners, as when “The Studio” swept through the ceremony last year. Other times, voters decide to go their own way. “Slow Horses” has never won the drama series Emmy, but it has won awards for writing and directing the past two years. Noodles for everyone!

The episode submissions this year are a little baffling, often not reflecting the series’ best work. But what do I know? Maybe those “Pitt” submissions primed the waterworks. Perhaps it’s politics.

What I do know are my own personal preferences. So here are my rankings of the writing and directing nominees for drama, comedy and limited series, ordered from least to best.

Comedy series directing

6. “The Ms. Pat Show,” “Give It Arrest”
Directed by Mary Lou Belli

If you haven’t watched Patricia “Ms. Pat” Williams’ unfiltered show, it’s been on BET+ for five seasons and this is Belli’s third nomination for directing. The fan base is nothing if not loyal.

5. “The Chair Company,” “Life Goes By Too F— Fast, It Really Does”
Directed by Andrew DeYoung

Cathartic cringe comedy for people who thought “Severance” was too lighthearted.

4. “Abbott Elementary,” “Ballgame”
Directed by Randall Einhorn

No small feat to shoot during a live baseball game, and the episode is so good (Kyle Schwarber blasts four home runs!) that, even as a Dodgers fan, I can’t say boo about the Philly-ness of it.

3. “Widow’s Bay,” “Welcome to Widow’s Bay!”
Directed by Hiro Murai

As the episode title suggests, it’s the table-setter. There were better episodes, but the last three aired past the eligibility deadline, so this will do.

2. “The Bear,” “Bears”
Directed by Christopher Storer

Tiff and Frank’s wedding, proof that Season 4 of “The Bear” had more than its share of high points. Another showcase for Ebon Moss-Bachrach’s acting and contains a powerful scene between Carmy (Jeremy Allen White) and Uncle Lee (Bob Odenkirk) that sets the stage for the show’s final season.

1. “Hacks,” “Hacks (Finale)”
Directed by Lucia Aniello

Who doesn’t like a fairy-tale ending?

Drama series directing

6. “The Gilded Age,” “My Mind Is Made Up”
Directed by Salli Richardson–Whitfield

Soapy, opulently costumed piffle with a beating heart.

5. “Paradise,” “Exodus”
Directed by Hanelle M. Culpepper

In which the show either jumps the shark or executes an intriguing reset.

4. “The Pitt,” “12 P.M.”
Directed by Noah Wyle

RIP Louie.

3. “Task,” “Out Beyond Ideas of Wrongdoing and Rightdoing, There Is a River”
Directed by Salli Richardson–Whitfield

Shootouts don’t come more chaotic — or devastating — than the 20-minute melee that opens this hour.

2. “Slow Horses,” “Scars”
Directed by Saul Metzstein

Could repeat the Emmy in this category just for that last shot of Lamb’s feet.

1. “Pluribus,” “We Is Us”
Directed by Vince Gilligan

The strange, unsettling series premiere was the best hour of television this year.

Limited series directing

4. “Black Rabbit,” “The Black Rabbits”
Directed by Jason Bateman

Do you even remember what happened in this series?

3. “Beef,” “It Will Stay This Way and You Will Obey”
Directed by Jake Schreier

Is it OK to become our parents if it’s the only way to pay the mortgage?

2. “Beef,” “Oh, the Comfort, the Inexpressible Comfort”
Directed by Lee Sung Jin

Basically “The Pitt,” but with an ethical dilemma involving Gatorade.

1. “DTF St. Louis”
Directed by Steven Conrad

Immaculately composed wide shots and an imaginative use of shallow depth of field are used to highlight the suburban weirdness hiding in plain sight.

Comedy series writing

6. “Jury Duty Presents Company Retreat,” “Mergers and Acquisitions”
Written by Anthony King

In which Anthony (Norman, not King, the episode’s writer) becomes the hero of the television season.

5. “The Chair Company,” “Life Goes By Too F— Fast, It Really Does”
Written by Tim Robinson and Zach Kanin

Season premiere goes straight into goblin mode.

4. “Abbott Elementary,” “Team Building”
Written by Quinta Brunson

The only instance where the words “team building” don’t make me shudder.

3. “Hacks,” “Hacks (Finale)”
Written by Lucia Aniello, Paul W. Downs and Jen Statsky

Too melodramatic with the whole Deborah death scare? Have you been watching “Hacks” for the last five seasons?

2. “Widow’s Bay,” “Welcome to Widow’s Bay!”
Written by Katie Dippold

A fine introduction to the cursed New England island as well as the show’s juxtaposition of comedy and horror.

1. “The Comeback,” “Valerie Does It All”
Written by Michael Patrick King and Lisa Kudrow

Can we laugh about AI being the death of us? For one brilliant episode, yes!

Drama series writing

6. “The Diplomat,” “Amagansett”
Written by Peter Ackerman and Debora Cahn

Come for the “West Wing” vibes, stay for the blindside reveal.

5. “The Pitt,” 12 P.M.”
Written by Valerie Chu

You can’t fault a show that hauls in 25 nominations, including two for writing. These are solid episodes, but they pale in comparison with the last four of the season, which offered an intense, emotionally charged run that culminated hours of careful, patient storytelling.

4. “Task,” “A Still Small Voice”
Written by Brad Ingelsby

Forgiveness brings relief.

3. “The Pitt,” “1 P.M.”
Written by Kirsten Pierre-Geyfman and R. Scott Gemmill

See earlier comment about “12 P.M.”

2. “Slow Horses,” “Scars”
Written by Will Smith

The best moment didn’t come from the book.

1. “Pluribus,” “We Is Us”
Written by Vince Gilligan

“Hello, Carol.”

Limited series writing

5. “All Her Fault,” “Episode 8”
Written by Megan Gallagher

If you like deaths in a series finale, this is the show for you!

4. “The Beast in Me,” “Sick Puppy”
Story by Gabe Rotter; teleplay by Gabe Rotter and Daniel Pearle

I was worried for the schnoodle more than any of the characters in the series.

3. “Beef,” “All the Things We’re Never Going to Have”
Written by Lee Sung Jin

Like healthcare, a home, peace of mind, bees that live when you try to save them …

2. “Death by Lightning,”
Written by Mike Makowsky

We could really use a James Garfield right about now.

1. “DTF St. Louis,”
Written by Steven Conrad

“No one’s normal. It just looks that way from across the street.”

Grammy-winning singer Jill Scott brought her “To Whom This May Concern” album — her first in more than a decade — to life at Inglewood’s YouTube Theater last week. Backed by a razor-sharp 11-piece all-male band (including background singers fittingly dubbed “Freeman”), Scott moved effortlessly through a two-hour set filled with songs from the genre-expansive album along with several fan favorites like “He Loves Me (Lyzel in E Flat)” and “Gettin’ in the Way.”

Enforcing a phone-free policy at her personal request, the North Philadelphia native kept the audience intensely locked in — hanging onto her every word and every seemingly impossible note she struck with ease. Before long, it was easy to forget that we didn’t have our devices. Smiles filled the intimate room. Couples danced together. Strangers sang to each other in joyful unison, while others closed their eyes or held their hands on their chest in complete awe of witnessing a veteran artist in her element.

Jill Scott is on tour for “To Whom This May Concern,” her first album in over a decade.

(Jada Imani M)

In her only interview during the tour thus far, we caught up with Scott backstage to talk why she never performs a song the same way twice, how removing devices makes concerts better and why she thinks “To Whom This May Concern” deserves several accolades.

I’m still coming down from all of the energy from the show. How are you feeling post-show?

I am hot from the inside, and it’s gonna take me hours to calm down. [Laughs]

You’ve always described music as an intimate, two-way conversation between you and the audience. For this tour, you created a strictly phone-free space. Why did you decide to do that and how did this shift the experience for you as a performer?

In a couple of ways. One part is that it’s terrifying because there’s no buffer between me and them, so that’s actually scary, but I embrace it. The other part of it is that it’s wonderful because people initially come in kind of nervous about not having a buffer between myself and the space or themselves and space. Then I watch them gradually release, and I get a kick out of that every night. That’s my favorite part.

I’m surprised to hear that it’s scary for someone like you who’s been performing at such a high level for so many years.

Because I care. It matters to me. I really want them to have a good time. I really want them to release some things, allow themselves to be. If you want to make out, if you want to dance, if you want to cry, if you want to shout, or put up your hands in the air, or sit still, I want them to be able to do that. I think it’s important. That’s the relationship. That’s the real relationship between artist and fans of the music. It’s the connection between the music. I’m here to [be of] service. I’m here to push the ship along, but it’s really their relationship with the music and I’m a conduit. That part is probably one of my other favorites. You have to relinquish your id and allow the thing to be the thing. I think sometimes you can practice the joy and the life out of a thing. We practice a lot, but then we forget everything we practice so that it’s alive. My musicians’ freedom is mandatory. It’s a part of the job. So if they show up and play the exact same thing in the exact same way every night, they’re probably not going to be around very long. I need them to be wide open and to rediscover the music every night from their perspective. It’s their 11 perspectives on stage, and then of course there’s the lighting designer. I need him to be free. Don’t give me the same light at the same time every night. Even front-of-the-house sound engineer as well as our in-ear monitors, everybody is playing a part. “What does she need? Let’s read her. Let’s, you know, pay attention. What does she want?” It’s a lot of fun.

You could see really feel that from you and your entire band.

Tonight was a different audience. They were very attentive. Last night they danced all night long from the very beginning. I couldn’t even see the floor. Tonight they were listening. I know it’s a Wednesday night. Everybody’s got to go to work [the next morning], but they were beautiful. The listening audience is probably my favorite. They get quiet and I’m like “Oh, it’s so scary. Am I doing the right thing?” [Laughs] But that means they’re listening. Who doesn’t want to be heard?

Your son came out with you tonight. How was that experience for you?

It’s beautiful to see. He told me Tierra Whack is not traveling with us because she has a new album out, “Whack’s Museum,” so she’s a little busy. He was like, “Mom, how do you feel about me doing the second verse?” and I was like “Be at sound check tomorrow with a mic in your hand.”

He looked so comfortable on stage.

He does. It’s kind of scary. Super exciting. I don’t know what he’ll want to do, but he’s working our set, so he’s a part of the crew. So after he does his performance, he puts back on his blacks and he does his job, and I love that for him, to have that sense of responsibility. He’s exceeding anybody’s and everybody’s expectations. He’s so good at this. All the clothes you see, he steamed up.

He’s really working his way up.

Yes, you must earn your way.

Your album “To Whom This May Concern” released in February, and it feels like a love letter from your favorite auntie. There’s lessons about learning from your mistakes, honoring your ancestors and loving yourself. Now that your fans have been living with these songs for several months, I’m curious if performing them live has shifted your relationship with them at all?

No. On a great night, I like telling the stories that I’ve read. I like embodying them in front of other people. I like watching them experience them in a new way. I’m a fan of that. It just makes it more and more true. Then I see how many people are singing along and how many people are looking at me, and I’m like “Yesss.” It’s reaching the people and I know it’s going to be different because there’s a different audience every night. So I’m thrilled about the project and how it’s touching people. You hope you don’t work this hard at a thing for it to fall on deaf ears, and I know how microwavable music has been, but I believe the cream rises to the top. It’s been a beautiful 26 years. I look forward to 26 more — in my way.

Your album has been receiving a lot of praise from fans and critics. There’s still a few months before the Grammy nominations are announced, but at this point in your career, how important is that recognition to you? Is it as important as it was when you first started your career?

I think I deserve it. That’s all. [Flashes a smile]

I mean everything about this project from beginning to end is blood, sweat and tears. I stayed up many nights just to write, a hunger in my belly and a savage appetite. And I mean it. Everything is true and I love that for me. That’s the kind of thing that takes time and I think musically, it’s incredible. I think the stories are awesome and intentional, and everything about it, from the planning of it to the marketing, has been from my soul, and I think it deserves several.

I spent my 10-year-old niece’s last week of summer freedom with her, jumping into and swimming in our family’s lake and overall being feral in nature.

She told me after our trip that she was dreading her return to school, communicating her Gen Alpha feelings via a simple broken heart emoji. It felt too soon for me too.

That energy is what inspired this week’s edition of The Wild, our weekly outdoors newsletter. Below I outline three great hikes around Los Angeles that are kid-friendly and great options to decompress after your family’s first week back to school (including if you’re a kid-free household with a tired educator). I hope you find these trails as rejuvenating as I did!

Before we dive in, a few quick reminders:

• You will not have cellphone reception for at least two of these hikes. Download trail maps ahead of time on your hiking navigation app, and also download an offline map of your driving route on your phone’s GPS navigation app.
• Pack extra water, especially if traveling to the San Gabriel Mountains, as mountain weather can be hard to predict, and it can be hotter than you anticipate.
• Take your time on twisting mountain roads; use paved vehicle turnouts to let faster traffic pass you, and watch out for cyclists; turn on your headlights when entering Angeles National Forest, regardless of the time of day.
• Let someone know where you’re going, including what time you’ll be back. Place a completed version of this form (or something like it) on your vehicle’s dashboard — just in case!
• And practice Leave No Trace principles, including not feeding any wildlife, picking up after yourself (including toilet paper) and not playing any loud music, as it bothers grumpy hikers like me and also the wildlife (the latter being more important than the former).

OK, now that you’re prepared to be safe and good to nature, let’s talk about those hikes!

The view of the L.A. area and our local mountains from Bee Rock in Griffith Park.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

1. Old Zoo — Bee Rock Loop (Griffith Park Explorer Segment 7)

Distance: 5 miles
Elevation gained: 930 feet
Difficulty: Moderate
Dogs allowed: Yes
Nearest to: Atwater Village
Accessible alternative: Rio de Los Angeles Park loop

The Old Zoo — Bee Rock Loop is a 5-mile hike that takes you up to Bee Rock, an epic lookout point in Griffith Park. The route is part of Friends of Griffith Park’s Griffith Park Explorer, which organizes official trails into 15 hikeable segments (rather than you getting lost or ending your hike far from where you parked — not that I’ve ever experienced that).

I have passed Bee Rock at least a dozen times and each time told my hiking companion, “I really need to hike up there sometime!” I finally did last week, and I am already itching to return.

After leaving, I wanted to know how this local monolith got its name. I went to The Times’ archives, where I couldn’t find a precise answer.

Bee Rock as seen from the Bill Eckert Trail in Griffith Park.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

“Bee Rock acquired its name from the millions of bees which store their honey in its tiny caves which honeycomb it,” a March 1940 Times story read. Seems reasonable.

Retired ranger Bill Eckert told hikers per a 1985 story that Bee Rock got its name “because bees were attracted to the sweets at the old zoo’s refreshment stands and made their homes in the rock’s crevices.”

Eckert has a trail named after him, so I did feel inclined to believe his story.

As I searched for a clear answer, I felt better when I discovered that even experts like Gerry Hans, president of nonprofit Friends of Griffith Park, aren’t sure.

“There are theories and legends,” Hans wrote in a blog post in 2022. “The first is that the outcrop simply looks like a beehive. Another tale describes maintenance workers at the Old Zoo dumping spoiled soda syrup off the cliff, which lured swarms of bees. A third theory suggests that bees naturally take up residence in the holes and pocks on the cliff side overlooking Spring Canyon.”

Hans wrote that he had seen bees in the rock’s small caverns, but to do so, you must have good binoculars.

Armed with those facts and maybe some binocs, you can head out on the trail.

To begin your hike, you’ll park at Merry Go Round Lot One and head to the Lower Beacon Trail just past the southeast corner of the parking lot. Take good care in selecting where to start, as there are about five different paths you could take here.

You will head west on the Lower Beacon Trail, briefly walk southwest along the Fern Canyon Trail before taking the Upper Zoo Trail for much of the way. You’ll reach the Bee Rock Trail at 1 mile into your hike.

Views from the Bee Rock Trail around golden hour in Griffith Park.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

You will follow the Bee Rock trail northwest for a short jag before you come to what might feel like a dead end.

The Bee Rock Trail narrows and heads south. You will take a few switchbacks up, wondering how you suddenly became surrounded in tree canopy. Hopefully the sky is helicopter-free and you can hear the local chatter of acorn woodpeckers and California scrub jays.

You’ll arrive at a chain-link fence where you can take a narrow dirt path to the rocky outcropping atop Bee Rock. If hiking with children, it’d be good for the adults to go first, as there are a few spots where the fence has been cut, and the allure of venturing farther than one should out onto boulders is high.

The view is stunning, and on a Thursday evening, I had it all to myself as the sun lowered near the horizon. It was a clear day, and I could see a large swath of Glendale and nearby Mt. Thom and Tongva Peak in the Verdugos and farther away Josephine Peak, Strawberry Peak and several other summits in the San Gabriel Mountains.

From here, you can turn around and head back to your car, especially if the smaller hikers among you are tired, or continue onward to complete the loop. The rest of the trail is not challenging, as you’re either walking on a flat trail or headed downhill. And it’s generally not crowded. If you’re hiking with a teenager, the rest of the trail offers a quiet few miles to talk together about the school day.

One of the pools along Soldier Creek.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

2. Lewis Falls

Distance: About a mile out and back
Elevation gained: About 300 feet
Difficulty: Easy, but requires proper footwear
Dogs allowed: Yes
Nearest to: North of Azusa
Accessible alternative: West Fork National Scenic Bikeway

The 1-mile out-and-back trek to Lewis Falls offers hikers a gorgeous journey along Soldier Creek, lined with California bay laurels, oak trees and hulking old conifers. The trail runs mostly parallel to the creek until you reach its end, where you must cross the creek, rocks and logs to reach Lewis Falls.

You will start by finding parking, its own adventure, as there is no lot. Rather, you will need to find a spot along Highway 39 near the trailhead. I didn’t have any trouble on a weekday, but on a weekend, it might be more challenging. That is essentially the only real downside of this trail.

A large old conifer provides shade along Soldier Creek.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

You will hike slightly northeast for about half a mile before reaching the falls. Along the way, you’ll have ample opportunity to take a dip in Soldier Creek, as multiple pools remain, even this late in our summer.

If you find yourself saying, “Wow, this trail is really steep,” you are likely on the wrong path. You will spot multiple spur trails, likely created by either an impatient human or dexterous deer. You can identify them mostly by looking them over and realizing they offer a quicker, more dangerous option than the trail before you.

Soldier Creek features several shorter waterfalls as well as nearby Lewis Falls.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

Although it is generally called Lewis Falls by hikers, the cascade historically had a different name.

“Longtime San Gabriel Mountains visitors and old maps refer to Soldier Creek Falls as ‘Lewis Falls,’ in honor of forest ranger Anselmo Lewis, who once patrolled these parts,” former Times outdoors writer John McKinney wrote in a 1998 article.

Although this trail is short, it does require a bit of technical expertise but nothing too tricky. You will find yourself navigating boulders and, at one point, using a root to step down onto the rest of the trail. It requires just a little patience and looking ahead of yourself to determine the safest route.

I was greeted by small blue dragonflies as I hiked along the creek. Instead of racing back to my car, I lay down on a log and listened to the sounds of rushing water and chirping birds. Soldier Creek provides any hiker willing to slow down with an opportunity to reset, regardless of whether you have homework waiting for you at home.

And if you aren’t ready to go home, consider heading five miles north on Highway 39 to the Crystal Lake Recreation Area, where further adventure — and a snack at the Crystal Lake Cafe — awaits.

Once you reach Mt. Hillyer, you’ll be greeted by large rocks that are fun to scramble along.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

3. Mt. Hillyer via Silver Moccasin Trail

Distance: 5.8-mile lollipop loop
Elevation gained: About 1,100 feet
Difficulty: Moderate
Dogs allowed: Yes
Nearest to: About 45 minutes northeast of La Cañada Flintridge
Accessible alternative: Paved paths through Chilao Campground

This 6-mile jaunt along the Silver Moccasin Trail, which is just over 50 miles when fully open, takes you through high desert and pine trees.

Shaped like a lollipop, the trailhead sits about half a mile northwest of the Chilao Visitor Center, which is typically open on the weekend. You will head north for a mile before turning left (or west) off the Silver Moccasin Trail.

You will follow Horse Flats Road to the Rosenita Saddle trailhead, where you’ll take the trail southwest to Mt. Hillyer.

Views of the San Gabriel Mountains from the trail to Mt. Hillyer.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

Keep an eye out for Jeffrey pines, which will have deeply furrowed bark and round prickly cones. Their bark smells like butterscotch or vanilla, which I always love pausing to sniff.

The trail also features Coulter pines that produce massive cones nicknamed widowmakers because of their size. The Coulter pine cones can weigh up to 11 pounds. If you’re in the area when it’s windy, please watch your head.

To reach Mt. Hillyer, you’ll follow a short spur trail about half a mile southwest from the Rosenita Saddle trailhead. Mt. Hillyer features several large boulders, perfect for kids to scramble and play on. It’ll also offer you sweeping views of the San Gabriel Mountains.

A hiker takes the path to Mt. Hillyer in the winter in Angeles National Forest.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

You can make the trail a loop by continuing south until it jags back east, meeting back up with the paved road you previously took.

And for the ultimate weekend adventure, grab a first-come, first-served campsite at Chilao Campground, and then you can hike and check out the Chilao Visitor Center, which is open from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. on Saturday and Sunday through November. As a bonus, there’s a short, flat nature trail at the east end of the nature center parking lot where you can typically find massive Coulter pine cones to inspect. A seasonal creek flows through this area too.

Regardless of which option you choose, I hope you make great memories in our local public lands.

3 things to do

The Milky Way is seen in the western night sky near Mt. Pinos in the Los Padres National Forest.

(Raul Roa / Los Angeles Times)

1. Ponder astrophysics in Pasadena
Caltech will host a stargazing lecture from 8 to 10 p.m. Friday at the Cahill Center for Astronomy and Astrophysics (1216 E. California Blvd. in Pasadena). Philosophy professor Charles “Chip” T. Sebens will lecture about basic questions that remain regarding atoms. A Q&A and then guided stargazing will follow. The event is free, and no registration is required. Learn more at events.caltech.edu.

2. Improve insect habitat near Altadena
The Invertebrate Club of Southern California needs volunteers from 8 to 11:30 a.m. Saturday at Eaton Canyon. Participants will yank invasive plants to help restore the canyon. Volunteers must be 14 years or older. Registration is required. Sign up at signupgenius.com.

3. Peek at sandpipers in Pacoima
The San Fernando Valley Audubon Society will host a bird walk from 8 to 10 a.m. Saturday. Guests will meet at the ranger station (10965 Dronfield Ave. in Pacoima) before heading out on a 1- to 3-mile walk through riparian areas, grassy lawns and unique rock formations. Birders can expect to see 30 to 50 species. Learn more at the group’s Instagram page.

The must-read

Johnson’s Beach, along the Russian River, is one of the most popular spots along the lower Russian River.

(Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)

The lower Russian River and the small communities along the watercourse in Sonoma County offer visitors every kind of adventure, whether you want to stay in a tent and simply float or you want a high-end outdoors experience. That’s what I gleaned from reading Times staff writer Christopher Reynolds’ article about how to get the most out of a visit to the Northern California sylvan paradise. “On summer weekends, thousands show up in Guerneville with kayaks, canoes, inner tubes — just about anything that will float, preferably with a cooler attached,” Reynolds writes. “Then they spend hours gliding downstream past scenery that might as well be a Northern California highlight reel: vineyards, redwood forests and eventually a beach scene full of driftwood and sea stacks.”

After finishing the piece, I immediately searched online for how far away L.A. is from Guerneville. It’s a long drive, but my colleague makes it sure feel worth it.

Happy adventuring,

P.S.

Everyone should feel safe to recreate and work in outdoor spaces. To better ensure Deaf and Hard of Hearing folks feel supported wherever you recreate or volunteer, consider taking CorpsTHAT‘s upcoming “ASL for the Outdoors” virtual classes. Classes run from September to November and range from beginner to advanced. The fee is $250 per student. You can learn more, including how to register, at the organization’s website.

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.

Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass’ terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad reelection campaign just got worse after Wednesday night’s debate in Sherman Oaks.

Bass came in as the clear favorite after toying with City Councilmember Nithya Raman the two times they faced off on the debate stage during the primary, as easily as the Dodgers sweeping the Angels.

Her Honor just needed to do more of the same: hail her own accomplishments, deliver well-timed zingers and keep as cool as a cucumber while baiting Raman into self-immolation.

Bass did none of that, while Raman stepped up the way she needed to.

This time, the challenger offered concrete answers instead of word salads. She mostly stuck to the allotted time limits while Bass repeatedly whined that she wasn’t given enough time. Raman effortlessly turned the mayor’s rhetorical traps around like Bugs Bunny twisting Elmer Fudd’s rifle right in his face.

Take the moment when Bass pointed out that Raman had missed the second-most votes among councilmembers during her six years in office. Raman responded that she missed many meetings while representing the city on the South Coast Air Quality Management District and other governmental boards. Bass’ clap-back — that Raman’s colleagues also had other official responsibilities yet “they find their way to work” — drew “ooohs” from the audience at the debate, put on by the Sherman Oaks Homeowners Assn.

If this were still the primary, Raman would have flustered her way to a non-answer. This time, she calmly said that she must not be such a bad councilmember, since Bass had appointed her to those boards.

“Well, we really need to look at that,” Bass stammered before asking Raman if she was “getting ready to resign” from them.

“I’m sorry?” Raman asked off mic as Bass challenged her to step down from all her boards. “No,” Raman then said firmly before shrugging and letting the moderator move on to the next question.

The moment was par for the mayor’s night.

Again and again, Bass went after Raman in the pettiest, most personal ways. She kept mocking the MIT graduate as a clueless egghead with no idea what’s going on in the city, stating twice that Raman governed as if L.A. were “an academic institution” — a line that sounded like a MAGA talking point and that was originally trotted out by Councilmember Imelda Padilla.

Bass tried to paint Raman as a member of an ineffectual city establishment, not a newcomer, which fell flat, considering that Bass has held one elected office or another for 22 years while Raman has been in politics only since 2020.

Bass frequently resorted to her trademark nervous laughter and repeated obviously crafted lines with all the enthusiasm of someone gulping down cod oil. Her furrowed brow and exasperated looks, which she had effectively used in previous debates, made her come off as embittered, tired and unable to defend the indefensible mess that has been her first term.

At one point, the mayor even compared street taco vendors to homeless encampments, with both supposedly disrupting the fabric of a well-run city.

Somewhere, Jonathan Gold is shaking his head in disgust.

“You have lots of plans and lots of ideas but have done very little,” Bass told Raman at another point.

And what have you done, Mayor Bass?

L.A. Mayor Karen Bass speaks with a woman after the end of a mayoral debate against challenger Nithya Raman in Sherman Oaks.

(David Butow/For the Times)

I’ve really tried to like Bass. Her trajectory from South L.A. activist to nonprofit founder to Sacramento, Washington and City Hall is impressive and important. Yet when Angelenos needed her to rise and succeed as their city faced one crisis after another during these past four years, Bass stumbled and stumbled again. Her flop of a debate performance left her sounding like someone with no vision or kindness — career suicide for someone who has made her reputation on both traits.

At this point, the architects of Bass’ campaign need to burn sage to drive out bad spirits or just bow out altogether. Any time something could go wrong, it has.

Bass placed first in the primary with 34% of the vote — an abysmal number for a Democratic incumbent in a deep blue city. Her campaign’s cynical gambit to boost washed-up reality TV star Spencer Pratt into the general election, because he’d be an easier opponent than Raman, failed. The Lineage fire in Boyle Heights brought back memories of the deadly Palisades inferno, angering a voting bloc Bass desperately needs — Latinos.

Then came news this week that a poll the Bass campaign had promoted, claiming that she held a commanding lead over Raman, turned out to be fake. Bass came out looking like someone incapable of overseeing paint dry, let alone running America’s second-largest city.

And now, this debate.

The audience, which was heavily pro-Bass, eventually started applauding more and more of Raman’s responses. Bass, desperate to trip up her opponent, talked over her so much that the councilmember responded with the line of the night and possibly the race:

“You gotta let me answer, Mayor Bass. This is my time.”

Raman still faces an uphill battle. Nearly all of the city’s power structure — elected officials, labor unions, the Los Angeles Police Protective League, business owners and even the three other democratic socialist councilmembers — has endorsed Bass. The mayor has outpaced Raman in fundraising. Raman has to win over voters who supported Pratt’s conservative stances while not alienating her progressive base. She did herself no favors with the Democratic Socialist of America’s local chapter, which didn’t endorse her in the primary and will decide next week whether to endorse her in the general election, by stating that the city needs to maintain the current size of its police force.

But in Wednesday night’s debate, she offered voters a distinct choice between how she would run L.A. and how Bass has.

Councilmember Nithya Raman speaks with staff and supporters after a mayoral debate with incumbent Karen Bass in Sherman Oaks.

(David Butow/For the Times)

All the mayor could sputter in her closing remarks was that Raman “does not have the support of [any] of her colleagues” — yet another line she had repeated ad nauseum.

When it was her turn, Raman said she keeps hearing from residents “that this city feels rudderless.”

“I have news for you, Angelenos. You’re right,” she continued. “No one is in charge right now.”

Then, instead of launching another fusillade against Bass, Raman went for something few people associate with L.A. nowadays:

Hope.

“You have every right to expect more from your city,” Raman proclaimed, her voice strong and clear. She urged Angelenos to “raise our expectations” of what’s possible and strive for a city that’s “affordable, functional, safe, joyful, ambitious.”

A few months ago, that would have sounded like the delusional ramblings of someone with no chance at winning. After tonight’s debate, Raman seems like L.A.’s final, best chance.

We’d have to say the most challenging thing about us writing “The Comeback” was coming back from the dead after the show was canceled following its first season way back in 2005. Talk about a hiatus.

There are always nerves when you return to do the next season of a series, but when the hiatus lasts 10 years between Season 1 and Season 2, and then another 10 years between the second and this third, final season — that’s a whole other level of “When we last left Valerie …”

But, gratefully, when we get together to write Valerie Cherish and her world again, it’s somehow more exciting than daunting. The nerves fade and the fun starts. The fun along with — of course — the doubts, the surprises, the deadlines, the page count. The comedy and the tragedy (see page count again). We improvise dialogue so much in the writing room that our notes tend to reach into hundreds and hundreds of pages — per episode. That’s a joke … kind of. And on top of all that, this season and this script that we’ve been nominated for writing had a particular challenge.

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

Between the second and third seasons, one of our most beloved cast members, Robert Michael Morris, died. Robert played the beloved, significant, audience-favorite character Mickey, Valerie’s hairdresser. At first, we couldn’t imagine doing a season without this important person and character … but when we decided to go forward with this season’s story, which deals with the TV industry’s fear of an AI takeover, we knew we had to find a way to deal with Mickey’s absence. We decided that since Robert Michael’s death happened during that second 10-year hiatus, we had to find a way to incorporate that history into the Valerie and Mickey storyline. And because it had never been dealt with by the show on camera, we decided that maybe Valerie hadn’t fully dealt with it as well. That way, the viewers wouldn’t feel like they missed a significant turn in Valerie’s journey. We decided if we could create a story where Valerie hadn’t really grieved Mickey’s passing and had to face it in the episode, then she and (hopefully) the viewers could share the sadness and the love together. And together, they could find a way to accept and release him with respect for the actor and the character and with a bit of triumph for all he meant to Valerie and to all of us on our series.

So, we created a character named Tommy Tomlin — another hairdresser and longtime friend of Mickey’s who Valerie hires to step in and take Mickey’s place and be the hairdresser on her new AI-written sitcom. Well, Tommy can do her hair but, by design, can never replace Mickey, and that conflict between Valerie and Tommy underlines her loss and her denial of Mickey’s passing. Tommy’s presence helps push Valerie to acknowledge Mickey’s absence and moves her to gently face it, finally scatter his ashes and let him go.

It was an emotional story to write and even more emotional to film. Lisa was standing on top of a Warner Bros. soundstage ready to open the box of prop ashes, to allow them to float over “Old Hollywood,” a lure that Mickey loved. But we were filming this scene at sunset, and what comes with the light at that picturesque time of day in Burbank is a strong wind from the surrounding mountains that gets trapped in an impromptu kind of wind tunnel between the soundstages. If Lisa opened the box at the wrong moment, the ashes would fly right back into her face — and in this moment, we were not going for comedy.

I was directing from down on the ground, and I looked up to the heavens and said to Robert Michael Morris, “This is your big moment — please quiet the wind so it can be beautiful and touching and an appropriate goodbye to you and your character.” And — I swear — the wind died down. I called “Action!” and on top of the soundstage, Lisa said her goodbye as Valerie, opened the box and the ashes lifted out, almost magically, and floated out and away into the sunset over the Warner Bros. Studio back lot — just as we imagined in the writing room all those months earlier.

LINCOLN, Calif. — One thing Anne Smull, a retired feedstore owner, was looking forward to on election day was voting for the man who currently represents her in Congress, conservative Rep. Kevin Kiley. Now she can’t.

That’s because California Democrats sliced Kiley’s district six ways as payback for Republican redistricting in Texas and elsewhere. The chunk of the district that Smull, who identifies as a conservative, lives in is now grafted onto an overwhelmingly Democratic seat based in the state’s wine country.

During a recent lunch at a cafe in Lincoln, a onetime agricultural town that has morphed into a bedroom community on the edge of Sacramento’s exurban sprawl, Smull was heartbroken to hear she can no longer vote for Kiley.

“He believes in the same things I do,” Smull said. “It feels sneaky and underhanded.”

Republicans started the redistricting competition. Democrats might finish it

Democratic voters in several other states know how Smull feels.

President Trump last year told GOP-controlled states to redraw their maps before this year’s midterm elections to increase the number of winnable seats for Republicans in order to help the party hold on to the U.S. House. The effort was turbocharged by a U.S. Supreme Court decision in the spring of this year that neutralized a key provision of the Voting Rights Act and cleared the way for Republicans to redraw more seats across the South that had elected Black Democrats.

Democratic-leaning and heavily minority communities from Texas to Tennessee have been split into multiple congressional districts that dilute the Democratic vote by stretching deep into conservative areas.

In the future, it is likely that more Republican voters in other states will go through what Smull and other conservatives in Northern California are facing. Democrats in Maryland, New York, Illinois and other strongholds have pledged to retaliate in time for the 2028 elections and split Republican-leaning districts the way their California counterparts did Kiley’s.

Democrats have been hindered nationally by stricter rules against partisan line-drawing in their states, but California showed a way around that. California Democrats won voter approval last year to redraw the state’s congressional map, originally made by an independent commission, and formed five new Democratic-leaning seats.

‘We have zero voice,’ says voter angry at the Democratic drive for a new political map

Kiley’s is one of them. The reworked political lines led the two-term congressman to leave the Republican Party and run as an independent in the slightly Democratic-leaning district that now includes his home.

He spoke out against partisan gerrymandering, even unsuccessfully trying to force the Republican-led House to allow a vote on a bill to ban mid-decade redistricting.

“We’ve seen partisan divisions really spin out of control in really harmful ways, and I think Exhibit No. 1 is the redistricting wars,” Kiley recently told a group of voters in the suburb of Citrus Heights.

Democrats contend Kiley’s party switch is purely a political trick to survive in a more liberal district. They note that he still caucuses with House Republicans and has voted for many of the GOP’s priorities, including Trump’s sweeping budget and tax cut bill last year, and that political organizations run by House Republicans are spending money to back his reelection.

Even some of Kiley’s supporters think the election was a factor in the congressman’s decision to become an independent.

“My original thinking was he did it because of redistricting — maybe it’d help him get reelected,” said John Coburn, a 68-year-old retired business owner, at the Citrus Heights event.

Coburn is furious at the Democrats’ redistricting and hopes Kiley wins. Coburn does not care that they did it in retaliation for Texas, where Republicans at Trump’s directive revised that state’s map to carve out up to five new winnable conservative seats.

“I don’t care about Texas, I live in California,” Coburn said, adding that “40% of the state is Republican, and we have zero voice. Zero. It’s not how our Founding Fathers intended.”

For Democrats in the district, a rare political opportunity

In an interview, Kiley said his switch to independent was no political gambit. If he wanted to stay in the House, he argued, he could have had an easier time staying in the GOP, moving to a more conservative district that included parts of his old one and running in a Republican primary there.

“I could have gone there and run and played the same game these other politicians are playing,” he said.

Kiley said that he is caucusing with Republicans to avoid losing his seats on committees and that in the next Congress he will try to change rules so independent members do not lose committee seats because they do not caucus with one of the two major parties.

Among his backers, he noted, is onetime Democratic presidential hopeful Andrew Yang, a former technology entrepreneur who co-founded a centrist party for independents.

The Democrat running against Kiley, former state Sen. Richard Pan, scoffs at his rival’s newfound independent status.

“He was a MAGA champion when he first ran for Congress, and now he’s trying to say ‘I’m not,’” Pan told a crowd at a senior community in Roseville, referring to Trump’s “Make America Great Again” movement.

Earlier that day, Pan swung by the Placer County Democratic Party office, tucked away on the second story of a brick shopping arcade in Lincoln’s compact downtown.

Placer is a Republican county that stretches from the Sacramento suburbs to the northwestern shores of Lake Tahoe. The entire county is in Kiley’s current district, but it will be divided among three districts in the new map.

Kathleen Crawford, chair of the county Democratic Party, was enthusiastic about the county getting carved up.

“It’s worth it, because we have an opportunity to get Democratic representation, which has been missing from our county,” Crawford said. “I’ve been here 15 years, and this is my first real opportunity to elect a Democrat.”

A never-ending cycle that cuts out ‘the little people’

Lincoln’s downtown is flanked by fruit, vegetable and flower farms, as well as new subdivisions. The community and its neighboring suburbs have become a destination for people fleeing the San Francisco Bay Area’s housing prices. That has helped change the once solidly conservative area into a political battleground where skilled mapmakers can draw winnable seats for Democrats.

Ed Church, a 61-year-old risk manager, was eating lunch at Simple Pleasures cafe in Lincoln when he contemplated Kiley’s shift. A Democrat, Church has not been a Kiley fan and he was bemused by the congressman’s move.

“If that’s how he’d been initially and not so MAGA, I probably could have supported him,” Church said of Kiley’s independent status. Now Church, as a Lincoln resident, is in a purely Democratic district and will not have a say in Kiley’s fate in November. His main criteria in the election will be “who’s going to stand up to Trump?”

Across the street at a gun store, Wesley Johnson, 43, who considers himself a conservative independent, said he was dispirited by the state’s redistricting.

“I feel Northern California is not represented fairly,” Johnson said. “San Francisco, Sacramento and Los Angeles control everything.”

He acknowledged Republicans were doing the same thing in states they controlled and said he did not know how it could stop.

“You’re just cutting out the little people,” Johnson said.

Riccardi writes for the Associated Press.

I’m confident that I’ll make my way through The Times’ best breakfast burrito list and devour another couple dozen worthy candidates before I’ll ever have the chance to ride on that chronically delayed LAX people mover.

“Ninety-nine percent done”? Sounds like the answer my kids would give me the night before a big homework assignment was due.

Maybe our next breakfast burrito list can be “Best breakfast burritos near John Wayne Airport.” Or Hollywood Burbank. Or Long Beach. The possibilities are endless. No doubt we have got time until that “one percent” gets checked off.

I’m Glenn Whipp, columnist for the Los Angeles Times, host of the Envelope newsletter, and the guy pondering a “DTF Los Angeles” where the characters inch along the LAX horseshoe, kindling all manner of sinister thoughts.

Cover story: ‘DTF St. Louis’

(Erik Carter / For The Times)

Are TV viewers a little more judgmental when it comes to complicated women?

Linda Cardellini would always know where someone was on their “DTF St. Louis” viewing journey based on their vibe when they approached her.

“If they were halfway through the show, they usually weren’t warming up to Carol and you could feel that energy,” Cardellini says, talking with me for a recent Envelope cover story on the limited series. “But if they were through with the show, that energy changed. Sometimes you could tell they felt bad that they didn’t like her in the first place.”

Carol, as you know if you’ve watched “DTF,” the season’s best limited series, is an overworked suburban mother forced to umpire Little League games because her job at Purina doesn’t pay enough to cover the bills. She’s married to gentle giant Floyd (David Harbour), an ASL interpreter and a sensitive stepfather to her son. But it’s a sexless marriage, so she turns to local weatherman Clark (Jason Bateman), who possesses a vitality long absent in her husband.

“DTF St. Louis” is ostensibly a murder mystery. Floyd dies in the first episode. Writer-director Steven Conrad employs a fair bit of misdirection, pointing our suspicions first to Clark and then to Carol. Since money is tight and Floyd had an insurance policy, Carol is a logical enough person of interest. We learn that she has a criminal record. And she was cheating.

“When I was reading the episodes, I thought, ‘Oh, OK. It’s going to be Carol, even though there’s so many clues telling you that it’s not her,” Cardellini says. “But we’re conditioned to think that. Like, ‘She had to be after the money,’ even though she never accepts any gifts as she’s struggling financially. Everyone just believed the worst in her.”

Granted, Carol could be a little brusque with service workers, and her passive-aggressive approach to police questioning (“Can you speak up?”) was a master class in control and manipulation that I plan to use if I’m ever interrogated for some crime I’m sure I did not do. (Unless it’s somehow related to picking someone up at LAX. Then all bets are off.)

Reviews for “DTF” too often would note how it’s a poignant look at male loneliness in the suburbs when, in fact, Carol is the most isolated character on the show.

“Carol is immensely lonely, but she’s so burdened by the heavy demand of keeping this household afloat that she doesn’t have the luxury to notice that she doesn’t have a friend,” says Conrad. “The job of bailing water is hers alone.”

In that respect, Carol brings to mind Skyler White on “Breaking Bad” and Carmela Soprano from “The Sopranos,” forlorn women dealing with the man-child they married and getting flak from viewers for being a killjoy.

By the end of “DTF,” we find we should have been on Carol’s side all along.

“It’s a beautiful magic trick,” says co-star Bateman.

Just the latest feat of illusion from the talented Cardellini, one that could result in her first Emmy win next month.

NEW YORK — It was 2023 when Laufey, the Icelandic singer-songwriter known for her neoclassical jazz-pop, decided to create a global fan event. Her second album, “Bewitched,” was soon to be released and she wanted to do something big to celebrate it. But more than that, she says, she “wanted to find a way to get my fans out of their homes, and to really follow an itinerary of my perfect idea of a day and have the music from ‘Bewitched’ follow it.”

And thus, “A Very Laufey Day” was born. Each year, the Grammy-winning singer curates itineraries for different locations across the globe for her listeners to follow. It’s “anywhere I have been and loved,” she says. It allows them to live what she refers to as “a perfect day,” but also to connect with their community offline and in person. And as she approaches its fourth edition, it has only grown larger.

“It became much bigger than I anticipated, really,” she says. She sought to inspire her audience to find “third spaces,” and explore some of her favorite locales: museums, bookstores, cafes, concerts and the like, and foster community in the process. And each year, it has only grown bigger, with fans dressing up in their favorite Laufey-themed vintage fashions to celebrate the unofficial holiday.

And Aug. 23 will mark the fourth annual “A Very Laufey Day.”

“It is a fun puzzle every year,” she says.

‘A Very Laufey Day’ 2026

This year, “A Very Laufey Day” will include experiences in 75 cities across 25 countries, centering on the theme of “A Celebration of the Arts.”

“Wherever in the world you’re spending your day, I hope you feel inspired and invigorated,” Laufey wrote in a note on her “A Very Laufey Day” website.

Fans can expect performances spanning symphony orchestras, ballet, jazz, opera and theater as well as events with libraries, bookstores, coffee shops, yogurt/ice cream shops and more. Her concert film, “A Night at the Symphony: Hollywood Bowl,” will be screened at select theaters. And she’s partnered with many museums around the world, including New York City’s Guggenheim, the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, the Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago, London’s Tate Modern and National Gallery, Chile’s Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes, Seoul’s Daelim Museum and more. At some participating businesses, fans will be able to acquire limited-edition merchandise and Laufey-themed specialty drinks.

LACMA is offering a discount code, AVLD, for museum visitors on Aug. 23. As of Aug. 16, the code took $2 off tickets. “Come spend the day enjoying something beautiful,” LACMA wrote on Instagram.

“This year it was really about focusing on the arts and culture and finding ways to bring this barrier of entry down between my audience — which is mostly Gen Z and Gen A — and these kind of so-called high cultural experiences,” she says. “Whether it’s going to see an orchestra show … museums or galleries, we really want to find ways to connect with those institutions.”

Some of these spaces can be intimidating for younger fans, and Laufey says this year was all about making these rooms, some of her favorites, inviting to her audience.

“It doesn’t have to be this scary thing. And so, I’ve kind of made it my life’s mission to make spaces like that fun and accessible,” she says.

Sherman writes for the Associated Press.

Christy Knowings, an actor best known for the Nickelodeon sketch comedy series “All That,” has died. She was 46.

According to her father, Charles Dunn, Knowings died Tuesday in Long Beach after she suffered a severe asthma attack on Aug. 7 and went into cardiac arrest. The actor had been on life support for several days.

Knowings joined Nickelodeon’s sketch show for kids and teens, “All That,” in 1997 when she was a teenager trying to break into the business. She impressed casting directors with a repertoire of characters and accents she’d been perfecting since she was 4 years old.

“I filmed a bunch of different characters, and then a week after that, producers and writers from ‘All That’ flew out from Hollywood to come see me in New York, and that’s all she wrote,” Knowings said during a 2019 interview. “Five minutes later, I was asked if I wanted to move to California.”

On “All That,” Knowings joined an all-star cast that included Kenan Thompson, Amanda Bynes, Kel Mitchell, Nick Cannon and Gabriel Iglesias, to name a few. She stayed with the sketch show for three seasons, departing in 2000.

Following “All That,” she appeared on “Sesame Street” across three episodes in twin-themed sketches.

“Sesame Street” posted a tribute for the actor on social media, writing, “Sesame Workshop mourns the loss of Christy Knowings, who appeared on Sesame Street alongside her brother, cast member Chris Knowings. Our deepest condolences go out to Chris and his family.”

Christy Lorraine Knowings was born Feb. 25, 1980, in the Bronx. She attended Manhattan’s Professional Performing Arts School and started honing her skills as a character actor from an early age.

“I did impersonations, but my thing was really creating new characters, and the characters would stem from different dialects,” she told the Pop Culture With Pat podcast.

“I was pretty good … Even if I had a small role playing a judge at a science fair, I would still try and make that character stand out by using a different accent or doing something a little dangerous. Didn’t always work! But most of the time it did.”

In 2019, ahead of the 25th anniversary of “All That,” Knowings spoke with Bustle about the way the show was ahead of its time. The Native American Afro-Latina actor said the cultural nuances brought by the diverse cast were celebrated.

“People tell me, especially Black ‘90s kids who were watching for my seasons, they’re like, ‘We really paid attention to you because you were the only Black girl!’ I was there to represent them in a way and I didn’t even realize it at the time because social media was not a thing,” she said.

“‘All That’ showcased the unity that we all wanted, needed and still need in a very humorous way. We brought each other together in a very lighthearted way. With Amanda and I doing ‘Whateverrr!’ you didn’t see a Black girl and a white girl, you just saw these two insane girls who loved the same guys. We both loved Leonardo DiCaprio and we both loved Kobe Bryant! I think we pushed a lot of boundaries.”

Knowings’ “All That” castmates posted tributes to her on social media.

Thompson, now a “Saturday Night Live” star, wrote alongside a photo of Knowings, “Man this one hit hard!!! Rest well Christy!!! Never could have imagined this day!! Sending so much love to her family!! She was a real one and one of the funniest people out here!!! Gonna miss you buddy!!!”

Alisa Reyes wrote that Christy was “not only an immensely talented actress, singer, and artist, but she was also a star seed, a light worker, and a true uplifter of humanity … Her frequency and vibration are now soaring into the ethers, and I can already feel her magic sprinkling upon us like stardust.”

Lisa Foiles posted a tribute on Facebook, writing, “It doesn’t feel fair when we lose one of our own. Christy was mesmerizing to me on ‘All That.’ I studied her facial expressions, her commitment to a bit, her talent for comedy way beyond her years. I dreamed of being in her shoes — and even when I joined the show, I knew they were impossibly big shoes to fill. She was a comedic icon to me, and when I finally got to meet her, her kindness matched her talent. Take some time to let her make you laugh today. RIP Christy Knowings.”

Knowings is survived by her father, twin brother, mother Rénee Knowings Dunn and siblings Charles Dunn Jr., Ashley Dunn Ledger, Yavonka Vega, Tamea Dunn and Lee Elder.

Growing up in a hiking family with a history along the Appalachian Trail, I became obsessed this summer with 91-year-old Dale “Greybeard” Sanders’ attempt to recapture his record as the oldest person to complete the more than 2,190-mile trek across 14 states. Known as “thru-hikers,” these backpackers walk the entire trail within a 12-month period. Each week, I’d search online for videos showing Greybeard’s journey, a pep in his step or the grueling grind across the miles. The current recordholder, M.J. “Nimblewill Nomad” Eberhart, who knew my parents, achieved this feat at age 83 in 2021, taking the honor from Greybeard, who set a record at age 82 in 2017. I wasn’t surprised to learn the two men were close friends; they even look alike, with their long white beards and sparkling eyes.

But Monday morning this week, with only 142 miles remaining, Greybeard announced he was heading home for rest in Tennessee. He’d spent a night in a Maine hospital due to complications from a fall and then learned his mother-in-law had died. “When it rains unfortunate incidents, it seems to come in buckets,” he wrote in a Facebook post.

These age-defying records and pivots felt personal.

It wasn’t accidental how the Appalachian Trail became my family’s backbone.

When I was about 7, my parents brought my younger siblings and me to Springer Mountain in Georgia, our daypacks filled with cans of Vienna sausages, boxes of raisins, a change of clothes and a sleeping bag.

“If you continue on this trail, you can walk all the way to Maine!” my dad said, pointing northward.

The path felt like a magical forested portal far from coastal Alabama where we lived. As a child, I couldn’t imagine how hiking would shape my parents as they got older: their physical fitness, spiritual connection to nature and access to community — all assets in aging well, according to extensive research. But more importantly, the outdoors would help them, and ultimately me, learn to adapt to change. That’s a survival skill for us all.

With the trail name “Fairhope,” my brother Laurence became the first in our family to complete the Appalachian Trail in 1992, followed by my parents, known as “Annie and the Salesman,” in 1994. Then my sister married a thru-hiker from north Florida.

“Hiking is a walking meditation, a way to carry everything we need,” my mom told me. “We may not leave you much money, but our legacy will be lives of adventure.”

Pursuing a trifecta of long-distance hikes after the Appalachian Trail, my parents completed the Pacific Crest Trail from Mexico to Canada and nearly half of the Continental Divide Trail when I had my own health crisis. An amniocentesis revealed a serious genetic defect in the chromosomes of the child I was carrying — years before the current extreme restrictions on abortion care. When my parents happened to call from a payphone near the trail, I shared my heartbreaking decision to end the pregnancy.

“We’ll find a way there,” my mom said.

I don’t remember much discussion about abortion when I was younger, and I believe the community of young hikers over many years helped shape my parents’ evolving mindsets on many issues (as well as my mom’s newfound comfort cussing with her Southern drawl).

Somehow they hitchhiked to find a rental car and drove cross-country to Warren Wilson College in western North Carolina, where I still live and teach environmental education. This is a work college where all students hold jobs on campus like farmer, fiber artist and genetics lab tech. Like the trail, it’s a place with steep learning curves.

“Sometimes you have to change course,” my mom said, “when you sense the right path to take.” While she spoke, she held my 3-year-old, who would stay home with my dad while we drove more than five hours to a hospital in Virginia.

More than a month after returning to the Continental Divide Trail, my mom came down with a severe stomach virus, which my father caught a few days later. Much like Greybeard’s pivot, they decided to pause the hike. “The trail will still be here, but mom had a feeling it was time to go home,” my dad said.

Less than a year later in 2003, my mother, 58, was killed in a cycling accident, hit by a teen driver in Fairhope, our hometown. With time and a few trial runs, my dad returned to hike for a month on the Continental Divide Trail without her.

“I was never lonely, but I missed her every day,” he said.

In 2005, wearing a reflective vest and biking on the shoulder of the road, my dad, 64, was hit and killed by another teen driver. At their gravesites, we placed two metal sculptures, the “Final Blaze,” gifts from the Appalachian Trail community, many members of whom came to shovel earth upon the graves.

Since then, I’ve corresponded with Nimblewill Nomad, the record holder and caretaker of a hostel at Flagg Mountain, the start of the Pinhoti Trail in Alabama. There he has dreams to create a community where elders who are hikers can live together in the montane longleaf pine ecosystem.

“Your parents’ heart was years ago divinely placed in trust, in a chest — yours,” he wrote to me years after their deaths.

Now 60, I have outlived my mother, and I’m also surrounded by young people — my two daughters and my students — just as my parents were on their long-distance adventures. My undergrads are rightly fearful about the climate crisis but working in community to find their way. They’ve read the research documenting how the outdoors, including urban green spaces, improves cognition, social connection and physical strength, while decreasing depression and anxiety in all ages, but especially seniors. Nature helps humans adapt to change, and not everyone has proximity to it.

My students also know the Trump administration has cut funding for and even decreased the size of our public lands. They’ve met alums with careers in conservation whose federal jobs no longer exist. And we’re still recovering here from Hurricane Helene, a devastating climate disaster almost two years ago.

But what I know for sure, I tell them, is we must join with others to protect both people and places, even when we don’t know how this path will end. That’s my parents’ legacy to me.

While prepping for classes this week, I checked updates from Greybeard, who was home under the care of his physician for exhaustion after the rugged southern mountains in Maine — but he was cleared to hike again and intended to complete the trail. Regardless of the record-breaking deadline of Sept. 6, he’s adapting to a new “finish plan” and shared this truth for us all: “Together we will conquer this seemingly impossible task.”

Mallory McDuff is the author of several books, including “Our Last Best Act: Planning for the End of Our Lives to Protect the People and Places We Love.” She teaches environmental education at Warren Wilson College.

For almost 40 years, a stamp of approval from Oprah Winfrey has been the ultimate status symbol, and a near-guarantee of commercial success — just ask Dr. Oz and Dr. Phil.

Winfrey’s talk show launched in 1986 and became a sensation. The talk show raked in Daytime Emmy awards, and the host’s sway with the audience was undeniable. Winfrey’s influence was, and still is, so potent that marketing pros called the boost in sales following an endorsement “the Oprah Effect.” Books have shot to the top of bestseller lists, brands such as Spanx and Ugg have become household names and multiple television personalities have been launched, including two controversial health professionals whose endorsements from Winfrey haven’t exactly aged well for some fans.

During a recent interview with the Television Academy’s Emmy Magazine, Winfrey addressed her ties with the conservative TV personalities, saying “People criticize me for Dr. Phil and Dr. Oz, because of their politics or their views.”

In the ’90s, Phil McGraw was a licensed psychologist who co-founded a trial consulting firm and was hired to help Winfrey when she was sued in Texas for questioning the safety of beef on her show amid a mad cow disease epidemic happening in the U.K. According to disgruntled cattlemen, the “Oprah Effect” doesn’t just have the power to boost sales, it can drop them too.

Winfrey won the case in 1998, and was so impressed by McGraw that she invited him onto her show and he subsequently landed a weekly segment. A few years later, he launched his own talk show with Winfrey’s backing.

“Dr. Phil, he was so practical, so down to earth, so real. And he would ride in the car with me every morning on the way to trial, where I’m literally sitting on trial for six weeks. I felt that he was so instrumental in helping me. I thought, ‘Oh, you could help a lot of people. You should come on my show,’” she told the outlet.

Dr. Oz came into the fold, Winfrey said, by way of introduction from her best friend, fellow television personality and news anchor Gayle King.

“He explained practical things like colon cancer and bowel movements,” Winfrey told Emmy Magazine. “I thought he had the language for explaining medical things in a way that was helpful to me. I thought it would be helpful to many other people. And that is how they ended up on the show.”

Dr. Mehmet Oz made his debut on “The Oprah Winfrey Show” in 2004, and in the next few years he made more than 60 appearances, offering health advice to viewers. In 2009, he followed in Dr. Phil’s footsteps and launched his own talk show, with Winfrey’s production company backing the venture.

In recent years, Dr. Phil has aligned himself with MAGA, and in October 2024 he spoke at Donald Trump’s Madison Square Garden presidential campaign rally. Last year, he embedded with Immigration and Customs Enforcement officials during raids, including in Chicago, where he and his crew taped arrests.

In 2020, when Dr. Phil celebrated a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, he thanked Winfrey in his speech, saying she has mentored him and moved him forward in life. “No doubt about it… You cannot understand the power of the O factor,” he said. “There would be no Dr. Phil without Oprah, so blame her if you’re going to blame somebody.”

Similarly, Dr. Oz aligned himself with the MAGA and Make America Healthy Again movements. He ran for senate in Pennsylvania in 2022 with an endorsement from Trump. After losing, he joined the Trump administration as the administrator for the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services.

Since McGraw and Oz became vocal allies of the Trump administration, news stories involving them have spawned a thread of replies and reposts with comments pointing the finger at Winfrey for platforming the men many moons ago.

“Oprah spun off Dr. Phil, Dr. Oz, and gave oxygen to Suzanne Somers’ and Jenny McCarthy’s toxic messages. Her impact on the public discourse around medical advice was pretty uniformly terrible. I am not a fan,” reads one post on X.

“If it weren’t for Oprah, this quack Dr. Phil would be a nobody. Oprah has a lot to answer for,” reads another.

And, “Dr. Phil and Dr. Oz are the two worst things Oprah ever foisted on the public.”

Winfrey may have platformed the men decades ago, but her stance is clear today: “Everybody has their own path in life, and it has not one thing to do with me, and I don’t have one thing to do with them. At the time, the reason and intention behind me giving them their breaks was I thought they had valuable information to share that had been meaningful to me.”

Hugo Lara and Manolo Cabrera — the Mexican DJ pair better known as RØZ — casually strolled through Sightglass Coffee in Hollywood, one gripping a half-melted iced coffee, the other an empty Erewhon juice bottle.

To any onlooker, they might appear as two standard Gen Z Angelenos in sardonic streetwear: 22-year-old Cabrera flaunted a hat that referenced the 2008 financial crisis while 25-year-old Lara’s faded tee read, “You don’t dream of a better version of yourself.”

But over the past year, this fresh-faced pair from Querétaro, a small state just outside Mexico City, has dominated the festival world circuit. Spinning heart-thumping electronic beats and Latin house rhythms, RØZ has taken the stage at many a popular event, such as the most recent Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival, Lollapalooza Chicago, Hard Summer, EDC Las Vegas and Sueños.

“We’ve had huge crowds at festivals, even the workers on stage are like, ‘No way, you filled more venues than yesterday’s headliner,’” Cabrera told The Times. “We filled it up and people started leaving for the next person, which is obviously not cool. It feels awful. But you do think: good! They value Latinos and Mexicans now.”

Besides regaling ravers at their concerts — which will continue for the remainder of the calendar year, including a 20-city North American tour that kicks off in Boston on Oct. 21 — RØZ has landed another major artistic goal.

“Everyone will give [the album] a different interpretation, but I think the through line is the idea of drama, or poetic essence,” said Hugo Lara.

(Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)

Last Friday, they released their first full-length album, “Se Esta Haciendo Tarde.” It’s a 19-track, introspective debut that solidifies the duo’s standing in the EDM world as both masterful mixers and vocalists.

“We are neither fully DJs, or fully singers, but artists,” said Cabrera. “Our shows, with the album, are going to be us playing synths, at another point singing and at another point we mix some songs.”

Featuring cameos from Latin superstars like Peso Pluma, J Balvin and Ryan Castro, the LP itself is hard to define as simply house music; RØZ is known best for peppering its EDM with a heavy dose of Latino sazon. It’s a sonic recipe that the two former schoolmates have been mastering since they were under lockdown from COVID.

This era also saw the commercial rise of other Mexican artists in their generation: Natanael Cano and Latin Mafia were among the most prominent Mexican acts who maximized their creativity during the isolation period and used social media platforms like TikTok to gain traction.

“It’s like if Fred Again, Skrillex, Frank Ocean, Mora and Bad Bunny adopted a child and raised him,” said Cabrera about their own music, which they began uploading to the streaming platform Soundcloud in 2022.

At the start of their disc jockey journey, they remixed already established songs, from Bad Bunny and Bomba Estéreo’s “Ojitos Lindos” to Bellakath’s “Gatita.” By 2024, they would release their frosty original track, “Cora de Hielo” under Warner Music Mexico; this featured Natt Calma and Mau Moctezuma, artists whom they met through the local indie scene.

Their subsequent releases went viral — including the dark-synth pop “Flashes” with Yng Lvcas and atmospheric “Apaga la Luz” with a rather mellowed performance from Peso Pluma — which were released under LT:Vision Records, Queens Road Music and Atlantic Records.

“At that time, emotions were secondary [in the music],” said Cabrera when looking back on those early songs. “Perhaps we didn’t resonate with the artist’s lyrics, we might have helped with some ideas. But with this [new] project, we wanted to find more of a balance — we want to be transparent, while also releasing f— bangers.”

Inspired by the transient beauty of cherry blossoms, known in Japan as sakura — which is illustrated in their album cover, alongside a dark pegasus — much of the LP also hinges on melodrama. Glitchy beat drops in “Acelero Lento” (featuring Chitra) fade into acoustic ballads. The bouncy freestyle rhythm in “Soho” melts into feverish pop harmonies. There’s also an interlacing spiritual hymn in “Yo Gospel” (featuring Rodrii) that showcases the heavenly vocals of an American-style church choir.

“Everyone will give [the album] a different interpretation, but I think the through line is the drama, or poetic essence,” said Lara. “Perhaps in 10 years we will listen to the same song and have a different interpretation.”

The new LP is imbued with various Latin genre fusions. In “Ya es de Noche” (featuring Rodrii and Olisso) they open with neo-perreo rhythms that slowly wade in and out of a cumbia-guided trance. In “Hanami,” named after the traditional Japanese custom of observing a floral bloom, RØZ is joined by Colombian producer Sky Rompiendo, whose pulsating reggaeton beats undergo a warping process, as their lyrics harp on romantic tension.

“Cherry blossoms only last a while, so it was our way of saying that we must appreciate the moment in which beauty exists,” said Lara.

The magnetic pull of RØZ — whose stage name is pronounced like the second syllable in “arroz” — cannot be overstated. They’ve already sold out six shows in their upcoming tour, which will wrap up Feb. 27 in their home state of Querétaro. Their popularity comes at a time when electronic music was registered as the largest-growing genre in the U.S. in the first half of 2026, per Luminate’s 2026 data report, which also found that casual monthly listenership in Latin music peaked at 54% of streams in the first quarter.

The growing admiration for Latin-fused EDM by Latino listeners was most visually evident during their Coachella debut in April. One attendee uploaded a video to Instagram showing the jammed entrance to the Sonora Tent, which reached full capacity before the duo began their Sunday set: “Coachella underestimating the Latino crowds like [what do you mean] I can’t see RØZ [because] it’s at full capacity both weekends,” the subtext on the video read.

Even before their breakout year, on the night of their first U.S. performance on the rooftop of the Fonda Theatre in Los Angeles last August, the line to get inside stretched across the Hollywood Boulevard sidewalk with attendees eager to hear the pair’s early tracks.

Still, it doesn’t surprise RØZ that a Latino act like themselves might be early on the call sheet — or left to assemble a last-minute crew after their original team ran into visa processing delays ahead of the first Coachella weekend. “In this genre that we’re moving in, you’d never picture a Latino headliner. Latinos are always put down, down, down,” said Cabrera.

But some milestones have given them faith that the mainstream world is opening up to putting Latino acts at the top of the bill; including the fact that Colombian singer Karol G was the first Latina Coachella headliner this year. “And with music in Spanish, not English,” marveled Lara.

And rather than sulk about the conditions of Latino artists, RØZ is ready to put up a fight.

“Just because I’m Mexican or Latino doesn’t mean that I can’t connect with people the same way a person from the United States can,” said Cabrera. “Headlining is possible, without a doubt.”

Given the resilience and diversity of our local mosquito population and our warming climate, Los Angeles doesn’t really have an easily defined mosquito season.

That was one of my biggest takeaways — and bummers — from my conversation with Chris Barker, an epidemiology professor at UC Davis who has studied mosquitoes for almost 30 years, including at his lab.

“I hate to say it, but there are mosquitoes year-round,” Barker said, “and in Southern California in particular, many of your mosquitoes are active year-round, and they don’t go through a reproductive pause, so they’re really just waiting on conditions to be right for biting and for development. In that sense, the warmer [weather], the better for the mosquitoes, and the worse it is for us.”

For this week’s edition of The Wild, our weekly outdoors newsletter, I spoke to Barker about how hikers can best avoid nature’s rudest insect this summer. I wanted to understand what common misconceptions hikers have about mosquitoes, any behavioral changes we can make and what types of trails are most likely to have active mosquito populations. (Spoiler alert: It’s a lot of them.)

First, let’s quickly discuss the mosquitoes that you will find in Southern California, as Barker emphasized to me that we shouldn’t just imagine mosquitoes as one bloodthirsty monolith.

“There are many species of mosquitoes that exhibit a wide range of behaviors, and some species never bite people,” Barker said. “Knowing just a little bit of mosquito biology can help a hiker know when and” where to hike.

Types of mosquitoes found around L.A. hiking trails

In California, there are more than 50 species of mosquitoes, living from below sea level in the desert to above 10,000 feet in our mountains, according to the UC Agriculture and Natural Resources.

Thankfully, our local population is smaller than that and includes:

• Three mosquitoes in the Aedes genus: Often dubbed “ankle biters,” the black-and-white-striped female aedes mosquitoes bite during the day, often around the legs, often multiple times; the most prevalent in Southern California, Aedes aegypti, generally lives where people are, as it depends heavily on manmade water sources to lay its eggs; different species are vectors for different diseases, including Aedes aegypti, which can carry dengue fever.
• Six mosquitoes in the Culex genus: Adults are most active from dusk to dawn; they prefer to bite birds but will bite humans; otherwise, they will rest in cool, shaded dense vegetation; the Southern house mosquito in this genus can transmit West Nile.

Culex mosquitoes bite at dawn and dusk and tend to feed off birds. The Southern house mosquito in this genus can transmit West Nile.

(Orange County Mosquito and Vector Control District)

• Anopheles franciscanus: Living in warm sunny pools with algae; not known to carry disease in California; peak biting during dusk and dawn; included in this list to make us all feel a little better, just in case you worry as much as your local outdoors journalist about mosquito-borne diseases.
• Ochlerotatus sierrensis: Also known as “western treehole mosquitoes,” these little jerks lay their eggs in tree holes, especially oaks, laurels and eucalyptus, and emerge in spring, ready to unapologetically ruin your backpacking trip; these mosquitoes will bite in the day and evening, but are especially active at dusk.
• Ochlerotatus washinoi: Also known as “woodland pond mosquitoes,” which makes them sound more charming than they are, these aggressive daytime biters are typically found in floodwater habitats in early spring; not known to carry disease in California.

A quick 101 on West Nile virus

Outside of an itchy bite or, in rare cases, a severe allergic reaction, the most significant health threat that mosquitoes pose to hikers around L.A. is West Nile virus.

West Nile virus is typically contracted by humans through the bite of an infected mosquito. Most people infected with the virus, an estimated 80%, never know it, because they don’t get sick. About 20% of those infected experience flu-like symptoms, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

Less than 1% develop serious illnesses that affect the central nervous system and usually require hospitalization.

Similar to the lack of clarity around who develops long COVID, scientists have yet to identify why certain people develop serious neurological conditions from West Nile. Advanced age, especially in people 65 and older, is thought to play a role, given that with age, the body’s immune system is slower to respond to threats, according to the National Library of Medicine. Other risk factors are thought to include being male; having diabetes, heart disease or chronic kidney disease; or being immunocompromised, according to research.

In recent years, reported West Nile human cases have typically peaked in early September, according to data analyzed by the L.A. County Department of Public Health. This year, West Nile has been detected in traps and in dead birds across L.A., but especially in Cerritos and Long Beach, according to the Greater Los Angeles County Vector Control District.

Given all that we know now about our local mosquito population and risks, let’s discuss Barker’s tips and tricks for how hikers can best avoid getting bit.

How L.A. hikers can best avoid getting bitten by mosquitoes

People walk in and around the Arroyo Seco.

(Carolyn Cole / Los Angeles Times)

1. Consider what water source is near.

I personally love hiking along the Arroyo Seco or San Gabriel River, where it’s often shady and cooler than other parts of Angeles National Forest. Unfortunately, mosquitoes love those areas too.

Mosquitoes prefer standing water, but not permanent water, Barker said. For certain species, this could be a segment of the river where the water has stopped flowing, leaving a nice warm pool for mama mosquitoes to lay their eggs, or even a small puddle.

“When I go hiking … especially in the mountains, I always look in the rock homes next to the streams that have captured snow melt water as it recedes,” Barker said. “Those rock holes keep water through much of the summer, and if you look in those rock holes, you often see hundreds or thousands of mosquitoes in individual rock holes. They’re the immatures that are still developing and will come out and eventually bite people and other animals in the area.”

I was honestly happier before I knew that.

2. Consider the day’s forecast and its effect on mosquito behavior.

“Often these mosquitoes are biting from late afternoon into early evening — so all the times we love to be outdoors,” Barker said.

Like us, mosquitoes are most active when temperatures are warm but not extremely hot. “On our hot days in the summer, mosquitoes will wait until the late afternoon, evening or even morning periods to bite instead of the hottest part of the day,” Barker said.

That said, if there’s a light breeze or it is windy, you’re far less likely to get bitten, as mosquitoes are thought to only fly up to 1 to 1.5 mph.

Dunsmore Canyon in Glendale.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

3. Take extra precautions on morning and evening hikes.

Mosquitoes are often most active during these time periods — the ideal summer hiking time. As such, Barker advised hikers to wear baggy light-colored pants and hiking shirts, so that you will remain cool enough under the sun but your skin will be more protected.

You can also pre-spray your clothing with Permethrin, an insecticide that kills and repels mosquitoes.

An Aedes mosquito, commonly called an ankle biter, prefers humans over animals. While Aedes can carry dengue, they do not transmit West Nile virus.

(Orange County Mosquito and Vector Control District)

4. Reapply mosquito repellent.

I generally set a timer for around 50 minutes when out hiking to remind myself to reapply sunscreen, but I rarely remember to reapply bug repellent.

“Most people do kind of a one-and-done application and happily go off and hike, and if you hike for hours, especially if you’re using repellent with either a lower DEET concentration or some other alternatives, you often have to reapply those at more frequent intervals,” Barker said.

Mosquitoes inside a storage container are tested after capture by public health workers for West Nile virus. This particular station is in Pacoima.

(Ronaldo Bolanos / Los Angeles Times)

DEET has long been found to be a highly effective mosquito repellent, but as I reported back in 2024, DEET has a perception problem. Unlike some repellents, it isn’t naturally occurring, which has caused some members of the public to take pause.

“They want something that’s natural. They forget that strychnine [and] ricin are all natural products,” said Walter S. Leal, a UC Davis distinguished professor in molecular and cellular biology, in a 2024 interview, referencing poisons derived from plants. “Being natural does not necessarily mean it is good, and being synthetic doesn’t necessarily mean it is bad.”

Additionally, people often incorrectly associate DEET with the banned insecticide DDT. “This is a big mistake,” Leal said. “There is no chemical similarity between the two.”

The view from a bench at a lookout point near the Saddle Peak Trail in the Santa Monica Mountains.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

5. Try coastal hikes to avoid mosquitoes.

“Coastal environments sometimes have fewer mosquitoes,” Barker said. “In L.A., you have that strong temperature gradient as you move away from the ocean, and things get warmer in the inland areas. Cooler areas slow mosquito development, and you tend to have fewer mosquitoes right along the coast.”

This excludes areas near tidal marshes, like the Ballona and Los Cerritos wetlands, where certain mosquitoes can become “quite numerous” if not controlled by local vector agencies.

The Ballona Wetlands Ecological Reserve in Marina del Rey in 2023.

(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

The coastal breeze also helps hikes along the ocean — like several routes you’ll find in the Santa Monica Mountains or Palos Verdes Peninsula — have fewer mosquitoes.

“And some of the coastal mosquitoes fly inland to find their blood meal hosts before they come back and lay eggs,” Barker said. “So right along the coast is not a bad place to be from a mosquito-biting perspective.”

Did somebody say Type-O Tuesday?

A Joshua Tree and rocks are lit up by the sunrise at Jumbo Rocks Campground in Joshua Tree National Park.

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

6. If weather allows, hike in the desert to avoid mosquitoes.

“There is no real escape from mosquitoes, I would say, except possibly in the deserts in areas with less water,” Barker said. “That’s your best escape in California.”

If you head out to Joshua Tree, this generally means hiking before 10 a.m. and after 5 p.m., as you will otherwise almost certainly get overheated.

7. Be mindful when taking breaks.

It’s harder for mosquitoes to bite you when you’re moving or when there’s a breeze. Keep an eye out when taking breaks, as this will more likely be the time you get bitten. And often where we like to take breaks is where mosquitoes also like to rest.

A field sample of mosquitoes that could carry West Nile virus is seen at offices of the Riverside County Department of Environmental Health in Hemet.

(David McNew / Getty Images)

“Mosquitoes do tend to rest in areas with vegetation or other vertical structures that protect them from harsh conditions like direct sunlight or strong winds,” Barker said. “The female mosquitoes also search for their blood meal hosts in those areas, which include us.

“Unfortunately for us,” Barker added, “they like a lot of the same areas we do.”

3 things to do

A group of hikers at a Just Trek event.

(Victor Martinez)

1. Celebrate community in Malibu
Just Trek, a local hiking community, will host its seven-year anniversary party at 9:30 a.m. Sunday in Malibu. The group will take a two-mile hike and then hang out at a local beach near a seafood restaurant. Donations appreciated. Register at partiful.com.

2. Behold native botany in L.A.
The L.A. Parks Foundation will host From Trail to Seed, a botany-focused nature walk, from 8 to 10 a.m. Saturday at the Fern Canyon Trail in Griffith Park. Botanist Terry Huang and park ecologist Ryan Kinzel will lead the group as they take a moderately challenging route through the park. $20 donation requested. Register at los-angeles-parks-foundation.givecloud.co.

3. Use your nature skills in Baldwin Hills
The Nature Nexus Institute needs volunteers from 8 to 11 a.m. Saturday for a habitat restoration event in the Baldwin Hills. Volunteers must wear long pants and closed-toe shoes. The work site will include traversing uneven terrain. Learn more at the institute’s Instagram page.

The must-read

Jackie the eagle.

(Friends of Big Bear Valley)

Jackie, arguably the world’s most famous bald eagle mama, died Monday morning after a mysterious illness that veterinarians at the Ojai Raptor Center worked hard to combat. She was 14. Jackie and her mate Shadow transformed into avian all-stars after Friends of Big Bear Valley installed live cameras of their nest. Millions of people across the world tuned in to witness the two eagles raise their young and live their lives in our local mountains. That included Anny Liu of Altadena, who started watching Jackie and Shadow and their little eaglets after losing her community to the Eaton fire in 2025. “Jackie and her family gave me hope and gave me giggles and smiles that I thought were lost with the fires,” Liu wrote to The Times via a reader callout. “My heart felt lighter when I watched her even to this day as we try to rebuild. Never in my life did I expect an eagle would help me so much emotionally and mentally.”

May we continue to allow ourselves to feel these deep connections with our animal neighbors, as it leads to us wanting to protect their homes and, in turn, protect our world.

Happy adventuring,

P.S.

Do you want to help repair damage from the devastating fire that burned across Santa Rosa Island? The California Institute of Environmental Studies needs volunteers to help implement emergency fire recovery work on the island, including rolling erosion control wattles on steep slopes to better protect the Torrey Pine forest from erosion caused by winter rains. To learn more, you can email Destinee Rabelo, the center’s restoration ecologist field lead, by using the email linked in the organization’s Instagram post. Have fun out there!

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.

A few hours after their season-ending defeat in the NFC championship game last January, the Rams boarded a plane for their flight home from Seattle.

Quarterback Matthew Stafford was seated a row in front of veteran receiver Davante Adams, who once again had fallen just short of finally reaching the Super Bowl.

“He’s turning around, he’s looking at me, like, ‘I’m sorry, man, I wanted that for you so bad,’” Adams recalled. “Not for him, but he wanted it for me.”

Adams, 33, is expected to get another shot at playing on the NFL’s biggest stage.

The star-studded Rams are favored to not only play in but win Super Bowl LXI at SoFi Stadium.

Since the Green Bay Packers selected him out of Fresno State in the second round of the 2014 draft, Adams has played in and lost five NFC championship games, including last season’s 31-27 defeat by the eventual Super Bowl-champion Seahawks.

Adams was visibly upset in the locker room — “a mess” he said — so he is aiming for a happier result if the Rams reach the conference championship game for the fourth time under coach Sean McVay.

Last season, his first with the Rams, Adams led the NFL with 14 touchdowns catches.

And that was after the three-time All-Pro got no training-camp reps with Stafford, who sat out because of a back issue.

Stafford, an 18th-year pro, and Adams struggled to consistently connect on the field through the first six games. But that changed when the Rams traveled to London to play the Jacksonville Jaguars.

McVay described what happened at Wembley Stadium as “a turning point” for Stafford and Adams.

Rams wide receiver Davante Adams jogs with the ball during training camp at Loyola Marymount on July 26.

(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)

In the 35-7 rout, Adams caught three touchdown passes, all from two yards or closer.

“They really hit their stride,” McVay said.

Adams was sidelined the next game and the final two games of the regular season because of a hamstring injury. He returned for the playoffs and made several huge plays, including a spectacular sideline catch in a divisional-round victory over the Chicago Bears in Chicago.

Last spring, with the Philadelphia Eagles shopping wide receiver A.J. Brown, McVay acknowledged that Adams’ name had come up in trade talks.

“It’s just the way that this business goes,” Adams said at the outset of training camp. “You gotta evaluate, you gotta look at certain things, and ultimately I’m still a Ram and I’m here and I’m happy to be here.”

Stafford and Adams had scheduled rest days during camp but they still got plenty of reps together as the Rams prepared for next month’s opener against the San Francisco 49ers in Australia.

“We’re getting a whole different start than what we did last year,” Adams said, adding, “Any time you can have these grinding days where you come out here, play ball and lock in on the details, that’ll help you be in a much better position when it’s time to really go.”

During the offseason, the Rams added All-Pro cornerback Trent McDuffie, cornerback Jaylen Watson and defensive end Myles Garrett, the reigning NFL defensive player of the year.

McDuffie and Watson have helped Adams and fellow star receiver Puka Nacua hone their skills.

“It’s the epitome of iron sharpens iron,” Adams said when asked about McDuffie.

For both.

Adams is the best route runner in the NFL, McDuffie said.

“The more we can keep ping-ponging back and forth against each other, the more we can keep rising our standard,“ McDuffie said. “It’s going to be a great year for both of us, so I enjoy it a lot.”

Despite being the oldest wide receiver on the roster — “This is dog years out here,” he said, laughing — Adams is learning from and being pushed by his younger teammates.

“I am the old man and I feel young because I can still go out there and do young-man stuff,” he said. “But then my body don’t necessarily feel the same way. … If I can continue to play at a high level, I’ll deal with the other stuff, whether it’s talking about me being old or a little bit of extra pain.

“It’s just a little extra work you have to do to come out of it.”

Davante Adams catches a pass at Rams training camp on July 26.

(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)

Stafford and Adams are aiming for a celebratory postgame exchange if the Rams once again reach the NFC championship.

Of his interaction with Adams on the plane after their loss to the Seahawks, Stafford noted that Adams had been a part of good teams that fell short of playing in the Super Bowl.

“As much as I wanted to go play in that game, and a lot of other guys did too, I wanted it more for other guys that haven’t either gotten the opportunity to be there or win it,” Stafford said, adding, “[It was] on my heart at the moment and I decided to tell him how I was feeling.”

Adams appreciated the sentiment from Stafford and all of his teammates.

“For them to feel that way about me and to care that much to want to get me a [Super] Bowl before I get out of here, it says a lot about who they are,” he said, “and a little bit about who I am.”

Video podcasts from the Jonas Brothers and the cast of “Boy Meets World” are heading to Disney+ as part of a new licensing partnership with iHeartMedia designed to capture viewers on mobile and beyond.

The agreement will bring six iHeartMedia podcasts to Disney+ and Hulu, starting with “Hey Jonas!” hosted by Kevin, Nick and Joe Jonas on both streaming services. “Pod Meets World,” hosted by the stars of the ’90s sitcom “Boy Meets World,” will also appear on Disney+ later this month.

Other podcasts coming this fall to Hulu include “Fake Doctors, Real Friends with Zach and Donald” hosted by the stars of medical comedy “Scrubs,” “Desperately Devoted” that will discuss drama “Desperate Housewives,” “StraightioLab,” that delves into straight culture and “Thanks Dad with Ego Nwodim.”

“Fans can’t get enough of the stories and talent they love, and podcasts have become one of the fastest growing ways for audiences to connect with them,” said Lauren Tempest, Head of Content Planning & Partnerships, DTC at The Walt Disney Company in a statement.

The additional iHeartMedia content adds to Disney+ and Hulu’s existing collection of 30 podcasts available to stream in the U.S.

Disney and iHeartMedia declined to comment on the financial terms of the deal.

“From iconic rewatch series and fan-favorite conversations to original storytelling, this deal gives both existing listeners and new viewers an easy way to discover and connect with some of podcasting’s most engaging voices through video,” Bob Pittman, Chairman and CEO for iHeartMedia, said in a statement.

Podcasts initially started as audio only, but over the years, have delved into showing video too. Other streamers, including Netflix and HBO Max, have video podcasts available on their platforms.

Netflix made deals with Spotify and iHeartMedia to bring popular video podcasts, including “The Bill Simmons Podcast,” “The Breakfast Club” and “My Favorite Murder” to its streaming service.

Netflix co-CEO Ted Sarandos said in an April 16 earnings presentation that people consume podcasts on Netflix during the day, at a time when the streamer historically has less engagement and they’re watching the podcasts more on mobile devices, where professional TV and film historically makes up a small percentage of mobile viewing, he said.

“It’s great that we get to meet members where they are, even when they’re enjoying other forms of entertainment,” Sarandos said.

PHOENIX — Hezly Rivera is leaning into her role as the leader of the next wave of U.S. women’s gymnasts.

The 18-year-old Olympic gold medalist won her second straight national title on Sunday, rallying from fourth during the final day of competition with four poised and professional routines. Her two-day total of 111.950 was more than a point clear of runner-up Claire Pease, making Rivera the first American woman not named Simone Biles to go back-to-back since former world and Olympic champion Jordyn Wieber did it in 2010 and 2011.

Rivera was the self-described “underdog” in Paris two years ago, when she joined an experienced group that helped the Americans win their third team gold in four Games. While some of her Olympic teammates — Biles and Suni Lee chief among them — have been on an extended break (though Lee announced last month she has started training for a return to competition), Rivera has pressed on.

She edged Leanne Wong in New Orleans last year, but Rivera’s chances for a repeat seemed to be in trouble after she fell face-first into the mat after missing a release on uneven bars on Thursday.

No matter, Rivera began Sunday on bars and put together a gritty set in which she fought through a mini-stall near the end and gave coach Valeri Liukin a “what are you gonna do?” shrug after a dismount that included a small step.

The judges awarded Rivera with a solid if not spectacular 13.850, and her momentum continued to build as she made her way across the competition floor at Matchup Mortgage Arena. Her black-and-white bedazzled leotard glittering under the lights, Rivera put on a performance that made her look every bit the experienced veteran she has become.

Pease and fellow first-day co-leader Skye Blakely couldn’t quite keep up. Pease led with two rotations to go, but her floor routine included one tumbling pass that ended with her stepping out of bounds and another in which she opted to keep her right foot hovering above the floor rather than set it down for a penalty.

Still, Pease’s second-place finish was a marked improvement from a year ago, when she came to nationals fresh off a victory at the U.S. Classic and stumbled to 10th. This time around, she finds herself in a solid position to make the team that will head to The Netherlands for the world championships in October.

Blakely’s bid to build off a promising opening night stalled quickly. She sat at the end of her first tumbling pass and bounced out of bounds on her final one, her score of 11.900 dropping her from contention for the top of the podium on her way to a seventh-place finish.

Charleigh Bullock, who turned 16 last month, was third. Reese Esponda, who trains at the Houston-area gym owned by Biles’ family, was fourth.

Two-time Olympic gold medalist Jade Carey, who is methodically building difficulty into her routines as she eyes a third trip to the Games, finished fifth in a meet that doubled as a homecoming for the Phoenix native.

Graves writes for the Associated Press.

Gillian Anderson was once a young person experimenting.

“I don’t even know if I was questioning my sexuality but there were a couple of moments during my teen years where I was with women,” Anderson tells me candidly on a recent afternoon at a Beverly Hills hotel. “I haven’t really spoken about that very much.”

Though she won’t go into details about those early interactions, she remembers the isolation that plagued her. “In interviews, I’ve alluded to a relationship that I had later in my post-college life, but not about that particular time and how not even confused, but just alone I felt and how different I felt to the rest of the kids in my high school,” she adds.

For some time now, the once and forever “X-Files” star has leaned into episodic television (Netflix, she says, has become a great partner). She earned her second Emmy in 2021 for her blistering turn as polarizing British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher in “The Crown.” Yet a major shade of her public persona has become her activism around sex positivity, encouraging women to open up about their needs and wants, both in the bedroom and as individuals in every aspect of their lives.

“It seems to still be an important topic for women to hear other women speak about,” she says. “I have come to love talking about it in the context of women’s empowerment, finding ways to embrace their own integral agency.”

Clad in a sleeveless bright green dress, Anderson, 57, radiates an ageless grace, undeniably sophisticated yet unpretentious in her demeanor. Her hair in a braid evokes the look of a figure from ancient Rome. When speaking in her unmistakable throaty voice, her expressive body language (hand movements often complement her sentences) reveals her assertiveness. That confidence makes it difficult to imagine she ever was a fragile teen.

Hannah Einbinder and Gillian Anderson in the movie “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma.”

(Mubi)

In Anderson’s latest movie, the horror-tinged, dreamlike “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” (in theaters Friday), Anderson plays Billy Presley, a reclusive former scream queen who was one of those “final girls” from a popular 1980s slasher horror franchise in which the killer was aptly called Little Death (a nickname for an orgasm, derived from a French phrase). Now Billy spends her days alone living in the woodsy location where her breakout movie was filmed long ago.

That is until auspicious indie filmmaker Kris (“Hacks” star Hannah Einbinder) comes to visit Billy with the intention of persuading her to act in a reboot. The two develop a friendship that empowers Kris to dive into her unspoken sexual yearnings — desires drenched in fear, violence and curiosity — with Billy as her mentor and, eventually, patient lover.

On top of her ability with accents (she does a Southern one here), Anderson physically commands the screen from the moment she makes an entrance worthy of a timeless diva. Her regal aura contrasts with the grotesque sensuality of a scene where fried chicken and dipping sauces take on an almost pornographic lure. Her Billy, a woman who can fluctuate between a loud cackle and an introspective speech about the lust-inducing “flesh and fluids” of horror movies, feels equal parts otherworldly and tethered to earthly urges.

“I knew on a deep level that I wanted to be a part of it, but it’s only in retrospect that I completely understand why it was so meaningful to me,” Anderson says. “It feels like such a salve for so many.”

“She put everyone at ease during those moments in a really beautiful way,” says director Jane Schoenbrun of Anderson’s work with Einbinder on their most daring scenes. “She is so physically tapped into her own abilities.”

(Mubi)

Einbinder, with whom Anderson shares scenes of blood-soaked eroticism, describes the veteran star as meticulous and diligent while also having a “lot of access to spontaneity.”

“I was a fan of her from, of course, ‘The X Files’ and a lot of her other work, so she just held this significance to me as an artist,” Einbinder tells me over the phone, “but meeting her, my expectations were surpassed because she’s really cool.”

“I didn’t want Billy to come across as a predator,” Anderson says. “I didn’t want her to be creepy or too maternal and so there were moments where she shows care, and it was a really fine line of how to play those beats. Even our first kiss and our sex scenes were very specific so that it didn’t feel not OK to be witnessing or representing.”

To Jane Schoenbrun, the movie’s writer and director, Anderson has the “elegance of old Hollywood, a classic mystique.” The filmmaker describes meeting her as a “strange coming home feeling,” since her “X-Files” character Scully held a special place in Schoenbrun’s formative years. “I spent as much time with her as I did with my siblings,” they add.

Schoenbrun credits Anderson as a “calming and nurturing presence” during the sex scenes between her and Einbinder — the first sex scenes the filmmaker had ever directed.

“Gillian had such an elegant, serious, professional but also caring perspective on how to talk about it and how to guide through it in a way that felt like it was going to be very present and alive on screen,” Schoenbrun recalls. “She put everyone at ease during those moments in a really beautiful way. She is so physically tapped into her own abilities.”

Anderson, seated with director Schoenbrun on the set of “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma.”

(David Astorga / Mubi)

Anderson found her way into playing Billy through the character’s distinct accent. Having played the tragically romantic Blanche DuBois from “A Streetcar Named Desire” on stage in the past, she aimed for a different version of Southern. “What I liked about it was this particular pitch that holds strength and vulnerability in it, which I think is very much where Billy lives at all times, from minute to minute,” she says.

Other recent TV roles have steered Anderson in the direction of an unabashedly queer storyteller like Schoenbrun. Jean Milburn, Anderson’s humorously matter-of-fact sex therapist from the series “Sex Education,” represented a watershed beginning in 2019.

It was because of the success of that show that she was approached to write “Want,” a 2024 book that collected the sexual fantasies of anonymous women (a follow-up, “More,” is out in September from Abrams Press).

“Sex Education” also inspired Anderson to launch her own brand of soft drinks cheekily called G Spot (they are caffeine-free and infused with vitamins and minerals). Some retailers, she says, have refused to use the drink’s name. “We’ve had so much pushback on the name and I refuse to be cowed, to be shut down, to be told that it’s a dirty word or that it shouldn’t be in public spaces,” she says.

“The strange thing is I don’t identify with Scully in the same way I do with other characters that I played for much less time,” Anderson says. “Part of that is because of how square she was. I have such an intrinsically rebellious nature.”

(Ian Spanier / For The Times)

For Anderson, humor is an important component of the conversations she wants people to have about sex and sexuality. During her time on “Sex Education,” she started posting pictures on Instagram of props on set that resembled both male and female genitalia. Some of her posts kept getting blocked.

“There were all these amazing things, from chess pieces that were phallic to a soap holder that was a yoni,” she says, smiling. “We started to call them ‘penis or yoni of the day.’ Then fans started posting back to me pictures of penises or yonis of the day they would see in nature.”

Anderson doesn’t quite understand the swath of Gen Zers who deride sex in movies and is, in general, uncomfortable with the subject of physical connection.

“For my younger kids, who are late-teens, the thought of picking up a phone to [call] somebody that they’re interested in feels so intimate,” Anderson says. “If a phone call is intimate and your conversations on a regular basis are snapshots of your face making funny images, then the idea of going into deep intimacy must be absolutely terrifying.”

She’s hopeful that young people might start to turn toward in-person activities to bond. But while the subjects of pleasure and open-mindedness captivate her, on screen Anderson is not letting the industry pigeonhole her.

Anderson’s recent output includes playing a shadowy operative with icy conviction in the thriller “Animals” opposite Ben Affleck, and a Nazi guard in the limited series “The Boys From Brazil,” both coming to Netflix in the near future. And in last year’s “Trespasses,” another TV show, she became a Northern Irish alcoholic mother. “I wouldn’t have guessed that at my age I would be having so many different and varied opportunities,” Anderson says.

In the aftermath of her time on “The X Files,” Anderson moved to London, both because she longed for the city where she partially grew up and for a chance at reinventing herself professionally.

“I’d never had my own publicist before that,” she says. “Had I had one, they probably would’ve tried to convince me that moving to London was the worst thing I could do for my career.”

For a long time, Anderson’s relationship with Dana Scully was complicated. “I felt like everything that I did was in an effort to get away from Scully,” Anderson admits. “Then when people would bring it up or I would do a 45-minute interview and they would ask one question about ‘The X-Files,’ they would use my refusing to talk about it as an excuse to make it the headline.”

It made it challenging for her to be considered for film roles and even for TV projects of a different vein.

“Now you have A-list actors, the Nicole Kidmans, moving between TV and film,” she says, “but back during ‘The X-Files,’ if you were on telly, it was the B, if not C version of what an actor’s life could be.”

In England, though, the likes of Judi Dench, Maggie Smith or Glenda Jackson had always navigated effortlessly between the big and small screen and the stage. “That’s the life that I wanted,” Anderson adds. “The minute I moved there, the quality of the stuff and also the range of characters that I was being offered was so different from what I’d been doing for almost 10 years as Scully.”

“The House of Mirth,” Terence Davies’ 2000 period drama based on the satirical 1905 novel by Edith Wharton, represented a breakthrough. “At the very beginning, I remember I was so surprised that there were other people who thought that I might be able to do something else other than Scully.” (When I tell her how extraordinary she is in “Mirth” as a socialite caught between stability and something more passionate, Anderson replies with a bashful, whispered “Thank you.”)

And while she can now think of “The X Files” as the “blessing” that it signified in her career, Anderson is clear that she has more often seen herself reflected in other women she’s inhabited, such as Blanche or Stella Gibson, the detective she played in the series “The Fall” starting in 2013.

“The strange thing is I don’t identify with Scully in the same way I do with other characters that I played for much less time,” Anderson confesses. “Part of that is because of how square she was. I have such an intrinsically rebellious nature. I can, obviously, play square, but I think because of that, she didn’t necessarily get her hooks inside me in the way that some of these other characters that really push against the establishment did.”

Anderson is not entirely opposed to appearing on Ryan Coogler’s just-announced “X-Files” reboot, but she is far more excited about several sci-fi projects she is currently developing (one of them she describes as “huge” in scale). They will bring her back to similar territory, but this time on her own terms.

“It’s the first time that I’m properly going into the genre and embracing it and instigating that work,” Anderson says. “I’m very excited about those but no doubt when it comes time to do press around them, there’s going to be a lot of ‘X Files’ talk, inevitably.”

She’ll be ready for it. At once pragmatic and playful, Anderson seems to be taking on the world these days like someone who’s unraveled a deeper mystery.

The last time I ate at McDonald’s was also the first time I tried a McGriddle.

Why am I thinking about a breakfast sandwich? Well, it’s morning, for starters. And my old friend Laurie Ochoa, who runs all things food at The Times, just had her own first encounter with a McGriddle, inspired by the item’s mention in the most recent season of “The Bear.”

Should McDonald’s have a Michelin star? “The Bear’s” pastry chef Luca thinks so. Laurie is a fan too. Me? Honestly, I ordered it by accident, hangry and delusional after driving too many miles on a road trip home. To this day, whenever my son, Sean, passes that Lost Hills McDonald’s, he snaps a picture and sends it to me, captioning it: “McGriddle?”

I’m Glenn Whipp, columnist for the Los Angeles Times and host of The Envelope newsletter. Does Rhea Seehorn dig McGriddles? She loves bread, so maybe the whole pancake-bun thing would put her off.

Cover story: Rhea Seehorn

(Ian Spanier / For The Times)

If you love great television, you know Seehorn from “Better Call Saul” and the new Apple TV series “Pluribus,” where she plays Carol, a sad woman forced to save the world from happiness and the hive mind.

But other than those two classics and a guest turn on the final season of “Veep,” I have not Seehorn in anything else. Which wasn’t for a lack of trying on her part, as I learned from talking with her for a recent Envelope cover story.

Seehorn moved to Los Angeles in 2003 after landing a lead role on the ABC sitcom “I’m With Her.” Seehorn played … well, I’ll let her describe the character.

“I was the naysaying, coattail-riding, bitchy, alcoholic little sister of Teri Polo’s character,” Seehorn says, laughing. “It was so much fun.”

The comedy ran for 23 episodes and was then summarily canceled, despite the season finale drawing about 11 million viewers. (“Can you imagine?” Seehorn says of the ratings. “You’d be a juggernaut now.”)

When she arrived in L.A., ABC put her up at the massive Oakwood apartment complex on Barham Boulevard, an (in)famous landing place for child actors, musicians and newcomers like Seehorn getting their start in Hollywood. On her way to work each day — she walked to the Warner Bros. lot because she didn’t have a car — Seehorn would pass older men wearing short bathrobes at 7 in the morning and “momagers” hustling their kids to an audition.

Says Seehorn: “It’s weird because you’ve landed a great job and you’re working, so, ‘Yay!’ But also, you’re staying in a one-room apartment that has a kitchenette and a Murphy bed that folds into the wall. When the bed’s folded down, it touches the couch and you can’t walk around. But when the bed is up, it’s a mirror, so you watch yourself have no friends, sitting there watching TV, eating a TV dinner. Then you’re like, is it less depressing to just sit in a bed all day, or should I watch myself sitting here?”

Needless to say, Seehorn moved as soon possible, landing in a fourplex apartment across from the Warner Bros. lot near the Taco Bell and Don Cuco on Riverside Drive. It was heaven. It had a second bedroom. And a window!

She lived there until the second season of “Better Call Saul.”

“The good news is, when you move to L.A. from New York, everything seems like a mansion,” Seehorn says, laughing.

Sitting on that Murphy bed at the Oakwood, was there ever a time when Seehorn wondered, “What am I doing?”

“I had come from supposedly being the receptionist at a construction office in Brooklyn, but what I was really doing was cleaning their bathrooms with like nine pairs of rubber gloves on because it was so disgusting,” Seehorn says. “That was my day job, and then I was working at Playwrights Horizons, a wonderful theater that I’d always wanted to work at, so I was thrilled. But theater doesn’t pay enough to live on. So life was always cobbling something together to pursue my passion, my dream.”

Read more of our ‘Pluribus’ coverage

A tempting life as a full-time family man nearly pulled Khalil Mack away from football.

“I was leaning towards coming back the whole time,” Mack said of mulling retirement before signing a one-year, $18-million contract in March to remain with the Chargers. “But it’s just considering the stage of life my kids are at, that balance of being a dad and a husband but still trying to follow the dream. I feel like I’m still in a position to do both.”

The future Hall of Famer decided the show must go on.

And now, with championship aspirations entering his 13th season, and fifth in Los Angeles, Mack is basking in his role as the Chargers’ elder statesman.

“Priceless,” defensive coordinator Chris O’Leary said of the 35-year-old outside linebacker’s presence. “He’s the flag bearer of our culture on defense. He leads the way with his actions. … When it’s time for him to say something, he’s going to say something.

“You’ve got a group of young edges in that room that all they’re doing is watching everything he does [and] listening to everything he says. It’s more valuable than anything I can say or do.”

IChargers linebacker Khalil Mack embraces one of his son on the sideline before a game against the Raiders at SoFi Stadium last season.

(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)

He’s the 2016 defensive player of the year. He has nine Pro Bowl selections and three All-Pro nods under his belt. And 113 sacks to his name.

Mack, despite coming off an injury-riddled down year, has never needed an introduction.

“He’s one of the best players of our generation,” offensive coordinator Mike McDaniel said.

Yet, perhaps even more invaluable than Mack’s on-the-field impact is his leadership.

“Oh, man, I try,” Mack said. “I try to motivate.”

He’s pretty good at it.

Whether by sharing pointers with rookies or helping rising stars such as teammate Tuli Tuipulotu navigate fuzzy contract negotiations, Mack makes himself available to help those in the Chargers organization become their best selves.

“It is unique,” Mack said of being a resource. “When you’re in that room, you want to be the guy you wanted to see early on … have those conversations that you wanted to have early on in your career, whether it was financial [or] different conversations you wanted to have and guys pouring into you.”

Mack learned the importance of passing down knowledge as a youngster in Oakland under the tutelage of seasoned veterans Charles Woodson and Justin Tuck.

“I feel like it [was] the catalyst for my career. I had them to lean on and those examples to lean on,” Mack said.

Nowadays, the Buffalo product stands on the other side of the street, paving the way for the next generation as one of the league’s older stars.

“I got friends that don’t play anymore,” Mack jested. “They’re like, ‘Aye, Mack, it’s lonely on this side.’ They’re always talking about the locker room and camaraderie. It’s just knowing how special being in the locker room is and being around your guys and enjoying it while you can.”

On that note, Mack has made it a point to savor every moment of training camp.

ISteelers quarterback Aaron Rodgers fumbles the ball as he’s sacked by Chargers linebacker Khalil Mack in the end zone during a game last season at SoFi Stadium.

(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)

Beyond looking the part, he has already spent time helping teammates better their technique, jumping at the opportunity to teach.

“He walked up and asked me three things that he can work on,” Mack said of helping rookie offensive tackle Travis Burke after practice. “I talked him through that stuff … kind of reminds me of Joe [Alt] his first year. Whatever I can share, I’m going to share, because I want them to be the best version of themselves.”

No one has anything bad to say about the man who wears No. 52.

Instead, everyone in the Chargers organization knows how integral Mack is to the day-to-day operations.

“Right now, [the rookies] don’t know any other way to do it than the way Derwin [James] does it, the way Justin [Herbert] does it, the way K-Mack does it,” coach Jim Harbaugh said. “They don’t know any other way to do it than the way those best players go about their business. …”

Mack is the epitome of a pro’s pro.

Since being the No. 5 overall pick in the 2014 draft, he has been one of the most dominant pass rushers of his generation, one of the richest players off it, and in between, the ultimate captain.

“I had a lot of coaches that were in my ear about being a professional early,” Mack said. “I feel like that’s helped prolong my career. … You can take what you want and take what works for you … that’s kind of the advice I give.”

Mack returned to the Chargers to compete for the Vince Lombardi Trophy. But playing big brother to his teammates, has been a joyous subplot.

“What’s Coach Harbaugh say?” Mack asked rhetorically. “Enthusiasm unknown to mankind.”

Even though it was late October, I couldn’t help but feel jealous as I watched my best friend Jenny swim into the calm, clear water of the American River near downtown Sacramento.

I was in town to cheer Jenny on as she competed in a long-distance triathlon. Although the race was such a fun experience, that moment on that tree-lined river bank stuck with me. In my home state of Oklahoma, I regularly swam in lakes and kayaked and rafted in rivers. But freshwater recreational opportunities were harder to come by once I moved to L.A.

This all led me to wonder: Will it ever be safe to swim in the Los Angeles River?

A large white bird stands along the L.A. River in the Glendale Narrows area of the waterway near Elysian Valley a.k.a. Frogtown.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

This felt like an especially relevant time to discuss this question, as Friends of the L.A. River will host its annual (free!) RiverFest this Sunday from 2:30 to 7:30 p.m. at L.A. State Historic Park in Chinatown. This year also marks the organization’s 40th birthday.

After reading this edition of The Wild, our weekly outdoors newsletter, I hope you feel as fired up as I do about how we can work toward a day when the answer to my question is “Yes!” But we aren’t there yet. Let’s explore why.

The L.A. River is a 51-mile waterway that flows from the confluence of Bell Creek and Arroyo Calabasas in Canoga Park, ending in Long Beach as it flows into San Pedro Bay near the Queen Mary.

Candice Dickens-Russell, chief executive at Friends of the L.A. River, told me that her organization’s founder spent decades trying to persuade Angelenos to understand that our local watercourse was not a manmade concrete flood channel but actually a river that has been surrounded by concrete.

“I’m feeling like we’re at a tipping point for people to understand that the L.A. River is really a river, which is wonderful because our founder spent his entire life trying to get people to understand that,” she said.

Channelization of the L.A. River started in the mid-1930s after a number of devastating floods and was completed in 1960.

In an early 1936 article, Times real estate editor Charles C. Cohan seemingly praised the channelizing of a nine-mile stretch of the river from Fletcher Drive westerly to Lankershim Boulevard, calling it “one of the greatest stream-channel transformations ever undertaken in the West.”

Ducks hang out in the Glendale Narrows area of the L.A. River.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

Cohan went on to write: “Men and machinery directed by the United States Army engineers are changing that vitally important length of the river from an irresponsible water course into a far larger, thoroughly conditioned channel that will be a vitally important flood protection while at the time conforming to the well-ordered, picturesque region through which it passes.”

It didn’t have to be this way.

Before the devastating flooding of 1938, the Los Angeles Chamber of Commerce commissioned two major landscape architecture firms in 1927 to develop a report analyzing how the region could develop more parkland in an already park-poor city.

“The report imagined an ‘emerald necklace,’ an urban paradise of parks and rivers and open spaces and public beaches encircling L.A. County, and it also laid out the practical, political and financial mechanisms to make it happen,” Times columnist Patt Morrison wrote in May.

The Glendale Narrows area of the L.A. River.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

The report’s authors wrote about how flood-prone land would make for better park space than business and residential developments, as anything built in these areas would inevitably be damaged during floods. The parks could also serve as their own kind of protection.

“Parkways along the river were intended to reduce the need for structural flood protection features,” according to a 2001 state report.

For political and financial reasons explored in the book “Eden by Design,” that plan was shelved and long forgotten after it was published in 1930. Around 1938, local officials worked with the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers to channelize the L.A. River, literally paving the way for what we experience today and what we’ve seen on film in everything from “Grease” to “Drive.”

In recent years, local groups have started advocating for a “rewilding” of the L.A. River, removing some level of concrete and instead using our natural environment and watershed as a means of flood control.

A large bird that appears to be a type of heron flies over the L.A. River.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

“If we develop and retrofit land to capture water, we can reduce the intensity of flood waters and peel back concrete to enable all of the essential functions healthy rivers and soil provide,” according to the local nonprofit the River Project.

This would certainly also change the swimming experience to a much more natural opportunity, rather than feeling like you’re floating about in a large, flowing swimming pool.

The future of the river becoming swimmable, though, depends in large part on how much water is left for recreation, a complicated equation for officials to develop in a region constantly grappling with how to rely less on imported water.

A person rests in the shade of trees along the L.A. River.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

Presently, the L.A. River is fed, in part, by rain and snowmelt in the wet months.

In the dry months, its main water source is three water reclamation plants that release tertiary treated water into the river. “These plants take all the wastewater from apartment buildings, houses and commercial operations and cleans it. Some of that water is used for irrigation at city parks and golf courses. Some feeds Lake Balboa,” my former Times colleague Deborah Netburn wrote in 2018. “But most of it — more than 30 million gallons each day — ends up in the river.”

Dickens-Russell of Friends of the L.A. River said for the last three years, she has sat alongside leaders from government agencies, local nonprofits and more to discern, among other things, just how much water our river needs. (For my fellow nerds who want to Google their hearts out, the full name of this effort is the Los Angeles River California Environmental Flows Framework Project, or CEFF.)

The Glendale Narrows is one of three soft-bottomed areas of the L.A. River.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

For example, the L.A. River has three soft-bottomed areas where plant and animal life thrives. If the river were starved of reclaimed water in the dry months, what would happen to those ecosystems?

“No one is saying the river doesn’t need water — there is no debate about whether there should be water in the river — the debate is … how much water does the river need?” Dickens-Russell said. “We’re trying to establish that baseline.”

The CEFF group will meet for the last time in less than two weeks, and afterward, its members will send their findings to the state water board, which oversees any changes to river flow in California, she said.

The Glendale Narrows area of the L.A. River.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

Even as officials discern the amount of the water the river needs for its multitude of uses, the L.A. River also has to be clean enough to swim in.

And humans and our behaviors are one of the biggest reasons our river water becomes polluted.

When it rains in cities, that water runs off buildings, driveways and roads, picking up fertilizer from our yards and farmlands, motor oil spilled on our streets and highways, pesticides sprayed on our plants, dirt and bacteria. This untreated runoff makes its way through storm drains and ditches into our local streams and rivers and eventually, the ocean.

Additionally, for years, runoff from industrial sites along the river have added to the problem, an effort that’s been highlighted as climate justice activists work to develop the former Taylor Yard, a railroad maintenance yard, into a park.

This is all part of a much larger problem beyond the banks of the L.A. River. “Polluted runoff is one of the greatest threats to clean water in the U.S.,” according to the federal Environmental Protection Agency.

The river is especially gnarly after its so-called “first flush,” when L.A. experiences its first big rain after a lengthy dry spell, and everything that’s built up on our roadways flows into the river.

A sunflower-like plant resembling California brittlebush grows among invasive plants in the L.A. River.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

Addressing this pollution to the extent that would make the L.A. River swimmable is not an impossible task, but it’s one that would require significant investment in our local infrastructure — like implementing creative solutions to keep out or remove trash from the river. That’s where public opinion and advocacy come into play, Dickens-Russell said.

Cities across the world like Portland and Copenhagen have successfully transformed their urban rivers into green spaces that offer reprieve from intense and increasingly frequent heat waves in our climate-changed world. Unlike Paris, which made a $1.5-billion investment in cleaning the Seine, our river won’t be ready — unless something substantial changes — for the 2028 Olympics.

The possibility of swimming in the L.A. River, though, is far from a new idea.

“Towards a swimmable, fishable, boatable river,” read the first page of the Friends of the L.A. River’s first “State of the Los Angeles River” report, published in 2005.

Lino Jubilado using a tenkara-style fly fishing rod in the L.A. River in Long Beach.

(Jerry Hsu / For The Times)

Swimming in our river isn’t going to happen with just “one good project,” but instead a mix of people changing their behaviors and also pushing for change, Dickens-Russell said.

“Looking at your question, ‘When will we be able to swim in the L.A. River?’” Dickens-Russell said, “I don’t know that that’s the question. I think the question is what we’re willing to invest to make that possible. A swimmable river is an achievable goal, but it’s going to require sustained investment in water quality and things like habitat restoration and safe and equitable public access. Every project that reduces pollution and restores natural function brings us a little bit closer to that. And yeah, we should be planning for a future where Angelenos can safely swim in the L.A. River. Why not?”

While digging through The Times’ archives for this story, I found a new visual of a river to inspire me: Three boys swimming in the L.A. River in 1936.

“Viewing the dusty Los Angeles River bed last week no one would have thought of swimming in connection with it,” the caption read. “But yesterday Bob Henderson, Stanley Hayden and Archer Bolton frolicked in the flood waters near Bell, thanks to the week-end rain.”

Ninety years later, I’m dreaming of one day doing the same. How long will that take exactly? It’s up to all of us to find out.

3 things to do

Hikers learn about their local ecosystem on a previous hike with environmental educator Jason Wise and others.

(Jason Wise)

1. Celebrate the full spectrum of the animal kingdom in L.A.
Environmental educator Jason Wise and biological anthropologist Natalia Reagan will host a sunset queer ecology walk from 6 to 8 p.m. Aug. 13 in Griffith Park. The co-hosts will dive deep into the world of animal homosexuality, bisexuality, asexuality, polyamory and more. Suggested donation of $30. Register at eventbrite.com.

2. Churn up hills in L.A.
Labyrinth, a trail run club, will host Dirt & Dessert from 7:30 to 10 a.m. Saturday in Griffith Park. Participants will tackle a 5K trail run while churning their own ice cream. Runners should bring their own bag, vest or backpack to hold ice cream-making materials, which will be included in the $14 event fee. Register at eventbrite.com.

3. Nurture native habitat in Northeast L.A.
We Explore Earth needs volunteers from 8 to 10:30 a.m. Saturday at Ascot Hills Park to beautify the park’s hillsides and trails. Participants will remove invasive species and support native habitat recovery. Register at eventbrite.com.

The must-read

Marc Papas cycles past graffiti next to the L.A. River.

(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)

Cyclist Marc Papas is on a mission to bike every public street in L.A., an estimated 7,516.07 miles. Papas moved to L.A. in late 2020 after completing his PhD at Georgia Tech, freelance journalist Oren Peleg wrote for The Times. Papas was initially scared to ride his bike around L.A., fearful of all he’d been told about our city’s car-filled and dangerous streets. Then he found himself asking: “With perfect weather year-round, and a mostly flat topography, why wasn’t everyone in L.A. riding bikes?” His passion evolved into “The Project,” of which he’s already ridden over 78% (about 5,840 miles) of our city’s streets.

Who else feels inspired to jump on their bike?

Happy adventuring,

P.S.

After my friend Maria told me she’d signed up for $10 kayaking classes after learning about them from my Instagram Stories, it made me realize that there were likely many others who’d like to know that information. L.A. County Parks and Recreation is hosting stand-up paddleboard and kayaking classes, and they’re only $10 per session. Instructors will teach participants about proper paddling technique, balance and coordination, and water safety. The classes will be offered at Santa Fe Dam, Bonelli Regional Park and Castaic Lake. August classes have sold out at Santa Fe Dam and Bonelli, but several spots remain at Castaic Lake, which sits north of L.A. and offers amazing views of the San Gabriel Mountains. Sign up by searching “kayak” or “stand” on the county’s activity registration website. A great way to have fun and stay cool this summer!

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.

California Atty. Gen. Rob Bonta said Tuesday that his office has protected more than $200 billion in federal funding for the state, defended core civil rights and removed military forces from Los Angeles streets by suing the Trump administration about once a week.

“Since President Trump returned to office, California has been under attack — and has led the way in fighting back,” Bonta said.

Bonta said his office has filed 82 lawsuits against the administration since Trump’s inauguration last year, in addition to 122 amicus briefs supporting lawsuits against the administration by other parties and 112 comment letters in response to federal actions.

That work has saved the state an estimated $207.1 billion, Bonta said, including $168 billion — equal to a third of the state’s annual budget — that was threatened when the Trump administration tried to freeze trillions of dollars in federal funding to the states last year. Billions in threatened cuts to transportation, emergency preparedness, education and family assistance funding were also prevented, Bonta said.

The work has also protected birthright citizenship for the U.S.- born children of immigrants, ensured that National Guard troops are not deployed in major California cities against the wishes of local leaders, lifted multiple sets of tariffs driving up costs for American consumers and repeatedly blocked administration efforts to interfere in California’s elections, Bonta said.

“We’ve protected funding that keeps our communities safe, feeds hungry families, and ensures our kids get the education they deserve. We’ve gone all the way to the Supreme Court to defend constitutional rights — and won. We’ve protected our elections and stopped the militarization of our cities. We’ve defended our right to prioritize public safety over assisting with the President’s inhumane immigration agenda,” Bonta said.

As it has done in the past, the White House on Tuesday derided Bonta’s lawsuits as misguided.

“Instead of bragging about filing frivolous lawsuits against the Trump Administration, the California AG should focus on addressing problems in his own state — like the countless criminal illegal aliens the Newscum Administration allows to roam free and terrorize communities,” said White House spokeswoman Abigail Jackson in a statement to The Times.

The White House has previously said Trump is “trying to restore American Greatness” and that Californians would be “infinitely better off” if Bonta got out of the president’s way.

Bonta’s office is required to report annually to the state Legislature on its work fighting the Trump administration as part of a 2025 special session measure delivering it an extra $25 million to fund such litigation. His office published its latest report to lawmakers Tuesday.

The report said the office had received $19.2 million of the special session funding through July 30, which had “contributed to — but in no way has been sufficient to cover — the costs of the litigation.”

Bonta’s office has also received regular appropriations to fund such litigation in each of the state’s last two budgets, of $14.2 million last fiscal year and $23.9 million this fiscal year. The office’s overall budget is about $1.4 billion.

At a morning news conference with other state leaders, Bonta said his office has spent close to $30 million on its “federal accountability work” overall since Trump took office, and argued that investment has been “paying off in droves” given the billions saved.

Senate President Pro Tempore Monique Limón (D-Goleta) and Assembly Speaker Robert Rivas (D-Hollister), standing with Bonta, agreed.

Limón said she was proud to have worked with Bonta and Gov. Gavin Newsom to form a “collective backstop” against the Trump administration, while Rivas said the funding provided to Bonta’s office “may be one of the smartest investments that this legislature has ever made.”

Of the 82 lawsuits, 66 remain active, according to the report. Despite that, Bonta said his office has won 45 orders providing some early relief from the Trump administration’s actions, and 21 final orders in its favor. In eight cases, he said, the administration “backed down” in advance of a trial.

Bonta’s office has lost arguments made against the Trump administration, including on behalf of other litigants, particularly on issues related to transgender rights and the scope of Trump’s executive power to reshape government and federal immigration policy.

However, Bonta claimed his office has won in 83% of the court orders issued in cases brought by the state and praised his team for having “worked around the clock on behalf of Californians, pulling countless all-nighters along the way” to make it possible.

Bonta, who is up for reelection in November, is campaigning in part on his willingness to stand up to Trump — which polling and voting has suggested many Californians want their elected officials to do.

Xavier Becerra, the Democratic candidate for California governor, is running on a similar message. Before he was the U.S. Health and Human Services secretary, Becerra had Bonta’s job and sued the first Trump administration more than 120 times, often successfully.

Bonta said he expects Becerra will be an “incredible partner” in the fight moving forward.

Republicans Michael Gates, who is running against Bonta, and Steve Hilton, who is running against Becerra and is endorsed by Trump, have said they would work collaboratively with the Trump administration to ensure the needs of Californians are met, rather than fighting it at every turn.

“I would be wanting to work with the administration to help Californians,” Hilton has said. Gates has called Bonta’s campaign against Trump “out of touch.”

Many of the lawsuits Bonta’s office has brought against the administration have been filed as part of a multistate coalition of Democratic attorneys general. As presidents of both parties have flexed more executive power in recent decades, state attorneys general have become more collaborative and litigious in fighting back — and that has been especially true under Trump.

Bonta said Trump will be remembered in part for his “repeated attacks on California, on Californians, on our Constitution, and on our democracy,” but California will be remembered for fighting back.

“Are these trying times? 100%. Absolutely, yes,” Bonta said. “But we shouldn’t be helpless, because we’re not helpless.”