By Naomi Serviss Things I’ve learned this year: I don’t look good in boho blouses with tassels. Revlon Root Erase costs six dollars online. Zoom family gatherings are better than nothing. Masks are accessories with benefits. I’m venturing out with cautious optimism in this new Pandemic Lite world. There is no Ding-Dong! The Witch is Dead! jubilation. This is not a time for rejoicing. Guarded and respectful enthusiasm is more like it. Quarantine was barely tolerable. Social isolation, the pits. We have a civic duty to respect scientific data. I blame mask confusion on a bungled, prematurish CDC pronouncement. I get the gist. Logic coupled with personal comfort zone works for me. If someone sneezes downwind, I cover half my face and serpentine away. My 6 a.m. Central Park walk-encounters provide a plethora of mask-wearing druthers. Most folk have a black mask hanging casually from a lobe or under the chin. Others go commando, full frontal features exposed. When a masked walker crosses my path, up goes my mask. A courteous, perhaps unnecessary gesture. But why not? I see it as a respectful nod to my fellow early risers. Fewer were masked this morning. The puppy playgroups were equally represented by maskers and non. The mood was jolly. There was unfiltered laughter when the wee brindle Frenchie intercepted a red rubber ball from a shocked sturdy shepherd. How could you not laugh at a stocky pipsqueak pup’s derring-do? Our world is cracking open—in a good way. Slowly. I’m squirmy. I want pre-pandemic “normal,” stat. I know I’m not the only one. Trying to be more patient and Zen-y. My meditation teacher is right when he says, “practice patience.” He printed and distributed Patience pocket cards. I have one, somewhere. Maybe if I’m patient it will turn up. My attitude has shifted from the panic-stricken, “We need more toilet paper and HOW much is Lysol now?” to being grateful for every breath. My schmoozy nature compels me to greet fellow park enthusiasts and their dogs. Between you and me, I’m just into their dogs. In a benign, non-dognapping-vibe way. Chatting with a motley assortment of colorful characters enriches my days. José is typically seated on his usual bench. He practices daily yoga stretches. He is nobly serene, with great posture. Loki, his sidekick chihuahua, poses. Younger is a Central Park Conservancy employee. We exchange pleasantries and share weather forecasts. His signature, “Ciao” is a hint he’s had enough of me. Last week he gestured me over. He held a thin plastic supermarket bag. Out came a battered, century-old photo. Thirty or so well-suited young men posed rigidly. Obviously well-to-do, they wore their privilege like a crown. Barely discernible letters were written in the lower right-hand corner. It looked like De Young with a smudged Broadway address. “I got this at the Chelsea Flea Market on Sunday. Find out what it is,” Younger said. He didn’t know I was a journalist, but apparently sensed I was willing and able. Intrigued, I took the photo and bopped around online. After a few false starts, I got lucky. The print had been processed at the Joseph de Young Photo Gallery, located in Manhattan’s Flatiron district. On Broadway. I printed out the info and presented it to Younger the next day. He wanted its value checked. “Ciao,” I said, sensing a second request. Woodie Webber is an Upper West Side plein air artist who paints in Central Park. He and his wife have a one-year-old son who loves Broadway musicals. I’ve been listening to Anthony Newley belting classics from Stop the World, I Want to Get Off, for months. Woodie’s canvas echoed stately blooming trees and vibrant grass. The verdant lawn and burnt orange earth tones complemented the blue sky. I wished Woodie good cheer and wandered on. At Summit Rock, birders hoisting powerful binoculars craned their heads upwards. Another thing I learned this year: Birders are not chatty. I drank my water and headed back. Woodie was touching up his canvas. His painting was impressionistic and evocative. The colors hummed. I promised to check his website. His body of work is impressive. I was compelled. Woodie and I had shared a perfect moment. I was part of his narrative that day. The painting haunted me. In a good way. We don’t have much wall space. And yet. I emailed Woodie about the painting’s availability. Days passed and I didn’t hear back. Disappointed, I let it go. A week later he wrote back. My email had been dumped in his spam folder. Woodie was humbled by my affection for his art. It’s home now, prominently displayed in a golden metal frame. The frame highlights the warm tones. Bringing unfettered joy. Naomi Serviss is a New York-based award-winning journalist whose work has been published in The New York Times, Newsday, The Philadelphia Inquirer, Highroads (AAA magazine), in-flight publications, spa and travel magazines and websites, including BroadwayWorld.com

By Julie Mann Kraus I was talking on the phone a few days ago to my friend Janet in Texas, and I jokingly said that the thing I’ve done best during this pandemic is procrastinate. But as I begin to think about it, maybe it isn’t a joke anymore. My taxes weren’t completed and posted until May 13th this year; the seedlings that I usually plant in the garden by now every year haven’t even been started as seeds; the flowers that I like to pot around my house haven’t been purchased. That comfortable La-Z-Boy chair that I promised myself in February of 2020 when I cleaned up the clutter in my den is still out there waiting for a good home. When my washing machine started letting me know that it was having problems in November (Operating Error messages and a small stream of water on the floor), I found a way to keep it working until I finally broke down and bought a new one just last week. Some of this has been my fear of going into most stores during the pandemic, but putting it off seemed easier until I had to rinse and wring each item of clothing by hand (and drain all the water out with the little tube at the bottom of the machine) when the OE message blinked at me continuously a week and a half ago. This all got me thinking about the fact that it’s not like I don’t have the time to get things done. I’m not volunteering twice a week; I’m not running errands for homebound friends as much; I’m not meeting friends for lunch and shopping like I used to. Plays and concerts haven’t been a part of my life in over a year. In fact, the words “I’m not” have become a regular part of my consciousness. Could this be a factor? This is all pretty interesting because I consider myself a preventative kind of person. If anyone gets a cut around my house, I have ointments and liquids and every type of bandage and treatment, as well as aspirin and pain medications. If a handyman needs a tool or drill or saw or screw or nail, I’ve got it. I do so because I like to head off the stress of having to run and get something in the middle of a project. I keep every leftover piece of wood–it will come in handy sometime, even as a tomato stake. I really hadn’t considered the ramifications of spending so much time as a single person during this Covid period, but as I look around and notice that the tax papers haven’t been put away; the laundry room isn’t completely returned to its organized condition after receiving its new machine; the storage room is still bereft of most of its stuff after a visit from the water softener guy doing a routine checkup last week... It’s time to reevaluate. When I retired some years back, I started saying that everyday is Saturday. It sounded fun and has stayed my retirement mantra. Now I’m thinking that my Scarlett O’Hara pandemic mantra is that I’ll do it tomorrow. “After all,” as the quintessential southern belle famously declared, “Tomorrow is another day!” There doesn’t seem to be much harm in letting projects linger a little longer before completion. I’m wondering if others are feeling somewhat the same and I’d be curious to read their comments. My friend, Janet, thinks we should have a procrastination blog. That might be cathartic! Julie Kraus is a retired Detroit Public Schools teacher who has used this pandemic to write letters, send lots of greeting cards and have long phone conversations.  A classical pianist who hasn’t been able to come up with reasons not to practice the piano daily, she is waiting for the day when there is more than an audience of one.  Playing for friends over the phone does have its drawbacks.  A plus for being cooped up have been the many recipes that have been tried and the several that have become true.  She hopes that everyone stays healthy and gets vaccinated.

FRED PLOTKIN is one of America’s foremost experts on opera and has distinguished himself in many fields as a writer, speaker, consultant and as a compelling teacher. He is an expert on everything Italian, the person other so-called Italy experts turn to for definitive information.  Fred discovered the concept of "The Renaissance Man" as a small child and has devoted himself to pursuing that ideal as the central role of his life. In a “Public Lives” profile in The New York Times on August 30, 2002, Plotkin was described as "one of those New York word-of-mouth legends, known by the cognoscenti for his renaissance mastery of two seemingly separate disciplines: music and the food of Italy." In the same publication, on May 11, 2006, it was written that "Fred is a New Yorker, but has the soul of an Italian."

By Andy Borowitz May 24, 2021 WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report)—Republicans on Capitol Hill are arguing that a proposed January 6th commission is uncalled for because the rioters were merely middle schoolers on a field trip. Speaking to reporters, Senator Ron Johnson, of Wisconsin, said that, after reviewing footage of the riot, “It’s plain to see that this was just a bunch of middle-school kids who got a little rowdy.” “I’ve had teen-agers, and I know what kind of horseplay and tomfoolery they can get up to,” he said. “I didn’t set up a commission every time they raised a little heck.” Claiming that the rioters’ behavior should be expected of “a bunch of crazy kids looking to cut loose,” Johnson said that the responsibility for investigating them belongs “not to Congress but to their teachers.” “I think the teachers need to find out who were the class clowns behind these stunts, and say to them, ‘Any more nonsense like this and you’re not going to the water park on the last day of school,’ ” he said. Andy Borowitz is a Times best-selling author and a comedian who has written for The New Yorker since 1998. He writes The Borowitz Report, a satirical column on the news.

By Naomi Serviss I wanted to ditch my son’s Bar Mitzvah sign-in board. It had been meticulously wrapped in decades-old newspaper and unceremoniously wedged between our ancient steel file cabinet and the bedroom wall. Discovered while rummaging through our cozy one-bedroom Manhattan apartment. My self-assigned mission was to toss clothing, bric-a-brac and whatnot. We had lots of whatnot. If something didn’t pass the joy test, it was curtains. I blame Marie Kondo. According to Kondo, any piece of clothing or object that fails to spark joy should be binned. My over-stuffed bureau drawers and crammed closet were evidence an intervention was overdue. I joylessly dumped a drawerful of vintage T-shirts and whimsical pajamas on the bed. No way was I binning my Leave It to Beaver, Mighty Mouse or Felix the Cat tees! The vintage typewriter shirt I could live without. It barely sparked recognition, forget joy. My rainbow striped, polka dotted, worn-out elastic-waisted clown pants are still a joyful relic. Sanctuary granted. Not so lucky were the white capris patterned with tiny black hearts. They zipped all the way up in pre-pandemic times. I have a picture that proves it. What was compelling me to keep them? I told my shrink my pants felt too snug. Her sage advice: “Buy bigger pants.” Two hours of passing judgment later, my drawers were neatly organized. My endorphins had kicked in. It was a welcome respite from feeling isolated and depressed-lite. Even Call My Agent! had failed to amuse. I laser-focused on my kitchen-table files. Filled with writing workshop submissions. I cringed reading hard copies of my bad poetry. Why was I holding on to duplicate travel and spa magazines I contributed to? It was a no-brainer to toss them. Like weeding our Greenlawn garden. I next turned to my overflowing pile of books. My bedside table was awash in favorite memoirs, from Tovah Feldshuh’s Lilyville to Anne Lamott’s new Dusk Night Dawn. Signed! Allie Brosh’s oversized graphic novel, Solutions and Other Problems, commandeered prime real estate. The hardwood floor was equally swamped by a motley assortment of nonfiction and plays. Edward Albee’s Three Tall Women, Michael Pollan’s How to Change Your Mind, and slim historical pamphlets from Sundance Resort, Sundance Written Word were piled under a lamp. Something had to give. Three Tall Women is a solid joy-resonator. I witnessed Marian Seldes mesmerize Broadway audiences three times. Then interviewed the theater legend in her dressing room. The first time we met she held my face in her hands. She was a great hugger. Hugs from Marian Seldes is a blessed memory. The Sundance stories are souvenirs from a press trip to Robert Redford’s Sundance Resort. Keepers. A washed-out brown college-dorm-y bookcase was Mudville territory. Soon to be replaced by a knotty-pine, hand-crafted purple and orange bookcase from Wisconsin. Many books and the bookcase were duly disposed of. I joyously gave them the shaft. Kondo’s philosophy had rooted. I poked behind the file cabinet and discovered Ben’s Bar Mitzvah memento. His three-foot tall green testament to Hebrew school torture. A coming-of-age relic autographed by friends’ black Sharpie wisecracks and performance critiques. It had been toted across country, bunking with us since Ben had become a man at 13, in Jewish tradition. Ben obviously had no attachment to it. Why should we keep it? Maybe it was time to recycle the posterboard. If Ben didn’t pine for it, why not? I took a few photos and texted them for his final decision. His response: “Would you take pictures of the back? I know kids wrote things there, too.” It still gave him joy. When he visits, he’ll find it prominently displayed. Naomi Serviss is a New York-based award-winning journalist whose work has been published in The New York Times, Newsday, The Philadelphia Inquirer, Highroads (AAA magazine), in-flight publications, spa and travel magazines and websites, including BroadwayWorld.com

By Andy Borowitz May 18, 2021 PALM BEACH (The Borowitz Report)—Hinting darkly that “there’s something going on,” Donald J. Trump claimed that the election audit in Arizona had turned up “widespread math.” “There were people counting votes who used math to do it,” he said. “This should never have been allowed to happen in our country.” Explaining how math was used to count votes, Trump said, “If you take one number and add another number to it, you get a totally different number. It’s unfair and, quite frankly, a disgrace.” Trump blamed Arizona election officials for “allowing math to be used in the first place,” but also pointed the finger at his former Education Secretary, Betsy DeVos. “Betsy promised me she would totally get rid of math in this country,” he said. “She didn’t get it done.” Andy Borowitz is a Times best-selling author and a comedian who has written for The New Yorker since 1998. He writes The Borowitz Report, a satirical column on the news.

By Jessie Seigel / Washington, D.C. Since Twitter and Facebook banned Donald Trump, we have been treated to far fewer of his tantrums, and almost none of his written bons mots. The Atlantic suggested in April that Trump has “remained unexpectedly peripheral since leaving office.” But when villains get quiet—when they’re not advertising much of what they’re doing—watch out! Since leaving the White House, most of the Trump clan has decamped to Florida. According to People in April, Donald, Jr. bought a $9.7 million home in the Admiral Cove gated Community in Jupiter, not far from Mar-a-Lago; A Business Insider article reported in May that Eric and Lara bought a $3.2 million mansion in the Trump National Golf Club gated community next door, and Ivanka and Jared are building a home in Indian Creek, a swanky private island community in Miami-Dade County known as Miami’s “Billionaire Bunker.” Tiffany has been spending time in Miami. Until last week, when the former President moved to New Jersey for the summer, Trump, Melania, and Barron had been living at Mar-a-Lago. Remember the Mar-a-Lago neighbors who tried to evict Trump from his “Winter White House?” They argued he couldn’t live there because it’s a resort, not a private residence. But the Palm Beach town attorney said that Trump may live there because he is a “bona fide employee.” I wonder if the guests can make him bring them towels, turn down their beds, and leave expensive mints on their pillows. But no! Trump is spending his days playing golf and lunching. Like an old ham actor trying to relive his glory days, he even crashed a wedding held at his resort, where he ranted at length against President Biden’s policies towards Iran and China, and the supposed election fraud, before wishing the newlyweds well. Occasionally, Trump has ventured out to a venue like CPAC (the Conservative Political Action Conference) to recite to a receptive audience his tired complaints that the 2020 election was stolen from him. He’s also given interviews to some of his favorite right-wing cable-news shows. Most of all, Trump has been plotting revenge on his political enemies as well as those who have otherwise offended him by not being sufficiently obsequious or not fully buying into his election fraud lie. At a Republican fundraiser at Mar-a-Lago in April, he called Mitch McConnell a “dumb son of a bitch” and a “stone cold loser” for accepting the electoral results. The former President has threatened to campaign against those Republicans who voted for his impeachment and for his conviction for incitement of insurrection. He even said he would travel as far as Alaska to campaign against the “disloyal” Republican Senator Lisa Murkowski. Last week, after Rep. Liz Cheney was ousted from her position as Conference Chair (the third-ranking Republican leader in the House) for her repeated challenges of Trump’s “big lie,” he issued the statement: Liz Cheney is a bitter, horrible human being. I watched her yesterday and realized how bad she is for the Republican party. She has no personality or anything good having to do with politics or our country. She is a warmonger whose family stupidly pushed us into the never-ending Middle East disaster, draining our wealth and depleting our great military, the worst decision in our country’s history. I look forward to soon watching her as a paid contributor on CNN or MSDNC (sic). The statement, though nasty, is uncharacteristically articulate. One must wonder who wrote it for him. Presumably, Trump has also been mulling over his legal jeopardy in both civil and criminal investigations, and contemplating how to evade extradition from Florida if he is indicted by New York prosecutors. If an indictment should happen to come down during the summer, he may find his summer locale in New Jersey hotter than Florida since he won’t have his friendly Florida Governor Ron DeSantis to run interference for him. While we wait for the wheels of justice to slowly grind their way towards possible indictments for various crimes (tax evasion, fraud, obstruction of justice) the Trump family members are plotting their respective triumphant returns to Washington. Trump plays the ousted king in exile, receiving his many vassals who come to show their obeisance. GOP lawmakers like Senator Lindsey Graham, House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy, House Minority Whip Steve Scalise, and extremist Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene have made the trek south. In March, a delegation of sycophantic Alabama Republicans even presented Trump with a framed resolution declaring him “one of the greatest and most effective presidents in the 245 years of this republic.” These minions do not make the trip to Mar-a-Lago out of love or respect for the man but in hopes of currying Trump’s favor and thereby obtaining the votes of those still supporting him. The Atlantic reported in April that Trump tops polls of GOP voters for 2024 presidential candidates. If the members of the Republican Party had stood in solidarity against Trump, they could have put a stop to his political life and outrages long ago. Certainly they could have done so after his January 6 attempted coup. But they had neither the will nor the desire. Apparently, with the exception of Cheney and Rep. Adam Kinzinger, they are willing to sacrifice their integrity and their souls in exchange for reflected power. The most gung-ho Congressional types like Jim Jordan and Matt Gaetz are acting as surrogates, attacking all Trump’s enemies for him. With friends like that, who needs Twitter and Facebook? Meanwhile, according to gossipy People magazine, Melania has been spending most of her time at Mar-a-Lago’s spa as well as with with her son, Barron, and her parents. Melania may or may not favor a 2024 presidential run for Donald, but it appears that she is no shrinking violet who needs to be “freed” from him. Apparently, she is well-satisfied with her marital bargain, and well able to navigate within it to get what she thinks she deserves. People reported that, in 2005, a New York University student asked if Melania would still be with her husband if he wasn’t rich, to which Melania replied: “If I weren't beautiful, do you think he'd be with me?” It appears now that, despite the official explanation when Trump first took office, Melania did not delay her move to Washington after his 2016 election victory so Barron could complete his school year. In The Art of Her Deal: The Untold Story of Melania Trump, author Mary Jordan reports that Melania was renegotiating her prenup agreement, using her delayed move to D.C. as leverage. But the author notes that Melania’s main purpose was apparently to ensure Barron would have an inheritance equal to that of Don Jr., Ivanka, and Eric. Who knows? Perhaps Melania is quietly bargaining for a revised prenup yet again. As for Trump’s children and children-in-law, the word is that Jared is out; Donald, Jr. is in. Donald, Jr. is now reportedly the top adviser to his father. According to CNN, he is vetting Republicans seeking Trump’s endorsement, and advising Trump that divisive cultural issues like transgender rights and sex changes are the most likely to stir MAGA voters for the 2022 midterm election and beyond. Eric Trump’s wife Lara has joined Fox News as a contributor, and it is rumored that she may run for Republican North Carolina Senator Richard Burr’s seat in 2022. (He is not seeking reelection.) Senator Lindsey Graham has said that Lara “represents the future of the Republican Party.” Lara’s not even a blood relative. But, apparently there is no one in the Trump family orbit whose boots Lindsey will not lick. Ivanka and Jared are keeping a low profile. They are trying to maintain a distance from Trump’s political machine and rehabilitate their own images while still keeping themselves in the news. In April, Vanity Fair reported that the couple are plotting to make Ivanka the first woman president. If that happens, God help us all. In the meantime, Jared has gone back to developing real estate with his ex-con father in Fort Lauderdale and Miami. And both Jared and Ivanka are acting as informal advisers to the newly formed America First Policy Institute (AFPI)—billed as a 35-person nonprofit think tank, whose stated mission is to perpetuate former President Trump’s policies. However, according to The Guardian in April, critics consider AFPI a “cash cow for Trump alumni with stained reputations.” In February, after the Senate failed to attain the 67 votes needed to convict Trump, Senator Graham declared, “The most potent force in the Republican party is President Trump.” According to Graham, “Trump-plus is the way back in 2022.” We need Trump-plus like we need a hole in the head. But it looks like Trump-plus is what we’ve got. And if the nefarious clan’s grandiose schemes bear fruit, and the courts don’t intercede, we may have to play whack-a-mole with Donald Trump and his odious offspring for years to come. Jessie Seigel is a fiction writer, an associate editor at the Potomac Review, a reviewer for The Washington Independent Review of Books, and a dabbler in political cartoons at Daily Kos. She has twice received an Artist’s Fellowship from the DC Commission on the Arts and Humanities for her work. But, Seigel also had a long career as a government attorney, in which she honed her analytic skills. Of this double career, Seigel would say, “I guess my right and left brains are well balanced.” More on and from Seigel can be found at The Adventurous Writer, https://www.jessieseigel.com.

Photos by Joel and Susanne Dzodin Violence has yet again erupted in the Mideast. As politicians and diplomats squabble, average Arab and Israeli citizens scramble. Here is a glimpse of one Israeli couple’s experience over the past 10 days. Joel and Susanne Dzodin, who have been married 44 years, have a son and daughter and live in Holon, a city south of Tel Aviv with a population of nearly 200,000. Joel is originally from Detroit, Michigan and Susanne was born in Hamburg, Germany. They have lived in Holon for almost six years, and in Israel 16 years. Their pictures (below) tell their personal tale. An apartment building on the opposite side of the street also sustained damage by the explosion of the incoming rocket. Hopefully, everyone managed to get to a reinforced shelter before the missile hit. Residents have about 90 seconds from when the alarm sounds to get to a place of safety. It's not unusual for older buildings to lack a properly bomb-resistant space. Instead, there are community shelters maintained for such situations. But will the elderly and infirm manage to get to them in time?

FRED PLOTKIN is one of America’s foremost experts on opera and has distinguished himself in many fields as a writer, speaker, consultant and as a compelling teacher. He is an expert on everything Italian, the person other so-called Italy experts turn to for definitive information.  Fred discovered the concept of "The Renaissance Man" as a small child and has devoted himself to pursuing that ideal as the central role of his life. In a “Public Lives” profile in The New York Times on August 30, 2002, Plotkin was described as "one of those New York word-of-mouth legends, known by the cognoscenti for his renaissance mastery of two seemingly separate disciplines: music and the food of Italy." In the same publication, on May 11, 2006, it was written that "Fred is a New Yorker, but has the soul of an Italian."

By Victoria Rolfe April showers have given way to May flowers, and gardening season is really heating up. Those seeds you planted indoors back in March and early April should be up and getting quite robust by now. Meanwhile, your cool season crops, sown directly into the ground in April, should be beginning to sprout through the soil. If you haven’t gotten out there yet, no worries. You can still plant many of those seeds now. In fact, you can continue to plant some of them right up until mid-summer. Just about the only spring crops you’ve missed out on (if you haven’t sown cool season seeds yet) are snow peas and spinach. Otherwise, carrots, beets, Swiss chard, lettuce, kale, radishes, and onion sets, among others, are still good to sow. For frugality’s sake, I usually recommend growing most of your veggies from seed, but you can buy broccoli, cauliflower and Brussels sprouts seedlings in cell packs at garden centers and plant them now. These are the cool weather crops that require a longer growing season than our New York climate provides, so they cannot be started directly outdoors from seed here in the Hudson Valley. As you become more experienced and proficient at gardening, you might want to try starting these kinds of seeds indoors during the winter months as well. And now, as you peruse the tables of veggies growing in cell packs at the garden center, you can delight in the amount of money you saved, as you’ve seen how easy most of these plants are to grow from seed yourself for a fraction of the cost. Why would you pay $2.00 for a measly four-pack of lettuce plants when you can buy a whole packet of seeds for $1.29 and grow as much lettuce as you can possibly eat all summer, and still have enough seeds left over to plant next year? If your plant space is limited and confined to a deck or balcony, you can still grow edibles. Buy a few cell packs of lettuce and fill a planter (or you can cultivate them from seed, but be careful to keep them watered because pots dry out fast). The leaves can be cut for your salads all summer and they will just keep growing back. You can do this with herbs too, such as basil, oregano, parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme. (Did I just hear you sing that?) Mix and match them together in planters. You can even tuck a few flowers in with them. Beauty for your eyes as well as your taste buds! Once we get into the second half of May and the days and ground temperatures warm up, it will be time to move those little indoor seedlings we’ve been coddling out to their summer home in the garden. Keep watching this space for more instruction on that. It’s coming soon. And, as always, I am happy to answer any of your garden questions as we continue along our garden path. Feel free to leave them in the comment section below. Happy gardening! Victoria Rolfe has had a love of gardening all her life, from the time she was a tiny child coveting the daffodils growing in her neighbor’s yard (and wondering why she couldn’t have them in her own), to her teenage years when she took her pot experimentation in a different direction by growing the seeds she extracted from the bag into a beautiful marijuana plant on her bedroom windowsill. She went on in her adult years to feed her family by growing a huge and bountiful vegetable garden, as well as beautifying her three-acre property with an array of ornamental trees, bushes and flowers in the magnificent Hudson Valley region of New York. Victoria learned a great deal in the process of all this plant experimentation. She then added to that knowledge by taking courses with the Cornell Cooperative Extension to become a Master Gardener Volunteer. In her volunteer capacity, she helps to educate the public on gardening through classes and information booths, most notably at the Dutchess County N.Y. Fair each August. Throughout the summer months, Victoria is most likely to be found among the weeds, either in her own garden or those of others who actually pay her to play in their dirt and do the thing she loves best, delight in the magical world of gardening. Victoria is not only a gardening aficionado; she is also passionate about helping people live a better life on less money. Visit her website and blog at brightfuture2budget4.weebly.com, or email her at brightfuture2budget4@gmail.com.

By Bonnie Fishman Remember back in the beginning of the pandemic, when we could not find flour or yeast anywhere? Where was it, anyway? Was everyone trying their hand at homemade bread the same week? I talked to my neighbor who has a Pepperidge Farm route (one night I swear I’m going to break into his truck to steal a case of Milanos). He told me they were backordered delivering product because even they couldn’t get flour. A real travesty for Lido lovers everywhere. Fast forward. You’d think by now, many months later, that in Los Angeles, where my son Ben lives, every cooking ingredient known to mankind would be available, readily available. The city is a melting pot of over 140 different nationalities with that many styles of preparing food. You need dried limes? Easy-peasy. Za’atar everywhere. Urfa biber, a Turkish chili pepper? No problem. Uni (sea urchin)? Not so fast! What, L.A., and you can’t find uni anywhere? This is the dilemma my son Ben faced this past New Year’s Eve. Ben is a wonderfully, adventurous cook, not professional but a hobbyist. He comes by it naturally, growing up in my Patisserie and catering business in suburban Detroit. He was always a diverse eater, even as a child. I remember once when Ben was seven, we took a family trip to Toronto. We ate at some swanky Japanese restaurant where the portions are notoriously small. After chowing down a teriyaki-seared salmon filet, he asked for another plate. At $30, we said no, thank you. This New Year’s Eve, Ben had ambitious plans of making a special recipe, Uni Pasta from Bestia, a trendy Italian restaurant in L.A. Since the pandemic has closed all farmer’s markets, he was unable to visit his favorite seafood guy there. Many phone calls later, Ben discovered everyone was out of uni. Ha! Uni in Los Angeles on New Year’s Eve? Good luck, we’ve been pre-sold out for days, they said. Apparently, uni being such a delicacy, many adventurous home cooks during the pandemic had the same idea. Note: uni are the gonads or coral of a sea urchin, five tongue-shaped yellowish orange gonads or lobes per urchin. Google dictionary’s definition of a lobe is: a roundish and flattish part of something, typically each of two or more such parts divided by a fissure, and often projecting or hanging. They have the texture of a firm custard but taste briny. P.S. I feel like I’m losing a few readers on this oh-so-appealing description of an expensive delicacy. To each his or her own. Finally, Ben locates uni in Redondo Beach, about 35 minutes away. He throws caution to the wind, gets in his car and drives down there. He masks up, steps to the counter, six feet away, and orders uni. The salesperson hands him a live sea urchin in a dish of salty ocean water with the warning: this spiny guy is alive and you don’t want him to dry out before you cook him. Good luck. Ben takes these directions very seriously, too seriously in my opinion. Lobsters packed in dry ice fly overnight coast-to-coast and this one sea urchin has to stay wet for the 35-minute ride home? We now know that nothing is going to go right, with a dish of sea water surrounding a sea urchin balanced precariously on the seat of his car. On the first big turn in the road, Ben goes one way and the sea water goes down the center console of the car (adding to the dog vomit already down the hatch from days before). My son is not concerned with the pile up of unsavory liquids in his Tesla. No, the sea urchin is now dry. Ah, ha! The Pacific is just a few miles away. An ocean full, literally, of sea water. Ben goes to the beach, kicks off his shoes with the sea urchin dish in hand, goes to the water’s edge to keep the little bugger covered. Problem solved. Upon arriving home, a bigger issue is at hand. How to open this dangerously spiky beast without impaling himself? There is a YouTube for everything. Note to readers: don’t try this at home! Buy uni already shelled. Uni Pasta Yield: 4 servings 1/2 lb. spaghetti noodles 1/3 c. extra virgin olive oil 1 Tbs. finely chopped shallots 2 cloves garlic, minced 1 tsp. crushed red pepper flakes 1 tsp. salt 1/2 c. white wine 3/4 c. lobster stock or clam juice 1 1/2 c. vegetable stock 2 unis (sea urchins) 4 basil leaves, thinly sliced crosswise 1 Tbs. chopped fresh parsley l lemon Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add the pasta and cook for 6 minutes. Meanwhile, in a large skillet heat the olive oil over low heat. Add the shallot, garlic, red pepper flakes, and salt. Gently cook until the shallot and garlic are translucent, about 3 minutes. You should not hear sizzling. If so, turn down heat. Add the wine, increase the heat to medium and bring to a boil. Scrape up any bits from the bottom of the pan. When the wine is almost evaporated, add the lobster stock and cook to reduce and thicken. Pour on the vegetable stock. Drain the pasta after 6 minutes. Put the pasta in the skillet, tossing it around to pull the sauce together. You may need to add more vegetable stock if dry. Once the sauce is thick and the pasta al dente, remove from heat. Remove and reserve 4 uni lobes for garnish. Put the remainder in a large bowl and mash them up with a rubber spatula. Pour the pasta and sauce into the bowl along with the basil and parsley. Toss to coat evenly. Adjust the seasoning. Distribute among 4 pasta dishes and squeeze on a few drops of lemon juice. Top each plate with an uni lobe. Bonnie Fishman attended the Cordon Bleu Cookery School in London. Later, she owned and operated Bonnie’s Patisserie in Southfield, Mich. and Bonnie’s Kitchen and Catering in Bloomfield Hills, Mich. She has taught cooking for over 35 years and created hundreds of recipes. She is now living in Northern California.

One film journalist’s stream-of-consciousness cinematic journey through the pandemic, Part 35 By Laurence Lerman As Americans take their first tentative steps towards indoor dining and shopping and such, now is a good time to recall just how complicated and risky things were only one year ago this week in regard to going to the movies. On March 18, 2020, the nation’s largest movie exhibitors—AMC, Cinemark and Regal—shut down the majority of the U.S.’s nearly 5,900 movie theaters and 40,000-plus screens due to Covid-19. And alongside those theater chains, the big movie studios cancelled nearly all the scheduled theatrical engagements of their films. According to the movie industry database The Numbers (www.thenumbers.com), there were some two dozen films slated to open theatrically—regionally and nationally—during the second and third weeks of May, 2020. With the theaters on hiatus, distributors large and small were forced to seek an alternate route for their films to find an audience. Many people probably remember the delay of such prominent, slated-for-theater titles as Universal’s animated Trolls World Tour, Focus Features’ The High Note and Fox Searchlight/Disney’s The Personal History of David Copperfield, all of which were eventually parceled out to the major on-demand outlets and streaming services. There were even a few symbolic theatrical engagements thrown in, if possible. Another dozen or so smaller films were also kicked over to streaming services or other internet distributors. Without the benefit of even the smallest amount of press—there was precious little of it for more modest productions last spring—they found their final resting place as one of hundreds of films on a streaming menu scroll. Such was the case with Lionsgate’s Intrigo: Dear Agnes, OTL Releasing’s Run Sweetheart Run, Saban Films’ The Legion and Quiver’s Walk Away Joe. Haven’t heard of them? Neither have I. Then there’s the case of United Artists Releasing’s Valley Girl, Neon’s Spaceship Earth and IFC’s How To Build a Girl, a trio of midsized independent features whose distributors refused to let their films endure a streaming-only suicide. To that end, all were cleverly rolled out to select drive-in theaters across the country, in addition to the usual on-demand hubs. Determined not to give up entirely on the big-screen experience, distributor Neon even created a bunch of pop-up cityscape projections for their documentary Spaceship Earth. In these cases, the films were shown on large, outdoor buildings or makeshift screens—fun! —with audiences adhering to quarantine and social-distance guidelines as they congregated for a night at the movies. Finally, there were a couple of really big ones slated for May, 2020 release that still haven’t flickered before an audience’s eyes but are finally set to be released in theaters over the next couple of months. More on that later. Fast forward to May, 2021. This past week has seen the limited theatrical release of at least two dozen specialty and foreign titles from a host of respected independent studios, including Silo (Oscilloscope Pictures), Undergods (Gravitas Ventures), The Perfect Candidate (Music Box Films), Riders of Justice (Magnolia Pictures), Mainstream (IFC Films) and There Is No Evil (Kino Lorber). The majority of them are also receiving day-and-date digital and streaming releases, so audiences can make the choice of either watching them at home or on the big screen. That so many entries will find their biggest audiences at home while also enjoying a limited big screen rollout–with their names illuminated on a movie theater marquee–is nice to see. Of course, it’s the big studios that are now coming out swinging this week. They are releasing a half-dozen major films in the widest distribution pattern the theatrical market has seen since Warner jammed Christopher Nolan’s highly anticipated, effects-filled Tenet into hundreds of U.S. theaters last Labor Day weekend. You may recall that Tenet’s box office results were considered to be lackluster, which wasn’t really a surprise considering that only about 70 percent of the market was open at that time (New York and California were not among them). That all theaters had audience restrictions ranging from 25 percent to 60 percent was another factor that audiences didn’t find appealing. Tenet’s shaky theatrical release and box office returns were the barometer for Warner’s decision to premiere Wonder Woman 1984 both in theaters and on the company’s subscription-based streaming platform HBO Max several months later. But eight months have passed since Tenet and the studios are now enthusiastically rolling out their mid-budgeted genre entries in a warm-up of sorts before they let loose their big guns this summer. The studio films seeing wide theatrical release this past week were Wrath of Man (United Artists), Here Today (Sony), Spiral (Lionsgate) and Those Who Wish Me Dead (Warner), all of which feature relatively big stars, digestibly high-concept storylines and, hopefully, the appeal to lure audiences back to the theater. With the exception of Warner’s Those Who Wish Me Dead, which will also play on HBO Max, all of the films premiered solely in theaters, baiting movie lovers who have enjoyed both sides of the streaming/theatrical divide, with the prospect that they now must go to the theater if they want to see the newest “big” film in a timely fashion. Leading the way for the summer blockbuster season are the aforementioned pair of probable smashes that were initially supposed to hit the theaters back in May, 2020: Disney/Marvel’s Black Widow is now is slated for wide release in July, and Universal’s F9, the latest entry in the studio’s Fast & Furious franchise, is due in June. It is worth noting, though, that Black Widow will simultaneously be premiering on the Disney Plus streaming platform for $30 as part of the studio’s “Premiere Access” program, much like Raya and The Last Dragon and Mulan did in previous months. Like the theaters that try offer a mix of films to service their diverse clientele, Hollywood studios are varying their methods of distribution as they keep their eyes focused on their own bottom lines. Laurence Lerman is a film journalist, former editor of Video Business--Variety's DVD trade publication--and husband to The Insider's own Gwen Cooper. Over the course of his career he has conducted one-on-one interviews with just about every major director working today, including Martin Scorsese, Quentin Tarantino, Clint Eastwood, Kathryn Bigelow, Ridley Scott, Walter Hill, Spike Lee, and Werner Herzog, among numerous others. Once James Cameron specifically requested an interview with Laurence by name, which his wife still likes to brag about. Most recently, he is the co-founder and editor-in-chief of the online review site DiscDish.com.