Search Results

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 inThe New York Timeson 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 July 9, 2020 WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report)—Amid the debate over reopening the nation’s schools, a new poll shows that an overwhelming majority of Americans would like Donald J. Trump to go back to school in the fall. Due to social-distancing requirements, those surveyed agreed that there should be limits on class size when Trump returns to school, but that his class should be large enough to accommodate other education-starved students such as Jared Kushner, Rand Paul, and Betsy DeVos. Although Americans acknowledge that the logistics of sending Trump back to school could be complicated and expensive, the cost of his continuing lack of education is far greater, the poll indicates. Americans were split on which school subjects they would like to see Trump focus on most when he returns to the classroom. Science and math received the strongest support, but a substantial number of respondents also favored history, geography, and English. Finally, if Trump is ordered back to school in the fall, a vast majority of respondents urged that steps be taken to insure that he does not send someone else in his place. 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 Helene Bednarsh It was sometime in late January that my sleep-less pattern started. Our regional dental conference, Yankee Dental, was at the end of January. Yes, New England, end of January. In preparing for our educational exhibit, I thought maybe some Novel Coronavirus-19 fact sheets might be good to have. Day 1, 300 flew off the table faster than the condoms and candy. Couldn’t walk across the exhibit floor without being asked about it, noticed some mask wearers and it began. Mydreams were first anxiety-driven. Between the conference and our discussions in the Infectious Disease Bureau, reading between the lines in the print media, listening to and absorbing all the news that’s fit to hear was my tipping point. What is this, why aren’t the public health authorities telling us? Dire stories out of China that were reported months before and still went unheeded. Professional journals and associations sharing information. Lack of leadership and--I genuinely believe, the muzzling of federal disease experts--only fueled my anxiety. Then panic! What is the real risk? How do I mitigate the risk? Why am I still going out in public and working? The dreams took advantage of this and my restless mind spun out all kinds of scenarios. Morbidity, mortality, messaging and more. The helpless feeling when in panic mode. No wonder—the word “panic” comes from the Greek god Pan, who was thought to induce sudden, uncontrollable fear, leading people into irrational behavior. The dreams morphed into all of the what-ifs in my life and the roads not taken. Not like I could do anything about those decisions now either made by me or for me. But some were laced with regret. Hard to fight regret. Then Jewish mother mode – guilt. Suddenly I was fixated in my REM or non-REM world with everything I had done wrong in my life, anyone I had wronged in my life. Atonement was just too far away. Demons, like an invasion of the body snatchers, were everywhere in my sleepless nights. Some even stayed to keep me company during the day. Curse you, pandemic! Recently, I must use dream controls on what I watch on TV. In my dreams I suffer the dramas of the characters, it is as if I have become them. Spoiler alert: Claire, in “Outlander,” why didn’t you touch the damn stone and go back? I’m almost afraid to even read, lest I morph into one of the characters. I am staying with my public health literature--scary as it is, I have become inured to it. Who would have thought that the pandemic guidelines, articles, webinars and all would creep out of my dreams and leave me with the others? I do not know if I will ever sleep through the night again. Perhaps when there is a vaccine or herd immunity. But that is a long time to wait for a good night’s sleep. To sleep, perchance not to dream? Helene Bednarsh is Director of the Ryan White Dental Program, Boston Public Health Commission. She is Vice President of HIVDENT and is the Dental Director for the New England AIDS Education and Training Center. She has published numerous articles. When she’s not advocating for something, she’s knitting.

June 25, 2020 Jeffrey D. Sachs | From Armchair Expert "Jeff chats with the Armchair Expert about his career in international economics, what he’s learned from advising other countries and his propensity to model Scandinavia’s middle way economic model. Dax asks about communism in theory vs. in practice and Jeff implores us to take care of one another. The two talk about how the history of WWI has led to today and Jeff describes ways in which we could have a more balanced economy." (Armchair Expert podcast) Listen online here or download from Apple Podcasts

Veteran hair stylist Albert Naglieri works magic on New York City’s soon-to-be-more-beautiful people at Tosler Davis, a boutique salon on Fifth Avenue near Union Square in Manhattan. The salon has been described as “high-end and low-key,” a place where female and male clients are both comfortable and coddled. Naglieri’s bag of beauty tricks is bountiful: hair coloring with techniques such as balayage, hair painting and foil highlighting; and hair cutting, with layer-graduated cuts, curly-wave texture cuts, long soft layer cuts and haircuts intended to either create volume or take out bulk. His skills have been honed by decades of meticulous work in tony Manhattan salons. Still, nothing in Naglieri’s background could have prepared him for the upheaval in Manhattan for the past few months. The borough has been jolted by one seismic shock after another: the pandemic, the tumultuous Black Lives Matter protests, and a devastated local economy. Like his fellow New Yorkers, Naglieri unexpectedly found himself confronting these multiple challenges in America’s COVID-19 epicenter. The following is an interview with Naglieri about his life at the height of the crisis in New York City, and his jubilant, if unorthodox, return to work last week. The Insider: Your salon suddenly closed because of COVID-19 in March. What was that like? Albert Naglieri: “The last week that I was there, friends were calling me and telling me, ‘You’re crazy to be going to work! You shouldn’t be around people. You should not be working!’ Then on March 14th, I got a phone call from the salon: ‘Today’s the last day. We’re shutting down.’ I was in my living room at home. My phone kept ringing, with friends calling me to say, ‘Get out of New York! They’re going to shut New York down!’ My sister on Long Island was calling me, saying, ‘Come out here!’ I said to myself, ‘I’d better get out of here,’ I grabbed my small suitcase and I went to work thinking, ‘I don’t know if I’m ever going to go back.’” “When I got to work, everybody was freaking out, including the clients. I kind of lost it, because people were saying to me how scared they were. I was like, ‘Why are you here? I shouldn’t be here.’ I grabbed all my valuables, put them in my suitcase, and went home. I thought, ‘I’m staying put in my apartment, in my own sanctuary. I don’t want to be a displaced person.’ I love my family, but I thought, “this is an opportunity to get organized, watch movies, do some yoga, meditate, maybe read some books.” And that is what I did.” “I treated it like it was a vacation. I thought, ‘This is a respite, and I’m going to take advantage of it.’ I was very positive at the beginning. I attacked my photo albums, which was a project that took me almost two weeks. It was a very emotional process going through all of the photos and looking at my life and the people who passed in and out of it. There were a lot of amazing times in New York. Friends who I was really close to have just moved on, or moved away, Also, people who had passed away. Sometimes I would laugh, sometimes I would cry. I finished the project, and I thought to myself, when I looked through the books, ‘Wow, your life has been really rich. You’ve done a lot of things, traveled and seen a lot of people; you’ve had a good time; you had a couple love affairs.’ I crowned myself Elizabeth Taylor—no marriages, but there were some love affairs! I also watched a lot of movies, I worked out a lot, I cooked up a storm and was creating all these things. I made my own pizza, and that was really fun.” “But all of a sudden, everything came to a crashing halt, and a huge wave of uncertainty and anxiety came in. Not having medical insurance, because we were laid off on furlough. Having a hard time trying to get unemployment. At the same time, I felt really lucky, because I had squirreled some money away and I was safe. I thought that was really good, because I wasn’t in a panic mode. But the anxiety factor of the uncertainty kind of got me in a state the last couple of weeks.” “I finally decided to go out to my sister’s place on Long Island and take a break. I felt I needed to be around people. I went out there for a week. My sister’s really funny—very loving. She’s built an apartment in her house and she said, ‘If anything happens, you’re coming here.’ Then she said to me, ‘I went and spoke to two salon owners who I know, and I told them my brother’s a hair stylist in Manhattan. Would you talk to him?’ It was fun to be out there—the kids, who are 17, 19 and 22—were excited when I arrived with hair lightener. They wanted their hair done. Everyone was thrilled that I was there—they were following me around. It was fun to do some hair, because I hadn’t had my hands in any hair for weeks.” “Then I came back to the city, and everything started with Black Lives Matter. Down here, there were helicopters and sirens. After a week of that, I went back to Long Island and camped out for another week there. Then I went to Fire Island, and my friend there said, ‘Just stay here. Why are you going back?’ It was nice to be outside, but at the same time, there was all of this underlying anxiety happening What’s going to happen when you return to New York? What’s everything going to be like?” “When I came back here, though, and I walked into my apartment, I felt a sense that there was this energy that kind of ran off of me, and I felt like I was back in my cave. My stuff is here, and my vibe is here, and I’m back in New York. But still, I’m looking around at the city and feeling so sad. I’m walking around and I’m seeing the little shops in the neighborhood that were there forever are gone, and there’s are FOR RENT signs. And the restaurants, are these guys going to be able to survive? What’s going to happen to my city? I was looking at everything boarded-up.” “But then I thought, “You survived 9/11. You’ve been a New Yorker all your life, You watched the Towers crumble from Fifth Avenue. You lived through those three months of uncertainty, of looking around at the streets and seeing how dead they were. You held out through that, And you lived through Sandy. And now, this!’” The Insider: What was it like when you walked back into the salon after more than three months away? Albert Naglieri: “It was funny—a lot of people seemed unfamiliar, after being away from everyone for so long. But everyone was glad to see each other. We had an hour-and-15-minute meeting about how we were going to take care of clients. Everyone was around the room with their masks on. We have to wear face shields or glasses. It was weird.” “It’s been hard to be back at work. I’ve gotten into the flow of doing hair, and it’s nice that we have a longer time booked between the clients, so I don’t feel I have to rush through this. You have a little more time to be creative, to be relaxed. But it’s uncomfortable having a mask and a plastic shield in front of your eyes. It’s hot, and harder to breath. So I’ve been drinking a lot of water. I brought snacks with me because I don’t want to be going out, and they don’t want deliveries coming up. And there’s still that feeling of uncertainty—'what’s going to happen? Now we’re on a schedule where we can’t do as many people as we were doing before. We’re doing 60-70 percent of business, so I’m concerned about that, What’s that going to be like? It’s easier to be on unemployment—click the button and get a check. That was kind of nice for awhile. I’ve never been unemployed before, and I’ve been working since I was 18 or 19 years old.” “It was a lesson learned about medical insurance and what people are going through in the country. I’ve always had some king of plan through work. It gave me a little education, It made me a little more sympathetic—we need to address that. I went on Obamacare—I read all about that. I read about all the different things that were being offered. I called up, and I was on the phone. I had a meltdown with the woman on the phone. At one point, I just got upset and said, ‘This is so humiliating trying to ask for something. I’ve worked my whole life, and now I’m in this place.’ They were incredible, the people on the phone. I talked with three different people, and all of them were so nice, so understanding. When I started getting emotional with her, she just said to me, ‘You’re allowed to be upset and I want to help you.’ It was nice to feel that people cared. I’m lucky now to be back at work. I’m back on my old plan.” The Insider: How did your clients look when they came back? Albert Naglieri: “Kind of wild, with lots of roots, just looking at me and saying, ‘Albert, please help! I’m so glad to see you!! I’m bedraggled!’ People looked like they had two-and-a-half inches of roots on their head, or their highlights had grown out, or their haircut was all over the place. So people were happy to be there.” The Insider: How does the new pandemic system at the salon work? Albert Naglieri: “People have to come in right before their appointment. Their temperature is taken at the door. Then they come in, and they’re asked questions. Every other station has been taken away, so clients are spaced apart from each another. And then we work on that client and have to finish that client before the next client comes through the door. There’s a Clorox bottle at every station, so after I’m done with a client, I spray my comb, my scissors, my clips with alcohol. I wipe everything down. The whole chair and the station top is wiped down with Clorox and cleaned. Everything is disposable; the cape is disposable. There’s no water, coffee, tea—no drinks are served in the salon. No one is allowed to bring in food, and nobody can have friends come in with them. They can’t bring their dog. Everyone has to wait downstairs. So it’s a different experience.” “Luckily, we have a large staff room, so people can be distant. People on the staff are concerned—they’re concerned for their health, being around clients, being in the building. Luckily, the building is not fully occupied, so there’s not a lot of in-and-out traffic. The elevator is only two people at a time, and everybody has to have their mask on in the elevator.” The Insider: Will more people decide to wear their hair gray as a consequence of this experience? Albert Naglieri: “I have several clients who have told me that they’re growing their hair out. Some clients have let their hair grow out by now, and say, ‘I want to play with this.’ I’ve lost four good clients that way—when I say good, I mean they were coming every three weeks for color. I want to support people in what they want to do, but at the same time, I’m also anxious about income loss. So, yes, this is an opportunity for people to say, Let me see what I look like gray, because I’ve been forced to grow it out for three months.” The Insider: Is it the same with people now wanting their hair to be longer? Albert Naglieri: “Some people have come in with long hair and said, ‘I kind of like my hair longer. What do you think? Can we try something with a longer hair style?’ People are definitely making changes. There have also been some color disasters that have come in. that have had to be fixed. People who did their hair themselves—colors that are too dark, or some very brassy blondes. I haven’t had the following experience myself, but I’ve also seen some clients who have said, ‘somebody was in my building who was a hair stylist and I let them do my hair and look at this! And now my husband said, ‘Please, go back to Tosler Davis and have your hair done. I don’t care what it costs—now I appreciate what it looks like!’ I also have three new clients in the book for next week, so I’m curious to see why people are changing. I think for some people, their hairdresser left town or it’s a big time of change.” “There’s going to be a lot of shifting. One of the guys who works there told the owners that he’s leaving at the end of the month. He’s decided to leave New York City and go and do his thing in New Jersey, because he doesn’t want to bother coming into the city. I think it’s going to create a lot of changes that people had on their minds, which they were uncertain about before, but now is the time to change. But I had a conversation with one of my clients who lives in Tribeca. I told her what my sister said about me going out to Long Island. She said to me, ‘Albert, I just want to say that everybody who left the city after 9/11 regrets that they left.’” Albert Naglieri is a hair stylist at Tosler Davis in Manhattan. http://toslerdavis.com (Salon website) albertnaglierinychair (Albert Naglieri’s page on Instagram)

By John Rolfe As major sports approach their starting gates, I hope something spurs my enthusiasm. Unlike folks who’ve suffered acute withdrawal during the pandemic, I haven’t longed for games to watch or athletes to curse. Three decades in sports journalism sated my appetite for all but the New York Giants, who have been doing their woeful best to put me off my feed. I must confess that the thought of games without fans in the stands makes me wonder, “Why not just play out a season on a video game and broadcast that?” With no roar of the crowd or crude chants, sports feel like a clinical exercise in results, but the human need for entertainment and revenue prevails. My jaundiced athletic torpor is such that I was shocked to learn that some sports, particularly horse racing, have already been going it alone, so to speak, during the pandemic and that the Belmont Stakes was run on June 20 with the grandstand empty. Photos of it drove home how times have changed for the Sport of Kings. I misspent my youth at racetracks during the 1960s and 1970s when thoroughbred racing was a major spectator sport. Its year-long season was full of must-see events, not sporadic, casual views such as Triple Crown races in the spring and the Breeders’ Cup in the fall. You could go to Aqueduct, New York’s down-at-the-heels sibling of Belmont Park and Saratoga, on a nondescript weekday and find 10,000 fans or more coughing up green at the betting windows. Horse racing was in my blood. My dad taught me to read The Daily Racing Form and I spent many afternoons blowing my allowance on plugs like John Rolfe. Yes, a colt named John Rolfe ran at Aqueduct — on my birthday in 1972. How’s that for a gotta bet? I certainly did. He went off at 5-to-1 and finished at 4:30 but, hey, his sire was Tom Rolfe, our family hero and winner of the 1965 Preakness Stakes. (Tom also finished third in the Kentucky Derby and second in the Belmont.) I later parlayed my illustrious lineage into a gig at SPORT magazine, where I covered horses like John Henry, who were national celebrities. My greatest professional thrill was following Alysheba and his trainer, Jack Van Berg, during their near Triple Crown-winning campaign in 1987. Thrilling days indeed. Now, tracks across the land are often ghost towns even without COVID-19, which has forced New York to bar fans from its popular August meet at Saratoga. Off-track betting eliminated the need to leave home in order to lose one’s money and racing’s luster was dimmed by scandals (drugging horses, epidemics of fatal breakdowns, race fixing), and increased competition for the discretionary betting and entertainment dollar. But a few jewels still shimmer, particularly the Kentucky Derby. The Run for the Roses remains the sport’s most famous race and biggest excuse for a party soaked in mint juleps and topped with fancy hats. Traditionally run on the first Saturday in May, the Derby will be held this year on the first Saturday in September. Churchill Downs will limit crowd density in various areas, and precautions like masks and the ceremonial washing of hands will be “encouraged.” "Our team is deeply committed to holding the very best Kentucky Derby ever, and we will take all necessary steps to protect the health and safety of all who attend and participate in the Derby," Churchill Downs Racetrack President Kevin Flanery has vowed. “Very best ever” is a longshot. “Different” is the heavy favorite with “Interesting” a contender. For one thing, the Triple Crown schedule is askew, with the last race (the Belmont) now first, and the second (the Preakness) last, in October, four months instead of three weeks later. The prep race schedule has been altered and horses that wouldn’t have been fully developed in May will be physically mature in September, boosting their chances. Those that have run most often during the year may be running out of gas by the time they reach the Derby. Parties may not be run the same way either. My friends, Laura and Chris Munistieri, host an annual Derby bash replete with hats, costumes, grub, traditional libations and wagering pools, but it’s in jeopardy this year. If they host it, they’ll try to maintain social distancing and keep revelers contained in the backyard. Ordinarily, the Derby is a high holy day at the Munistieri residence. Chris is a former hot walker, groom and assistant trainer who toiled at Aqueduct and Belmont. Laura worked for legendary trainers John Veitch and H. Allen Jerkins at tracks in New York, Florida and Kentucky. Her fandom has since been scratched by her concerns about the treatment of horses, but racing remains a passion for Chris. “I have the party for the fun and I try to get people interested in the sport because I really like it,” he says. “Thank God racing has been there. I haven’t missed the other sports.” Those who have will surely welcome their return even if the games are played in odd locations such as Florida’s Walt Disney World Resort, as the NBA will do, but with truncated seasons and no fans in attendance will the feeling and excitement be the same? I’m not betting on it. John Rolfe is a former senior editor for Sports Illustrated for Kids, a longtime columnist for the Poughkeepsie Journal/USA Today Network, and author of The Goose in the Bathroom: Stirring Tales of Family Life. His school bus drivin’ blog “Hellions, Mayhem and Brake Failure” is parked on his website Celestialchuckle.com (https://celestialchuckle.com) with the meter running.

By Merrill Lynn Hansen Unlike the armed maniacs who picketed in Lansing, Michigan in mid-April to protest the governor’s stay-at-home order, I personally was relieved to have a reprieve. I became ill with COVID-19 four days after the order went into effect, and while I was fortunate that my lungs were not affected, and I didn't require hospitalization, it took seven weeks before I actually seemed like I was on the road to a full recovery. The fatigue lasted several weeks after the other symptoms had subsided. It seems that I may still be swimming against the tide in my own state. When the stay-at-home order was lifted on June 1, many people were elated to have more freedom. Staying at home was boring for them. I was not one of those people. I felt safe at home, and when the order was lifted, I was faced with making decisions I previously hadn’t reckoned with. I was now facing the prospect of going back to work, which created a great deal of anxiety for me. I literally hadn't been anywhere for weeks. I hadn't been in a store, thanks to the kindness of the wonderful family and friends who had shopped for me, and my mother's caregiver, who had cooked for me when she cooked for my mother. I hadn't even driven my car in over two months. The most difficult decision I'd made on those days when I felt extreme fatigue was whether to blow dry my hair, or let it air dry. But now, I was pressed to contemplate going back to work, because I wasn't set up to do everything remotely from home. I am a paralegal and have worked for the same firm for almost thirty-five years. My employer, Jim, is one of my best friends. He has always referred to the office as being my office, and he has always valued me as someone who is vital to his firm. He's often teased that people think he works for me. Jim knew that even while I was sick, I stayed in communication with some of our clients, because their problems didn't cease just because there was a pandemic. Jim was anxious to spend some time in the office, and asked me to do the same, with the understanding that I could set my own hours, and clients would not be permitted to come in. I decided to start by going back to work two or three times a week, for a few hours each day, in order to pace myself. I knew that my first challenge was going to be just getting up in the morning. I had always been a morning person, starting each day with a burst of energy, no matter how late I had stayed up the night before. I liked to go into the officer early to read emails and various online magazines and journals, or do research, before the phones started ringing. But, while I was sheltering at home, I barely dragged myself out of bed until late morning. I was concerned that my second challenge would be driving myself to work, and whether my reflexes were sharp enough. And would people be wearing masks and socially distancing? I didn't want to get sick again. But, the emails I received from the building management were very reassuring, because they indicated that everyone was going to be required to do exactly that. The management also wrote that the building had been deep-cleaned and would continue to be deep-cleaned each week, in compliance with the legal rules and procedures that had been enacted. I have worked in the same building for more than twelve years, and the attorneys and their staff in our suite have always made it a wonderful working environment. I just assumed that we all would see each other; laugh at ourselves in our masks; and everything would slip back to normal. Not quite. There were hardly any cars in the three parking lots surrounding the building when I arrived. I didn't see the regulars walking into the building. I wondered whether people were working from home, or whether some offices were still closed. The lobby of the building was empty; as I looked down the halls, I could see the governor's COVID-19 rules and procedures taped to each door, with a separate sign that said wearing masks was required. There was a disinfectant dispenser in the middle of the lobby and a sign on the elevator, saying that unless you were a family, only one person at a time was permitted to use the elevator. As I entered the suite, I could see blue duct tape on the carpet throughout the suite, which I later learned was to indicate the six-foot distance each person was to keep from other people who work in the common areas. In a couple of areas, there were large screens separating workstations. At first, I felt relieved that people in the suite were going to be taking the mask and social distancing orders seriously. But, then I realized that except for one attorney, there was no one else in the suite. It turned out that some people were still working from home, and as long as the courts and agencies offered only limited online services, people weren't likely to be coming back to the office for several more weeks. I suddenly felt like I would be more comfortable if I saw that other people were back to work. Maybe I had come back too early? When I opened the door to my own office, everything felt familiar. I felt like I had just returned from a trip, and that once I settled in, everything would be back to normal. But, when I saw a stack of files and papers I'd left on my desk when I hurriedly left work the day the governor announced her stay-at-home, I felt uneasy. For the past thirty years, Jim could ask me any question about a case, and without even thinking about it, I could tell him the status of each matter; the names of the parties, judges, referees, attorneys, and the names of everyone I had ever spoken to about the file, and what was said or done. But I had wrongly assumed that even though I was tired, I would have my usual sharpness and I would be able to just pick up where I left off. Tackling work projects had always been energizing, but in less than an hour, I felt tired. The rest of my day was spent struggling to remember simple things like passwords to open files, and the more difficult challenge of wading through years of tax documents and bank records, to see if a client's husband was trying to hide income from her through his business, as she had alleged. The brain fog was exhausting, and at times a little frightening, because I wasn't certain how long it would last. On my second day back to work, I felt a little more confident, after having survived the first day, so I decided I would work several hours longer than I originally planned. I felt I needed to work the extra time, because everything I had done the day before took twice as long as it normally should have. By two o'clock in the afternoon, I suddenly felt like something had run over me, and I wasn't certain what it was. I found that if I didn't keep moving, I'd want to put my head down on my desk and doze off, but I was too tired to keep moving. I managed to stay awake and work until 4:00 pm, but when I went home, I fell asleep for fifteen hours. I've now been back to work for several days, and as my brain fog is clearing, I find that my energy level is increasing. I'm starting to adjust to all the new rules and procedures. When I assisted Jim at his/our first zoom hearing, I kept wondering if we would see a masked court officer telling us to "all rise", until the judge took the bench. But, when I realized that the judge was already seated, and looked a little shaggy, I almost laughed, because it occurred to me that he may have been sitting in his basement, wearing his judge's robe over his pajamas. Jim, who had no familiarity with Zoom, or that the judge was not in his courtroom, kept looking at me, because he had no idea what I found so amusing. The one thing I am still having trouble understanding is why rush hour traffic is so heavy, yet there are hardly any cars in the office parking lot. It's as if everyone has driven into the Bermuda Triangle and disappeared, or maybe I have. It's an eerie feeling. I'm looking forward to the day when, as I walk into the building, someone will see me, say “hi" and chat while we ride in the elevator together, with a third person, and we all tell each other to "have a great day.” I've always found that the kindness of strangers is the best way to start the day. Maybe…when the pandemic is over. Merrill Lynn Hansen is a legal assistant, living in West Bloomfield, Michigan. She describes herself as a frustrated writer, who wishes she could be Nora Ephron (when she was alive), if only for a day. She is a news-, political- and FB-junkie, a combination that requires a constant reminder that she needs to take deep cleansing breaths when responding to people who don't agree with her.

By Tony Spokojny A fateful spark has ignited the tinderbox. Unlike the killings of black men at the hands of police officers that preceded the homicide of George Floyd, the video of his strained “I can’t breathe” pleas, cries to his dead mother, his final breath and the ultimate homicide of George Floyd before our eyes has unleashed emotions and spontaneous street demonstrations not seen since the civil unrest of the late 1960s. Public opinion has swayed. Recent polls reveal that a huge majority of Americans now believe that America is on the wrong track. Empathy has been awakened in formerly reluctant societal demographics and finally, a large number of people in power seem to be responding with something more that “thoughts and prayers.” Since its inception, I have been a proponent of the phrase, "Black Lives Matter." Some reluctant woke white people have responded with "All Lives Matter" and even "Blue Lives Matter." But they miss the point. Black lives matter because to many, they don't. But I cannot be a spokesman for the cause. I’m not sure I can ever fully understand the cause. There are cries for the removal of Confederate statues from the public square and the names of confederate generals from U.S. military installations. I am not a child of the South, black or white, but it’s easy to understand how honoring those who fought the institution of slavery would be an anathema to the descendants of those slaves. The thought of Germany – or any country – honoring Nazis is an unimaginable abomination to me. That train of thought has, in turn, led to discussing the elimination of statues of Washington, Adams, Jefferson and other heroes of the Revolutionary War because those leaders owned slaves. I’m less clear on that thinking. But recently, there was an attack on the statue of a Union soldier in Wisconsin. I asked “Why?” on friend’s Facebook page. The reply from another reader: Good, if you’re white you won’t EVER understand and I doubt you ever will. I’m so sick of you racist thinking idiots. Makes me sick. I can’t pretend to know what it’s like to be inside the skin of a black man or woman. It’s clear to them that their lives haven’t mattered. They haven't. And the numbers, both on the right side of the law and the wrong, bear it out: Disproportionate arrests, convictions, prison sentences, wealth/income/poverty disparity, corporate leadership, health and wellness disparity. Even the coronavirus has an impact on a significantly high disproportionate number of African-Americans due, in part, to the lack of access to adequate medical care and other systemic racist social policies. I can only observe that those issues are finally being amplified through the megaphone of a somewhat awakened American conscious. Those in power have seen the painful videos, reviewed the painful health statistics, have been made aware that there are only four black men leading Fortune 500 companies. People of all races and ages are marching en masse across the country, around the world. Finally there is some momentum for change. Progress? There is no room for those who advocate for the status quo. Stand in the way and you may get run over. I may have been unwittingly sideswiped by that moving train Tony Spokojny has been practicing law in Michigan for over 40 years.

One film journalist’s stream-of-consciousness cinematic journey through the pandemic and quarantine, Part 9 By Laurence Lerman As the actualities of real life grow ever more immersive than the fictions of reel life, I’ve found myself more lured than usual to the small screen by the realities unfurling on CNN, MSNBC and the local news (when it’s not too dire….). And so, my streaming over the past week has been far more distanced and targeted—a fancy-shmancy way of saying I’ve been watching fewer movies with less connectivity. A quick glance at my last week of streams reaffirms my ongoing love of Italy’s brash and bawdy cinema from the Sixties through the early Eighties. I think this time my craving may also be prompted (or paralleled, at the very least) by my wife’s and my extended quarantine experimentation with all manner of pasta and sauce recipes, the latest batches including such colorful ingredients as parsnips, toasted garlic, prosciutto, broccoli rabe, smoked bacon, corn (removed from its cob) and various peppers. For my cinematic repast, I skipped the appetizer and dug into a pair of entrees, namely a couple of films by two of Italy’s greats, Federico Fellini and Bernardo Bertolucci. First off was Fellini’s Casanova, the American release title for 1976 Il Casanova di Federico Fellini,, Il Maestro’s luxuriously stylized look at the later life of the renowned 18th Century Italian lover. Sporting a shaved head and a prosthetic nose and chin, Donald Sutherland stars as the Giacomo Casanova, here depicted by writer/director Fellini as a degenerate and increasingly weary adventurer whose shallow life has turned him into a shallow, emotionless husk of a man. He enjoys a lot of sex and a lot of playing, yes, but he doesn’t appear to be having much fun. Frequently at the back of the line when considering Fellini’s films of the era—Satyricon (1969), Roma (1972) and Amarcord (1973) usually grab the lion’s share of the attention—the filmmaker’s dour but undeniably entertaining take on the garish artificiality of its protagonist’s life is perfectly reflected in a setting created in its entirety on the stages of Rome’s Cinecittà Studios. And it’s further accented by the kind of Fellini-esque cinematography, production design and costuming (which won an Oscar for Danilo Donati) that deserves its eponymous name. I moved forward four years and north to the city of Parma for Bertolucci’s 1980 Tragedy of a Ridiculous Man, a quietly effective tale about businessman Primo (the great Ugo Tognazzi, who won at Cannes for his performance) who witnesses his son Giovannni’s (Ricky Tognazzi, Ugo’s real-life son) kidnapping by terrorists, and then must decide whether he should pay the terrorists an exorbitant ransom or use the money he has procured to save his failing cheese factory—and comfortable lifestyle. Primo’s wife (Anouk Aimée), Giovanni’s girlfriend (Laura Morante) and the local worker-priest (Victor Cavallo) all have their own ideas, including a suspicion that Giovanni may have orchestrated his own disappearance to extract money for his left-wing anarchist friends. A lesser known Bertolucci entry that approaches its central mystery with more questions and observations than answers, Tragedy of a Ridiculous Man plays like an open-ended parable where the story and plot points are never fully resolved. There’s a meditation on family, fathers and sons and the influence of money floating in there somewhere, but it’s difficult for the audience to precisely perceive them, just as it is for the film’s players. It’s not even a surprise, then, when the film ends on a puzzling, ambiguous note. Visually, the film’s shaggy narrative is visually matched by the work of cinematographer Carlo di Palma, who steps in her for Bertolucci’s usual DP Vittorio Storaro. Di Palma’s palette is more subdued and his camerawork less elaborate than Storaro’s, whose work on five previous Bertolucci films, the most recent being 1979’s Luna, was indispensable in defining the filmmaker’s personal style. I’m assuming this tighter, more static approach was created in collaboration with Bertolucci—or at his behest, at the very least—to leave breathing room for the uncertainties of the story. Six years later, Bertolucci would enter a different phase of his career with the wildly popular international production The Last Emperor (1987), making Tragedy his last arthouse selection until 1998’s Besieged nearly 20 years later. That said, this one is worth catching. I left the film society behind by next jumping into some Italian horror—well, arty Italian horror—with Michele Soavi’s 1994 Cemetery Man, known in its native land by the more provocative Dellamorte Dellamore. The Milan-born Soavi is one of Italy’s more prolific horror auteurs and made his bones working alongside genre masters Dario Argento and Lucio Fulci. Soavi broke out in the U.S. market with Dellamorte Dellamore, his fourth narrative feature following Stage Fright (1987), The Church (1989). and The Sect (1991). Starring Rupert Everett (whose presence helped get it noticed early on by American distributors), the darkly comic horror tale revolves around the caretaker of a small cemetery, Francesco Dellamorte (Rupert Everett), whose search for true love is always being interrupted by the freshly buried dead, who continually rise up from their graves to assault the living. In between re-killing and re-burying his charges, it’s impossible for Dellamorte to find the time—until he meets a foxy widow (luscious genre starlet Anna Falchi), who’s looking for some nighttime excitement. That she’s quickly killed and buried in the cemetery is no problem—Dellamorte knows she’ll be back. But those undead just keep knocking on his door… Well-acted, colorfully designed and costumed, and filled with delirious, stylized blood-letting, Dellamorte Dellamore is a really nutty one. Some critics have argued that Everett’s dispatching of zombies is a metaphor for Italy’s fight against bureaucratic corruption and even fascism, but I don’t see that. What I come away with is a mild guy who must lay waste to all those around him in order to obtain the woman he lustily loves, a woman who changes, reincarnates and reappears so many times over the course of the movie that, by the end, he’s forgotten what the initial attraction even was. It’s an almost-moving tale of love lost and found among the undead in a world fueled by Italian dream logic, which is definitely better than one run by nightmares…eternally decaying lover notwithstanding. 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.

By Wendy Rollin It isn’t Laurel Canyon. It’s Oak Park, Michigan. 1965. In a living room, on a wall mural, soft waters flow from a lavender fountain. Cigarette smoke curls in the air, rising from assorted ash trays. On a purple couch, eight long-haired singers make music with fervent voices, three acoustic guitars, a silver harmonica, and a real-good, real-wood tambourine. Joining them in song, strewn about the room, are assorted Folkies or Friends of Folkies. College students home on break. They either recline on plush carpet, or sit on dining room chairs, relocated for the occasion. At the baby grand piano, plays the Piano Lady, flanked by a soaring soprano and a lowdown alto. And the songs they are a-rising. Democratically. Everyone takes a turn taking the lead: One woman, she knows every verse to “Tambourine Man,” in the right order. That guy, he can do “That’s What You Get For Lovin’ Me,” with all the right folkie bravado. And that mellow-fellow with the auburn beard, he sweeps us away with a pure-beauty interlude on his Dobro guitar. We “Dona Dona” and toast the “Ramblin’ Boy.” We cover “Four Strong Winds” in three reverent parts. The harmonies are sweet. The bond of shared music, even sweeter. It’s true the last reveler has to be unceremoniously escorted out the door at 4 a.m., by the Piano Lady’s weary father, with no song of fond farewell. Life’s good singing with friends It’s Farmington Hills, Michigan. 1985. We start in the family room. Children watch from their pictures on the wall. Many of us have families. And most of us have Responsibilities. We are teachers, doctors, social workers, lawyers and such. There are working music and media professionals too. Some well-known performers on the local scene. And, a couple of still-wandering troubadours. It’s a reunion of sorts. Looking around, the original cast of characters can’t help but note some happy additions . . . and sad absences. But the conversation and champagne stay light. And soon, a piano fanfare and a proclamatory electric guitar chord call us to the living room. As we are situated, songs rise, but Holy Repertoire! We’re singing everything. Beatles, Broadway, Operetta. Jazz and Blues. Motown. Old Rock ’n Roll. People have printed out lyric sheets so everyone can sing along. And we do. Life’s good singing with friends It’s West Bloomfield. The tempo keeps speeding up. It’s 2013. A longtime music friend is hosting one of her wonderful music parties. Each year, she gathers performing pals of many musical persuasions. One might fear conflict. Broadway Babies, Folkies, Old Rock ’n Rollers, Classical Players, Parodists, Songwriters--taking turns on the same home stage. Not to mention a few musically mixed marriages: He Folkie/She Broadway. “Man of Constant Sorrow” vs. “There’s No Business Like Show Business.” Yet the only edgy notes are more amusing than sour. There’s peace among the genres. It’s another memorable music night. It also happens to be very close to the longtime music friend’s birthday. There is to be a girls-only luncheon. And the Piano Lady knows what she wants to create for the occasion. A song celebrating all the music and music friends, singing our way through the changing seasons of life. So, “Singing With Friends,” the song, comes to be. Life’s good singing with friends Presto! It’s 2018. It’s a production studio in Troy, Michigan. “Singing With Friends” becomes a video, featuring the truly extraordinary Elektra Petrucci, whose performance sings for itself. It’s 2020. The Pandemic. A sad year in a minor key. And, especially if we’re older, we’re wary of doing much gathering in person. But it may be time to start singing along. You may remember your own music, whatever the style or era. So, repeating a current refrain . . . how about Zoom? Friends singing together virtually? Or how about singing with your shelter mates? It could be moving! It could be fun! It could be transcendent! On a long-ago purple couch in Oak Park — or in a Zoom configuration of squares on a computer screen — Life’s good singing with friends Wendy Rollin is a songwriter and musician. When circumstances allow, she and her husband Jerry Piasecki divide their time between Farmington Hills, Michigan and Ridgefield, Connecticut. wpianolady@aol.com Contact Wendy https://tinyurl.com/yxcccdfl Wendy’s albums for families on Amazon https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCjtwkZq5bgqPvk3zS7qoX8g Wendy’s YouTube Channel (children/grownups) https://youtu.be/gbRiKe47wQk “Soaring” (for grownups)

By Helene Bednarsh Let me start by saying this ain’t my first epidemic. It is my first pandemic, though. I work for the Boston Public Health Commission (BPCH), Infectious Disease Bureau – the good, the bad and the ugly. The good, I know a lot about. The bad, I know a lot about. The ugly, well. that cuts both ways. If I wear my BPHC mask when I venture out, it is either, “oh, you must know a lot about this virus, can you tell me everything under the sun,” OR “oh, you don’t have to worry about me social distancing from you, because I’m afraid you’re contagious.” HC So, I’ve been working from home trying to keep my HIV Dental Program going, even though dental offices are closed. The point is that I am working. So imagine going into your office on a weekend (fear of ageism and an attempt at social distancing) and coming home to a letter from the Massachusetts Department of Unemployment Assistance, and a curt one at that. Not even a Dear Helene, but instead: "HELENE BEDNARSH: Your claim for Pandemic Unemployment Assistance was filed May 19, 2020 and approved and here’s the summary of your benefits. " YIKES! Who fired me and who filed for me? We all read about scams but hey, scam me? I don’t give out information over the phone, I do all my donations online, my passwords are encrypted. I’m safe, RIGHT? Apparently not. Naturally, it was a holiday weekend--Memorial Day--Memorable Day, rather, and I had to wait until Tuesday at 8 am to start calling to say: “HEY, WAIT! Not me, I’m working.” The phone rings 30 times and disconnects. Repeat, repeat ad infinitum. Aha, I’ll find a number to start a text chat and say, “HEY GUYS, I am working.” I’m transferred to an agent. What seems like 36 hours later, the agent asks, “How can I help you? and I say, “I DID WHAT? That claim is a fraud.” The chat continues. I’ve broken through, I think to myself. Then they provide me with the email address and phone number of the SCAMSTER who filed! If one can bellow by chat, I do. “No, that’s not me! Stop the checks! Who has my identity?” I ask the agent why his office didn’t call that person. If a person can have chutzpah by chat, he does. He tells me they can’t make calls and tell ME to call the crook! Um. yeah, “Hello, you stole my identity and I want it back please.” Seriously? No way. And so begins my email and phone journey through the bureaucratic maze: The Fraud Verification Department. The Massachusetts Attorney General. Check my credit cards, check my home deed, enroll in a credit monitoring program. My state representative. The Department of Unemployment. The bottom line: five weeks later, I’m still waiting. The consolation prize is that it’s now officially under investigation. Pandemic pandemonium! I know, I know…I shouldn’t complain because I am working, regardless of the ineptitude of this clearly overwhelmed agency. At least my key still opens my office and my badge lets me into the building, even on a weekend. Helene Bednarsh is Director of the Ryan White Dental Program, Boston Public Health Commission. She is Vice President of HIVDENT and is the Dental Director for the New England AIDS Education and Training Center. She has published numerous articles. When she’s not advocating for something, she’s knitting.