On Leadership, Working Together and the Danger of "Nut Bags” with Big Guns By Debby Waldman In her 2001 international bestseller, Year of Wonder: A Novel of the Plague, author Geraldine Brooks imagines life in a 17th-century English village hit by the bubonic plague. Brooks, a Pulitzer Prize winner who grew up in Australia and now lives on Martha’s Vineyard, was inspired to tell the story after learning about Eyam, a village in Derbyshire whose inhabitants, led by their minister, quarantined themselves within the community to control the spread of the disease. In that way, they did a better job than many places around the world are doing right now at controlling COVID-19. In this Q & A, conducted via email (the better to free her up to concentrate on her latest novel), Brooks reflects on what we can learn from her characters in Year of Wonders, why some countries are doing better than others at handling the pandemic, and how she really feels about Rupert Murdoch. Waldman: Not counting the setting and the time period, what’s the biggest difference between how the plague was handled in Eyam and how COVID-19 is being handled in the United States? Brooks: Eyam had remarkable leadership in the young minister and his predecessor who, even though they held differing religious views, were able to come together in a time of crisis to forge a coherent response. Also, it was a time when science and superstition were still fighting it out.  Newton was inventing calculus but witches were still being hanged in Scotland. We thought science won that fight (the Enlightenment). Turns out, not so much... Waldman: How much of the 21st century version of the science-vs.-superstition debate is a function of the lack of control over messaging: everyone is free to spout the propaganda of their choice and reach way more people, thanks not only to social media, but also to the Reagan Administration's 1987 decision to eliminate the Fairness Doctrine, which made it so easy to spread the disinformation and ignorance that are infecting everyone right now? Brooks: If you could go back in time and eliminate Rupert Murdoch, the world would be a very different place. Waldman: In the 350 years since the Plague killed two-thirds of the residents of Eyam, we’ve made incredible progress, science-wise. We can cure some cancers. We can take organs from one person and transplant them to keep another person alive. We can operate on babies before they’re even born. And yet in many ways we are doing no better (and in many cases doing worse) dealing with a deadly virus than the folks in Eyam did with a deadly plague. Given that one of your sons is a scientist, you’re likely aware that it’s not possible to speed up science. So what do think we should do, given all of our 21st century (supposed) advantages, to ensure that we get through this pandemic and can not only thrive but perhaps do better than before? Brooks: I do think leadership is key. And I do think it is striking how many countries (and even states in the U.S.) that have done the best against this virus, are led by women. I wonder if this is because women are more inclined to listen better to expert opinion, or are more empathetic to the very vulnerable.  I don’t want to be reductionist, though—Maggie Thatcher probably would have been just as bad as Boris [Johnson]. But Jacinta Ardern in New Zealand seems to me the closest parallel to an Eyam-like leader.  Her decisiveness and her empathetic communication skills are very much what it takes to make a community, a nation (a team of five million, as she put it) pull together instead of pull apart. The result for NZ: zero COVID, fully functioning country, recovering economy.  We can only dream of it. Waldman: Like you, I'm impressed with Jacinda Ardern. But sometimes I wonder, is it easier to get everyone on the same page when you're in a relatively small country, especially a small country that is its own island? How do you think Jacinda (or any reasonable leader) would/should handle people who refuse to wear masks and social distance because they think that COVID isn’t real, that it’s a fictional plot cooked up in a Chinese lab? Brooks: I think it’s less the size of the country than the founding myth/dominant ideology. We’re wrecked in the United States by the exaltation of individualism over community.  In places like New Zealand and Australia, “we’re in it together” isn’t a recent slogan to be given lip service, it’s a core belief. You don’t rise by stepping on other people, you “chuck a hand back,” as the Aborigines put it, and bring them along with you. Waldman: Early in the pandemic, Donald Trump promised that the virus would disappear with warm weather. When that didn’t happen, he recommended injections of disinfectant, which gave late-night comedians something to joke about (and sent the medical community into collective apoplexy). Now he appears more concerned with sending troops out to beat up on US citizens than he is in fighting the coronavirus. How surprised are you at the lack of progress that the Feds have made combating COVID-19? Brooks: Given this Administration’s total disregard for science, as demonstrated by climate denial, I am not at all surprised by the fact that the national response was botched.  I suppose I am appalled by how badly it has been, and continues to be botched by certain governors across the country. Trump was only ever interested in the economy, which he defines as wealth generation and preservation for the privileged, and has never shown an ounce of empathy, so it was predictable that when the virus fell most grievously on the poor, the old and on people of color he would quickly lose interest in it. Waldman: How optimistic were you early in the pandemic that we’d be back to normal by summer? Brooks: Like most of us, I suppose I did think that by now we’d be—if not through it, at least in a lull, bracing for the second wave.  I began to doubt this when I saw the nut bags with their big guns descend on the Michigan state house.  That’s when I realized that this nation’s pathologies had truly caught up with it, and we might be in for a disastrous ride.  The stupidity is not confined to the right, sadly. The left-wing anti-vax movement is just as full of false information and just as tenacious about being complete idiots. Waldman: In a Wall Street Journal essay in April, you expressed your frustration that a number of year-round residents in Martha’s Vineyard were complaining that off-island property owners were showing up in March (instead of May, when they typically arrive). The fear was that they’d bring COVIDd with them. How did that work out? Did COVID hit the island hard? Brooks: We did okay, so far. Many second homeowners did come in March and stayed quietly at home with no ill effects.  Case numbers have been generally tracked to lowland travel on and off the island. There is some fear that the recent influx of casual summer visitors are being way too careless. There are, belatedly, mask mandates now.  But I always thought the us/them thing was gross hypocrisy.  This island only has a beautiful, fantastically well-equipped hospital due to the philanthropy of the wealthy summer residents. Waldman: Do you have any optimism right now about how things are going in the U.S.? If so, how and what's the source of it? If not, what are you doing to get through this unprecedented and uncertain time period? Brooks: For some of us—the lucky ones who are not getting sick, going broke or living in isolation—the time has possibly allowed for a bit of a reset on some core values. We’re relearning how to be close families, how to home-cook tasty meals, how little we really need of what’s cramming up our closets. Like everyone else, I hope for a vaccine that is safe and effective. Waldman: If you were writing a novel, Year of Wonders: A Novel of COVID-19, set in the U.S., how would it end? And when? Brooks: That’s why I write historical fiction: so I know how it ends. Debby Waldman is a writer and editor in Edmonton, Alberta. Year of Wonders has been one of her favorite books since she reviewed it for People in 2001.

By Russell Bikoff Do you remember how federal authority, in the persons of U.S. Department of Justice attorneys and U.S. marshals, was used in Little Rock, Ark. in 1957, and Montgomery, Ala. in 1961 and 1965, to protect marchers and Freedom Riders, and to help integrate schools in those communities? My, how times have changed. In recent days, demonstrators for social justice and against racism in the criminal justice system have focused their demands on the Mark O. Hatfield Federal Courthouse in Portland, Ore., seemingly as a symbol of oppression. But according to the Oregonian, a daily newspaper, “The Mark O. Hatfield courthouse was not a focal point of Portland’s anti-police violence protests until federal officers began to emerge from it, sometimes shooting impact munitions toward the crowd.” Reports are that Oregon Governor Kate Brown has reached a tentative agreement with the deputy director of the F.B.I. to withdraw federal agents from Portland and replace them with the Oregon State Police, who will protect the outside of the federal courthouse. Other federal agents and contractors will remain inside the building in their normal protective role. The next few days will tell if this agreement is real or an empty promise. What are we witnessing here? Will President Trump back down on his evident strategy to send federal agents into American cities run by Democratic mayors in an effort to provoke violence and conflict and, he hopes, goose his sagging electoral fortunes by dressing up as the Nixonian “law and order president”? So far, in the past few days, the Trump Administration has pulled federal agents out of Seattle after a short-lived presence there. Portland seems to be the test case for the Administration's strategy, rolled out a month ago, to combat what it perceived-- or is attempting to sell as-- a wave of anarchy and violence. In their view, this wave is directed not only against federal buildings, but various public properties, including monuments on city or state land. Let us look at the stakeholders. First, there are the demonstrators, who are seeking social justice and opposing police brutality against people of color. Also among the demonstrators are some violent types, perhaps provocateurs or instigators, who at first damaged the federal courthouse and now are trying to take down or breach the heavy-duty fence that the feds put up to protect the courthouse. Opposing the demonstrators-- the vast majority of whom are peacefully and legally exercising their constitutional rights-- are the regular federal agents assigned to Portland, plus the reportedly over 100 additional agents sent, beginning on July 4th (more symbolism!), by Trump, Department of Homeland Security Acting Secretary Chad Wolf, and Attorney General William Barr to augment the federal presence in an operation called “Diligent Valor.” (An oxymoron certainly, given the president’s well-known personal qualities.) The demonstrators have made clear that their focus is on ending racism in policing (“Black Lives Matter”), and that they have no wish to be distracted by discussions of damage to federal property. The few violent types apparently have a history in Portland, balanced by right-wingers who have engaged in their own threatening public appearances in the past. The federal agents have been sent to Portland under color of questionable authority. As the recently filed lawsuit against Wolf by the Wall of Moms, Don’t Shoot Portland and Black Lives Matter argues, Wolf is not properly an acting D.H.S. secretary and has no authority to issue orders, which in their view are void. As of today (July 31), there have been 64 consecutive nights of demonstrations in Portland, with 60 arrests. ( As of July 25, fourteen people have been released without charge and 46 people charged, in 30 misdemeanors, eight felonies, and eight violations. The numbers have surely grown since then.) If the visiting agents are withdrawn from Portland, many of these cases will disappear with dismissals for lack of live government witnesses. There seems to be a game of cat and mouse, with the few violent demonstrators first inflicting property damage on the building and, after the erection of the fence, trying to tear down or break through it. The U.S. Attorney’s spokesman acknowledges that the demonstrators, including those from the N.A.A.C.P., Wall of Moms, and Black Lives Matter are all there peacefully and have a First Amendment right to demonstrate. However, that office is not in control of law enforcement tactics, as they have admitted, which are under the authority of D.H.S. and the U.S Marshals Service (an agency of the U.S. Department of Justice). The federal agents stay in the building until there is a challenge to the fence, and then rush out. In recent weeks they have deployed what are called “impact munitions” and tear gas, sometimes ranging blocks away from the courthouse. There had been a federal court order directing the Portland police not to use these munitions and tear gas, but that order does not apply to the federal forces in the city. There have been a number of high-profile victims of these actions: a young man shot in the head, resulting in a skull fracture and serious injury; a veteran, a West Point graduate, whose hand was broken in two places; a young man filmed by a bystander being apprehended by agents on the street and forced into an unmarked car. These are all subjects of investigations by the inspectors general of the Department of Justice and D.H.S. A lawsuit filed on July 27th by the organization Protect Democracy, and by several topflight law firms, is in the U.S. District Court in Washington, D.C. There it has been assigned-- fortuitously for the protestors-- to Judge Christopher R. Cooper, an appointee of President Obama. If the newly-announced agreement between the federal authorities and the Oregon governor results in the withdrawal of the federal agents, the government will argue that the lawsuit is moot. However, in view of the Trump administration's announced intention to send federal agents into other cities, especially those “all run by liberal Democrats,” (“All run, really, by the radical left” per Trump on July 20) the issue should not be moot, since the same question will come up if federal law enforcement goes to those cities. Also, the lawsuit is unlikely to go away with the government's motion to dismiss or a later motion for summary judgment. The lawsuit claims that the Trump program using federal police violates the 1st, 4th, and 5th amendments of the U.S. Constitution, relating to freedom of speech and assembly and due process of law. The lawsuit also claims that the program violates federal statutes, including the Administrative Procedure Act, because Chad Wolf is illegally serving as acting Secretary of D.H.S. and therefore lacks authority to issue orders. The case might go to trial on the issue of whether the Administration’s stated rationale of protecting federal property under another federal statute (40 U.S. Code section 1315) is, as the plaintiffs claim, a pretext to hide its illegal program of suppressing by federal force constitutionally protected demonstrations in favor of social justice and “black lives matter.” The Project Democracy July 27th news release accompanying the filing of the lawsuit says: Statements from the Trump administration, and the on-the-ground conduct of federal officers, show that the federal government is there to silence protesters, not protect federal property. “Our clients in Portland are peacefully exercising their First Amendment rights. Federal law enforcement should not be attacking these brave women for speaking up for what they believe,” said Deana El-Mallawany, counsel at Protect Democracy. “The intent of the administration’s deployment of federal agents in Portland appears to be to stifle speech the president doesn’t like. It’s important to check this unlawful administration policy now, before it is allowed to spread to other cities across the U.S.,” she added. While a U.S. courthouse should never be a rallying point as the opposition to a broad-based movement for social justice and fairness for people of color, it is almost laughable that Trump is presenting the courthouse and its defenders as the victims, under attack by forces of chaos and disorder. He might like voters to think that he is Lincoln defending Fort Sumter from the South Carolina militia firing cannons from Charleston. But unlike Lincoln, and more like George Wallace, Trump is fighting a rearguard action on behalf of an unjust and thus unsustainable status quo. The national interest is having federal power stand by the demonstrators and support them by confronting forces of bigotry, hatred, and violence in this society, including armed right-wing militias. Americans do not want to travel the path of the Weimar Republic, with street battles between the right and left, nor look like apartheid South Africa, breaking up “unlawful assemblies” with indiscriminate and excessive militarized violence. How Trump engineered this appalling reversal of federal symbolism is yet another episode in the continuing tragedy of his administration. (A personal postscript: A year ago, my wife and I took a trip to the West Coast that started in Portland. We drove past the federal courthouse. We walked and drove around the blocks between the courthouse and the river, where a Saturday afternoon market was underway. The major issue then for downtown Portland was how to deal with the problem of homeless encampments and the numbers of homeless people, with attendant problems of sanitation, health, and nutrition. I am sorry to see this lovely city, with vibrant and fun neighborhoods, spectacular parks and views of distant Mount Hood, plunged into agony.) Russell Bikoff has been a prosecutor in the Manhattan District Attorney’s office and a federal official in the foreign affairs community and the U.S. Department of Justice. For the past 15 years, he has practiced law in Washington, D.C., focusing on criminal defense, civil litigation, and other civil matters.

By Merrill Lynn Hansen I don't know what they're serving at Rush Limbaugh's house for dinner, but I'm glad I'm not invited. I recently watched a video of a Rush Limbaugh rant about how patriotic Americans should deal with COVID-19. When I'd last heard Rush talk about COVID-19 in March, he said it was just a "common cold" (which is as ridiculous as if I’d said that his lung cancer was just sinus drainage). But, in his July 15th rant, Rush was proclaiming COVID-19 to be America's enemy, and he accused Americans of cowering and being fearful. According to Rush, "So much of the way we are dealing with this [the virus] is unprecedented — and it’s un-American. It’s nothing compared to the way we have overcome enemies and obstacles in our past.” As a shining example of his idea of American courage, Rush referred to the Donner Party, a group of pioneers who in 1847 made the mistake of trying to get to California over the Sierra Nevada mountain range, in the middle of winter. They got stranded and resorted to cannibalism to survive. But, said Rush, "they didn't complain about it, because there was nothing they could do. They had to adapt. This is what’s missing. There seems to be no concept of adaptation." (Rush forgot to mention that the Donner Party got stranded, because they followed the advice of an unscrupulous trail guide, who went on ahead with another party, and promised he would mark the trail for them, and didn't. He didn't even know the trail.) Despite what Rush says, I am an American patriot. But the truth is, I don't adapt well. The Donner Party didn't complain about the weather being cold. They adapted. I always complain when it's cold outside (or when it's hot, raining or snowing). If I were stranded outside with friends in the middle of winter, without any food, unlike the Donner Party, I wouldn't pull out a recipe book to see how to roast them over a campfire and pretend they're some-mores. I would probably complain about being cold and hungry. I might even cry, which according to Rush, is not only unpatriotic, it's wimpy (a liberal thing). But, while Rush might think I'm a liberal wimp, it is my liberal sensibility that makes me certain I would not have trusted an unscrupulous leader who bragged that he was the best trail guide. ("I have the world's greatest memory, and nobody knows this trail better than I do.") I was so surprised about what Rush said, I contacted all two of my Republican friends, who normally embrace Rush's every thought, and repeat them on their Facebook pages and other social networks, as if his words are their own. "So, do you still think TAKING a knee during the National Anthem is un-American?” I asked. "Absolutely,” they both replied. "How about EATING a knee?” I asked. They both stiffened up. "Rush said we should adapt the way the Donner Party adapted --and if we're stranded in this unknown pandemic wilderness, we should do what the Donner party did, and eat each other." Neither of them spoke. In fact, they looked a little queasy. "What's wrong?” I asked. "Not hungry?" Apparently, even Republicans can be wimps. But, Rush, who was awarded the Medal of Freedom by President Trump for having said that “Feminism was established so as to allow unattractive women easier access to the mainstream of society,” is now the self-proclaimed poster boy for the new American way--the Donner Party way. Rather than advising us how to protect ourselves from unmasked crowds of people spreading a highly contagious and relentless life-threatening disease, Rush wants us to embrace the notion that eating flesh is virtuous and builds good character. He says that "Life has to go on. Life is to be lived” --presumably in-between meals. Merrill 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 Andy Borowitz July 28, 2020 WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report)—Unveiling a new conspiracy theory, Donald Trump on Tuesday accused Anthony Fauci of using his fifty years of experience as a doctor to win people’s trust. Appearing on Fox News, Trump would not disclose the source of the theory, saying only, “This is something a lot of people are talking about.” “Tony Fauci graduated first in his medical school class, in 1966, because he knew that would make him look good someday,” Trump told Sean Hannity. “He’s been planning this for a long, long time.” Fauci went on to become a leading epidemiologist as part of a carefully plotted scheme to give himself credibility, Trump alleged. “He spent years working on H.I.V., AIDS, Ebola, you name it,” Trump charged. “Anthony Fauci would stop at nothing to make himself look like an expert.” Trump said he was baffled by polls showing that Americans overwhelmingly trust Fauci more than him when it comes to the coronavirus pandemic. “There is zero difference between me and Tony Fauci, except for fifty years of so-called medical experience,” 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.

From Operavore, the WQXR Blog Jul 22, 2020 · by Fred Plotkin Each one of us has developed a routine (perhaps I should say “coping mechanism”) in these unprecedented times. I have always been one of those people who believes that if you wake up, you work. To me there is no such thing as a weekend, so I’ve kept working every day — even if it does not provide some of the compensations I would like to have. But there is pleasure, and engagement with ideas, which is rewarding in its own way. I have always enjoyed cooking (and have written six cookbooks), and a Saturday ritual I have continued from pre-COVID days is to listen to WQXR’s opera broadcast while engaged in cooking stews, sauces, compotes, and vegetable medleys for the week to come. I plan what I cook based on the length of the opera: the wonderful recent Elektra with Christine Goerke was only long enough to make a Greek salad and steamed monkfish. Give me Les Troyens and I could cook for an army. Another ritual I have taken on since the coronavirus pandemic has kept me home is to see a film each day. I always have time for old favorites such as Bringing Up Baby and La Strada, but have also made sure to watch genres I had not been interested in (westerns, science fiction) and discover actors whose work I had yet to fully explore (Dick Powell, Ann Sheridan). Cinema is an outgrowth of opera, with sweeping settings, big emotions and mythical stars; the only major difference is that in opera, music is the chief narrative medium, while in film it is the spoken word. Both have strong visual components. A film I revisited the other day is Norman Jewison’s 1987 opera-themed Italian-American romantic comedy Moonstruck, for which Cher and Olympia Dukakis received richly-deserved acting Oscars. I saw it as soon as it was released (for reasons I will discuss below), and only one other time in the 1990s, dubbed in Italian for Italian television — which worked very well! Moonstruck is a film suffused with operatic music and stories as well as popular Italian-American songs. The continued references to the effects of a full moon are mostly spoken in the lines “Guardate la luna!” by the old man (played by Feodor Chaliapin, Jr.) to the dogs he walks each night on the Brooklyn waterfront. Chaliapin was the son of the world-renowned Russian bass Feodor Chaliapin, who was considered not only a great singer, but a stupendous actor. I must confess that I found it sad to watch the scene in which the opera-loving bread baker (Nicolas Cage) takes Loretta (Cher) to the Met for her first opera. Seeing the opera house beautifully lit, and with an auditorium full of well-dressed people assembled to see La Bohème after the crystal chandeliers rise, reminded me that this is something none of us will get to do for much too long. This was the first film I was ever hired to work on in a capacity other than being an extra. The scenes at the Met needed someone who knew the opera house (I was then Performance Manager), but also knew opera and spoke Italian. It was a thrill to watch them making these now-famous scenes, and then being asked by the location manager and assistant director if everything was faithful to opera, its audiences, and the particular ways of the Metropolitan Opera House. The question I am most asked is why the production of La Bohème seen onstage in the film is not the famous Zeffirelli version that premiered in 1981. The answer is that the cost of paying the rights was prohibitive. Rather than putting another production on the Met stage, they edited in a performance from Toronto. So, Cher was deeply moved by an opera she was not even watching — no wonder she got an Academy Award! Additionally, the singing voices in the film are actually from the recording of La Bohème conducted by Tullio Serafin and starring Renata Tebaldi and Carlo Bergonzi, dubbed into the mouths of actors in Toronto. Both Tebaldi and Bergonzi were from the province of Parma, one of the citadels of Italian cuisine. Tebaldi was from Langhirano, where the famous prosciutto is made, yet (if we are to believe her memoir) she was indifferent to food — and not just because she was trying watch her weight. I recall that she contented herself with chicken breast cooked with rosemary almost every day. In contrast, Bergonzi was from Busseto (where Verdi grew up, as did Luca Pisaroni) and loved good food. He had a hotel named I Due Foscari with an outstanding restaurant that was a destination unto itself. The last time I ate there was in the company of baritone Renato Bruson, who co-stars with Bergonzi in this performance of the Verdi opera for which the hotel is named. Perhaps because I have been spending more time than usual in my kitchen in the past four months, I notice the food more in the movies I have been watching. Moonstruck is full of scenes that revolve around making and eating meals. As much of my culinary background is Italian and Italian-American, I noted with care what the characters cooked and ate. In one scene, Olympia Dukakis is cooking a piece of Italian bread in a frying pan, to which she adds an egg to a hole in the middle. It reminded me of something baritone Tito Gobbi liked to make; I published his recipe in a remembrance a few years ago. In my opera and food careers, I have cooked and eaten with many outstanding artists. Among the most gifted in the kitchen were Zinka Milanov, Lucia Valentini-Terrani, Luciano Pavarotti, and Licia Albanese. I met Albanese (Bari, 1919 – New York, 2014) when I was about 8 years old — not through opera, but because my father tuned the piano in her Park Avenue apartment. He often took me along on his tuning jobs because he wanted me to meet people who loved music. Licia (as I was allowed to call her) was not just a beloved diva, but, as she told me, “moglie, madre, casalinga” (wife, mother, housewife) who spent a lot of time cooking for her family. While Dad tuned, Licia taught me recipes from her native Puglia and, inevitably, fed us a meal before saying arrivederci. In one of the kitchen scenes of Moonstruck, the extended family gathers for a meal that included a dish that reminded me very much of one Licia Albanese gave me the recipe for — which I cooked after rewatching the film. If one has to self-isolate, this is a delicious way to do it. Timballo di Mezzani all’Albanese Licia Albanese’s Baked Mezzani 4 to 6 servings 1 pound ground beef or veal 1-½ cups freshly grated Parmigiano or Pecorino (or combined) 1 large egg 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice 2 tablespoons finely minced Italian parsley Salt and pepper to taste 1 clove garlic minced (optional) Olive oil 1 pound mezzani or 1-½ inch long maccheroni 1-½ cups tomato sauce, perhaps with fresh basil 1 medium-sized ripe tomato, thinly sliced 1 cup unflavored bread crumbs Prepare tiny, fingertip-sized meatballs: Put the meat, ½ cup of grated cheese, egg, lemon juice, parsley, salt, pepper, and garlic in a bowl and combine until thoroughly mixed. Do not work the mixture more than you need to. Form the meatballs and fry in approximately 3 tablespoons of olive oil until well-browned. Let the meatballs drain on absorbent paper. Cook the mezzani in a large pot of lightly salted boiling water until nearly but not quite al dente. Drain the pasta well. Grease an earthenware casserole with olive oil and put in a layer of mezzani. Alternate casually between tomato sauce, meatballs, grated cheese, and more mezzani until you have used all of the ingredients. Top the casserole with slices of fresh tomato. Drizzle on a little more olive oil and top the whole thing with bread crumbs. Bake in a preheated 350˚F (180˚C) oven for 30 minutes, and then let the timballo cool for 15 minutes before serving. Wine: Salice Salentino, Aglianico, or another sturdy Southern Italian red. 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."

A Veteran Teacher Weighs in on the Remote Learning vs Open-the-Schools Debate By Shira Brewer Teaching my ninth grade Algebra 1 students this spring in Seattle, the original epicenter of the pandemic, was far from ideal. Have you ever been in the middle of online teaching in your living room and turned around only to realize that your son is trying to sell his younger sister on the shopping network? I have. Granted, it was a spoof. But that’s how I at times engaged my restless students, stuck in their own living rooms during our video calls. I was optimistic that this was a limited moment in time and we would be back in the classroom in the fall. I knew that online teaching and learning were not ideal for anyone and were in many ways detrimental to students, but I was comforted by the fact that we in Washington State and other states were taking measures to flatten the curve. I assumed we would only have to contend with about three months of very inconsistent learning for our students. I am a National Board-certified math teacher and have been teaching for over ten years. I just completed my fifth year at Nathan Hale, a public high school in Seattle. The reasons I love teaching are myriad: the daily interactions with students, the vibrant school atmosphere, the diversity of our community and the evolution of relationships that we are able to create with individual students and classes over the course of each year. Add to that the interactions and collaboration with my thoughtful and dedicated colleagues. Teaching is also challenging. Classroom management is hard and takes years to master. Students have complex lives outside the classroom that impact their attention and motivation to learn. Meeting the needs of every student takes innovation and creativity because skill levels can vary hugely in a single class. And as many parents and caregivers have learned in the past few months of sheltering in place, patience is key. This spring, I shifted to teaching from home through various virtual platforms, including leading live online lessons. I found I was often talking to a bunch of digital black rectangles because most of my ninth graders felt too sheepish to show themselves online. Despite pulling out all the stops to teach from my house, I only succeeded in that with about half of my students. The other half checked out for a variety of reasons: lack of internal or external motivation, family instability, lack of necessary technology, or having to babysit younger siblings and otherwise support their families. A colleague of mine says that pandemic educators are “building the plane while flying it,” and I think that is a perfect metaphor. There is a lot we can do remotely; online learning has its place, and in many cases, it is an excellent alternative. That said, there are many reasons society has chosen to have young people interact face-to-face with teachers and peers in school. In addition to the practicality of children being cared for out of the house during the weekday while adults work (no small thing, as we have all realized), the personal connection between teachers and students is vital. We know that engagement is significantly impacted by how much students feel valued by and connected with their teachers. The past few months have made abundantly clear that when at home, some students can't or won't engage, but when they are at school our chances of involving them are much better. Additionally, equity for all requires in-person teaching and learning. Many students have learning needs that cause them especially to benefit from in-person instruction and to suffer academically and emotionally without it. This group includes special education students and English language learners, but also encompasses many other students who need the stability and safety of a school setting to have a chance of an equitable education. Here is my idealistic proposal for going back to school during the pandemic: Teachers will be considered essential workers and students will be considered our precious charges. As such, school staff and students will be provided excellent PPE and other protective measures to keep us as safe as possible from getting sick. The federal government will fund this effort because our youth are the future and need an education and because in order for the rest of the economy to function well, children need a place to go during the day. In addition to frequently cleaned facilities and hand sanitizer, masks, possibly face shields, and small class sizes so that physical distancing is possible, every teacher needs a headset microphone so that we don’t permanently injure our voices by continually straining them as we try to talk through a mask to a room full of students. In my ideal world, our masks would be specially made to show our mouths, either through a clear layer or with a face shield that provides sufficient protection. So much is communicated through our facial expressions, and it helps students (especially hearing-impaired students) to see our mouths. Alas, we know that such a plan is not happening. The federal government has not shown that it values schools. As a consequence, more and more school districts are announcing that that they will be going back to remote learning in the fall. Seattle just made that call as well this week. This is disappointing; while I desperately want students and families to be served by in-person school, we of course need to keep students and school staff safe. If we can’t sufficiently minimize risk, we must be remote. If the national decision about teaching in person were up to me, I would struggle with whether to go back in this current climate. As a classroom teacher, I would be scared about getting sick, and of course I would worry about the health and safety of all staff and students. It would also mean a significant personal family impact: being more exposed at work would require taking important precautions at home, including making the tough call to keep my parents away from their grandchildren. Until now, we have been able to continue close contact with all the grandparents because our relative isolation makes that safe, but it would not be safe to continue that if I were exposed to hundreds of people per day, even masked. That said, my indecision is because of the very real and lasting negative academic and emotional impacts of remote teaching that we have already experienced and because of desperate families. What are parents and guardians supposed to do if they don’t have care for their children during the day? Families somehow have made it work until now, but it has been extremely challenging for most. School is a critical part of our daily lives and continuing to do it remotely causes significant damage to mental, physical, and financial health of millions of families. I am not suggesting that these struggles override the risk of losing lives to coronavirus, but the trade-offs are very real. I so wish there were a way to make in-person teaching work without such serious risks, and I believe we could do it with enough support. The months-long Trump-led failure here is undeniable and devastating. So, what do we do now? It is so important to develop some trust and connection with my students in order for them to learn successfully with me remotely. They need to know that I am a real person, and we need to truly see each other and make eye contact, which isn’t really possible via a screen. One of the reasons that learning actually happened this spring was because I already had established a relationship with students. To support the creation of real-world bonds, even if they need to be formed more quickly than in a normal school year, I propose that we do the following during the first couple of weeks of school: In safe numbers, students and families come to the school athletic field or other outdoor venue on assigned days to meet their teachers in person. They engage in getting-to-know-you activities with each of their teachers and a few other students and discuss remote learning expectations. This will at least create an initial connection until a deeper one can develop. When we are ready to transition back to in-person school, even if we have to ease into it and use masks and physical distancing before returning to the “normal” we all so desperately want, I believe that people will adapt and use what we have learned during this time to improve teaching for all students. When we do go back, even seeing my students once or twice a week, faces half-covered, will be a welcome joy. I’ve missed them. Postscript: One silver lining of virtual teaching this past spring was that my 11-year-old son, Rafi, who loves technology, delighted in helping me create and edit math videos. Here is one such video: If you watch at minute 6:10, you’ll see Rafi’s attempted sale of Aziza, his 7-year-old sister. Shira Brewer was born and raised in Seattle, Washington by her Insider parents, D'vorah Kost and Brian Grant. She has lived and taught in France and South Africa but the Pacific Northwest remains her home, and she currently teaches high school math in Seattle. Shira lives with her husband, Matt Brewer, and her two children, Rafael and Aziza, who are doted upon by their grandparents. In her free time, Shira enjoys eating chocolate and other good food, jumping on the trampoline with the kids, listening to NPR, running and other outdoor activities, baking, singing, and laughing with friends.

By Doug Dworkin In the past few weeks, there has been a great deal of amusing discussion about the President’s ability to pass the MoCA (Montreal Cognitive Assessment) test indicating that his cognitive abilities are “normal,” in that he’s not showing any precursors of dementia or Alzheimer’s. This is reassuring. Of course, in his repeated flaunting of the results, he serves up examples of a few of his other character flaws: extreme narcissism, and a penchant for exaggeration, braggadocio and outright lying. Despite these and other deep character flaws that have been exposed in the press and in numerous books, there is one way in which Trump endangers our republic more than anything else—his refusal to observe the political norms that help hold our country together. Since our founding, our country has established many rules, laws and customs that govern us: the Constitution, the Bill of Rights, statutes, Supreme Court decisions, etcetera. But all these rules and laws are dependent on an implicit agreement among the overwhelming majority of us that we will follow them. It’s a kind of “honor system” as Washington Post reporter David Fahrenthold recently described it. Some laws and rules have enforcement systems and some don’t, but even those backed by enforcement would collapse if everyone refused to abide by them. The I.R.S. would never collect any revenue if everyone failed to comply. Though the fear of enforcement is there, there are not enough I.R,S. agents and courts to handle wholesale flouting of the law. Following this honor system is “normal’ in our politics too, and well-grounded in history. In the first years of our shaky republic, the Federalist party of George Washington and John Adams held the presidency for the first 12 years. But the election of 1800, preceded by the stormy first term of John Adams, was bitter and divisive. Jefferson’s Democratic-Republican Party was challenging the Federalist Party’s Adams, who was seeking a second term. Each party said the other’s victory would endanger the very existence of the republic. They vilified their opponents with slander and character assassination. And, because of a since-corrected flaw in the constitution, the election had to be decided by the House of Representatives. Even with all this turmoil, Jefferson was declared the winner and the presidency was peacefully handed over to him. It was the first peaceful transfer of power from one political party to another. Adams’ bitterness remained for years, but he and his followers ceded power because of the “honor system.” It is because of this peaceful change of power that the election is called the “Revolution of 1800.” It set an important precedent for our fledgling republic. Now ask yourself this question: Based on his willingness to trash political norms for the last 3 ½ years, do you think that Trump would act like Adams did in 1800? Would he follow that important precedent? The evidence points to no. As 2020 approaches, we should remember this: Trump is not a “normal” president. Doug Dworkin is a former junior high school teacher, encyclopedia editor, and IT executive at IBM. Now retired, he Is beginning a new career as a professional dabbler and dilettante.

By Andy Borowitz July 18, 2020 WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report)—In the latest shakeup in his inner circle, Donald Trump has named the White House press secretary, Kayleigh McEnany, to the position of niece, replacing Mary Trump, effective immediately. With only three and a half months to go until the election, replacing family members could be seen as a sign of desperation, political insiders said. But, according to a White House source, the decision to replace Mary Trump with McEnany was a “no-brainer.” “The President wanted a niece who could rewrite history, and Kayleigh has proven every day that she can do that,” the source said. McEnany will continue in her role as press secretary in addition to niece, and will refer to Trump as “Uncle President.” As for Mary Trump, she will remain a member of the Trump family, but has been demoted from niece to third cousin. 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.

One film journalist’s stream-of-consciousness cinematic journey through the pandemic and quarantine, Part 11 By Laurence Lerman Our seemingly unending real-life disaster movie continues to unfold into 2020’s preempted summer blockbuster season, and it ain’t nearly as fun. In a disturbing mutation of traditional gallows humor, there’s a certain level of distraction to be found in the unprepared, bellicose performances regularly made by our bloated Commander-in-Chief. That it’s clear he couldn’t even follow a script if it was stapled to his sebaceous schnoz makes it all the more ridiculous. Following a week of whatshisname rolling out his usual reprehensible repertory, I jumped back into my own streaming festival with 1971’s The Mephisto Waltz, none-too-subtly inspired by my recent streaming of István Szabó’s Mephisto from 1981. While Mephisto found Klaus Maria Brandauer selling his soul to the Nazis in exchange for superstardom in Germany on the eve of World War II, The Mephisto Waltz finds an aging Curt Jurgens’ concert pianist transferring his soul to the body of younger pianist Alan Alda so he can continue tinkling the ivories while also getting up close and incestuous with his adult daughter Barbara Perkins. Jurgens doesn’t get any help from the Nazis in this modern-day tale, but rather the Devil himself, who undoubtedly signs off on these kinds of soul sacrifices regularly if the proper ritual is performed. The only theatrical feature produced by television titan Quinn Martin (whose TV dominance in the Sixties and Seventies includes The Fugitive, The F.B.I., The Streets of San Francisco and Cannon, among other smashes), The Mephisto Waltz was one of a string of Satanic shockers that followed in the wake of Rosemary’s Baby. Like Polanski’s 1968 masterwork, it leans artier and is far less explicit than 1974’s The Exorcist, which kicked open a far-more-graphic gate to hell. Directed by television veteran Paul Wendkos (whose lengthy resume includes 1975’s made-for-TV movie The Legend of Lizzie Borden with Elizabeth Montgomery), The Mephisto Waltz unsurprisingly smacks of a distinctly small-screen flavor, particularly in its staid stretches of exposition which then give way to some stylish if cheesy party and dream sequences. Filled with canted angles, wide-angle disorientation and eerie music courtesy of the great Jerry Goldsmith, it’s those scenes that bring the movie to life. Or, as in the case of a very good Jacqueline Bisset as Alan Alda’s suspicious girlfriend, possible death. Hell, if we’re gonna swap souls, then it’s time for my favorite Alan Parker film, the 1987 occult noir Angel Heart starring Mickey Rourke and Robert De Niro. (I also bring this up this week as the boys appear to be sniping at each other, with De Niro reportedly slamming Rourke to a friend, and Rourke recently responding with an Instagram take-down proclaiming Bobby D to be a “punk ass” and a “big F-ing crybaby.”) Based on the pulpy 1976 novel Falling Angel by William Hjortsberg, the Parker-penned Angel Heart finds sweaty Brooklyn gumshoe Harry Angel (Rourke) hired by the long-nailed, ponytailed Louis Cyphre (De Niro), a mystery man looking to collect an outstanding debt from a presumed dead crooner named Johnny Favorite. Angel’s search for Johnny takes him from Fifties era New York City to steamy New Orleans, where he crosses paths with Southern voodoo queens Lisa Bonet and Charlotte Rampling ahead of a deliciously devilish climax. Dripping with atmosphere and foreboding (and set to a captivating Trevor Jones score, abetted by saxman Courtney Pine and blues performers Brownie McGhee and Lillian Boutté), Angel Heart still delivers with its creepy story, superlative production values and two great performances, including a career-high for Rourke (that’s right, more so than 2008’s The Wrestler) and one of De Niro’s finest supporting turns. Their four scenes together—which run no more than 20 minutes all in—are the anchor for the movie and its central mystery. (Back in the late Eighties, De Niro was still hitting his leading roles out of the park while similarly flying high with smaller bits in films like Angel Heart, De Palma’s 1987 The Untouchables and Terry Gilliam’s 1985 Brazil.) In the most awkward of segues, I’ll put aside the Italian-American De Niro and backtrack a decade earlier for the all-Italian Luchino Visconti and his final film, 1976’s L’Innocente. An adaptation of an 1892 novel by Gabriele d’ Annunzio, Visconti maintains the magnificent, operatic style he embraced during the second half of his career. Set in 19th Century Italy, it concerns wealthy aristocrat Tullio (Giancarlo Giannini) who neglects his lovely, soft-spoken wife Giuliana (Laura Antonelli) in favor of his monied and possessive mistress Theresa (Jennifer O’Neill, who definitely looks the part even if her voice is dubbed into Italian). Tullio’s interest in his wife is rekindled when he learns she has embarked on an affair with a preening novelist, leading to even greater problems when he discovers that she is pregnant. Passion, pride, betrayal and societal demands collide in a climax as tragic as it is inevitable. Produced prior to his death from a stroke in 1976, Visconti reportedly directed this final work from a wheelchair following an earlier stroke and a broken leg. If he weren’t all there physically, he definitely was in a creative sense as L’Innocente lives up to the filmmaker’s lavish-bordering-on-the-decadent aesthetic while delving into some of his favorite themes, namely family misfortune by way of betrayal and infidelity. Misfortune never came off so good, with Pasqualino De Santis’s widescreen color cinematography looking so luxurious you want to dive right in. Moving forward—or, backward, sort of—the good people of the Criterion Collection recently issued a sterling edition of Buster Keaton’s The Cameraman (1928), one of the celebrated comedian and filmmaker’s last great feature films. The first project Keaton made under his contract with MGM, it also marked the last time he had complete autonomy as a filmmaker, which had been the case over the course of the previous decade. During those years, Keaton’s extraordinary output of ten remarkable feature films (including 1925’s Seven Chances and 1926’s The General) immortalized him as one of the greatest actor-filmmakers in the history of cinema. Rather than attempting to single out one of the Keatons—there are no fewer than four that demand to be screened and screened again!—I’m going to jump on the 2018 documentary The Great Buster: A Celebration by Peter Bogdanovich. As its title implies, the 2018 documentary is as much an appreciation of Keaton’s artistry and influence—the big chase sequence in Bogdanovich’s 1972 What’s Up, Doc? is pure Keaton—as it is a chronicle of his life and career. Along with the usual complement of clips from Keaton’s work (shimmeringly remastered by current rights-holder Cohen Media), the Brims with comments from nearly two dozen devotees, ranging from Mel Brooks to Quentin Tarantino to Jackie Chan to Johnny Knoxville, who nearly killed himself attempting to recreate Keaton’s building collapse stunt from 1928’s Steamboat Bill, Jr.). Talk about a jackass… In putting together his doc, Bogdanovich proceeds with a traditional chronological narrative, but then notably skips Keaton’s golden period in the middle and proceeds to his career decline and later years, doubling back to give Keaton’s greatest accomplishments their due in the final third of the film. In other words, Bogdanovich’s saves the good stuff for the end. Would that life played out like that! 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.

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."