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By John Rolfe The flickering bulb in my skull recently came on with a realization: Life during a pandemic is a lot like living in a power outage. You keep doing things out of habit only to realize — oh, right — most stuff isn’t working. For instance, during a blackout, while you’re grabbing flashlights, lighting candles, and cursing the darkness, you’ll still flip a light switch and say, “oh, right” when it doesn’t come on. Or you’ll turn on the TV or boot up the laptop. Oh, right, the wi-fi is out. Or you’ll try to bathe. Oh, right, the hot water’s out. Or rustle up some vittles … During my time on this whirlin’ blue orb, I’ve blundered through some lovely power outages like the famous one that paralyzed New York from July 13 to 14, 1977. It struck while I was taking a shower, making it a royal challenge to light a candle so I could see my way out of the pitch-black tub. I’m very grateful that I’ve never had to deal with the prolonged aftermath of a hurricane or tornado. The longest power outage I’ve ever endured lasted several days. Caused by a blizzard and ice storm, it brought frugality, austerity and restlessness to Ye Olde Rolfe Ancestral Home. With stores closed or ravaged by frantic shoppers seeking supplies (snowstorm survival is apparently impossible without milk and bread), we kept a close eye on our stock. We tried not to keep the fridge or freezer door open more than a few moments while choosing leftovers lest they eventually try to exit under their own power. With water dwindling and our well pump unable to replenish the supply, unthinkingly flushing the toilet was cause for a Homer Simpson “D’oh!” moment. Fortunately, our pond is a source of buckets of H2O for flushing and a place to bathe if the clouds of flies grow too dense, though the neighbors will likely be alarmed. After roughing it overnight, we resorted to our trusty generator, though it powers only the water pump, furnace, and some lights and outlets, but not the stove, wi-fi, washer or dryer. Think of it as living in a partial re-opening of a city or state with some stores, services and activities available — a half-loaf of life with a semblance of normalcy. With no place to go and card games and puppet shows losing their power to entertain, an anxious brain on autopilot becomes the enemy. We had to be mindful of how long we ran the generator because it uses gasoline. With roads hazardous and local stations possibly powerless, getting more is a tad problematic. It's kind of like what can happen if you get lax with COVID-19 precautions. You’ll find yourself back in full lockdown. Like the blizzard blackout, the COVID-19 lockdown in New York came on suddenly though with some warning. Blessedly, the power has remained on, so being confined to the house has been pleasant (though I’m sick of losing at card games), but three months in we’re still dealing with store limits on foodstuffs such as that staple of existence, ramen noodles. I’m still setting out for places and discovering I’ve forgotten my mask. Or catching myself acting on the impulse to visit my local library, which has not yet been re-opened. Or suggesting we go somewhere on a jaunt only to have my wife remind me it is not the safest notion. Oh, yeah, indeed. Of course, the big, nagging, eternal question at times like this is when the problem will finally be fixed. If you reside in a rural area like I do, it can take a lot longer to have your power restored than if you dwell in a town or city, though we have enjoyed the special aggravation of seeing the electricity come on across the street while our shack remained dark for another day. With the pandemic, rural areas will probably be fully open before urban viral hotspots, but we shall see. No matter how long a pandemic or blackout lasts, one thing is certain: You never get fully used to living in them. 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 Doug Dworkin As an unrepentant news junkie, I spend a lot of time watching and listening to interview shows. Yes, they are often repetitive and sometimes downright stupid, especially when the interviewees are adhering to a set of talking points previously agreed upon by whatever faction they represent. Often they just wash over me like a robotic torrent of dreck, as when Mike Pence makes multiple appearances on the Sunday morning shows. Occasionally, a sharp and persistent interviewer can break through the wall of bloviation and make some news, but it rarely happens. There is another phenomenon I have observed on these programs, and I am sure this is not unique to me: the unasked question. Usually I say to myself, “well, the next interviewer will nail that down, it’s so obvious.” But it’s exasperating when something gets through that allows some tidbit of misinformation or distortion to pass as accepted fact. An instance of this occurred this past weekend on Fox News Sunday. Yes, I know it’s Fox, but Chris Wallace is an aggressive interviewer who is usually equally tough on everyone. The panel of commentators at the end of the show was bandying about their views on the current controversy over the proposed renaming of U.S. military bases currently named for Confederate generals. During the discussion, Republican analyst Karl Rove asserted “they were named after these confederate leaders as a means of national reconciliation.” As the discussion continued, moderator Wallace, said, “well, let’s move on to the larger question of racism.” But, for me, an unasked question hung in the air: Isn’t racism, in fact, exactly the reason why these bases have their current names? Such a question could have prompted deeper thought that might lead more people to inquire into the history of the century following the Civil War and Reconstruction. Of course, in the limited time available, a whole history was not possible. (Henry Louis Gates, along with other experts like Eric Foner, took four hours to cover it on PBS). But how about this: “Isn’t it true that bestowing these names was not about reconciliation, but a sop to southern politicians who for a century propped up the discredited ‘Lost Cause’ yarn about the Civil War?” I’m not sayin’—just askin’. 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 June 16, 2020 WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report)—One day after it issued decisions on L.G.B.T.Q. rights and the Second Amendment that provoked his ire, Donald J. Trump said that he would overrule the Supreme Court by creating a “Supremer Court.” “Right now, if the Supreme Court makes a bad decision, quite frankly, you’re screwed,” he said. “The Supremer Court fixes that.” Trump said that his Supremer Court would be a “beautiful, perfect court” that would make the Supreme Court “look like exactly what it is—a sad bunch of losers.” Trump said that the Supremer Court would be housed in a “giant, gleaming building” overlooking the Supreme Court, enabling the Supremer Court Justices to “look down at those pathetic little Supreme Court jerks and laugh.” As for choosing Justices for the Supremer Court, Trump said that there were no Supreme Court Justices worth promoting, “except maybe Brett Kavanaugh and Clarence Thomas.” “Judge Roberts is the beauty who gave us Obamacare, and Gorsuch is a total snake,” Trump said. “At least with Kavanaugh and Thomas you’ve got two terrific people.” 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.

A letter from Jeffrey Sachs, SDSN President To the Members of the SDSN Community, These are deeply troubling days for the United States, which is a country of deep contradictions. The nation was born in soaring hopes of freedom and the harsh realities of genocide against Native Americans. It champions the inalienable rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, and yet built a society on the basis of mass slavery and mass discrimination. It champions diversity for the “huddled masses yearning to breathe free,” and yet its officers of the law kill African-Americans at will on our streets and rip children from the arms of mothers desperately seeking refuge in the U.S. Our nation has passed through repeated paroxysms of protest and violence related to the scourge of racism. As a child in the 1960s, my early political awareness was shaped by the murders of the Kennedys and Martin Luther King, Jr., the primary-election victory of racist George Wallace in my home state of Michigan in 1972, and the wanton and gratuitous violence of the Vietnam War, itself stoked by ignorance and anti-Asian bigotry. The Detroit area, where I grew up, was wracked by widespread and persistent bigotry and violence against African-Americans. Thanks to brave and remarkable champions of social justice, our nation has made important and crucial advances in human rights, but it has also suffered cruel reversals, including the current disastrous and dangerous presidency of Donald Trump. Our job and responsibility is justice for all, whenever and wherever we can pursue it. The lines of Deuteronomy in my daughter’s Bat-Mitzvah reading summarized it perfectly: “Tzedek, Tzedek, Tirdof,” meaning “Justice, Justice, shall you pursue.” This is our highest calling as individuals and as citizens. We are blessed in our work and in our collegial life to be dedicated to the Sustainable Development Goals (blessed in the original sense of being happy and fulfilled). The SDGs are based on the core injunction of justice: “Leave no one behind.” We therefore act on behalf of a universal agenda grounded in the great moral charter of the United Nations, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. It is good to recall the first article of the Declaration: “All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights. They are endowed with reason and conscience and should act towards one another in a spirit of brotherhood.” Today’s brave fighters against police brutality towards African-Americans speak to the highest calling of equality in dignity and rights. With Trump as President, America is perilously close to despotism in the service of racism and hate. The world is perilously close to a new cold war deliberately stoked by racism and nativism. And yet the very brave protestors throughout the U.S., who have inspired activists for racial justice around the world, are bearing witness to the overwhelming desire of humanity to 2 live in peace, social justice, and sustainability, and give us great hope for progress on these shared aspirations. I thank you, colleagues, for your daily efforts for global justice. This work never stops, and it is obviously more urgent than ever. Let us together do our part to honor the memories of George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, Tony McDade, and all who suffer wantonly and unnecessarily because we have not yet achieved the soaring aspirations of the United States, the Sustainable Development Goals, and Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Your grateful colleague, Jeff Sachs

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“Nobody came close to breaching the fence. If they had they would have been greeted with the most vicious dogs, and the most ominous weapons, I have ever seen…[Democratic Mayor Muriel Bowser], who is always looking for money & help, wouldn’t let the D.C. police get involved. ‘Not their job.’ Nice!” --President Donald J. Trump, May 30 “There are no vicious dogs & ominous weapons. There is just a scared man. Afraid/alone.” --Washington, D.C. Mayor Muriel Bowser, May 30 “We need a voice against racism, we need many voices against racism and against brutality. And we need to stand up and say that black lives matter.” --Utah Senator Mitt Romney, June 7 “I should not have been there. My presence in that moment and in that environment created a perception of the military involved in domestic politics.” --General Mark A. Milley, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, June 11 “Donald Trump is the first president in my lifetime who does not try to unite the American people—does not even pretend to try. Instead, he tries to divide us. We are witnessing the consequences of three years of this deliberate effort. We are witnessing the consequences of three years without mature leadership. We can unite without him, drawing on the strengths inherent in our civil society. This will not be easy, as the past few days have shown, but we owe it to our fellow citizens; to past generations that bled to defend our promise; and to our children.” --James Mattis, Former Defense Secretary, June 3 “I thought General Mattis’s words were true and honest and necessary and overdue,” [Will she support Trump for reelection?] “I am struggling with it. I have struggled with it for a long time.” --Alaska Senator Lisa Murkowski, June 4 “Few people know where they’ll be in two years from now, but I do, in the Great State of Alaska (which I love) campaigning against Senator Lisa Murkowski. She voted against HealthCare, Justice Kavanaugh, and much else... ...Unrelated, I gave Alaska ANWR, major highways, and more. Get any candidate ready, good or bad, I don’t care, I’m endorsing. If you have a pulse, I’m with you!" --President Donald J. Trump, June 4 “We are not fighting some disconnected incidents. We are fighting an institutional, systemic problem that has been allowed to permeate since we were brought to these shores and we are fighting wickedness in high places. When you can put your knee on a man’s neck and hold it there 8 minutes and 46 seconds, that’s not even normal to a civilian, less known to a police officer. Try it when you go home to put your knee down on something and hold it there that long. You got to be full of a lot of venom. Full of something that really motivates you to press down your weight that long and not give up, and to think that you’re certified by the state to carry a badge and a gun and you got all of that in you means that we have permitted people to become officers of the law that ought to be somewhere else in society.” --Rev. Al Sharpton, eulogy at George Floyd's funeral, June 9 “Little Gianna, as I said to you when I saw you yesterday, you’re so brave. Daddy’s looking down. He’s so proud of you. I know you miss that bear hug that only he could give, the pure joy riding on his shoulders so you could touch the sky, the countless hours he spent playing any game you wanted because your smile, your laugh, your love is the only thing that mattered at the moment. I know you have a lot of questions, honey, no child should have to ask questions that too many black children have had to ask for generations. Why? Why is daddy gone?” --Former Vice President Joe Biden, June 9 "They lynched my brother. That was a modern-day lynching in broad daylight." His voice rising, he said, "I'm tired. I'm tired of pain, the pain you feel when you watch something like that. When you watch your big brother who you looked up to for your whole entire life die, die begging for his mom. I'm here to ask you to make it stop. Stop the pain. Stop us from being tired." --Philonise Floyd, brother of George Floyd. appearing in front of a House Judiciary Committee oversight hearing on policing and law enforcement accountability, June 10 "The presence of the Confederate flag at NASCAR events runs contrary to our commitment to providing a welcoming and inclusive environment for all fans, our competitors and our industry. Bringing people together around a love for racing and the community that it creates is what makes our fans and sport special. The display of the Confederate flag will be prohibited from all NASCAR events and properties." --NASCAR statement, June 10 “We, the National Football League, condemn racism and the systematic oppression of black people. We, the National Football League, admit we were wrong for not listening to NFL players earlier and encourage all to speak out and peacefully protest. We, the National Football League, believe black lives matter.” --NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell, June 5

By Merrill Hansen “You know what maintenance is, I’m sure. Maintenance is what they mean when they say, “After a certain point, it’s just patch patch patch.” Maintenance is what you have to do just so you can walk out the door knowing that if you go to the market and bump into a guy who once rejected you, you won’t have to hide behind a stack of canned food.” --Nora Ephron, “On Maintenance” It took a few weeks before Michigan’s March 23rd shelter-in-place order really entered my consciousness. I had bigger fish to fry: five days later, I came down with coronavirus, and was too fatigued to be bored, or even think about what life used to be like in the outside. I did miss my children, who live out of state, and I worried that they could have been exposed to someone who had the virus, before they started working from home. I worried about them going into stores to buy groceries. I wondered how long it would be before we could spend time together. But as the weeks passed, while I still missed my children, I thought more and more about Inna, the woman who has given me manicures and pedicures for twenty years. I couldn’t think of Inna, without thinking of Lena, who for twenty years has colored my hair the natural color it was until I was in my thirties, and Irena, who has waxed my eyebrows and given me facials for twenty years. They have helped me prepare for trips, weddings, bar mitzvahs, holiday dinners, dates, concerts, and every other special event, aside from making me look presentable for everyday life. I have seen them almost every three weeks during those twenty years. But it was just my luck: days before my next scheduled appointments, it was ordered that hair and nail salons be temporarily closed I soon not only missed my guardian angels, I began to worry about them. I wanted to make sure they were safe when they left home, and were practicing social distancing. One night, as I looked at my hair, my fingernails, my toenails, and my eyebrows. I almost had a panic attack. I thought, "Oh g-d, what if something happens to them? What if they decide they're not going to go back to work? What will happen to me?" These three women had not only become my friends, they had seen me without make-up; they'd seen me on days, when I looked in the mirror and thought I'd found Jimmy Hoffa. I looked forward to seeing them. As I thought of Inna, I recalled the many times when friends, clients, and even strangers, standing next to me in the grocery store or in an elevator, would compliment me on the color of my nail polish. I thought about how I used to suffer from PTSD when I tried to polish my nails, because it brought back painful memories of being the only child in kindergarten who couldn't color inside the lines. When I tried to remove the smudges of polish around the nails, I would accidentally remove the fresh polish I'd put on my nails. Thinking about Lena also brought back vivid memories: I thought of the magic potion she mixed to color my now-white hair, and make it look dark and shiny. I recalled the one time I tried to color my hair myself, when I was in my twenties, and bought a hair painting product to put highlights in my hair. I painted my hair according to the directions, and waited for the beautiful auburn highlights that were supposed to magically appear when I went out into the sun. Instead, about a week later, while on a camping trip out west, my hair turned orange in the hot sun. Thoughts of Irena’s wizardry also came back to me, I thought about how friends would tell me they liked how she arched my eyebrows because it made my eyes look bigger, and I had "pretty eyes.” I recalled that when I tried to pluck and wax my eyebrows myself, I wound up with one arch higher than the other, and a huge painful red mark from pulling off the hot the wax I'd applied between my eyes. So whenever one of the threesome sent me text messages during my days barricaded at home, I was relieved, because that meant they hadn't forgotten me. If one called, while I was on the phone with my kids, I would tell my kids that I had to take an important call and would get back to them. I knew there was going to be fierce competition from other clients who would also want to schedule appointments for manicures, pedicures and to have their hair colored, and eyebrows waxed on the first day that salons were allowed to reopen, and I needed to ensure that Inna, Lena and Irena looked forward to seeing me as much as I looked forward to seeing them. By the beginning of May, the situation started to get dire. My nails were getting so long, they reminded me of a story I’d once read in the National Enquirer about Howard Hughes having 3-inch long nails when he died. When I looked at my eyebrows, I thought of Jack Nicholson in The Shining. When I looked at my hair, I knew that on the first humid day, I would look like I had a frizzy skunk on my head. Well, mirable dictu, it has finally happened. Michigan’s governor just announced that beauty salons can reopen on June 15th. Within several heartbeats, I contacted all three and scheduled my appointments for opening day. This was major. I was finally going to have the relaxing, carefree day of luxury that I had been looking forward to for weeks: a day without any worries. That is, until I started talking with my friends, who all said the same things: "Are you sure you want to be the first one to go to the salons?" "Even if everyone wears a mask, do you think it will be safe?" " Don't you think you should wait a couple of weeks to see if anyone gets sick, or if the virus spikes again? " And most ominously, "I would be worried if I were you." Damn them. Now I am worried. But, the Jack Nicholson eyebrows, the Howard Hughes fingernails, and the frizzy skunk hair have got to go! But, then again... hmmm. 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 Jackie Minghinelli It’s a cloudy, cool day, and I turn my Dodge SUV into the parking lot of the local Stop and Shop supermarket. Choosing a spot closest to the entrance, I pull in between the yellow lines, put the car in park, and let out a deep sigh. Reaching down into the cup holder, I retrieve my mask, a nifty blue paper and vinyl thing given to me a few weeks ago in Central Park by way of a Park’s Department employee’s hand reaching out of a slowly moving Range Rover. I reached for the mask like a child grabs for the brass ring at Coney Island while on the merry-go-round. Although I’m grateful for both the thrill and practicality of the gift, today I won’t put it on until I’m a few inches away from the store’s entrance because I hate having my nose and mouth covered. I head for the shopping carts lined up at the side of the store, where a masked employee, wearing an orange neon vest, is spraying down the handle of a shopping cart. He uses a paper towel to dry the handle and then offers the cart to me. “Thanks,” I say. He nods his head. I step in front of Stop and Shop’s double doors, put my mask on, and glide my cart into the store. Overflowing bins of colorful produce are on my left, but it’s what’s on my right that reveals the surreality of the times. There’s a dispenser with sanitizing wipes and a blue-uniformed, masked guard making sure no one gets too unsanitary at the entrance. I grab a couple of wipes and rub them between my hands. The guard eyes me, but I guess I’ve passed the sanitization test because he doesn’t try to prevent me from my claim to a nearby bag of apples. Masked humans walk past me, and I feel as if I’m in an old sci-fi flick. It’s not just the masks that give things a spooky feel. The people are walking differently. They’ve got that slow, cautious sci-fi walk. When they’re not looking at a food item, they’re looking at each other. They’re looking at me. . . Their eyes make windshield wiper movements, as if they might catch or be caught by someone or something. I hurriedly push my cart beyond the world of nectarines and bananas and move to the land of canned goods, more specifically to the aisle of tomato sauces and beans. There is blue tape on the floor shaped like arrows. Once out of produce, one is only supposed go one way down the aisles. The store wants shoppers to follow the blue-taped road. In my head I chant The Wizard of Oz’s version. A lady sees me coming. We briefly make eye contact, but her eyes narrow. She grabs the handle of her shopping cart and scurries out of the aisle. Ugh! I want to scream, I’m fine. Really, I am. I don't have it! You don’t have to run. Red Pack tomatoes are on sale, so I pick up a few cans and place them in the cart. While thinking of the fresh basil in my garden and the delicious sauce I’ll make with the tomatoes, I sneak the mask down below my chin and take a huge breath. Ah! It feels so good without the mask. Hoping no one will see me, I sneak in a few more breaths sans the mask before moving toward the frozen food section. With my lower face appropriately covered, I wheel my cart into the frozen dessert aisle. A stocky man in a white tee shirt and pink shorts grunts as he shoves one of the glass doors to the ice cream section shut. The dissatisfied customer stomps away. Quickly, I discover the reason for his anger. There isn’t any rocky road, butter pecan, or even vanilla bean left. There’s been a run on the ice cream. Apparently, ice cream is the go-to crisis dessert. Although I’m miffed about the lack of what I consider to be a dessert staple, I figure I could do without the ice cream anyway. My weight hasn’t exactly been going down in the past few months, so I head toward the checkout line while calculating the calories I’ll save by not having the ice cream. I figure I’ll have to not eat ice cream for a year to lose the pounds I’ve gained. Making my way to the checkout counter, I spot her. She stands behind the conveyor belt wearing a blue apron, a surgical mask, and gloves. The cashier looks like she’s either ready for surgery or ready to do a manicure. “Ma’am, step back please.” Apparently, I’ve broken the six-feet-apart rule. The conformist in me blurt outs, “I’m sorry” while the more rebellious side follows with the thought that the cashier is a Nazi. I find the blue taped square on the floor and step back onto it. My items are checked out without further incident, and I head toward the exit, removing my mask before I’m out the door. I place my grocery bag in the back of the SUV and take my seat behind the wheel. I think of the people who I won’t see, the classes I won’t take, and the ice cream I won’t eat. And then I remember that for me all this is temporary. There are people who will never eat ice cream, take classes, or see their loved ones ever again. I’m ashamed for my selfish thoughts. Jackie Minghinelli has worked as a restaurant inspector and as a teacher. She holds New York State certifications in elementary education, Spanish, biology, and general science. She loves to travel, cook, read, write, eat, and shop. Her memoir pieces have appeared in New York Newsday and Mr. Beller’s Neighborhood. She is married to Lou and has a grown daughter, Gina. Her current baby is her Maltese, Buddie.

One film journalist’s stream-of-consciousness cinematic journey through the pandemic and quarantine, Part 7 By Laurence Lerman Rarely do I kick off a column with a reference to my accountant, but I was speaking to mine the other day about the easygoing times prior to the COVID-19 virus, the economic crash, the still-developing Black Lives Matter protests, and the anger we both felt toward our current chief executive, when my accountant mentioned The Prisoner of Shark Island, a 1936 John Ford film whose title screamed “Saturday afternoon adventure serial”... Nope. It was actually about Samuel Mudd, a 19th Century Southern Maryland doctor who was imprisoned for conspiring with John Wilkes Booth in the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. My accountant has given me good tax tips in the past, so why not try a film he’d recommended? And so the stream begins. Warner Baxter—a silent film sensation who made the successful jump to talkies—stars as Mudd, whose name becomes just that after the limping Booth appears at his door one rainy night and the good doctor follows his code and sets the visitor’s broken fibula. What Mudd doesn’t realize is that his patient acquired the injury while escaping Washington’s Ford’s Theater after shooting the president in his box seat a few hours earlier. Arrested, sentenced to life in prison, forced to endure some harsh treatment by a sadistic guard (a genuinely terrifying John Carradine) and punished for an aborted escape attempt, Mudd is then called into action to take charge of a yellow-fever epidemic after the prison doc has fallen ill. Lives are saved, the idea of a pardon is floated and, yeah, there’s a happy ending. When it comes to Ford, I’m mostly up on the dozen or so boldface titles he made with John Wayne—biggies like They Were Expendable, The Quiet Man, The Searchers, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance and so on. The Prisoner of Shark Island (a fictional name referring to Dry Tortugas, the island off the Florida Keys where Mudd was imprisoned) is an appropriately patriotic, “justice will prevail” kind of film, a theme Ford spent the majority of his career exploring. It works in this case, even if Nunnally Johnson’s script takes some liberties with the recorded history. Regardless, it got me in the mood for another push-to-play presidential title. I decided to go for broke with Oliver Stone’s 1995 Nixon—not the theatrical version, but rather Stone’s nearly four-hour-long director’s cut. Focusing as much on Nixon’s accomplishment as it does on his wrongdoings, and even attempting to trace the earliest roots of his renowned paranoia and anger, Nixon might be the most even-keeled look at U.S. politics Stone has ever made (and that’s saying a lot). And the film is a Who’s Who of mid-Nineties Hollywood stars, with Anthony Hopkin’s star turn receiving ample support from Joan Allen, J.T. Walsh, James Woods, Power Boothe, Ed Harris, Bob Hoskins, Mary Steenburgen, Paul Sorvino and the much-missed Madeline Kahn as the ever-loquacious Martha Mitchell. (“Best sex I ever had,” E.G. Marshall’s John Mitchell gleefully whispers about his wife at one point.) Like him or loathe him, at least he was a president that got along with China… Hopkins’ portrayal of Nixon was underappreciated in that film—as was Dan Hedaya’s take on the 37th President in 1999’s Dick, writer/director Andrew Fleming’s reimagining of the Watergate scandal as seen through—and affected by—the eyes of giggly D.C. high school teens Betsy and Arlene (Kirsten Dunsts and Michelle Williams, both delightful), one of whom develops a serious infatuation with the soon-to-be-disgraced President of the United States. Hedaya turns up the “tricky” on suspicious Dicky to its comical extreme in Dick as his two new teenaged “Presidential Dogwalkers” get themselves unknowingly involved in all things Watergate. This includes taking on the role of “Deep Throat” for Woodward and Bernstein (portrayed here with bungling idiocy by Will Ferrell and Dave Foley), and Williams accidentally taping over 18 minutes of Nixon’s secret tapes with an earnest rendition of Olivia Newton-John’s “I Honestly Love You.” (Later on, an alarmed Dunst will insist: “You can’t let Dick run your life!”) Having made the jump to adult stardom following a wildly successful career as a child and teen, Dunst was one best parts of the underseen On the Road, Brazilian-born filmmaker Walter Salles’s respectable 2012 adaptation of Jack Kerouac’s landmark 1957 novel. She plays the role of the Neil Cassady character’s stable second wife Camille, who makes the scene following his road-tripping marriage to saucy young first wife Mary Lou, gamely portrayed by Kristen Stewart just as she was wrapping up her star-making Twilight movies. Actually, I 86’ed On the Road before pressing play—I didn’t feel like traveling back in time with Kerouac. At least, not that far back. Stewart had received some good write-ups on her latest, the 2019 politically infused thriller Seberg, which focused on the late actress Jean Seberg’s involvement with the civil rights movement and the Black Panthers in the late Sixties. Kristen Stewart clicks as the titular troubled star, particularly in the film’s later scenes when her romantic dalliance with black activist Hakim Jamal (Anthony Mackey) raises eyebrows with Hakim’s wife Dorothy (Zazie Beets), Jean’s initially agreeable husband Romain Gary (Yvan Attal) and the FBI (led by a beefy Vince Vaughn), who target Seberg under the bureau’s COINTELPRO surveillance program. It’s the surveillance and harassment of Seberg that leads to the decline of her mental health and career, and her eventual suicide in 1979. Having watched Seberg early last week just as George Floyd’s murder sparked Black Lives Matter marches and protests, I wasn’t looking to watch anything else involving government encroachment and rights violations, let alone in the manufactured guise of a Hollywood movie. So, I decided to leap from the made-for-Netflix examination of Jean Seberg’s life to a full-blown production in which she appeared—and one that was actually mentioned in Seberg. It could probably be considered Seberg’s most successful film (critical and cultural success of Godard’s 1960 Breathless aside): 1970’s Airport! The film that launched the disaster movie cycle of the Seventies and beyond, and the first in a series of increasingly ridiculous airplane catastrophe flicks—not to mention a whole slate of parodies of bloated Hollywood genre productions—Airport remains, well, a very big and very watchable movie, the kind of bestselling film adaptation of a novel—this one by Arthur Hailey—that Hollywood loves to package and produce. Like Nixon some 25 years later, Airport is chock-full of stars of its era—and a bunch from Hollywood’s storied past as well. Let’s see, on the ground you have Seberg, Burt Lancaster, George Kennedy, Maureen Stapleton, Dana Wynter and Lloyd Nolan. And then up in the air are Dean Martin, Jacqueline Bisset, Barry Nelson, Gary Collins and Oscar-winning stowaway Helen Hayes. What could go wrong with that kind of line-up? Well, don’t ask a bomb-toting Van Heflin… It’s big and cheesy and fun—and certainly a pleasant break from following the news, which deserves the utmost attention when not taking a break with a popular entertainment like this one. I have a pleasant memory of Airport making its television premiere on the ABC Sunday Night Movie back in the fall of 1973 and my parents allowing me to stay up late on a school night to watch it. It was a time when one looked forward to the premiere of a big movie on the broadcast airwaves—before cable TV, before home video formats, before streaming. And if you were a kid who’d never seen the movie before, you’d look at the newspaper ads and posters and imagine how great it might be… 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 Dr. Shelly Broder I was in a seminar in May with two psychoanalysts who talked about how to help our patients who are health-care workers or other essential workers. These analysts have volunteered with the Red Cross in crises all over the world (Sri Lanka after the tsunami, Haiti after the earthquake, Ground Zero on 9/11 and after, and more) and shared their experience with us on how to help those in the midst of a crisis. But in contrast to a single impact crisis, such as a hurricane, COVID-19 is a disaster—an ongoing crisis. Not one impact, but a daily impact. Everyone has their own “stress barrier”: the individual tolerance of stress until there’s a crack, the stress breaks through and then overwhelms. There are health-care workers who are able to work under tremendous stress and maintain equilibrium. Others have more difficulty. There is no right or wrong, better or worse. It is individual. But when stress leaks through to the point of overwhelming, functioning becomes impossible, sometimes evident in the “stare” of emptiness when feelings have had to be blocked too long in order to continue. It’s important to acknowledge and respect our individual stress barrier. We are not all alike in our temperament, constitution or history of trauma. At times, specific events may consciously or unconsciously remind us of familiar feelings of loss or fear. A typical example is beginning to feel low around the time a loved one had died. Similarly, living in a pandemic has specific meaning for each of us. For example, as the child of a parent who survived the Holocaust, I consciously titrate my exposure to the disturbing news and try not to listen to the occupier of the White House (think “occupation”). So every morning when I get headlines on my phone, I read only some articles. During the day I “see” patients (via video or phone), go for a walk, listen to “The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency series”, and think about what I’m going to cook and bake next. In the evening, after listening to some MSNBC with my husband, I try to catch a couple of “Curb Your Enthusiasm” episodes. I’m grateful that I’m able to structure my day. My dear friend Andi has found The Insider, an outlet for her love of writing, feeding the hearts of friends while using her fine mind (Jeffrey Sachs isn’t the only one with brains in that family!). With patients, I explore what the current situation brings up for them, but gauge their level of either denial or obsession with the news. The paradox of psychoanalysis is that we unpack fantasies in order to deal with reality. In that way, each person can better understand their stress tolerance, respect it and do what they need to do to stay mentally healthy in the midst of a true catastrophe. Keeping one’s stress barrier in mind, I suggest evaluating your own exposure to the news. Personally, I find great therapeutic pleasure in cooking and baking. I have an ongoing grocery list. It’s just my thing. It is a certain activity in an uncertain world. You know that you will end up with something satisfying, even if the news isn’t. I’ve been so impressed with my baking and cooking that I’ve been keeping a bit of a photo diary to show off. My husband, who used to make a weekly trip to the Jewish bakery, is very happy, too. Poppy Seed Strip – Just like downtown https://www.leahcookskosher.com Chocolate Babka – Fudgy! The real deal https://www.leahcookskosher.com Polenta Bread https://www.williams-sonoma.com/m/recipe/polenta-bread.html Polenta Bread French Toast Using the polenta bread above, beat vanilla and orange zest with eggs and milk. Yes, I cooked them in butter. Serve with real maple syrup. Plain Roast Chicken on Homemade Polenta Bread (Absorbs the juices-like stuffing-OMG!) Use polenta bread above. I seasoned the chicken like my grandma used to: salt, pepper, paprika and garlic powder (My grandma used onion powder.) Sweet and Sour Stuffed Cabbage Ina Garten’s wonderful recipe reminds me of my dad’s very Eastern European taste. I used ground white and dark turkey meat: https://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ina-garten/stuffed-cabbage-recipe-1920701 Ina Garten’s Lemon Yogurt Cake (I used fat free yogurt with a bit of half-and-half) https://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ina-garten/lemon-yogurt-cake-recipe-1947092 Rosemary, Olive Oil and Orange Cake https://www.goodfood.com.au/recipes/yotam-ottolenghi-baking-recipes-the-bright-magic-of-citrus-20170307-gut549 Roast Chicken with Clementines and Arak Ottolenghi’s most delectable chicken dish ever. I sprung for a bottle of Pernod to get the fennel flavor instead of Arak. Cooked fennel with orange is the best. Ina does it with salmon. https://www.tastecooking.com/recipes/roasted-chicken-with-clementines-and-arak/ My Beet Apple Salad with Citrus Vinaigrette I modified a fresh beet and apple salad using roasted beets, beet greens, 4 celery stalks, a large honeycrisp apple, ¼ cup chopped red onions, a tablespoon of good balsamic and a citrus vinaigrette. I had leftover pomegranate molasses vinaigrette that I used.. Add toasted walnuts and/or feta if you want. Instant Pot Pulled Chicken 2 lbs skinned, boneless chicken breasts 3/4 oz chili seasoning packet (Trader Joe’s Taco Seasoning 1/8 teaspoon ground chipotle chili powder 1/2 cup favorite BBQ Sauce 1/4 cup water Directions: 1. Mix seasonings, BBQ sauce and water in the pot. Place chicken breasts in pot, “skin” side down. 2. Seal the lid for pressure cooking. Hit the “MEAT/STEW” mode and set at “MORE” (highest setting) for 15 minutes. Allow pressure to release naturally. 3. Remove chicken and with two forks, pull into shreds. Coat with about 1 cup of sauce from pot. Can reduce the rest of sauce with the Saute on “Less” function. Serve on the side. 4. Serve as a sandwich on buns or in warmed corn tortilla with BBQ Slaw* and extra sauce from pot. *BBQ Slaw: ½ green cabbage, ½ red cabbage and a shredded carrot. Slice cabbages in long thin strings. Dress with mixture of ⅓ to ½ cup favorite BBQ Sauce, ⅓ to ½ cup mayo, 2 to 4 tablespoons cider vinegar. The volume of the cabbage will reduce after coated with dressing. Rochelle M. Broder, Ph.D., a native Detroiter, is a psychologist and psychoanalyst in private practice in Royal Oak, Michigan. She is a high school friend of the editor, Andrea Sachs.