“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.

By Andy Borowitz June 11, 2020 WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report)—In a series of angry tweets on Thursday, Donald J. Trump lashed out at the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Mark Milley, declaring, “This is not the military I avoided serving in.” Calling Milley’s apology for appearing in last week’s controversial church photo op “a disgrace,” Trump said, “The United States military of my youth was known for courage and valor, which is why I got a podiatrist’s note to get out of being a part of it.” Andy Borowitz is a Times best-selling author and a comedian who has written for The New Yorker since 1998. He writes The Borowitz Report, a satirical column on the news.

By Jeffrey D. Sachs (China Daily Global) Globalization is not ending but is decisively changing its form. The great tectonic plates that undergird our world - technological, geopolitical, and environmental - are shifting dramatically, causing political and social earthquakes around the world. Many governments can't cope; many institutions are cracking. Throughout the world, we will have to scramble to reshape our institutions for a dramatically changed global landscape. Deep upheavals of globalization are not new, but are always tumultuous. The great upheavals of past globalizations - I count our new era as the seventh age of globalization - have been paced by changes in technology, institutions, and nature. The end of the last ice age and the birth of agriculture gave rise to a new global age; the printing press and Columbus' voyages of discovery to another; and the inventions of the steam engine coupled with global capitalism to yet another. With these discoveries came new forms of politics, economics and global competition, and, all too often, conflict. Ours is the new digital age, which began in the 1930s when the great British genius Alan Turing envisioned the possibility of universal computation based on sequences of 0's and 1's, and when he and polymath John von Neumann began to put that vision into operation during World War II. The computer, the postwar transistor, then integrated circuits, fiber optics and Moore's law, the observation that the number of transistors in a dense integrated circuit doubles about every two years, all helped to turn Turing's vision into a new digital age. This technological revolution is now disrupting every aspect of economic and social life. We are in the new world of e-everything: commerce, education, governance, production, healthcare and culture. COVID-19 is the world's first e-epidemic. We work online from home, track the virus's path on mobile apps, and scour the world's social media for tips on how to stay alive. The digital revolution is the key to understanding the geopolitical revolution as well, the one that has brought China to the front ranks of global power, diminished the United States in relative terms as digital technologies have spread worldwide, and opened the world of social media, fake news, and electronic tribalism and e-terror brilliantly predicted a half-century ago by futurist and philosopher Marshall McLuhan. The American Century is now over and gone, in ashes as the US cities are again aflame in protest at persistent racism, vast inequalities and shocking failures of governance, especially of the US administration. While America no longer occupies the global center stage, no single country or region or alliance will replace it. Like it or not, and many do not, we truly live in McLuhan's global village. If the new century "belongs "to anyone, it is to the new technologies and to the tech giants. The digital age has already fundamentally reshaped the world economy, and thereby the physical environment, through the birth of global supply chains, global logistics, mass travel and trade, and worldwide industrialization and agriculture. Global economic growth has also brought about mass deforestation, the mass destruction of land and marine habitats, the collapse of biodiversity, and the massive emission of greenhouse gases that are destabilizing the global climate. It has pushed humanity into new ecological niches wherein humans and animals exchange novel viruses, giving rise to new emerging infectious diseases such as the COVID-19 virus that is ravaging societies everywhere. But COVID-19 is just the latest of many such zoonotic diseases, including SARS, MERS and Ebola. There will be others, too. It is not surprising, therefore, that our current upheavals have hit a world that lacks a leader to face them. The age of US leadership has passed, but the need for global cooperation has only increased. US President Donald Trump's calls for America First are naive, reactionary and confused at a time when global challenges require global-scale solutions. China rightly favors international cooperation but needs to convince many worried nations that its vast powers and technological might will be put to use for the global good. Europe is divided in its politics, but is mostly united in the view that the world will need a stronger global system to address the current upheavals. The transitions from one global age to the next have typically been periods of geopolitical competition and conflict. Nations scramble to harness the new technologies for wealth, power and glory. Yet brazen competition today, in a thermonuclear age beset by pandemic diseases, environmental devastation and the fragilities of global supply chains and infrastructure vulnerable to collapse and attack, could end us all. Only a shared vision, not a new scramble for power in the current disarray, can underpin peace and survival. The new age of globalization should therefore not forsake the great accomplishments of the preceding age, including the US-led creation of the United Nations. The UN Charter is still a sound basis for global security, albeit one that must be updated to move beyond the special privileges accorded to the five "permanent powers" of the UN Security Council. The UN's Universal Declaration of Human Rights is still the world's moral charter, and one that is the product of many cultures, as it combines Western enlightenment values with Confucian wisdom and Islamic insights. It still stands today as a great beacon of hope and shared global values. Yet the great UN innovations of the 1940s are no longer sufficient 75 years on. Our new global age needs to build a new unity of nations for the 21st century, ready to rebuild from the current COVID-19 crisis on the basis of social justice and environmental sustainability. The most important concept will surely be global solidarity, or as the UN puts it, "leaving no one behind".With pandemic diseases, global climate change and the ongoing degradation of the world's ecosystems, no region will be safe unless all are safe. Even through the flames today engulfing America's cities, we can discern a new path for a new age. By looking back to history we can look forward. Globalization will not go away, but it can and must be better managed. There will be no solution that rejects technology, only solutions that harness technology for the common good. Economy and politics are not separate spheres, but are inevitably joined together, for better or for ill. The two faces of politics - as a naked struggle for power or as a quest for the common good - have always been with us. Well-being can be secured only when we choose politics and economics for the common good, which is the most important lesson for our time. https://www.chinadaily.com.cn/a/202006/08/WS5edd9981a310834817251697.html

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From Robin Cohen/Herndon, Virginia I recently heard a black political commentator talk about the multitude of cautions he drills into his teenaged sons. I was struck by the amount of “worry” black parents have, in particular for their sons. As a white mother of two sons, I thought about my worry list. The comparison is stark. While I’m sure black moms impart the same motherly advice as I do, I, on the flip side, have never thought it necessary to talk about ways to keep my sons safe from law enforcement. As I write the above, it occurs to me that it is impossible for white people to truly understand the day-to-day pulsing anxiety black people experience. The horrific death of George Floyd is a grim reminder that this fear, and as a result, the above list, are a sobering necessity. It is sad and shameful that we keep returning to this awful place in our history. From Barbara Collier/Portsmouth, New Hampshire Holed up in my hometown of Portsmouth, New Hampshire, I photographed two women who took their protests to the main square. The digital sign reads "THE MASK IS ALL WE ASK." The protest signs are "BLACK LIVES MATTER" and "I CAN'T BREATHE." Day 3 today of protest rallies in Portsmouth! Things have certainly heated up in a good way. Thousands of enthusiastic changemakers! Mostly young and white.

From Bill Tynan/Manhattan (Midtown East) Last Sunday, I told friends that I was about to drive back from Connecticut, where because of COVID-19 I’ve been sequestering since mid-March, for a one-day stay in my New York City apartment. They advised against it. After all, I’m in the health-endangered Golden Ager demographic. Even more problematic, they felt, were the sometimes-violent demonstrations and looting that had been going on for five days in various parts of the city, as elsewhere in the country, in response to the killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis. But after closely monitoring the radio and television reports in the 24 hours that led up to my departure, I decided to make the trip. And I’m glad I did. I reached my apartment quickly and easily. Just after 4 p.m., while I was paying some bills, I heard a commotion outside. Something was happening down on the street. (Even though my apartment is on the 23rd floor, sound has always carried up to it easily.) I quickly realized that what I was hearing was demonstrators. Protestors. I was surprised. I live in a nondescript residential section of Manhattan, on First Avenue, a block from the East River and far from what is usually thought of as the action. What impetus was there, I wondered, for demonstrators to be drawn to my area? Opening a window to look down to the street, I saw and heard what at first looked like part of the Thanksgiving parade: slowly pedaling uptown was a neat phalanx of four dozen or so bike riders. They had claimed all four lanes of the avenue. And they were followed, I soon saw, by more dozens—no, hundreds!— of people on foot. People of all colors, many dressed in black, most wearing masks and some carrying signs, which I unfortunately couldn’t read from my location. The group was orderly, peaceful and determined. I found the sight moving. “George Floyd!,” they were chanting, over and over again. As they moved up the avenue, to be replaced by new marchers, the chant evolved. It became, “Black lives matter!” Then, “Justice now!” And, “I can’t breathe!” And stunningly, with arms raised high above their heads, “Don’t shoot!” The group rotated back and forth among the chants, again and again. I had looked at my clock when I first heard the crowd. I looked at it again when the last of the group had finally passed, at its rear a lone police car, its red, white and blue lights flashing. It had taken the marchers some 22 minutes to pass by below, striding six or seven or even eight and nine across. They can’t have been only hundreds, I now thought. Surely they had numbered in the thousands. Indeed they had, I found out the day after from a radio report. The NYPD estimated the group as being about 4,000. They had been on their way to Gracie Mansion, the New York City mayor’s residence, some two miles north of me. In retrospect, and even when I was watching them, I think it was not only the group’s mission but also their demeanor that I found so moving. Though determined— even passionate— about what they were doing, they seemed to be nearly as determined to be respectful of their fellow citizens on the sidewalks, many of whom cheered them as they passed by and even joined in the chanting. If pedestrians wanted to cross the avenue, the group let them walk right through their ranks. Onlookers who ran into the marchers’ midst to take cell-phone videos were skirted, courteously, perhaps actually welcomed as providing proof of the group’s peacefulness. I also found out today that the group had been marching to Gracie Mansion because they’d been told that the mayor was at home. By the time they got there, though, he had left. Too bad. I wish he’d been there to witness them marching and behaving in what I’d like to think of as the best of the American way. In response to the worst of the American way. From Ruth Balin/Manhattan (Midtown) I walked from 51st and Fifth to 60th and Madison. The warm weather and quiet were pleasant. And Central Park, all green, in the distance was beautiful. But the boarded windows along the way were shocking. From Charles Polit/Manhattan (Chelsea)