By Naomi Serviss / New York City True confession: I attended Donald Trump’s 50th birthday bash in Trump Tower 26 years ago. Yes, Donald Trump, the disgraced, indicted, nasty former president. No doubt that vile human being will twist this pathetically sad, tragic week to his own financial and egotistical benefit. After all, money is what he values, and ironically, he’s a terrible businessman to boot! He lives for the megalomaniacal thrill of attention, good or bad. Not to mention he’s a despicable, vile, racist anti-Semite. And a crappy parent. So why on earth was I willingly attending a narcissist’s birthday party? Because it was the ‘90s and he was merely a creep, not a Russian asset (yet). I was on the media invite list because of Newsday credentials. Why not go? It could be a rich vein of copy to mine. Who knew what would come of the outing or whom I might meet? Trump used to like the press. He courted journalists and handwrote thank-you’s after being interviewed. He knew how to play and manipulate the odds. How could I turn down his birthday request? Keep in mind, this was almost three decades ago, when Dapper Don was fodder for New York City’s tabloid gristmill. Those were the days when an easy-to-read paper cost 25 cents and the New York Times was still the Gray Lady. Trump often called reporters to drop gossipy tidbits, or schmooze. The author chatting with the future President at his big birthday bash He seemed harmless enough, just a braggart and buffoon with lousy taste. Faux gold all the way. A poor man’s vision of how a rich man lives. We know better now, but in the ‘90s, Mr. Trump was a man made for mockery. Seemed harmless. He was a punch line with no sense of shame. A self-proclaimed billionaire (discredited by Forbes magazine), he was a clown prince in his own three-ring circus. He’s always loved the spotlight, as only a narcissist could. In those days, he would go on the televised Howard Stern Show and brag about his sex life, then and past. He projected a creepy dad vibe discussing his attraction to his young daughter Ivanka. A raging public feud with Leona Helmsley (of Helmsley Palace notoriety) provided some of the best front-page quotes of the day, screaming headlines like: “I wouldn’t believe Donald Trump if his tongue was notarized!” –Leona Helmsley (New York Post, Sept. 22, 1990) When Marla Maples came in (and out) of his life while he was still married to Ivana, the soap opera-like scandal ran the tabloids ragged. “Best Sex I’ve Ever Had” –attributed to Maples (New York Post, Feb. 16, 1990) She denied it. Of course. That’s how the tabloid game is played. Then and now. Who knew what might be said at this party, my journalist brain wondered? Hors d’oeuvres and drinks were served by neatly dressed waitstaff. Local and international celebrities mingled. Reporters abounded: the New York Post’s gossip columnist, Cindy Adams was flitting here and there, bedecked in a floral frock with matching hat. She’d been a longtime Trump friend and fan. Then an announcement, and a hush quieted the cheerful chatter. Lo and behold! Why, there’s Trump, Marla Maples and their toddler Tiffany riding the golden escalator (remember when he announced his 2016 bid for president? That escalator), flashing royal nods and brightened smiles. At least Marla and Tiffany were smiling. I can’t recall Birthday Boy with a toothy grin. In those days (as now) Trump was a media whore. He loved the tabloids, and the feeling was mutual. His face was often plastered on front pages of the New York Post and the Daily News. He didn’t care that New Yorkers considered him a lying cheat with a big mouth. As the trio descended to the fans in thrall, they walked through the crowd and greeted guests. When The Donald (another ‘90s nickname) stopped to say hello, he seemed like a regular Joe sporting an expensive suit and funny hair. I wished him a happy birthday and presented him with a joke gift: a boat-shaped, rubber Donald Duck. Inside joke. Those were the Atlantic City days when he envisioned opening a ship casino. Didn’t come to pass. Hollywood actress Morgan Fairchild chatted with me and posed for a photo. She was glam and her striking blue eyes dazzled. Walking around I noticed another escalator and headed downstairs. There were a handful of people there and I recognized a solitary man standing in front of an easel. It propped up an exquisite painting of Central Park. He turned towards me and I sank into the familiar dark eyes of Tony Bennett, artist/musician/author. Bennett got the invite as well. The painting, a gift for the evening’s honoree, was created from his apartment overlooking the park. Stunning. We chatted and I tried not to fawn, even though I thought: “I’m talking to a Living Legend! One whom I admire! It’s the same feeling as I felt when interviewing Steve Allen—a mixture of awe and pinch-me-I’m-dreaming incredulity. I didn’t even fault Bennett for being pals with the gilded celebrant. Bennett talked about the joy of painting and how grateful he felt to have the talent and ability to create and share his work. He generously expressed interest in my entertainment column. A class act. No one else approached Bennett. They were seemingly in awe and too shy. I was grateful for the private moment. A cake was sliced, and pieces were passed around. “Happy Birthday” was sung, and participants trailed off and dispersed. It was a stellar night, one that went down in the Serviss Family Lore files. My one regret was not taking a photo of Bennett. It was a celebratory occasion, but the interior of the Fifth Avenue building seemed cold and empty. Much like I imagined Trump’s heart. Naomi Serviss is a New York-based award-winning journalist whose work has been published in The New York Times, Newsday, The Philadelphia Inquirer, Highroads (AAA magazine), in-flight publications, spa and travel magazines and websites, including BroadwayWorld.com

By John Rolfe / Red Hook, N.Y. Regarding the long-awaited indictment and arraignment of Donald Trump, all I can say is I’ve lived through some scary times but this tops them all. I’m old enough to remember the Cuban Missile Crisis of Oct. 1962, but I was only five at the time. The implications didn’t dawn on me until years later, but I recall the anxiety in the adults around me. I knew something terrible was happening. I vividly remember the assassination of President Kennedy a year later, but again my sense of unease was based on my parents’ reaction. I was in Manhattan during the Sept. 11 attacks in 2001. They were horrifying, but even with security experts urging us to buy plastic sheeting for our windows to protect against chemical attacks by terrorists, I never felt as threatened as I do by Trump. He has more potential to reduce this country to smoking ruin than Al-Qaeda and ISIS ever did. That possibility feels much more likely now that he has become the first former U.S. President to face criminal charges: 34 felony counts related to falsifying business records. During the last seven years, I’ve watched Trump stoke dangerous, bitter, angry divisions in this country while trashing our nation’s most cherished ideals and principles such as honesty, integrity, kindness, decency, civility, intelligence, generosity and equality. I’ve had friends and even family members who support Trump stop speaking to me because of our political differences. I see huge, vulgar “F—k Joe Biden” flags on houses and trucks and read about militia groups allied with Trump that vow to exterminate liberals. (See Malcolm Nance’s recent book They Want to Kill Americans: The Militias, Terrorists, and Deranged Ideology of the Trump Insurgency.) I was casually informed by a Trumper I worked with that my views are going to get me a bullet in the head. I believe him. I often wonder what some of my fellow citizens are willing to do to harm me, my family, my friends, and other innocent people because they’ve been convinced by Trump that we are their enemies and an existential threat to America’s greatness. Trump’s disgusting attempt to overturn the 2020 election that culminated with the sickening spectacle of January 6, a deadly insurrection he inspired and egged on, is surely the worst moment of my lifetime as an American. And now we have his first indictment, a historic precedent that is much needed to uphold the rule of law even while it raises the specter of years of civic unrest and possible violence. Trump promised as much during his rally in Waco, Texas, on March 25. Calling Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg (a Black man) an “animal” and a “degenerate psychopath” is the kind of dehumanizing rhetoric demagogues like Adolf Hitler have long used to stoke their followers into a frenzy of blood lust. “I am your warrior, I am your justice, and for those who have been wronged and betrayed, I am your retribution!” Trump vowed to his acolytes. “What kind of person can charge another person, in this case a former President of the United States, who got more votes than any sitting President in history, and leading candidate (by far!) for the Republican Party nomination, with a Crime,” Trump wrote on his ironically named Truth Social site, “when it is known by all that NO Crime has been committed, & also known that potential death & destruction in such a false charge could be catastrophic for our Country?” With almost everyone opining on the Stormy Daniels hush money case before even knowing the specifics of the extensive charges and evidence, a media circus set up its tents by the Manhattan Criminal Courthouse where Trump was arraigned on April 4. Pro- and anti-Trump protestors gathered, including right wing firebrand Marjorie Taylor Greene and fraud poster child George Santos. The GOP has now circled its wagons with Republicans clamoring for “creative” charges against Democrats such as Joe Biden (and his son Hunter), Nancy Pelosi and Chuck Schumer, and possibly ex-Presidents Barack Obama, Bill Clinton and more. While the twice-impeached Trump portrays himself as a martyr (the “most innocent man in U.S. history”), even Mike Pence, ridiculed by Trump whose tweets put his Vice President’s life in jeopardy on Jan. 6, has dutifully called the indictment an “outrage.” All of this uproar has been a boon to Trump’s piggy bank as a purported $14 million (and counting) in donations have poured in from supporters since the indictment was announced on March 30. I find it hard to wrap my mind around the historic nature of this indictment. So much unprecedented stuff has happened since Trump descended on his golden escalator on June 16, 2015 to announce his first run for the White House that it feels like business as usual. But it’s clearly going to be a stern test for a legal system the GOP is trying to neuter in order to protect Trump and the party. Trump’s son Eric has already posted a photo of the case judge’s daughter to social media with the intentionally inflammatory message that she worked for the Biden-Harris campaign. This is only the beginning of a long slog with three more serious indictments likely. The possibility of our legal system and other democratic institutions being destroyed in the process and a vengeful Trump returning to power with the intention of delivering retribution is the scariest prospect of all. 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.

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

By Bonnie Fishman / San Francisco Bay Area It may be spring on the calendar, but I still feel a big chill in the air, combined with rain and/or snow. The winds kick up and it gets downright nasty out there. Sometimes this lasts through the whole month of April. Depending on what part of the country you live in, there are still cold nights into May and early June. I’m not giving up my big stew pot just yet! Stew, which is any combination of two or more foods boiled in a liquid in a pot, is one of the most satisfying, hearty, and deeply flavored dishes on the planet. Its origin goes back as far as when humans began to cook. Initially people used large turtle or mollusk shells to boil stew. Often animal stomachs were used as boiling vessels. The invention of pottery between 10,000-18,000 years ago was a game changer as to what and how humans cooked. However, there is also evidence that clay pots were being used even 20,000 years ago! I have a degree in cultural anthropology from University of Michigan, so how indigenous peoples cooked and ate has always interested me. I’m a peasant at heart. Cooking stew really speaks to me. It reminds me of all of our ancestries. It reminds me of home. Think about it: how often do you see it served in a restaurant? When I make it for my husband, Bob, he remarks “You can’t get food like this when you eat out.” According to Bon Appetit in January 2013, “The first time that the Old French word estuve jumped to English shores as "stew," it meant either a stove, a heated room, or a cooking cauldron. That probably comes from way back, from the Latin extufare, meaning “evaporate." As we know it today, stew usually contains a protein, vegetables, seasonings and a liquid. What makes it so delicious is the melding together of these flavors to create a homogenous dish. Sometimes it’s a combination of proteins, say, chicken and fish. Cultures use what they have readily available. When I’m thinking about making a stew, I consider which flavor profile I have a hankering for. Is it Mexican Pazole using pork, hominy, chiles, and cilantro? Is it Moroccan lamb stew with chicked peas, almonds, carrots, and warm spices? Maybe I’d make Beef Stroganoff with sour cream and dill. Or how about the French classic, Beef Bourguignonne? Italian Cioppino (fisherman’s stew) is a seafood bonanza. So many options, my head is spinning! Besides being a comforting dish, stew has several great qualities. You can make a little or a lot for a big crowd without much extra effort. If you’ve invited guests and you’re not sure how many will attend (this happens to everyone at some time in their entertaining lives!), stew can be stretched to feed the masses if need be. I had an embarrassing situation happen to me when I was 27 and was cooking a lovely Italian Veal Ragout for 40 people in a customer’s home. I was pleased with the results and was proud to serve it that evening. For some reason, I can’t remember why, I was also a guest sitting at the table. I was heartily enjoying my stew so much that I took a piece of bread and wiped the bowl clean with my fingers and shoved it in my mouth. My companion gave me the sharpest elbow. Not a good look! I was young and inexperienced in etiquette. Stew tastes even better the next day, or the day after that. The ingredients “sit” together and seem to develop even further. They can serve as a one-dish dinner, supported by noodles or rice underneath, or with a side of crusty bread. For a dinner party, the clean-up is one or two pots instead of numerous pots and serving dishes for several courses. Stew can be a real melting pot. You find some not-so-great-looking vegetables in the back of your fridge. Throw them in, no one will be the wiser. Another great quality to making stew is its ability to test your creativity. You almost can’t fail. Today’s recipe is a straightforward chicken stew with leeks and mushrooms. Consider this a starting point, because you can tweak it with different vegetables and seasonings. I always use chicken thighs because they don’t dry out like the breast. They have a “meatier” consistency. I prefer to cook my stews on top of the stove rather than putting them in an oven. I urge you to use a heavy-bottomed pot to avoid scorching. I use a rondeau or brazier. A large Dutch oven is also great. If you use a large soup pot, make sure it is a broad one, not tall and narrow. So Insiders, let us know what you stew over and decide to make for your comfort food. The choices are endless. And please send a picture or two to editor@theinsider1.com so we can share it with your fellow readers! Chicken Stew with Leeks & Mushrooms Yield: 10-12 Servings 3 lb. skinless boneless chicken thighs, cut into 1” cubes 1/2 c. flour 1 tsp. salt 1/2 tsp. coarse ground black pepper @ 4-5 Tbsp. vegetable oil 1 lg. onion, 1/2” dice 3 garlic cloves, minced 4 celery stalks, 1/2” dice 4 lg. carrots, peeled, cut into 1/2” rounds 3 parsnips, peeled, cut into 1/2” pieces 2 leeks, green part removed, thoroughly clean, sliced thin crosswise 1 c. white wine 12 oz. button mushrooms, quartered 5 c. chicken stock 1 bunch thyme stalks, tied together 1/4 c. fresh chopped parsley In a medium bowl, toss together the flour, salt, and pepper. Add only 1 lb. chicken pieces. Toss to coat. Heat 2-3 Tbsp. oil in the bottom of a brazier or large Dutch oven over moderately high heat. Shake off the chicken and add it to the hot oil. Brown the chicken on all sides for about 5-7 minutes. The meat will still be underdone in the center. Place in a clean bowl. Add more oil and repeat this step 2 more times. Add more oil to the pan. Turn heat down to medium. Add the onion, garlic, celery, carrots, parsnips, and leeks. Sauté until translucent and slightly browned, about 15-20 minutes.  Pour in the wine, scraping up the brown bits from the bottom of the pan. Cook for 2 minutes. Blend in the stock. Add the mushrooms and thyme bundle. Bring to a boil; turn down to a simmer. Cook the stew, stirring occasionally, for 30 minutes or until the vegetables are tender. Remove the thyme and discard. Add the chicken and juices to the pot. Cook for 5-7 minutes, until the chicken is cooked through. Season well with salt and pepper. Mix in the chopped parsley. Bonnie Fishman attended the Cordon Bleu Cookery School in London. Later, she owned and operated Bonnie’s Patisserie in Southfield, Mich. and Bonnie’s Kitchen and Catering in Bloomfield Hills, Mich. She has taught cooking for over 35 years and created hundreds of recipes. She is now living in Northern California.

A Poem by Dr. Barry Lubetkin / New York City They promised no perp walk. Liars! So many immigrants in the crowd, yelling, shoving, cursing. Told to keep my head down. All laughing at me, pointing. “Put your fingers out and press hard,” growls the Muslim guard. Little hands, little fingers, little prints, little man. “Wipe your sweaty face and stop posing. Nobody gives a shit anymore. ”
Mug shot done, sweat beads drip. Trial jury doesn’t smile back. All monstrous, numb eyes. Blacks, Asians, Jews, pregnant women. Fucking liberals all,
 not a white man in the lot. Smiling, gleeful Michael Cohen for the People. Wild-eyed Marjorie Taylor Greene for the defense. She winks at me and mouths, ”Lie.” Pence, the judge, writes GUILTY on his notepad, then starts the trial. The gallery is eager. For blood. Soros in the back row, Schiff and Kamala almost panting. DeSantis writing his acceptance speech. Melania and Bragg sharing a secret. Weisselberg, my new Rikers cellmate. Emaciated, weak. Hate, insults hurled against the bars. Both of us begging the other For forgiveness. Never offered. Barry Lubetkin, Ph.D. is the co-director and co-founder of the Institute for Behavior Therapy in New York City. The Institute for Behavior Therapy is the oldest private cognitive behavior center in the United States.

By John Rolfe / Red Hook, N.Y. More than two years after the dark events of January 6, I remain astounded that Mike Pence, by refusing to block certification of the Electoral College count, actually threw a wrench into the gears of Donald Trump’s plot to overturn the 2020 election. I feel much like I did after my beloved New York Giants won their first Super Bowl after 23 years of futility and often comical ineptitude: “Did that really happen?” It did. But the fact that Pence is now being forced by a federal judge to testify before a grand jury about what he knew of Trump’s plot qualifies him as one of America’s legendary political weenies. That’s really saying something in this Golden Age of cowards, hypocrites and phonies. You’d think that Trump leaving him at the mercy of an angry, violent mob chanting “Hang Mike Pence!” and forcing him to hide in the bowels of the Capitol while fearing for his family’s safety would inspire the then-Vice President to roundly condemn his former boss. But with his own presidential aspirations to protect, Pence declined to speak to the House Select Committee to Investigate the January 6th Attack and has contested a grand jury subpoena from Special Counsel Jack Smith. Instead, Pence wrote in his recent book So Help Me God (an ironically apt title) about how he had tried to persuade Trump to follow responsible legal counsel and let the Constitution decide the matter of the election’s result. He has said he is content to let Trump be judged by history. This after being insulted by Trump (witnesses say he called Pence a “wimp” and a “p---y”) who also egged on the mob by tweeting during the riot that Pence “didn’t have the courage to do what should have been done.” Pence now claims to be “pleased” by the judge’s order to testify and that he has nothing to hide, but would nevertheless speak to his attorneys first. That left open the possibility of appealing the order. Even if he has nothing to hide, avoiding taking the stand will allow Pence to play both sides from a nebulous middle. In the meantime, he is avidly courting the Trump base by declaring the indictment of Trump in the Stormy Daniels hush money case “an outrage.” This is yet another example of how terrified Republicans are of Trump’s MAGA base of extremists, which is too large to cut loose when the party needs every vote it can get, yet too small to win national elections. The GOP’s only hope is to somehow convince enough moderate and independent voters that their own narrow self-interests are more important than the wider issue of what this all means for our democracy and what it says about us as a nation. Are we really willing to embrace and defend abject liars, phonies, philanderers, and even criminals for the sake of cheap gasoline, the illusions of a closed southern border, and “rights” that limit other people’s reproductive choice, ability to vote, education, and freedom to be and love whomever they wish? A proud member of the religious right, Pence, in all his plastic pious sanctimony tries to present himself as a pillar of rectitude. But everything about him screams “empty suit politician!” The horrible reality for so many voters (myself among them) who are starved for thoughtful leaders who prioritize the well-being of citizens and advance thoughtful, constructive legislation is that the GOP has potential first-rate candidates such as former governors Larry Hogan (Maryland) and Charlie Baker (Massachusetts) as well as Vermont’s current governor, Phil Scott. But people like them have no chance when the only way to secure a nomination is sucking up to the party’s rabid base. So we are all stuck with the likes of Trump, Ron DeSantis and Pence. There are more, but I’m blocking at the moment. If Pence testifies before the grand jury, he can decline to answer questions about his own behavior on Jan. 6. I fully expect him to plead the Fifth Amendment (as Trump did more than 400 times during a tax fraud deposition last summer) when asked about his conversations with the President. That way he can say he didn’t sell out the MAGA movement to a witch hunt by woke Democrats. His political career clearly comes before efforts to ensure accountability for trying to illegally overturn the 2020 election and that another Jan. 6 never happens again. Of course, I could be utterly surprised. My Giants won another Super Bowl four years after their first and went on to win two more. Anything can happen. But you just never know with someone like Pence. 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 Naomi Serviss / New York City When my kids were of school age, their biggest fear was being bullied by obnoxious brats who lived to torment. Those creeps spewed hateful epithets, nurturing their nastiness. Those little brats teased mercilessly. I spoke to their mothers many times. Deaf ears. One mother told me her daughter was unpleasant to her sisters as well. Not encouraging. A bad seed? Boys shoved students into lockers for a lark. Always a crowd-pleaser. Emmy and Ben’s problems seem quaint in retrospect. Attention was paid, but justice was not always served. So how did we get here? When did we become a country where children are slaughtered before recess? When will it ever end? Will it ever end? We’ve become inured to the mass murder of innocents. Classroom horror scenes doused with bloody déjà vu. How did this happen? I blame the National Rifle Association (NRA) and its cohorts. When did it become normal for children to clasp hands and dash across the street, away from an active shooter school site? This is nuts. Not a healthy environment. The trauma will scar these victims for life. How could it not? Why are weaponized sociopaths wandering school hallways and murdering second graders? Haven’t we seen this wretched movie repeatedly? Last year in Texas, an elementary school shooting triggered a great hue and cry for tougher gun restrictions. Finally! Lasted about a minute. Funny thing is, states led by Republicans ditched that concept and proposed bills to make firearms even more available! In their insane world, teachers would carry, and college students could hang out on the Quad with a weapon. Tennessee lawmakers seized the moment. When we thought it couldn’t get any worse this year, a deeply disturbed sociopath kicked the front door in at the Covenant School in Nashville. And all hell broke loose. The intruder shot and killed, wreaked havoc and destruction. Murder unabated until hero cops took out the unspeakably evil shooter. You think we learned a lesson this time? Don’t bet the house. Republican-led states should be ashamed. Those include Virginia, Kentucky, Ohio, Texas and Nebraska. Here’s what they want to impose: A limit to gun-free zones Removal of background checks Getting rid of red-flag laws that would remove guns from dangerous people. Missouri went above and beyond last year. Lawmakers made it illegal for local law enforcement to cooperate with federal authorities. We’re living in Bizarro World! Another fun fact: In 25 states, NO PERMITS are needed to carry a handgun-nine more than in 2020. Tennessee takes the cake when it comes to guns! “And YOU get a gun, and YOU get a gun…..” Most residents are now free to carry LOADED guns in public. Open or concealed. WITHOUT A PERMIT, BACKGROUND CHECKS OR TRAINING! I sense a migraine approaching. It’s all politics and NRA donors. Follow the money. It’s hiding in plain sight. Former president #45 appeared personally at the NRA convention in Houston a few days after the school shooting in Uvalde, Tex. If we can remember that far back. Commercials feature gung-ho gun proponents sporting family portraits with guns in tow. Not a good look. Republican Rep. Andy Ogles’ district includes the Covenant School where last week’s slaughter took place. In December 2021, Ogles posted a Christmas card photo of his family posing with rifles. The family that kills together…. Tennessee’s shooter, identified as Audrey E. Hale, purchased seven firearms from five local gun stores and used three of them in a murderous rage. After 2012’s Newtown, Conn. slaughter, lawmakers amended an assault weapon ban, put in place universal background checks and banned high-capacity magazines. Logic and common sense prevailed. At least once. Since the Columbine High School massacre in 1999, nearly 450,000 students have experienced gun violence in their lives. With the Nashville deaths, 74 people have been killed or injured in schools across the country this year alone (not including the shooters). It’s a fact of life. An abstract Cold War colored my youth. Bombs could fall any minute. So we were told. We cowered under our fifth grade desks. No doubt they would deflect and protect from nuclear fallout. Scary things have always threatened kids. Sometimes from a family of origin. Raising our kids was an intellectual and emotional privilege. I fortified my learning with school psychologist workbooks with titles like How to Talk So Kids Will Listen, & Listen So Kids Will Talk. Amazingly, it worked! We were simply loving our progeny and wanted to protect them from the world’s evils. That’s what we worried about in the 1980s. A lifetime ago. Before “active shooter” became part of our nomenclature. And tiny white caskets became big business. Naomi Serviss is a New York-based award-winning journalist whose work has been published in The New York Times, Newsday, The Philadelphia Inquirer, Highroads (AAA magazine), in-flight publications, spa and travel magazines and websites, including BroadwayWorld.com

By Andy Borowitz | The New Yorker April 3, 2023 NEW YORK (The Borowitz Report)—Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene’s political future was in peril after she was caught on camera in New York City eating what her supporters alleged was a George Soros-backed Hebrew National hot dog. Greene, in Manhattan to protest Donald J. Trump’s arraignment, was photographed eating the Judaic sausage in Times Square while en route to having her picture taken with Elmo. After images of Greene seemingly enjoying the controversial beef product ricocheted across social media, the Georgia congresswoman took to Twitter to control the damage. “I take no responsibility for any meat I ingested while under the influence of the Rothschild banking family’s mind-control beams,” she tweeted. 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 Tobye S. Stein / Detroit On Wednesday (April 5), the Jewish holiday Passover begins at sundown. As in most years, I am busy cooking and baking. The majority of our guests are not Jewish, so when someone kindly offers to make something, I do my best to ask for items that won’t require special Passover ingredients , which include matzo meal, matzo cake meal, or matzo farfel. And yes, that is a lot of matzo. I’ve already prepared my brisket, chicken, stuffing, tzimmes (sweet potatoes, carrots, raisins, and honey) as well as brownies. My meringues are baking as I write this, and so far everything has come out extremely well if I say so myself. The challenge I sometimes have is working with some uniquely special ingredients. I have a wheat allergy, and I’m thrilled that there are so many gluten-free (wheat free) items. The only problem is some of the items don’t quite work exactly like the regular items. As a result, it seems every other year, I have an epic baking fail. This is one of those years. Since I have the brownies and I make the meringues with chocolate chips, I wanted to prepare a non-chocolate dessert. I’m very fond of lemony desserts so when a friend posted a recipe on Facebook for Passover Lemon Bars, I decided to try the recipe. I finely chopped the almonds in my food processor, I carefully measured out the gluten-free matzo cake meal, I melted the butter, and I followed the directions to the letter to make the crust. As the crust cooled, I prepared the filling zesting and squeezing lemons and adding the other ingredients. I added the filling to the pan with the crust and put the pan in oven. YIKES! Something went terribly wrong. The filling leaked through the previously baked crust. This was definitely bad news. Rather than pitching the whole thing in the trash, I left this mess to cool and headed to our appointment to get our taxes done. Our visit to our tax preparer is part catching up with John, my friend of 50-plus years, and part getting our taxes done. On the way to and from John’s office I began mulling options for dealing with my little culinary crisis. When we arrived home, I dumped the entire pan of what was supposed to be lemon bars into a large mixing bowl. I mixed everything thoroughly and decided to get out one of my portion or cookie scoops and make some sort of individual items. I baked them for a while and took them out to cool. Once cooled, I decided it was time for a taste test. I was pleasantly surprised when I realized that I had created the most delicious Lemon Almond Macaroons. They were very similar to those created by a well-known chef who made wonderful macaroons, but never shared her proprietary recipe. I doubt I could recreate this masterpiece, but I’ve learned that when life gives you lemons, you can cry, you can laugh, or you can create something delicious. To all who celebrate Passover, may yours be joyous. To all who celebrate Easter or a different spring holiday, I wish you the same. Due to Covid, our group of 12 will be reduced to six, but I’ll be taking desserts to those afflicted with that damn virus that doesn’t spare holiday celebrants.. Tobye S. Stein retired as Chief Human Resources Officer from a California-based financial services organization. She once landed a job by replying to the age old question, “Why should I hire you instead of the other two candidates” by simply stating “I’m funnier than most people.” It worked.

By Jessie Seigel / Washington, D.C. On Saturday, former president Trump held the first rally of his 2024 presidential campaign in Waco, Texas. That is outrageous but not surprising. Outrageous because it was the 30th anniversary of the deadly stand-off in Waco between the anti-government Branch Davidian religious cult and federal law enforcement. The choice of that venue—especially on this anniversary—speaks volumes about Trump’s intention to foment anti-government violence as he did at the Capitol on January 6, 2021. At the same time, it is not surprising that Trump—with his endless claims of victimhood and martyrdom—would conduct a self-pity party in Waco, with his cultists as his audience. In his usual, calculated projection of his own actions and ambitions onto his opponents, Trump declared: “The abuses of power that we’re currently witnessing at all levels of government will go down as among the most shameful, corrupt and depraved chapters in all of American history.” Trump whined that the justice system is being weaponized against him, and that the United States is turning into a “banana republic.” But worst of all, he referred to 2024 as “the final battle” and declared: “Either the Deep State destroys America or we destroy the Deep State." As multiple possible indictments close in on him, Donald Trump behaves more and more like a panicked animal caught in a net, roaring loudly and twisting this way and that in a frustrated effort to break loose. And as he demonstrated at his rally, the more Trump is cornered, the more dangerous he becomes. Currently, Trump is the subject of three major criminal investigations in which an indictment is likely. This seems like a good time to pause and review the sticky legal morass in which the former president is caught. DOJ special counsel Jack Smith is speedily and tenaciously investigating Trump’s removal of classified documents from the White House after leaving the presidency, his refusal to return them to the National Archives, and the false claims delivered through Trump’s attorneys that he had returned them all. Most recently, the U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia found that “the government had made a prima facie showing that the former president committed criminal violations” and that the showing was sufficient to require Trump’s attorney, Evan Corcoran, to answer questions about his interactions with his client. Trump appealed, of course, but the U.S. D.C. Circuit Court of Appeals disposed of the appeal with lightning speed, finding that Corcoran must provide testimony and documents. Smith is also conducting the federal investigation into Trump’s attempt to overturn the 2020 presidential election results, and the January 6, 2021 insurrection. Georgia Fulton County District Attorney Fani Willis has been investigating attempts to subvert the 2020 presidential election in Georgia, including Trump’s pressure on Secretary of State Brad Raffensperger to “find 11,780 votes” so that Trump could “win” Georgia. Willis’ special grand jury completed its work in January, and during a hearing on whether to release the jury’s report, prosecutors told a judge that a decision on charges was imminent. No charges have as yet been made and the judge withheld most of the report from the public. However, based on statements made by various grand jurors, a number of indictments appear likely forthcoming. Last—but in timing, definitely not least—New York Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg has been investigating the hush money payoff made to porn actress Stormy Daniels by Trump’s then attorney-fixer Michael Cohen. Ostensibly, the payoff was to keep Daniels from going public about her affair with Trump, thus protecting his presidential campaign—an effort to affect the outcome of the 2016 presidential election in favor of Trump. The investigation involves the accusation that Trump falsified business records to hide the campaign purpose of the payoff. Trump’s Threats: The New York hush-money case appears to be the one most ready to go forward. So, of course, that is the one Trump has been lashing out most stridently against during the last week. Anticipating a Tuesday March 21 indictment (which has not yet materialized), Trump ranted in a Truth Social post that District attorney Bragg “is a Soros backed animal who just doesn’t care about right or wrong.” George Soros, a liberal billionaire philanthropist, is Jewish; Alvin Bragg is Black. Their only apparent connection is that Soros had contributed to the Color of Change, the PAC of a racial justice group that backed Bragg when he ran for D.A. As MSNBC host Joe Scarborough put it, “[Trump’s] going full Nazi. Doing the whole Jewish international banker thing. And dehumanizing [Bragg], calling him an animal.” On Friday, Trump posted an even more virulent tirade on Truth Social, filled with the delusional lies that he “got more votes than any sitting President in history,” and that “all the world knows” that “NO crime has been committed.” Trump threatened “death and destruction” if he is charged and continued by labeling anyone who would charge him as “a degenerate psychopath.” As the Atlantic submitted: “the intent is unmistakably to intimidate Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg and anyone else who might try to charge Trump with crimes.” Within hours after Trump’s “death and destruction” threat, Bragg received a threat of assassination in a letter containing white powder. However,Trump’s threats are not only against a particular individual D.A. but against the entire American justice system. His inflammatory speech at Waco made that perfectly clear. Trump’s Republican Cohorts Back Him Up The Republican House leadership—no surprise—continues to join in Trump’s attacks on democracy and his undermining of our legal system. Following Trump’s lead, the Republican Speaker of the House Kevin McCarthy—based on nothing but Trump’s rant—accused D.A. Bragg of “abusing his office to target President Trump.” On Monday, March 20, the Republican chairs of the House Judiciary, Oversight and Administration committees, Jim Jordan, James Comer, and Brian Steil, respectively, called the hush money probe an “unprecedented abuse of prosecutorial authority,” and asked Bragg to testify before them. They also demanded that he turn over all communications between his office and other local and federal law enforcement agencies. In addition, Jordan sent letters to two former Manhattan prosecutors who had resigned in February 2022 after Bragg decided not to seek a Trump indictment related to his business practices. Jordan is demanding the two former prosecutors provide documents dating back to 2017 as well as any communications in their possession between their office and federal law enforcement agencies related to the Trump investigation. Never mind that these committees’ actions are a congressional attempt to interfere with a state prosecution. Brookings Institute’s Norman Eisen, Democracy 21’s Fred Wertheimer, and Josh Stanton, counsel at Perry Guha, writing together for MSNBC, argue that Congress can’t legally use its investigative power to conduct law enforcement. They maintain that “a congressional subpoena is valid only if it is ‘related to, and in furtherance of, a legitimate task of the Congress.’” They further argue that if such a subpoena was sent to a federal prosecutor about a possible future indictment or pending case, DOJ would not comply. And that it should be the same for a local district attorney. The Manhattan D.A.’s office appears to agree with them. General counsel Leslie B. Dubeck, writing on behalf of Bragg, responded to the House Committees, stating that their requests “are an unlawful incursion into New York’ sovereignty.” She wrote "it is clear that Congress cannot have any legitimate legislative task relating to the oversight of local prosecutors enforcing state law,” and that Bragg’s office won’t allow the congressional investigation to hinder “the exercise of New York’s sovereign police power.” Jordan, Comer, and Steil are acting as Trump’s fifth column, ready to back his subversive play to the end. But where is the rest of the Republican party? The old, worn claims that they privately abhor his actions but are afraid to say so publicly will not do. Those who remain silent at this juncture are, through their silence, actively aiding and abetting Trump and his autocratic plans. To Hold Trump Accountable—or Not? The speculation by pundits of what should be done have run the gamut, much of it regurgitating Republican talking points. Some have argued that the New York hush money case is not strong enough to be the first of the three cases charged or that it is too old a matter for the public to care. Others argue that because the Feds had a chance to bring the case and did not, the state should not. The New Yorker suggested that if Trump is acquitted, “Bragg’s decision to prosecute the former President will be seen as a major debacle that could help Trump politically.” And then there is the most ludicrous argument repeatedly raised against indictment: that it is “unprecedented,” that it would be the first time a former president has been indicted. To all of these arguments, the answer should be: so what? Whatever case is ready first is the case that should be brought first. Furthermore, the DOJ did not decide to forego prosecuting Trump for lack of merit but because Trump’s attorney general, Bill Barr, blocked DOJ from doing so. Finally, the law is the law and Trump should be treated like any other citizen. There should be no hesitation to prosecute merely because he was at one time a president. According to the New York Times, Rebecca Roiphe, a professor at New York Law School and a former prosecutor in Manhattan, said that if Bragg doesn’t bring a case even though there is clear evidence to prove it, he could violate the principle that no person is above the law. But if he indicts Trump, that choice could also be “incredibly destabilizing and harmful.” Roiphe added, “I’m not envious of anyone who has to make a call.” However, I do not believe there is a difficult call to be made. The country is already being destabilized by Trump’s threats of violence if our legal system dares to hold him accountable for his actions. Even in civil cases like E. Jean Carroll’s ongoing lawsuit for battery and defamation, the judge has felt compelled to keep jurors’ personal information confidential and take other measures to protect them during the trial. Deciding to forego prosecution for fear that Trump will do worse amounts to appeasement of a man using fascist tactics. It will not prevent violence but will only further embolden him and further destroy our legal system. Trump’s speech at the Waco rally was not—as some pundits have dubbed it—merely “irresponsible.” It was a deliberate declaration of war. The nation cannot allow itself to be held hostage by the threatened violence of this wanna-be despot and his mob. Donald J. Trump must be held accountable for his actions regardless of any feared consequences. Political columnist Jessie Seigel had a long career as a government attorney in which she honed her analytic skills. She has also twice received an Artist’s Fellowship from the Washington, D.C. Commission on the Arts and Humanities for her fiction, and has been a finalist for a number of literary awards. In addition, Seigel is an associate editor at the Potomac Review, a reviewer for The Washington Independent Review of Books, and a dabbler in political cartoons at Daily Kos. Of this balance in her work between the analytic and the imaginative, Seigel jokes, “I guess my right and left brains are well-balanced.” More on and from Seigel can be found at The Adventurous Writer, https://www.jessieseigel.com.

By Jeffrey Markowitz / Detroit On December 6th, 2022, I had surgery — reverse shoulder arthroplasty. In layman’s terms, it’s a complete shoulder replacement. I avoided it for years by going to physical therapy. In September, after seeing Dr. Kyle Anderson, an orthopedic surgeon in suburban Detroit, I was advised to get an MRI on my left shoulder — pronto. At the same time, a follow-up appointment was made to review the MRI the following week. Much to my surprise Dr. Anderson called me the next morning with the news — my shoulder was fried. Dr. Anderson told me that my shoulder problem was a direct result of playing golf since childhood. A golf swing is very unnatural and affects every natural muscle in the body. Add arthritis to the mix and surgery is a must. Many golfers encounter this problem. Since Dr. Anderson is the top dog among orthopedic surgeons, his schedule was naturally booked — I had to wait to have surgery. Unfortunately, I was passed over when patience was handed out — the wait for me was excruciating. All I could think about was the impact on my golf game—would I be able to play the game I loved and how bad would I be? Most people would say that it is a blessing just to be on a course playing a game with friends and enjoying the beauty of nature. I tried to wrap my head around that thought. But who the hell was I kidding? I still needed to play competitively. It’s amazing that I have been fortunate enough to play golf for over 60-plus years and I’m now 72 years old. Golf is a game to be played for a lifetime — it’s truly a gift. I could only play baseball and hockey into my 30s. I was a goalie and finally I became puck shy — I no longer had the reflexes or the speed to block a shot. The other sport I enjoyed, softball, also ended — it became a Sunday morning kibitz. I discovered golf when I was seven years old. While watching TV, there was either an ad, or an actual tournament that I saw on our black and white television. (Color television was just breaking through and hadn’t found our house yet for some reason.) I immediately thought golf was a sport I wanted to try. My dad, better known as Louie, noticed my interest in golf and brought home a few used golf clubs from a sports store. The clubs were too long for me, so Louie cut down the shafts and used duct tape for grips. He also cut the backyard grass short enough to practice chipping and putting. My next-door neighbor Bernie Kaftan and I would spend hours practicing. Louie was very creative — my golf career began. Over the next few years, I came to appreciate the beauty of a golf course as I watched PGA tournaments on color television. I was also able take free lessons at the Rackham Golf Course, in Huntington Woods, Mich., which were sponsored by the Detroit Free Press. My friends and I rode our bikes to the course while pulling our hand-held bag of clubs behind us. We were lucky enough to learn the basics from Ben “Bennie” Davis, a professional golf instructor at the course. He taught us how to properly swing and hit a golf ball. He also taught us about golf etiquette — replacing divots after a shot, fixing ball marks on the green, and raking sand traps after hitting the ball. Following these simple rules makes the game better for everyone else. Bennie also taught us that you could learn a lot about life by playing golf. When my friends and I completed Bennie’s lessons, we were allowed to play nine holes for a quarter—imagine that! We spent every possible day at Rackham Golf Course playing against each other for Twinkies and a Coke. As the years progressed, and I finally understood the game, I could reflect on Bennie’s words and appreciate his insight. He was the first black golfer who was certified by the PGA to instruct golfers on a public course. When Bennie demonstrated how to hit a golf ball, he used his driver. When making contact, it sounded like the ball was shot out of a rifle. That moment was unbelievable — we were shocked. In 1962, my friends and I caddied for a tournament at the Rackham Golf Course that was sponsored by the NAACP. A magical moment happened when we were chosen to caddy: Joe Louis, the great boxer, was in the foursome. My friends, Bernie Schwartz and Bobby Graff, were also caddies. But Bernie got the luck of the draw–he caddied for the Brown Bomber. It was very cool to be a part of that experience. When I got a little older, my friends and I would practice at the Oak Park High School football field. It wasn’t really the best idea as the field was all sod and usually in great shape. The groundskeeper couldn’t have appreciated seeing us take divots out of the field. It was 1965 and I was practicing hitting short irons through the goal posts in the end zone on a Saturday at 10:00 am. And I was unworried, thinking no one would be around at that time. I was wrong. Suddenly a large figure was walking toward me from the parking lot. I knew I was going to be nailed. He kept getting closer and I was about to be tossed off the field. I stopped swinging and said hello. The stranger actually responded in a cordial manner, and I was surprised. He introduced himself and said his name was John Peace. He then asked where I went to school. I responded that I was starting my first year at Oak Park High School and would be in the tenth grade. Mr. Peace told me he was the golf coach and asked me to try out for the team. I knew I was on my way. I made the team and spent the next three years playing varsity golf for Oak Park High School. It was a wonderful experience to play competitive golf. Our team was able to play at public and private golf courses. The ones I remember the most were Franklin Hills, Orchard Lake, and Western Country Club. To play on these courses now, you must be well-connected. Playing competitive golf in high school made me understand the game more completely. Recognizing what the game was all about, I began to see the challenges. Golf is really three games in one. First, you play the golf course and then you play against the competition. The third part and the hardest for me was (and still is) being able to concentrate and stay focused for hours while playing 18 holes. If my head isn’t screwed on the right way, I can’t play well. This is true even for the top professionals. There is an important aspect I neglected to mention that increases the pressure of hitting the ball — gambling. In other words, putting your hand in a friend’s pocket for a few hours. Any golfer who gambles enjoys this part of the game. The phrase “spreading hate,” is our lingo for beating your friends out of money. It is one that my friends and I know all too well. It is said that golf is a gentleman’s game. Arnold Palmer, one of the giants of the game and well known for his magnetic personality, commented he would always play a round of golf with a prospective associate before making a business deal. That would tell him a lot about the person. Palmer was widely respected and to this day is still one of the top money makers due to his reputation in business and what he meant to the game of golf. That’s why he is known as “The King.” When playing for money, the game becomes more intense. Golfers can bet on a wide range of items on a course — stroke play, match play by the hole, and then everyone’s favorite, skins (money). This is when the low score on the hole takes the skin. However, if there is a tie, and a par (a certain number of strokes) is needed to win the hole, it’s carried over to the next hole. The low score then takes the money. The beauty of skins is that a player can win just one hole if there are no ties, or no one has a par. Then it’s possible to win a string of holes. I guess a golfer could pitch a shutout, (a reference to a baseball pitcher who holds the opposing team scoreless) and collect the money from all three players. This would be rare and require a lot of luck —but I accomplished this many years ago. In 1987, my friends and I were at The Fortress, near Flint, Mich. on a cold, windy day. There were four foursomes playing. I played very well that day — my friends hated me hard. My close friend, Steve, called it “the worst day ever.” After the round everyone paid up and I bought lunch. The guys made sure they ate well, and my winnings were gone in a flash — it was ridiculous. That got everyone back to even. Betting on yourself is a serious proposition. The game is difficult, and gambling makes it even more humbling. About 10 years after graduating college, in the early 1980s, my friends and I were playing in Ann Arbor, at the University of Michigan Golf Course. One of my friends had a connection so we could play the course. The day was difficult — I was about to lose to Steve. I needed to hit my third shot close to the hole, which would give me a chance to tie. I chunked it and it landed on the green. However, I was still 30 feet away from the hole. Steve had his hand out to take my money. Seeing the gesture, I bore down and my putt rolled in the hole. I knew Steve was pissed off. As he walked over to pay me, with money in hand, Steve spit on it. It’s plain to see that the game can demoralize a person. Another time, in 2001, while playing golf at the Grand Traverse Resort, in Traverse City, Mich, skins was the game of choice. It was the third day in a row that my buddies were getting hammered by me — I had most of the skins. The situation was getting tense. One of the players, Keith, was close enough to the hole to win some skins if he made his putt. I was off the green and needed to hit my chip shot close to the hole to tie. I hit my shot too hard and it rolled way past the pin. As my ball picked up speed, Keith began rooting for the ball to go further away from the hole. One of our agreed upon rules is “no rooting against another player”. Keith ignored it and kept telling the ball to go further. As I walked to my ball, I told him to stop the BS and the other guys agreed. Keith’s response was “I’m not afraid to die.” We are still talking about it to this day. Now I must bare the sad facts about my lack of golf course etiquette. I was much younger, foolish, but a better golfer than my opponent. Once again, at the University of Michigan Golf Course, I was getting beaten by a friend whom I thought wasn’t nearly as good as me. This type of thinking is an automatic losing proposition. I was upset with my game and quite embarrassed. As I approached the next hole, I was trying to gather my emotions so I could hit my tee shot down the middle. Upon contact I watched in despair as the ball rolled 50 yards into the rough. I took my hat off and spit into the air. Foolishly, I then moved a few feet and it landed on my bald head — bull’s-eye. It's easy to see that the game of golf can certainly change a player’s mindset. Friendships are tested, tempers may flare and debt can be accumulated. Golf clubs have been snapped in half and stuck in the ground with great frustration. Putters are even tossed in the water that surrounds the green. Tree-lined fairways are a common place to find golf clubs stuck in the branches. Even when the bad seems to outweigh the good, though, golf remains a game that keeps calling me back for more. I’m not the player I once was, but since having surgery, rehab has become a priority to get back on track. I began a regular routine —two or three times a week. In addition, my physical therapist gave me a series of exercises to complete at home. These exercises are to improve strength and range of motion. My target date is June 1st. I‘m working hard every day — no pain, no gain! I’m on the comeback trail to play the game I love. After a 30-year career in construction management, building commercial and residential jobs, Jeffrey has turned to his passion–cooking. He is the master of the grill and has been nicknamed Chef Jeff by his family. Jeffrey also started a small catering business. Nothing makes him happier than satisfying his customers. Jeffrey enjoys sports and has spent 60+ years playing golf. Competing with friends, playing the course and, most of all, keeping his head in the game for all 18 holes has been gratifying — even if he’s far away from par. He is also the husband of Judi Markowitz, who writes the Dateline Detroit column for The Insider. They have four adult children and seven grandchildren who keep them on their toes. Oh yeah, let’s not forget George, their Bernese Mountain granddog. Jeffrey’s life is full, and he is happy.

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