Miriam Fauzia | The Dallas Morning News (TNS)

A fentanyl vaccine developed by researchers at the University of Houston is expected to head to clinical trials sometime in the middle of next year, with the hope of being a groundbreaking solution to a deadly crisis.

The vaccine, which has shown success in animal studies, is designed to stop the highly addictive opioid from entering the brain and causing an overdose. Biopharmaceutical startup Ovax acquired the license to produce and test the vaccine in November 2023 and raised over $10 million toward that effort by June.

“We’re all incredibly excited,” said Collin Gage, the start-up’s co-founder and chief executive officer. He added that his company is starting at “ground zero,” but he is confident it will one day have a fentanyl vaccine available to the public.

That day may be a long time from now. While public health emergencies, like the COVID-19 pandemic, can accelerate a vaccine’s development, testing a new vaccine can take anywhere from five to 10 years — sometimes longer.

Meanwhile, fentanyl overdose deaths have been on the rise in Texas, from less than 80 in 2014 to nearly 2,300 in 2023, according to the Texas Department of State Health Services. The synthetic opioid — made illegally but also available by prescription — is 50 times stronger than heroin and 100 times stronger than morphine, making it the deadliest drug in the opioid crisis.

For fentanyl vaccines, adjuvants are key

The idea of creating an opioid vaccine has drawn scientific attention since the 1970s. Unlike bacteria or viruses, opioids aren’t recognized by our immune systems as foreign invaders. But the immune system can be trained to make antibodies in response to an opioid like fentanyl through a vaccine that links bits of the drug to noninfectious bits of bacteria and uses substances called adjuvants.

Adjuvants are designed to enhance immune response, and are particularly important in vaccines targeting substance use disorders. Past attempts to make these vaccines have been unsuccessful in part because the adjuvants weren’t effective enough, said Jay Evans, director of the Center for Translational Medicine at the University of Montana. Evans is also the chief scientific and strategy officer of Inimmune, a Montana-based biotech company developing and testing a variety of vaccines including ones targeting fentanyl and heroin addiction.

The adjuvant in the University of Houston’s fentanyl vaccine is an enterotoxin, a chemical produced by the bacteria Escherichia coli and modified to be noninfectious. It was first developed at Tulane University in Louisiana in the early 2000s and has been used in a variety of vaccines, said Colin Haile, a research associate professor of psychology at the University of Houston who led its fentanyl vaccine development. Haile is also an Ovax co-founder and adviser.

“It has been in 15 human clinical trials in combination with other vaccines,” he said, referring to the adjuvant used in his team’s vaccine. “There have been studies in infants where the results have been fantastic, nearly no side effects.”

Other researchers such as David Dowling and Dr. Ofer Levy, both Ovax co-founders, are using adjuvants that haven’t been tested in humans but appear to effectively enhance the immune response to vaccines targeting substance use disorders, at least based on animal studies, Dowling said.

Clinical trials littered with challenges

Phase 1 clinical trials for the University of Houston vaccine are planned to begin in the second quarter of 2025. Ovax is also in licensing negotiations with Boston Children’s Hospital for a fentanyl vaccine developed by Dowling and Levy. If those negotiations are successful, phase 1 clinical trials could begin in early 2026.

These trials will aim to establish the vaccine’s safety level, potential side effects and optimal dosage. Finding people to take part in them will be a challenge, Evans said.

“Compared to a normal infectious disease clinical trial, it will be more difficult. The FDA (Food and Drug Administration) is pretty adamant that you’re not going to test this vaccine in healthy individuals that don’t already have some sort of opioid addiction,” he said. “So we need to target patients in phase 1 who have a history of opioid use disorder, and that’s a harder population to try to recruit. It’s going to take longer; the patient population will have more adverse events because they’re drug users and they will be harder to track.”

Evans added that the stigma around addiction and drug use might make people reluctant to disclose their condition and participate in a clinical trial.

Ovax has yet to decide where it plans to run its phase 1 clinical trials, Gage said, but it has been looking at sites in Australia and the Netherlands.

“We’re also looking in the United States,” he said, “but it’s difficult to find the right patient population.”

Future clinical trials would need to determine the effectiveness of the vaccine, who would benefit the most and how long immunity would last.

Vaccines as part of the solution

Some critics of fentanyl vaccines say they pull resources from existing treatments for opioid addiction such as buprenorphine, methadone and naltrexone. Some have questioned whether people would seek out the vaccine.

“People have to say they want to be injected, and they have to choose to keep coming back for each injection or infusion,” Keith Humphreys, a Stanford University professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences, told The Washington Post in 2023. “The vaccines do nothing to reduce craving or withdrawal or to motivate anyone to return for more care.”

For Haile, a fentanyl vaccine is not the sole solution but another weapon in the fight against the opioid crisis. He and his colleagues at the University of Houston have conducted animal studies investigating how the vaccine affects treatment with buprenorphine, a medication commonly prescribed to manage withdrawals and drug cravings. The findings have yet to be published but are “quite impressive,” Haile said, noting fentanyl vaccines could improve the effectiveness of existing treatments.

“The most important thing to keep in mind is that we’re moving as fast as we can go. … We need to get something to market as quickly as possible to address this terrible problem,” Haile said. “The ultimate goal is to protect people and save lives.”

©2024 The Dallas Morning News. Visit dallasnews.com. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.

Nardine Saad | (TNS) Los Angeles Times

Adele says she’s making good on a promise to take a break from music after she completes her residency in Las Vegas.

The “Hello” and “Rolling in the Deep” singer confirmed during her Saturday show in Germany — her last in a 10-show run abroad — that she plans to “rest” when she wraps her three-year gig in Sin City this November.

“I’m not the most comfortable performer, I know that, but I am very f— good at it. And I have really enjoyed performing for nearly three years now, which is the longest I’ve ever done and probably the longest I will ever do,” the 15-time Grammy Award winner said onstage in Munich, according to fan footage posted on TikTok.

Adele has 10 shows left in her “Weekends With Adele” residency at the Colosseum at Caesars Palace. The shows will span five weekends this fall after she had to postpone them in February due to illness.

“After that, I will not see you for an incredibly long time and I will hold you dear in my heart for that whole length of my break,” she said, adding that she will “fantasize” about her time onstage. “It has been amazing. I just need a rest.”

“I have spent the last seven years building a new life for myself and I want to live it now,” the 36-year-old said through tears. “I want to live my life that I’ve been building and I will miss you terribly.”

On Tuesday, Adele took Instagram to reflect on her “bespoke” gig in Munich, which launched Aug. 2.

“Wow! Wow! Wow! Munich you were incredible! What a phenomenal experience. I am truly touched by the genuine outpouring of love and good will I felt from every single person who came to every single show,” she wrote, captioning a highlight reel from the shows. She also thanked the fans who attended and her team for making it happen.

“There truly is no feeling like standing in front of people you’ve never met, belting out a bunch of songs that changed your life that in ways somehow changed theirs too. It’s truly remarkable and an extraordinary story to be able to tell. I’ve been sobbing watching this beautiful video! Danke Munchen!,” she wrote.

In July, the superstar told German broadcaster ZDF that her “tank is quite empty” and that she doesn’t have plans for new music “at all.”

“I want a big break after all this and I think I want to do other creative things just for a little while,” the hitmaker said. “You know, I don’t even sing at home at all. How strange is that?”

Likewise, before her Las Vegas residency began, the Oscar winning “Skyfall” singer said she planned to take a break from music and perhaps pursue a degree in English literature or an acting career. However, during a January show, she said she might be open to touring again after completing a follow-up to her award-winning 2021 album “30.” But, as she told a fan in the audience, she wasn’t in any rush to do either of those things yet.

Instead of touring to promote “30,” she took up residence at the Colosseum. She was initially set to launch her residency in January 2022, but unexpectedly shut it down a day before it was meant to open. She blamed the COVID-19 pandemic and issues with the supply chain at the time, then explained later that the postponement was because her “artistic needs” were not being met. She said the show had “no soul in it” and that it “lacked intimacy” inside the 4,000-person theater.

The “Easy on Me” singer ultimately launched “Weekends With Adele” in November 2022 and extended the run twice.

Earlier this month, the British balladeer confirmed during another Munich show that she and sports agent Rich Paul were engaged after repeatedly referring to Paul as her fiance — and sometimes her “husband” — for months. (The two went public with their romance in 2021.) The singer, who shares 11-year-old son Angelo with ex-husband Simon Konecki, has also been vocal about wanting to expand their blended family.

©2024 Los Angeles Times. Visit latimes.com. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.

Emma Hall | The Sacramento Bee (TNS)

SACRAMENTO, Calif. — Pit River Tribe elder Theodore Martinez knows more of death than anyone should.

“I want to acknowledge some of the people that have been murdered from my tribe,” Martinez said. “These are all my people.”

Martinez’s family, close friends and members of his tribe are among the more than 150 documented cases of Missing and Murdered Indigenous People crisis in California. The state has the fifth most unsolved cases involving Native people in the country, and tribal leaders have urged for the crisis to be declared a state emergency.

Earlier this year as he stood on the west Capitol steps, Martinez, with anguish in his eyes, recalled each person he’s lost in his lifetime.

There was Little George Montgomery, who was like a brother to Martinez. He was killed decades ago, with the tribe finding his body dismembered, Martinez said. All they had left to bury was his skull.

There was his own brother, Victor, who Martinez said was killed in 1992.

There was his cousin who lived on the Fort Bidwell Reservation in Modoc County. Martinez said she was found dead, face down in the water of the tribe’s hot springs.

There was Dewey McGarva. At 36, he went missing for more than a year. When his tribe found him, there wasn’t much left, Martinez said.

And then, there was Milton “Yogi” McGarva, who identified as Two-Spirit, a third gender identity for Indigenous people. McGarva was stabbed and fatally wounded in 2020.

“These are things that have gone on historically, throughout my territory,” Martinez said. “None of these things have been investigated. Nothing has been done.”

As Martinez looked upon a crowd of Native Californians, he knew he wasn’t the only one who had lost relatives.

The deaths and disappearances of his relatives have gone unsolved by law enforcement for decades, Martinez said. It’s a pain many families relate to: the feeling of being let down and left without closure.

“We as Native people, we need to help each other. We need to support this movement,” Martinez said. “Because without that support, it’s not going to go very far.”

After feeling neglected by law enforcement, these families have taken matters into their own hands. They offer monetary rewards for anyone with knowledge of their relatives’ whereabouts, carrying posters with their loved one’s faces and names.

They haven’t given up. They all want justice.

Families of Missing and Murdered Indigenous People seek justice

Toni Espinoza, a member of Wilton Rancheria, is the sister of Angel Baby Espinoza, who died on Nov. 18, 2001. Her family believes she was killed.

Toni Espinoza said her sister died following a hit and run on Norwood Avenue in North Sacramento. Her family believes Angel Baby was pushed in front of the car by an ex-partner.

“We want justice. I want to be able to tell her kids who did this to their mom,” Toni Espinoza said, her voice beginning to break. “We have a right to know, everybody has the right to justice.”

Toni Espinoza said she worked with a police detective and allegedly found an eye witness. But the case was deemed manslaughter after three years and not pursued as a murder investigation.

To this day, her family, including Angel Baby’s own five children,still mourn her death. They are left with no answers.

“This is why we do what we can,” Toni Espinoza said. “To spread the word, to say her name, to do marches and hold protests in front of the Capitol so somebody will care.”

Over in Mendocino County, 81-year-old Ronnie Hostler and his family have been searching for his beloved granddaughter, Khadijah Britton, 23, who has been missing for the past seven years. Britton belongs to the Wailaki Round Valley Indian tribes.

Britton was last seen in Covelo, California, according to the Federal Bureau of Investigations, with an ex-boyfriend forcing her into a car at gunpoint.

While the Mendocino County Sheriff’s Office was involved in the case, Hostler is unsatisfied. He said Britton’s disappearance wasn’t investigated until two weeks after her family reported her missing. Today, Britton has been deemed a cold case.

Britton’s family is still trying to find herbut at this point, they are looking for her body to bury in the family cemetery.

“We want to find her, wherever she may be, and we want to take care of her,” Hostler said. “That’s what we want right now, and we’re not getting it.”

Tribes face issues with law enforcement

The Sacramento Bee has spoken to, or heard from, 46 families, tribal leaders and experts in Indian Country affected by the Missing and Murdered Indigenous People crisis. They identified obstacles preventing cases from getting solved.

Missing and Murdered Indigenous People cases reflect disproportionate rates of violence against Native communities nationwide. Native people are 2.5 times more likely to experience a violent crime, according to the Association on American Indian Affairs.

When cases are reported, there is sometimes no response, little follow through or poor coordination with criminal investigations, said Keely Linton, the operations director for the Strong Hearted Native Women’s Coalition, a nonprofit that supports families with Missing and Murdered Indigenous People cases.

Local law enforcement can be slow to respond to calls of crime and are “less attentive to the interests of tribes,” according to the UCLA American Indian Studies Center. Tribal communities also struggle to trust law enforcement.

Erik Apperson, the former Del Norte County sheriff, saw this dynamic firsthand when working on Yurok and Tolowa Dee-ni’ tribal lands. Now retired, he recalled meeting a shocked and grieving mother whose young son was killed by another boy on tribal lands.

Despite the tragedy of a young boy dying that night, the need to bring an offender to justice did not outweigh the absence of ability and desire to pursue the case, Apperson said.

“I believe in my heart that it was a homicide, even if negligence played a part in it,” he said.

Why do Missing and Murdered Indigenous People cases go cold?

Missing and Murdered Indigenous People crisis cases are seven times less likely to be solved than any other ethnic group statewide, according to Sovereign Bodies Institute. As a result, most cases go cold, said Linton, who is Íipay and Cupeno.

Families will often feel stigmatized by law enforcement and are often faced with skepticism due to racist stereotypes. They feel law enforcement is uncaring or that their loved one’s disappearance is minimized.

Racism against Native people can prevent cases from being pursued or taken seriously, said Linton. Officers are not always understanding or trauma-informed about the tribal communities they serve.

As a result, some harbor stereotypical beliefs and prejudices. It’s an issue Greg O’Rourke, the Yurok tribal police chief, faced when he handled a sexual abuse case with his non-Native partner in the his local sheriff’s department.

“I remember very specifically my partner saying ‘do the people on the reservation have kids just so they can molest them?’” said O’Rourke during a hearing on Public Law 280 in March. “This person was a good man, a good cop. But that was the response. How can you provide accurate and humane services when that is the first thing that comes to mind?”

Barriers are also deeply rooted in California’s colonial origins and laws today.

What is Public Law 280?

Enacted in 1953, Public Law 280 requires tribal law enforcement to share criminal jurisdiction with state police agencies, causing overlap and confusion. It’s a law that impeded on Britton’s case being pursued, Hostler said.

“The piece of colonization is still here, embedded with all these laws, all these laws that have moved forward in the state of California,” said Assemblyman James Ramos, D-San Bernardino. “It’s now, recently, that we’re layering back those laws and trying to insert the California Indian voice into it.”

Because of Public Law 280, tribal law enforcement are unable to prosecute non-Native people on tribal land. Tribal police can only arrest and detain non-Natives for “delivery to state and federal authorities,” according to the Department of Justice.

In regards to Missing and Murdered Indigenous People cases, it’s often non-Native people perpetrating sexual violence against Native women. Between 86% to 96% of abuse against Native women comes from non-Native offenders, who are rarely punished, the Mailman School of Public Health at Columbia University found.

How California legislation could help

Tribal police know their communities best, yet they lack the authority of a state officer to investigate murders, said O’Rourke.

This is where Assembly Bill 2138 could provide a solution. This bill, authored by Ramos, would launch a pilot program to grant state peace officer status to tribal police in selected tribal communities from 2025 until 2028.

If passed, this program would go into effect under the Department of Justice. By no later than 2027, the DOJ would submit a report about case clearance rates, including those for Missing and Murdered Indigenous People cases.

As another way to combat Missing and Murdered Indigenous People cases, California passed the Feather Alert in 2022, an emergency notification system similar to the Amber Alert.

But the alert has run into obstacles.

In December, The Bee found that the California Highway Patrol only sent out one Feather Alert. CHP has a history of not issuing alerts tribes requested, either because it did not meet their criteria or for undisclosed reasons. Since then, about 60% of Feather Alert requests have been rejected, according to the Press Democrat.

New amendments have been implemented for the Feather Alert. Law enforcement agencies are now required to respond to requests within 48 hours. If an alert is denied, law enforcement must provide written notice to a government agency or tribe that explains why.

“We’re starting to address and make the alert system stronger,” said Ramos, who is Cahuilla and Serrano.

Tribal leaders have urged more funding toward investigations. In July, Gov. Gavin Newsom awarded almost $20 million in grants to 18 tribes to fund prevention efforts for Missing and Murdered Indigenous People cases.

Families, meanwhile, called for the convictions of the perpetrators who enact violence against their loved ones. Justice has not been swift for most families, but McGarva’s family did have their call answered. Jarrett Bleu Rucker, the man who killed McGarva, one of Martinez’s relatives, was sentenced to 26 years to life in prison earlier this year.

“The victory and justice for Yogi was not easily won,” said Morning Star Gali, the founder of Indigenous Justice, who assisted McGarva’s family in the criminal justice process. “It was a difficult four years in the making, with his family not knowing when they would be able to breathe a sigh of relief.”

The road to support starts with visibility, priority and mutual respect for California’s first people, Ramos said.

“It’s time that our voices be heard,” Ramos said. “It’s time that our voices and what’s affecting our people doesn’t go in silence.”

The Strong Hearts Native Helpline provides culturally-specific resources for Native Americans experiencing domestic and sexual violence through a helpline 1-844-7NATIVE (762-8483).

©2024 The Sacramento Bee. Visit at sacbee.com. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.

By René Bennett, Bankrate.com

Many of us have given in to the temptation to buy something we don’t need.

Maybe you were passively scrolling through your social media feed when a sponsored post came up, showcasing the latest tech gadget with glowing reviews. Unable to resist, you clicked the “buy” button for fear of missing out, only to find the excitement faded not long after, leaving you with regret and a dent in your bank account.

What is impulse buying?

Impulse buying is the act of making unplanned purchases on a whim without considering long-term goals and needs. From flashy tech to trendy fashion items, impulse purchases can quickly drain your bank account and hinder your long-term financial goals.

The temptation is further fueled by social media — 48% of social media users have made an impulse purchase, according to Bankrate’s Social Media Survey. And 68% of those said they regretted an impulse purchase they made on social media.

Coupled with the current high-inflation environment, succumbing to impulse purchases can have even more detrimental effects on our savings than usual. But there are ways you can curb impulsive spending habits and focus on more long-term financial goals.

Strategies to stop impulse buying

1. Reflect before purchasing

Getting into the habit of slowing down and reflecting before making an impulse buy can be a big money-saver.

Some questions you should ask yourself:

• Is this item a want or a need?
• Can I afford it without sacrificing something more important?
• Will this bring long-term value and satisfaction?

2. Stick to a shopping list

Before heading to the store or browsing online, make a shopping list of items that you genuinely need. A shopping list provides a clear plan for your shopping trip, eliminating ambiguity and reducing the chances of being swayed by impulses. It also acts as a reminder of your goals and priorities.

You could try using a shopping list app which can help you organize your shopping lists and even share them with friends or family members to streamline your shopping process.

3. Implement the 24-hour rule

When you come across something you’re tempted to buy immediately, give yourself a cooling-off period of 24 hours. Why? The purpose of the 24-hour rule is to create a space between the initial impulse and the actual purchase — often, the initial excitement and compulsion to buy can fade after that time period. By waiting, you give yourself a chance to reconsider the purchase in a more neutral state of mind.

During those 24 hours, you can take the time to research the item’s features, read reviews, compare prices and consider if it aligns with your needs and budget.

4. Unfollow accounts that fuel your temptation

The constant stream of captivating images, flashy ads and influencers promoting products on social media can make it incredibly tempting to click that “buy now” button without a second thought. With just a swipe or a scroll, we’re exposed to a never-ending array of products and services, each promising to improve our lives in some way. But that promise can be deceiving and succumbing to the temptation can lead to financial stress and instability.

One big step you can take to help resist the siren call of impulse buys is to carefully curate your social media feed to prevent yourself from seeing those items in the first place. Unfollow brands and promoters that consistently tempt you. You might even want to remove certain shopping apps from your phone or set time limits for those that have the strongest pull on you. Even a few changes to your social media feed can reduce the constant exposure to shopping triggers and help you save money.

5. Prioritize clear financial goals for long-term gratification

Envision your ideal financial future, and set clear goals. Instead of simply saying you want to save money, set a specific target, such as saving $5,000 within the next year. Once you’ve established goals, you can fit them into your budget to align your spending with what you want to achieve in the long term.

It’s easy to give in to temporary pleasures when we’re surrounded by lures to buy stuff all the time, but reminding yourself of your financial goals and learning to wait can help you find long-term fulfillment. As you achieve smaller milestones toward your goals, reward yourself (within reason) to maintain a positive mindset and reinforce your commitment to the larger goals.

6. Pay with cash

Take the time to budget exactly how much you can spend on your purchases and withdraw cash to spend on those purchases. By using cash, you avoid overspending and impulse purchases.

If you’re used to paying with a card to rack up credit card points or cashback rewards, you’ll lose out on these benefits when you pay with cash. But once you start to gain more discipline by paying with cash, you might be able to transition back to responsible credit card use.

Be aware of signs of impulsive spending habits

The thrill of impulsive buying might not show up right away, but there are some signs to look out for, including:

• You’re spending beyond your means or more than you intended during your purchase.
• You hide purchases from family members or a partner.
• You’re unable to pay bills or save as much as you’d like because of high spending elsewhere.
• You feel guilty or regretful about spending.

Bottom line

By establishing clear financial goals and prioritizing your long-term needs over short-term impulse purchases, you can regain control of your finances and make decisions that support future aspirations. Keep track of how much you’ve saved from cutting back on impulse buying — those savings can go toward a specific savings fund or be invested in a high-yielding certificate of deposit (CD) to earn money back in the form of interest.

Key takeaways

• Impulse buying means purchasing items you did not plan to buy.
• Impulse buying can result in more spending which can lead to less savings and even an increase in debt.
• There are steps you can take to reduce impulse buying, such as prioritizing financial goals and sticking to a shopping list.

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Visit Bankrate online at bankrate.com.

©2024 Bankrate.com. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.

Chris Hewitt | The Minnesota Star Tribune (TNS)

Summer is the season for blockbuster movies, but autumn is when the publishing world unleashes one title after another from some of the biggest, and biggest selling, authors.

We’ll see new books from “The Overstory” writer Richard Powers and “Leave the World Behind” novelist Rumaan Alam, for instance. Here are five others we can’t wait to dive into, all due in September:

Creation Lake, Rachel Kushner

Booker Prize and National Book Award finalist Kushner’s latest is about a woman who is lying to everyone about everything. Sadie (not her real name, of course) is a secret agent, sent to France to infiltrate a group of anarchists. She has a lover, whom she’s surveilling, and friends, whom she’s using, and everything works well until she becomes fascinated by a man who may be even more duplicitous than she is.

Sept. 3, Simon & Schuster, $29.99.

Devils Kill Devils, Johnny Compton

Guardian angels are supposed to be a good thing, but Sarita isn’t so sure when, on her wedding night, her angel, Angelo, who has repeatedly saved her from disaster, kills her husband. Compton’s followup to last year’s “The Spite House” is said to be a super-violent tale of horror that casts vampires in a whole new light.

Sept. 10, Macmillan, $28.99.

Final Cut, Charles Burns

This graphic novel (very graphic — it’s definitely not for kids) is a tale of romantic obsession that’s also about identity and nostalgia. Brian and Jimmy, who used to make goofy science-fiction short films when they were in middle school, reunite as adults to create a more ambitious feature film. Inspired by their beloved “Invasion of the Body Snatchers,” it drives them and their collaborators, including muse and lead actor Laura, into a remote forest where things take a dark turn.

Sept. 24, Pantheon, $34.

The Siege, Ben Macintyre

The prolific British writer’s nonfiction accounts of spycraft — including “Agent Zigzag,” “Colditz” and “Operation Mincemeat” — generally take him to World War II and the heroes who worked in the shadows to bring it to a close. But the events of “The Siege” happened in 1980, during America’s Iran Hostage Crisis. It’s a minute-by-minute account of the six days after armed gunmen stormed the Iranian embassy in London, taking 26 hostages.

Sept. 10, Crown, $32.

The Small and the Mighty, Sharon McMahon

Duluth-based social media influencer, podcaster and “America’s government teacher” McMahon— whose popularity has zoomed as the country has become more divided and confusing — unveils 12 witty portraits of average Americans who made enormous contributions but didn’t get into the history books, like the guy who was at Alexander Hamilton’s deathbed and who wrote the preamble to the Constitution.

Sept. 24, Thesis, $32.

©2024 The Minnesota Star Tribune. Visit at startribune.com. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.

Deborah Vankin | Los Angeles Times (TNS)

LOS ANGELES — She was 63.

I was 33.

We shared cocktails at a rooftop bar overlooking Sunset Boulevard during golden hour. And the connection was palpable.

No, this isn’t the start to an “L.A. Affairs” romance column. But it is about a love affair of sorts. My best girlfriend of the last two decades is 30 years older than me.

I met Loraine in 2001. I was newly married and working as an associate arts editor at L.A. Weekly, where I was writing book reviews and covering the arts. A friend introduced us at a literary salon one evening. It was a brief business exchange. We were sitting on the floor of the now-shuttered French-Vietnamese restaurant Le Colonial, cross-legged on silk pillows awaiting the start of the readings. Loraine leaned over and gave me her card, mentioning she had just published a debut novel.

“It’s about marriage, adultery and regular church attendance,” she whispered, clearly pleased with her pithy elevator pitch. I stuffed the card in my purse.

A few weeks later Loraine convinced me to meet her for apple martinis at a rooftop restaurant on Sunset Boulevard. I had been hesitant to spend a free evening with a relative stranger who was a generation-plus older than I and with whom I assumed I had little in common. My friends at the time were all raucous creative types in their 20s and early 30s. Clichés raced through my head: Would she be stuffy or old-fashioned? Would we have anything to talk about? I’d have to watch my manners.

“I’ll be home within the hour,” I told my husband, determined to keep the meeting quick and cordial, a professional nicety.

But our conversation stretched on and on. I learned Loraine had grown up in a small town just north of New Orleans, one of the only Jewish families there at the time. She’d studied art in Paris during college — and she regaled me with stories of ill-fated romances she’d had there — before breaking into Hollywood as a TV writer in the 1970s. She penned what many consider the single most iconic TV show in pop culture history in 1980, the “Who Shot J.R.?” episode of “Dallas.”

“Then I made a pivotal mistake in my career,” she told me.

“What?!” I was rapt.

“I turned 50. That was it. Hollywood stopped calling,” she said, shrugging matter-of-factly. “So I turned to writing novels instead.”

“The Scandalous Summer of Sissy LeBlanc” would go on to become a national bestseller.

It was one of those mysterious, pivotal nights. Seemingly benign at the time, it proved to be life-changing in hindsight. Loraine’s resilience and joie de vivre was inspiring. I didn’t for a minute notice the age gap — and haven’t to this day.

Sure, Loraine has curly, silver hair and oversized glasses and, at 86, now walks a tad more gingerly than she used to. But I don’t see an older woman when I look at her; I see the essence of a person, timeless and ageless, housed in a corporeal shell (one that’s in pretty darn good shape, I should add). I see a teenage girl, still ever-curious about the world around her. I see a 20-something women, still evolving through new creative pursuits, most recently poetry writing. I see an accomplished power player in midlife at the peak of a highly successful TV writing career, self-satisfied and oozing with agency. I see a woman, late in life, struggling to unearth new pathways toward creative and intellectual relevance — and succeeding.

Suffice to say: My editor ended up passing on the book review, but Loraine got me instead.

As our friendship blossomed I learned that Loraine was all kinds of fabulous. She was part New York intellectual, part West Coast hippie, part Hollywood elite. Her closet was stuffed with expensive designer clothes, which she often passed over for unassuming yogawear. She drank Prosecco and swam naked in her cobalt-tiled pool. She once convinced me to spend the entire afternoon lying on our backs, in the dirt, beneath an old and glorious oak tree in Franklin Canyon Park, the sun glimmering through the leaves.

She knew so much about art, an interest we bonded over and which would become a throughline of our friendship. When I began covering art for The Times, she became one of my go-to plus-ones for museum and gallery openings. We’ve taken that interest abroad too, touring art studios in Cuba, visiting museums in Vienna and, most recently, journeying to Japan’s art island, Naoshima.

I suppose this is where I relay how the three-decade age gap has provided illuminating pearls of wisdom during divorce, career changes and aging woes. But honestly? That’s not been the case. Loraine is there for me in an emergency, but she isn’t the motherly, advice-dispensing type.

Rather, Loraine teaches by example. She’s living proof that fabulousness is about attitude, not age. And that vitality has less to do with hip mobility than it does a sustaining lust for life and unrelenting curiosity about the world. I wonder: Had I not met Loraine, would I be aging, now, with as much ease and universality? Would I be more susceptible to the rigid and relentless stereotypes with which society brands women of a certain age? Loraine is, above all else, a writer. And the narrative she’s crafted for herself — a feminist art scholar turned advertising copywriter and single mother turned happily remarried TV writer turned novelist turned poet — bucks society’s expectations. I hope to continue writing it.

“Oh, it’s so nice you have a surrogate mother in L.A.,” my own mother would often say of Loraine when she visited from the East Coast. Loraine is older than my mom and the fact that I had a “kind of aunt-like person” living nearby brought her comfort.

Loraine would bite her lip whenever my mom said that; but afterward, we’d marvel at the mischaracterization of our friendship. Our conversations are devoid of motherly energy; instead they range from our romantic lives to clothes to books and contemporary art. Our recent Japan trip included several nights at a yurt camp by the sea (which we abandoned due to mold).

Last July Fourth we climbed atop an Echo Park hillside, took edibles and watched the fireworks melting across the sky.

“Really, where do you think we go when we die?” I asked in a haze.

“Beats me,” she said, chuckling. “Pass the nuts, will you?”

Then we burst out laughing.

The beginning of the 2020 pandemic was the first time I ever felt our age gap. Our experiences sheltering in place were very different. I was batch-cooking soup and binge-watching FX’s “Better Things,” relishing what felt like a rare solitude. Loraine became low-level depressed and, as the months of the pandemic turned to years, tinged with bitterness. It was a rare mood for the typically happy-go-lucky Loraine.

“It’s like being robbed of the last years you have left,” she’d say on the phone. “I’m withering here at home.”

Recently, Loraine’s taken to repeating herself, as is the case with almost anyone her age.

“So what are you up to this weekend?” she’ll ask me on the phone, minutes after I answered the question already.

I just politely repeat myself, resigned to a sort of linguistic meditation, learning to enjoy the same conversation threads over and over again.

When we broached the issue recently, she told me, sighing: “I suffer from CRS.”

I braced myself for what that meant.

“Can’t Remember Shit,” she said, laughing — one of her long, loose chuckles that trails off with a cheery whine, as if she were a flapper wielding a cigarette holder in the air, head tossed back in the wind. “It is what it is.”

I’ve found myself using that phrase a lot lately: It is what it is. Loraine may not overtly mentor me in life, but her open embrace of whatever life offers reminds me to be present, to live in the moment.

Thinking about our friendship, I see a supercut of us: the time Loraine and I danced on a cafe rooftop in Cuba to live music; when we sailed through the air on trampolines on my 45th birthday with ’80s music playing over the loudspeaker; the New Year’s Eve we posed for selfies in wigs at a friend’s house; Loraine chasing a flying cockroach around our Miami hotel room as I squealed from atop the bed; her pure, unabashed joy when we rounded a corner in a Naoshima museum recently and she found a Cy Twombly work on display.

We were, in all those moments, 16 and 35 and 86. We meet somewhere in the middle, in the universal mind meld that is true friendship. And I’m grateful for every year of it.

©2024 Los Angeles Times. Visit at latimes.com. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.

By Deborah Netburn, Los Angeles Times

LOS ANGELES — On a bench near the Santa Monica Farmer’s Market in July, Peggy Cheng recalled the time a television writer pitched her a wacky sitcom centered around the unlikely scenario of a young woman who had befriended her elderly neighbors.

Cheng, who was working in TV development at the time, wasn’t impressed.

“She thought it was so unique and I was like, ‘Hmm,’ ” said the 40-year-old Brentwood resident, laughing.

After all, the writer could have been describing Cheng’s life. Her best friend, Karen Letzkian, lives in the unit above hers and is 24 years her senior. They even had a meet-cute: A leaky toilet brought them together. But their difference in age has not stopped the two from being active participants in each other’s lives. Cheng spent months helping Letzkian plan her wedding. Letzkian picked Cheng up from the hospital after surgery. And they’re both always up for a last-minute trip to the local Ralph’s.

“I share everything with her,” Cheng said. “She’s one of the few friends who knows every facet of my life.”

Letzkian, a retired IT consultant, says the feeling is mutual. “Life is more fun when we’re together. I think that sums it up.”

As it turns out, age-gap friendships like Cheng and Letzkian’s may be more common than many of us think. A 2019 AARP survey found that nearly four in 10 adults have a close friend who is at least 15 years older or younger than they are. Even more are interested in cultivating these types of friendships. Nearly eight in 10 adults want to spend more time with people outside their age groups, according to a report from the Washington, D.C.-based organization Generations United.

Although research on the benefits of intergenerational friendships is nascent, several studies suggest that older adults who regularly interact with younger people experience less anxiety, depression and reduced cognitive decline than their more age-siloed peers. For younger folks, having friends outside their generation may help reduce both internal and external ageism, and address feelings of isolation and loneliness.

“From both sides there are individual level benefits that have the potential to improve health and well-being,” said Lauren Dunning, director of future of aging at the Milken Institute.

But ask those who are in age-gap friendships what they like about it, and chances are they’ll simply tell you they are in it for the enjoyment and pleasure of spending time with someone who “gets” them.

“There’s this exchange of ideas and knowledge, and this recognition that having fun is just as much a part of later life as it is for younger life,” said Catherine Elliott O’Dare, a professor in social policy at Trinity College in Dublin who studies the benefits of intergenerational friendships.

We spoke to six intergenerational friend groups in L.A. about how they met, what they do together and the benefits of their age difference.

Justin Beverly, 26, student. Jose Bautista, 73, retail worker. Nicholas Baraban, 33, retail worker

How did you meet?

Bautista: “We all used to work at the Hobby Lobby and these guys used to have beers after work. One day I invited myself along, but on one condition — we have to play [music].”

Favorite activities:

Playing music, going to the batting cage, open mic nights, barbecues.

What makes the friendship special?

Baraban: “I had a best friend who passed away — a bandmate. Jose helped me start playing with other people again. He was the first person I opened up to about playing out again.”

Bautista: “We’ve become best friends. I can rely on these guys for anything and I know they’ll come through. And me too. They can count on me for anything.”

Best part of being in an age-gap friendship?

Beverly: “Getting everyone’s perspective and point of view. People have more stories to tell from different times. It gives an interesting dynamic.”

Bautista: “I don’t feel an age difference with them. I don’t know how a 73-year-old is supposed to act.”

Baraban: “I don’t feel an age difference so much.”

Jeannine Bell, 69, retired high school teacher. Antoine Cason, 38, former NFL quarterback for the San Diego Chargers, recent college football referee

How did you meet?

Bell: “My son Josh was a waterboy for the football team at Los Alamitos High. Antoine walked past us before school one morning and says, ‘Hey J-Dub. How are you doing?’ I said, ‘Who was that?’ and he said, ‘That’s the nicest guy on the football team.”

Cason: “Then I took your photography class senior year and after I went to college I’d come back and see everyone and it just grew from there.”

Favorite activities:

Football activities, going to dinner, and spending time with mutual friends and each other’s families.

What makes the friendship special?

Bell: “He inspires me every time I see him. He lifts up people around him, his personality obviously, but also he cares about people. He gives back.”

Cason: “Every time I’m around her I feel the genuine love and care. She really cares. Sometimes you don’t feel that way around people. And my family loves her too.”

Best part of being in an age-gap friendship?

Bell: “I want to stay relevant for every day of my life. He helps me do that. And it’s not just the age difference. He is a different color than I am, a different culture. I love understanding that better. I can’t say I understand it totally but hopefully it makes me communicate better with everyone as a result of that.”

Cason: “For me — especially where I’ve been, what I’ve done — I feel safe with her. I like to stay as private as I can because everything I’ve done has been in the public. And I just feel safe. That’s very important.”

Flora Grewe, 4 ½, student. Mary Ota, 105, retired medical office worker

How did you meet?

Ota: “Flora and her family lived at the end of the street where I used to go for a walk. I would sit on my walker and rest before turning around and she would come and bring me flowers. Then she started coming over and we just became friends. Now we get together a lot.”

Favorite activities:

Doing puzzles, getting matching manicures, giving presents.

What makes the friendship special?

Ota: “She is a sweet little girl, always smiling and just adorable. At first she was quite shy, but what was adorable is she would write notes and bring them to me. She would always smile when she brought me things, and even if they were just weeds, I would put them in water.”

Grewe: “I don’t even know! I just like her!”

Best part of being in an age-gap friendship?

Ota: “A friend like Flora keeps things lively. Young people are so full of life. And connecting with young people makes you recall when you were young and your children were young.”

Grewe: “She let me have two cupcakes at her birthday party. She’s nice.”

patricia smith 73, retired faculty support at UCLA, yoga teacher. Adam Fowler, 43, consultant

How did you meet?

Fowler: “I took a position in Global Economics and Management at UCLA while I was applying to PhD programs. The first day the person I was replacing warned me about the woman down the hall. I hadn’t been in Los Angeles terribly long and I was like, ‘Oh, God, I hope this isn’t a nightmare.’ But we just hit it off.”

smith: “He endeared me to him with the ‘Yes, ma’am.’ It reminded me of the way I was brought up. And his Southern accent was the cutest thing in the world.”

Favorite activities:

Picnics at the Hollywood Bowl, movie nights at Hollywood Forever Cemetery, talking on the phone, fixing up smith’s apartment.

What makes the friendship special?

Fowler: “She made it comfortable to grow as a human. I was from the boonies of Arkansas, trying to figure out who I was in terms of coming out as gay, pursuing a PhD from a family where I was already the first generation of college students, and this was a person who was so secure in who she was and kind and generous.”

smith: “He was always so freaking smart, but he was smart without being arrogant. That was one of the more endearing qualities I recognized in him right away.”

Best part of being in an age-gap friendship?

smith: “He helps me to stay young. He turns me onto stuff. When I don’t know what’s going on, I just call him and he sets me straight. He helps me to pay attention — not to mention that he does [stuff] for me. That’s priceless.”

Fowler: “It’s such a source of context and wisdom. Whenever you get spun up on something small in your own life, patricia can either help you laugh about it or put it in some broader context. And just everything she’s done, moving here from Chicago, things she’s been through, all of that is so very interesting. I’d say it’s the resilience for me.”

Marlo Wamsganz, 54, designer. Norma Hench, 83, retired teacher

How did you meet?

Wamsganz: “We were both living in Vermont and I was dating her partner Glenn’s son. The first time we met we were already walking around her gardens. Then I moved on from that relationship and Glenn passed away. We lost touch, not because we didn’t love each other, but because life goes on. “

Hench: “It took me a full year to get my act together after Glenn died and move to L.A. where my son lives. I flew from Vermont to JFK and, lo and behold, there’s Marlo!”

Wamsganz: “We were both relocating to L.A. and when we got on the plane I believe we were in the same row. I thought, ‘This is wild.’ “

Favorite activities:

Visiting botanic gardens, trying new foods, hiking in Malibu, visiting museums and swapping books.

What makes the friendship special?

Wamsganz: “Norma loves to learn new things, she’s up for anything, she’ll taste anything, and she also likes to dig deep into things. I love how positive she is and she speaks her mind. She’s very fair and believes in rights for all people. And she’s a great conversationalist.”

Hench: “I want to tell a story: We were crossing Ventura Boulevard — this big multi lane street, and right in the middle of the crosswalk there was a praying mantis. And without missing a beat, didn’t Marlo reach down and pick up this praying mantis and carry it with her across to the other side of the street and put it on the lawn? Now, doesn’t that speak volumes?”

Best part of being in an age-gap friendship?

Hench: “I never think about an age difference. I’m not even aware of that. Maybe I’m in denial.”

Wamsganz: “I don’t either. Although I do ask her some things. Like, how long do hot flashes go on?”

Peggy Cheng, 40, entrepreneur. Karen Lektzian, 64, retired IT consultant

How did you meet?

Cheng: “Her master toilet flooded my unit, and it was easier to go through my unit to fix it. I was working really long hours at that time, so I was just like, ‘Yup! OK! Bye!’ She was like, ‘Can I get you any gift cards or a dinner?’ and I was just like, ‘No! I don’t really expect to interact with you.’ “

Lektzian: “The remediation took three weeks, and over the course of those three weeks we had quite a few interactions, so we got to know each other a little bit. I invited her to dinner and with the proximity we started to run into each other more often and it was so easy to just say, ‘Want to pop up for a drink? Or, do you want to cook dinner tonight?’ “

Favorite activities?

Traveling, cooking, eating out, running errands.

What makes the friendship special?

Lektzian: “We just have so much fun together. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing. And we have so many common interests. It’s just so natural. Life is more fun with her.”

Cheng: “I like that I can share everything with her. She’s one of the few friends who knows every facet of my life. I can go to her for advice and if it’s serious she will just switch into that mode and then immediately we will have the giggles.”

What is the best part of being in an age-gap friendship?

Lektzian: “I don’t really notice when I’m with my friends my own age versus Peggy.”

Cheng: “I don’t feel it either. She’s equally energetic and way more fit than I am!”

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©2024 Los Angeles Times. Visit at latimes.com. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.

Patrick Clarke | (TNS) TravelPulse

Summer is coming to a close but that doesn’t mean your travel plans have to be put on hold until the holidays.

Labor Day weekend signals the arrival of shoulder season, a fantastic time for travelers with some flexibility to save big on a spectacular getaway while avoiding the large crowds at the same time.

Make this the year that you capitalize on this golden opportunity.

The coming days and weeks will see airfares drop and become more affordable before beginning to climb again and eventually peaking around the Thanksgiving holiday.

“Summer is winding down and consumer focus is on returning to normal work and school schedules. Our data shows that airfares are trending downward, and we expect that to continue for the immediate future,” says Glenn Cusano, President of Fareportal, the corporation behind OTA brands CheapOair and OneTravel.

There are plenty of great deals out there right now as several airlines are launching sales with one-way fares under $40 and even offering discounted all-you-can-fly passes as demand dips.

Plus, travelers should be able to find plenty of favorable hotel rates, especially if they’re able to put those unused vacation days to work and stay mid-week.

Shoulder season globetrotters could potentially save even more on a more comfortable stay by booking a vacation rental. Vrbo experts point out that travelers can save hundreds per night on beach houses in popular coastal destinations such as North Carolina’s Outer Banks; Gulf Shores, Alabama; Charleston, South Carolina; and Pensacola, Florida.

Guests can even save up to $900 a night on an eight-bedroom beachfront property in Miramar, Florida, by booking during the shoulder season compared to peak summertime.

In addition to lower rates and smaller crowds, travelers can still take advantage of awesome weather, especially in southern locales that remain warm well into October.

Nonetheless, the potential for destructive and disruptive tropical storm systems and hurricanes remains through November. So those heading to the most at-risk destinations should strongly consider protecting their investment with travel insurance.

If the idea of planning a shoulder season trip is daunting, working with a trusted travel adviser can help as these helpful experts can not only point you toward the best savings based on your own unique interests and help protect your trip but also land you special perks through their connections with various suppliers.

However you decide to make plans, don’t let another golden shoulder season go by the wayside.

__________

©2024 Northstar Travel Media, LLC. Visit at travelpulse.com. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.

Linda Gassenheimer | Tribune News Service (TNS)

For a simple, refreshing summer dinner, I decided to serve a Greek salad with salmon sauteed in an olive oil, lemon and garlic sauce. Fresh oregano gave a burst of flavor to the sauce.

A secret to keeping the salmon juicy and flaky is to under cook it a little leaving the inside a little translucent. The salmon will continue to cook in its own heat when removed from the stove. Using a meat thermometer can help ensure perfect doneness: it should read between 110 to 115 degrees.

HELPFUL HINTS:

Ant type of fresh salmon can be used.

4 chopped garlic cloves can be used instead of minced garlic.

Any type of lettuce can be used.

COUNTDOWN:

Assemble salad on plates.

Make sauce.

Cook salmon.

SHOPPING LIST:

To buy: 3/4 pound salmon fillet, 1 head romaine lettuce, 1 tomato, 1 cucumber, 1 container black pitted olives, 1 bottle reduced-fat vinaigrette dressing, 1 lemon, 1 jar minced garlic, 1 bunch fresh oregano or 1 bottle dried and 1 container whole wheat pita breads.

Staples: olive oil, onion salt and black peppercorns.

Greek Salmon

Recipe by Linda Gassenheimer

• 2 cups Romaine lettuce leaves torn into bite size pieces
• 1 tomato cut into 1-inch pieces
• 1 cup cucumber cut into 1/2 to 1-inch pieces
• 1/2 cup sliced onion
• 6 pitted black olives
• 4 tablespoons reduced-fat vinaigrette dressing
• 2 tablespoon olive oil
• 1 tablespoon lemon juice
• 2 tablespoon fresh oregano leaves or 2 teaspoons dried oregano
• 2 teaspoons minced garlic
• 3/4 pound salmon fillet
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper
• 2 whole wheat pita breads cut into triangles

Divide lettuce between two dinner plates. Top lettuce with tomato, cucumber, onion and olives. Drizzle vinaigrette dressing over the salad. Mix olive oil, lemon juice, oregano and minced garlic together in a small bowl. Heat a medium-size skillet over medium high heat. Add the salmon skin side up and pour the olive oil mixture into the skillet. Saute 5 minutes, turn salmon over with skin down. Continue to cook 4 minutes. A meat thermometer should read 110 to 115 degrees. Remove salmon, divide in half and place on the two plates with the salad. Spoon the remaining skillet sauce over the salmon. Sprinkle the salmon with salt and pepper to taste. Serve with the pita bread triangles.

Yield 2 servings.

Per serving: 621 calories (42 percent from fat), 29.0 g fat (4.1 g saturated, 12.0 g monounsaturated), 98 mg cholesterol, 41.8 g protein, 49.4 g carbohydrates, 7.8 g fiber, 527 mg sodium.

(Linda Gassenheimer is the author of over 30 cookbooks, including her newest, “The 12-Week Diabetes Cookbook.” Listen to Linda on www.WDNA.org and all major podcast sites. Email her at Linda@DinnerInMinutes.com.)

©2024 Tribune Content Agency, LLC

Anna Claire Vollers | (TNS) Stateline.org

Helping a pregnant minor travel to get a legal abortion without parental consent is now a crime in at least two Republican-led states, prompting legal action by abortion-rights advocates and copycat legislation from conservative lawmakers in a handful of other states.

Last year, Idaho became the first state to outlaw “abortion trafficking,” which it defined as “recruiting, harboring or transporting” a pregnant minor to get an abortion or abortion medication without parental permission. In May, Tennessee enacted a similar law. And Republican lawmakers in Alabama, Mississippi and Oklahoma introduced abortion trafficking bills during their most recent legislative sessions, although those bills failed to advance before the sessions ended.

Those five states are among the 14 that enacted strict abortion bans following the U.S. Supreme Court’s June 2022 Dobbs decision, which dismantled the federal right to abortion. Now, conservative state lawmakers are pushing additional measures to try to restrict their residents from getting them in states where it remains legal.

“A lot of folks thought Dobbs was the floor and it’s really not,” said Tennessee state Rep. Aftyn Behn, a Nashville Democrat who’s challenging Tennessee’s trafficking law in court. “[Anti-abortion lawmakers] are coming for state travel and the ability to even talk about abortion.”

Abortion-rights advocates have filed lawsuits in Alabama, Idaho and Tennessee, arguing the laws are vague and violate constitutional rights to free speech and travel between states. A federal judge has temporarily blocked Idaho’s law from being enforced while the case is ongoing.

Proponents of the laws argue they’re needed to protect parental rights and to prevent other adults from persuading adolescents to get abortions.

“This is a parental rights piece of legislation,” Idaho Republican state Rep. Barbara Ehardt told Stateline. “We can’t control someone getting an abortion in Oregon. But you cannot take a child to get an abortion without the parent’s knowledge because, at least in the past, we would have called that kidnapping.”

But critics warn that abortion trafficking laws could have grave implications not only for interstate travel, but also for personal speech and communication between friends, or between children and adults they trust.

“If courts go down this road, it could change the scope of the First Amendment,” Mary Ziegler, a legal historian and law professor at the University of California, Davis School of Law, told Stateline. “It could have an effect on what else qualifies as crime-facilitating speech, and that could limit the kinds of things people can say and do online and in other contexts.”

Opponents also question whether states should be permitted to interfere in the business of other states. Criminalizing travel within an abortion-ban state to reach another state for a legal abortion would “allow prosecutors to project power across state lines,” said Ziegler.

“We haven’t seen states try to interfere in what’s happening in other states in quite the same way in a long time,” she said. “That’s why there is legal uncertainty — because we’re not talking about something where we have a lot of legal precedent.”

‘Parental rights’

Tennessee state Rep. Jason Zachary, a Knoxville Republican, defended Tennessee’s legislation as “a parental rights bill” that “reinforces a parent’s right to do what’s best for their child,” in remarks he made to the Tennessee General Assembly before the bill passed. Republican Gov. Bill Lee signed it into law in May.

The following month, Behn joined with Nashville attorney and longtime abortion access activist Rachel Welty to file a lawsuit challenging the new law.

Behn and Welty sued nearly a dozen district attorneys in Tennessee, alleging they ignored Welty’s requests to define what behavior would be deemed illegal under the new law. The Tennessee law says that abortion trafficking occurs when an adult “intentionally recruits, harbors, or transports” a pregnant minor within the state to get an abortion or an abortion-inducing drug without parental consent, “regardless of where the abortion is to be procured.”

A hearing to determine whether the court will grant a temporary injunction blocking the Tennessee law, which is currently in effect, is scheduled for Aug. 30.

After Idaho passed its law in April 2023, two advocacy groups and an attorney who works with sexual assault victims sued the state attorney general. The plaintiffs claim Idaho’s law is vague and violates the First Amendment right to free speech, as well as the right to travel freely between states. The right to interstate travel isn’t spelled out in the U.S. Constitution but it’s implied, legal experts say. The Idaho law directly applies to travel within the state, but it also notes that defendants are not immune from liability if “the abortion provider or the abortion-inducing drug provider is located in another state.”

Megan Kovacs, a board member with the Northwest Abortion Access Fund, which is a plaintiff in the case along with the Indigenous Idaho Alliance, said it is “so clearly unconstitutional to disallow people from accessing health care from within or outside their state.” Kovacs added that her group also wants to protect its volunteers from legal liability.

Neither the Idaho nor the Tennessee law exempts minors who become pregnant after being raped by a parent.

“If that person had to go to a parent who didn’t believe them or wanted to defend that family member who was the abuser, that only impedes healing even more,” said Kovacs, who has spent a decade working with survivors of domestic and sexual violence.

Ehardt, who sponsored the Idaho bill, said any adult who is told by a child about an incident of incest should call authorities rather than helping the minor obtain an abortion without parental consent.

“You have to call the police and they will be the ones to help protect the child’s safety,” she said.

The 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals held a hearing in May in Seattle, and Kovacs said she expects to learn in the next few weeks whether the court will uphold the temporary injunction blocking Idaho’s law while the lawsuit rolls on.

In July 2023, a group of health care providers sued Alabama Republican Attorney General Steve Marshall and district attorneys, asking the court to prevent the state from prosecuting people who help Alabamians travel to get abortion care in states where it’s legal.

The providers filed the lawsuit in response to remarks that Marshall made on a radio show in 2022, when he suggested that some people who aid a pregnant person in planning or traveling to get an abortion in another state could be prosecuted under the state’s criminal conspiracy laws. A judge denied Marshall’s motion to dismiss the lawsuit earlier this year, and the case is ongoing.

A coordinated effort

The Tennessee and Idaho laws mirror language in model legislation that was published in 2022 by the National Right to Life Committee, which bills itself as the nation’s oldest and largest grassroots pro-life organization.

“With this model law, we [are] laying out a roadmap for the right-to-life movement so that, in a post-Roe society, we can protect many mothers and their children from the tragedy of abortion,” said Carol Tobias, president of National Right to Life Committee, in a June 2022 statement introducing the model anti-abortion law.

Anti-abortion-rights organizations, like other interest groups, have long coordinated strategies to promote their preferred legislation to state and federal lawmakers.

The Idaho and Tennessee laws focus specifically on minors, even though they comprise a small fraction of people who get abortions. Those under 19 accounted for 8.1% of abortions, and those under age 15 accounted for just 0.2% of abortions in 2021, the most recent year for which the federal Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has published data.

Kovacs and Ziegler say the bills zero in on minors’ access to abortion because policies that regulate children and teens tend to be more politically acceptable than broader restrictions that affect adults. Such bills also tend to be more likely to survive legal challenges in court.

A chilling effect

Nobody in Tennessee or Idaho has yet been prosecuted under the abortion trafficking laws, but an Idaho woman and her son were charged with kidnapping last fall for allegedly taking the son’s girlfriend, a minor, out of state to get an abortion.

One main goal of a law such as Tennessee’s, Behn believes, is to create a chilling effect so that average people are scared to help anyone who might need an abortion, for fear of breaking the law.

“These bills create an environment of suspicion, fear and misinformation,” said Behn. “But I do think we will see more aggressive district attorneys start to prosecute these cases. [The law] widens the permission structure to start prosecuting people.”

Laws criminalizing abortion travel and imposing other abortion restrictions may be designed to provoke a legal challenge, Ziegler said. With a 6-3 conservative majority, the U.S. Supreme Court might be inclined to support them.

Abortion-rights advocates argue that restrictive abortion laws end up harming even those people who live in states where abortion is still legal.

Oregon, for example, has some of the strongest abortion protection laws in the nation. And yet the strict abortion ban next door in Idaho has made it more difficult for Oregonians to access care, said Kovacs, who lives in Oregon.

Before Idaho’s ban, many people in Eastern Oregon traveled to Idaho for abortion care, she said, because its clinics were closer than Oregon’s clinics, most of which are concentrated on the western side of the state. Last year, in response to increasing abortion restrictions in other states, Oregon passed a sweeping health care omnibus bill that strengthens protections for abortion providers and explicitly allows minors to seek abortions without parental consent. It was signed into law and took effect in January.

Ziegler said it’s not hard to imagine that if abortion trafficking laws are upheld in abortion-ban states, at some point prosecutors in those states could file charges against providers in “safe” states for providing abortion help, such as mailing abortion pills.

“I think it’s not intended to just stop with the people who are in the ban states,” Ziegler said.

©2024 States Newsroom. Visit at stateline.org. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.

Beth Dooley | The Minnesota Star Tribune (TNS)

As August slips by, I try to cling to every sunny minute. Give me the dishes that require nothing more than the freshest local produce, good spices and no-cook recipes that I can whip up in my bare feet, music blasting away.

The best summer meals are all about ease and simplicity. Lately I’ve been making cold soups, whirred together in the blender, for a light dinner or appetizer to sip with cocktails out of a pretty cup. (Especially when it’s too hot for crackers and cheese.) The only trick is to make them hearty and flavorful enough to satisfy an outdoor appetite, yet light and breezy so they do not weigh you down.

As much as I love a good gazpacho or chilled cucumber soup, fruit soups offer a range of options, savory as well as sweet, especially those with a tangy and creamy yogurt base. Take sour cherry sour cream soup, a traditional Hungarian recipe specialty. It’s sweet enough for a pretty dessert, yet when whirred with fennel, it makes a gorgeous lunch or elegant first course.

If you have great peaches, take a cue from my Atlanta cousin, Jack. He marinates fresh peaches and dried apricots in a little vinegar, honey and good olive oil, then blends it with yogurt. The results are a beautiful, tangy-sweet, velvety soup for a luscious dinner when served with mozzarella and bruschetta that’s piled high with ripe tomatoes.

Note that the fruit in a soup is interchangeable. You can swap out peaches for nectarines, or cherries, or blueberries, or raspberries, or melons — you get the idea. Feel free to mix them up and create your own, varying the spices and herbs as you go. Remember that a good soup maker is a great taster. Have fun with the flavors mixing and matching to your delight.

Cold Peach and Apricot Yogurt Soup

Serves 4.

This sweet and tangy summer soup lightly marinates the peaches and dried apricots with a little honey, vinegar and olive oil, then purées them in a blender with yogurt. Serve it cold, garnished with chopped cashews and basil. From Beth Dooley.

• 3 c. sliced peeled peaches (about 4 peaches)
• ¼ c. diced dried apricots, plus more for garnish
• 2 tbsp. honey
• 2 tbsp. rice wine vinegar
• 2 tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil
• ½ tsp. ground cumin
• ½ c. plain whole milk yogurt, or more as needed
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
• Chopped cashews, for garnish
• Basil leaves, for garnish

Directions

In a medium bowl, toss together the peaches, apricots, honey, vinegar, olive oil and cumin. Cover and marinate for 30 minutes or overnight.

Transfer the mixture to a blender with the yogurt. Process until smooth. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Transfer to a bowl, cover, and refrigerate until cold, about 30 minutes or overnight. Serve cold, garnished with the cashews and basil.

Beth Dooley is the author of “The Perennial Kitchen.” Find her at bethdooleyskitchen.com.

©2024 The Minnesota Star Tribune. Visit at startribune.com. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.

Beth Dooley | Star Tribune (TNS)

Now is the season for wild Alaskan salmon, but you won’t find it fresh in all stores. Once caught, it is blast frozen to lower the core temperature to 40 below, freezing the fish all the way through before the cells begin to break down.

Treated this way, the salmon remains “fresh” for as long as it’s kept deep-frozen. Of the five Alaskan salmon varieties, the three you’ll find in most fish markets and co-ops are king, coho and sockeye. Wild-caught salmon is considered the best choice by the prestigious Monterey Bay Aquarium Seafood Watch program. Farmed salmon, like other livestock, involves crowded manmade environments that can leave the fish susceptible to infections and diseases that require antibiotics.

Wild-caught salmon that swim in clear, cold water are generally healthier and certainly tastier. These fish are high in Omega 3′s, vitamin D and minerals, especially iron. Because of their natural diet, which is rich in crustaceans, the color and flavor of wild-caught salmon is deep and distinct.

Wild-caught salmon is not inexpensive, but its rich, ruddy, lustrous flesh makes it well worth the price. This fish has so much flavor that it needs little more than a sprinkle of salt, pepper and a few herbs. It’s best to cook it in a heavy skillet (nonstick or cast iron) that’s large enough to not crowd the fish. Set the pan over a hot flame so the fish sizzles on contact. It will brown and crisp without overcooking when transferred to a hot oven.

Toss cherry tomatoes into the pan for pops of color and flavor. Sprinkle with chopped fresh herbs — parsley, basil, thyme — and serve with boiled baby new potatoes and spoon the blistered tomatoes and lush pan juices over it all.

Pan-Roasted Salmon with Cherry Tomatoes

Serves 4 to 6.

Seek out wild -caught king, coho or sockeye salmon, rich in flavor and deeply colored. This recipe can be easily varied. Swap out extra-virgin olive oil for the butter; and dill and parsley for the basil and thyme. From Beth Dooley.

• 3 tbsp. butter
• 2 tbsp. chopped basil
• 1 tbsp. chopped thyme
• 3 scallions, trimmed and sliced in half
• 1 pint cherry tomatoes
• 1 salmon fillet, 1½ to 2 lb.
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper
• 1 lemon, thinly sliced

Directions

Preheat the oven to 475 degrees. Place the butter, half of the basil and thyme and the scallions into an oven-safe pan just large enough to fit the salmon. Set over high heat on the stove and cook until the butter melts and begins to sizzle.

Add the tomatoes and the salmon to the pan, skin side up, and cook for about 2 minutes. Put the pan in the oven and roast about 3 minutes; remove and peel the skin off the salmon. Sprinkle with salt and pepper and add a few of the lemon slices to the pan.

Return the pan to the oven and continue roasting until the salmon begins to flake and is cooked through, about 5 minutes. It should register 145 degrees on a digital thermometer. Remove from oven, cut salmon into serving portions and serve with the scallions, tomatoes and lemon spooned over the top and garnished with remaining lemon slices and chopped basil and thyme.

©2024 StarTribune. Visit at startribune.com. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.

Rae Ellen Bichell | (TNS) KFF Health News

GREELEY, Colo. — In early August, farmworkers gathered under a pavilion at a park here for a picnic to celebrate Farmworker Appreciation Day. One sign that this year was different from the others was the menu: Beef fajitas, tortillas, pico de gallo, chips, beans — but no chicken.

Farms in Colorado had culled millions of chickens in recent months to stem the transmission of bird flu. Organizers filled out the spread with hot dogs.

No matter the menu, some dairy workers at the event said they don’t exactly feel appreciated. They said they haven’t received any personal protective equipment beyond gloves to guard against the virus, even as they or colleagues have come down with conjunctivitis and flu-like symptoms that they fear to be bird flu.

“They should give us something more,” one dairy worker from Larimer County said in Spanish. He spoke on the condition of anonymity out of fear he’d lose his job for speaking out. “What if something happens to us? They act as if nothing is wrong.”

Agricultural health and safety experts have been trying to get the word out about how to protect against bird flu, including through bilingual videos on TikTok showing the proper way to gear up with respirators, eye protection, gloves, and coveralls. And Colorado’s health and agriculture departments have offered a free month’s supply of protective equipment to any producer who requests it.

But so far, many farms aren’t taking them up on it: According to numbers provided by the state health department in late August, fewer than 13% of the state’s dairies had requested and received such PPE.

The virus is known to infect mammals — from skunks, bears, and cows to people and house pets. It began showing up in dairy cattle in recent months, and Colorado has been in the thick of it. Ten of the 13 confirmed human cases in the U.S. this year have occurred in Colorado, where it continues to circulate among dairy cows. It isn’t a risk in cooked meat or pasteurized milk but is risky for those who come into contact with infected animals or raw milk.

Weld County, where the farmworker event was held, is one of the nation’s top milk producers, supplying enough milk each month this year to fill about 45 Olympic-size swimming pools, according to U.S. Department of Agriculture data. Neighboring counties are notable producers, too.

Concerns are growing about undiagnosed illness among farmworkers because of a lack of testing and safety precautions. One reason for concern: Bird flu and seasonal flu are capable of gene trading, so if they ended up in the same body at the same time, bird flu might end up with genes that boost its contagiousness. The virus doesn’t appear to be spreading easily between people yet. That could change, and if people aren’t being tested then health officials may be slow to notice.

Strains of seasonal flu already kill some 47,000 people in the U.S. a year. Public health officials fear the havoc a new form of the flu could wreak if it spreads among people.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention recommends that dairy workers don a respirator and goggles or a face shield, among other protections, whether they are working with sick animals or not.

A recent study found that not all infected cows show symptoms, so workers could be interacting with contagious animals without realizing it. Even when it is known that animals are infected, farmworkers often still have to get in close contact with them, sometimes under grueling conditions, such as during a recent heat wave when Colorado poultry workers collected hundreds of chickens by hand for culling because of the outbreak. At least six of the workers became infected with bird flu.

One dairy worker in Weld County, who spoke on the condition of anonymity for fear of losing his job, said his employer has not offered any protective equipment beyond gloves, even though he works with sick cows and raw milk.

His bosses asked the workers to separate sick cows from the others after some cows produced less milk, lost weight, and showed signs of weakness, he said. But the employer didn’t say anything about the bird flu, he said, or suggest they take any precautions for their own safety.

He said he bought protective goggles for himself at Walmart when his eyes became itchy and red earlier this summer. He recalled experiencing dizziness, headaches, and low appetite around the same time. But he self-medicated and pushed through, without missing work or going to a doctor.

“We need to protect ourselves because you never know,” he said in Spanish. “I tell my wife and son that the cows are sick, and she tells me to leave, but it will be the same wherever I go.”

He said he’d heard that his employers were unsympathetic when a colleague approached them about feeling ill. He’d even seen someone affiliated with management remove a flyer about how people can protect themselves from the bird flu and throw it in a bin.

The dairy worker in neighboring Larimer County said he, too, has had just gloves as protection, even when he has worked with sick animals — close enough for saliva to wipe off on him. He started working with them when a colleague missed work because of his flu-like symptoms: fever, headache, and red eyes.

“I only wear latex gloves,” he said. “And I see that those who work with the cows that are sick also only wear gloves.”

He said he doesn’t have time to wash his hands at work but puts on hand sanitizer before going home and takes a shower once he arrives. He has not had symptoms of infection.

Such accounts from dairy workers echo those from farmworkers in Texas, as reported by KFF Health News in July.

“Employers who are being proactive and providing PPE seem to be in the minority in most states,” said Bethany Boggess Alcauter with the National Center for Farmworker Health, a not-for-profit organization based in Texas that advocates for improving the health of farmworkers and their families. “Farmworkers are getting very little information.”

But Zach Riley, CEO of the Colorado Livestock Association, said he thinks such scenarios are the exception, not the rule.

“You would be hard-pressed to find a dairy operation that isn’t providing that PPE,” he said. Riley said dairies typically have a stockpile of PPE ready to go for situations like this and that, if they don’t, it’s easily accessed through the state. “All you have to do is ask.”

Producers are highly motivated to keep infections down, he said, because “milk is their life source.” He said he has heard from some producers that “their family members who work on the farm are doing 18-to 20-hour days just to try to stay ahead of it, so that they’re the first line between everything, to protect their employees.”

Colorado’s health department is advertising a hotline that ill dairy workers can call for help getting a flu test and medicine.

Project Protect Food Systems Workers, an organization that emerged early in the covid-19 pandemic to promote farmworker health across Colorado, is distributing PPE it received from the state so promotoras — health workers who are part of the community they serve — can distribute masks and other protections directly to workers if employers aren’t giving them out.

Promotora Tomasa Rodriguez said workers “see it as another virus, another covid, but it is because they don’t have enough information.”

She has been passing out flyers about symptoms and protective measures, but she can’t access many dairies. “And in some instances,” she said, “a lot of these workers don’t know how to read, so the flyers are not reaching them, and then the employers are not doing any kind of talks or trainings.”

The CDC’s Nirav Shah said during an Aug. 13 call with journalists that awareness about bird flu among dairy workers isn’t as high as officials would like it to be, despite months of campaigns on social media and the radio.

“There’s a road ahead of us that we still need to go down to get awareness on par with, say, what it might be in the poultry world,” he said. “We’re using every single messenger that we can.”

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KFF Health News correspondents Vanessa G. Sánchez and Amy Maxmen contributed to this report.

Healthbeat is a nonprofit newsroom covering public health published by Civic News Company and KFF Health News. Sign up for their newsletters here.

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(KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs of KFF — the independent source for health policy research, polling and journalism.)

©2024 KFF Health News. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.

Gretchen McKay | Pittsburgh Post-Gazette (TNS)

Sweet cherries are one of August’s favorite offerings for making a quick and simple cobbler, tart or buttery shortcake for dessert. But the ruby-red stone fruits, which are in season through early September and chock full of good-for-you antioxidants, can add a punch of sweet flavor to a lot of other dishes, too.

That includes salads, which are often a showcase in late summer because, in addition to being healthful, adding a handful to a bowl of greens or fruit is an easy way to refresh a body (and psyche) that’s been through the wringer because of this year’s never-ending hot weather.

In this sweet and seasonal take on an Italian Caprese salad, we go small on the size of ingredients, but large on taste.

Instead of the thick slices of heirloom tomato, it’s constructed with halved cherry tomatoes and seedless red grapes, with pitted cherries standing in for balls of milky-sweet fresh mozzarella. It also includes the gentle bite of jalapeno pepper, and the tang of crumbled feta cheese for a salty finish.

The combination might seem like an odd culinary combo at first blush. But believe me, it works — really well.

Lightly dressed with a red wine vinaigrette, the salad is both sweet and salty, and just a little spicy, depending on how many jalapeno slices you toss into the bowl.

The salad pairs very nicely with grilled spiced chicken, but it would also be awesome on steak. For an even quicker meal, use a grocery store rotisserie chicken. Or, skip the meat altogether. On its own, the salad makes a lovely light lunch.

Grilled Spiced Chicken with Sweet Cherry and Tomato Salad

PG tested

For chicken

• 1 pound bone-in chicken thighs
• 1 teaspoon of garlic powder
• 1 teaspoon of ground cumin
• 1 teaspoon chili powder
• 1/2 teaspoon of smoked paprika
• 1/2 teaspoon of sea salt
• 1/4 teaspoon of ground black pepper

For salad

• 1/2 pound sweet cherries, destemmed
• 1/2 pound cherry tomatoes, halved
• 1/2 pound red or green grapes, halved
• 1 jalapeno, seeded and sliced thin
• 1 clove garlic, finely minced
• 2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
• 5 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
• Handful cilantro leaves, chopped
• Pinch of finishing salt, such as Maldon

Preheat grill to medium high heat. Lightly brush grill with oil.

Prepare chicken: In a small bowl, stir together garlic powder, cumin, chili powder, paprika, salt and pepper.

Place chicken parts in a large bowl, sprinkle spice mixture over the chicken and toss to coat.

While grill is preheating, prepare cherry salad: Place pitted cherries in a large bowl and add cherry tomatoes, grapes, sliced jalapeno, garlic and vinegar. Give it a good toss to make sure it’s well combined, then allow it to sit for about 10 minutes to allow fruit to release their juices.

Add olive oil and toss to combine.

Place chicken thighs on hot grill and cook until it is just cooked through, 4-5 minutes per side. (An instant-red thermometer should read 165 degrees.) Remove to a serving platter.

Add chopped cilantro to the cherry salad and toss to combine. Top with a pinch of finishing salt and serve with chicken.

Serves 4.

— Gretchen McKay, Post-Gazette

©2024 PG Publishing Co. Visit at post-gazette.com. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.

Aneri Pattani and Henry Larweh and Ed Mahon, Spotlight PA | (TNS) KFF Health News

The conversation wasn’t sounding good for Kensington residents on June 20.

The Philadelphia neighborhood is a critical center of the nation’s opioid crisis, and the city had decided to spend $7.5 million in opioid settlement money to improve the quality of life there. But on that day, a Pennsylvania oversight board was about to vote on whether to reject the city’s decision.

It was a thorny issue with major implications — both for Kensington residents and people across the state, as the decision could set a precedent for what kind of spending the board would allow for years to come.

But a lot of people were shut out of the discussion.

Pennsylvania’s board doesn’t allow members of the public to speak at its meetings, a rule that sets it apart from about two dozen similar opioid councils nationwide.

“It’s another moment where folks not connected to this community are making decisions for this community, and I think that’s inappropriate,” said Bill McKinney, a Kensington resident whose nonprofit is involved in some of the city’s settlement-funded initiatives. “Those that are sort of most affected are not at the table.”

It’s one example of how the public, including people who have lost loved ones to the opioid crisis or are dealing with it daily, are routinely shut out of having a meaningful say in how this windfall can be best used to address the damage. They are eager to suggest solutions for dollars that many of them consider blood money. But a first-of-its-kind survey conducted by KFF Health News and Spotlight PA found that, in many places, their voices are systematically dismissed.

In at least 39 states and Washington, D.C., councils consisting of government officials, clinicians, law enforcement officers, and others guide decisions about how to spend settlement dollars. These powerful groups are influencing addiction policy and funding at a time when more than 100,000 Americans are dying of overdoses annually.

At least 14 of these councils — including Pennsylvania’s — routinely block members of the public from speaking at their meetings. Four of those typically conduct their meetings in secret, barring the public from even attending or observing.

The survey also found:

• The majority of councils do not make video recordings of their meetings readily available online for those who cannot attend live. Although some councils said recordings can be accessed through public records requests, at least one — Minnesota’s Opioid Epidemic Response Advisory Council — deletes its recordings after using them to create meeting minutes. (Minnesota law does not require the council to record its open meetings or post recordings online.)
• At least five states have used committees or work groups that meet in private, or have a policy for allowing such private meetings. In Pennsylvania, such work groups have become a point of contention, with victims, advocates, and even one member of the council questioning their legality. (The Pennsylvania Opioid Misuse and Addiction Abatement Trust’s administrative director said the work groups’ meetings are not required to be public. They make recommendations that the full council decides on.)

Practices that close the public out of settlement spending discussions are “unconscionable,” said Stephen Loyd, chair of Tennessee’s Opioid Abatement Council, which regularly allows public attendance and comment at its meetings. “This is the population we’re there to serve. They have to have a voice in this process.”

Different Stances on Public Comment

People directly affected by the issue are a staple of the Tennessee council’s meetings. This year, commenters have included several parents holding photos of their deceased children and choking back tears, and at least one frustrated community member.

At the June meeting in Memphis, Peter Hossler, an associate professor at Rhodes College, said he was “very angry” about how the council’s recent grant awards of $81 million seemed to shortchange the western part of the state.

Loyd called such critique “invaluable,” comparing it to the feedback he received from loved ones during his recovery journey.

“We have to be held accountable,” he told KFF Health News and Spotlight PA. “And then we have to fix it.” Hossler’s comments are changing the council’s conversation about its next round of grants, Loyd added.

Loyd believes people who have been failed by the current system know what needs to be improved “better than anybody.”

“I want to talk to the people who had medication stopped in jail and laid there and withdrew,” he said. “I want to talk to the people who got out of jail with no money, a couple of felonies hanging over their heads, three meetings they had to make that week or they’re going to be in violation of their probation, and they ain’t got a car or driver’s license.”

States cited a variety of reasons for limiting public involvement. In some, state law does not require councils to take public comment at meetings. Several officials said they’ve sought feedback in other ways. An official in New Jersey said its council held public listening sessions, but that its monthly meetings are not public.

Some officials may worry that public comment would add to meetings that already run multiple hours, but several states manage that by limiting each person’s comment to a few minutes.

For communities of color, being shut out of opioid settlement discussions can compound the negative effects not just from today’s overdose crisis but from the earlier crack cocaine epidemic. Many people considered the government’s response at that time to be ineffective and harmful.

If settlement money is used only to “build on what’s already in place, you’ve already failed,” said Philip Rutherford, an expert on substance use disorder at the National Council for Mental Wellbeing.

At a July 2023 meeting of Illinois’ settlement council, Fanya Burford-Berry said the current system doesn’t work for women of color with substance use disorder — they can risk losing custody of their children. Burford-Berry, director of the West Side Heroin/Opioid Task Force in Chicago, hopes comments like hers will prompt the council to support solutions tailored to women of color, including bringing together more organizations that already work in those communities.

“When you allow more people to be involved, and then they have an idea, and they get excited about it, then they get more people involved and the circle of healing can become larger,” she said.

‘A Retraumatizing Moment’

In Pennsylvania, the state’s 13-member opioid settlement board has the power to withhold future funding if it decides local governments spent their money inappropriately. At its June meeting, the board — which includes a state senator representing part of Kensington — voted to disapprove of Philadelphia’s use of$7.5 million for park improvements, home repairs, rent relief, and other initiatives in Kensington. (Philadelphia later appealed the rejection; the issue is pending.)

McKinney, the Kensington resident and executive director of the New Kensington Community Development Corporation, called the board’s decision “a retraumatizing moment” for residents and criticized the way they were silenced.

“I think it’s unfortunate that things were chosen to be done that way,” McKinney said.

Others have also been frustrated by Pennsylvania’s settlement council.

Gail Groves Scott, a public health policy advocate who has a child in sustained recovery from an opioid use disorder, attended a board meeting in person last year. Not allowing the public to comment at meetings, she said, prevents them from offering feedback at critical times, such as when the board is considering county spending plans or contracts for its operations.

“We could be questioning those decisions or adding information they may not be aware of,” Groves Scott said. “It’s disappointing that, despite pushback from multiple people, they have not changed.”

Some advocates say the closed sessions of work groups, which make recommendations about which programs to approve, obscure why the full board takes certain action.

Pennsylvania trust officials have defended their practices.

Briana Anderson, the trust’s administrative director, downplayed the group’s role, saying it does not make specific spending decisions on settlement money but reviews choices made by local governments. State law doesn’t require the trust to offer public comment at its meetings but the public is encouraged to participate at the local level, Anderson added.

Pennsylvania’s practices contrast sharply with the way councils operate in places like Illinois, Kentucky, and Oregon, which routinely allow public comment at both full council and smaller committee meetings. In Kentucky, the open process has allowed members of the public to weigh in on a fierce debate over funding research into ibogaine, a psychedelic drug that has shown potential to treat addiction. At least eight people spoke in favor of the drug at the council’s January meeting.

Back in Tennessee, council chair Loyd said he hopes to increase public participation by creating an advisory panel that consists primarily of people who have personally experienced addiction or their loved ones.

He also encouraged other settlement councils to embrace opportunities to hear from people in their states.

“You’ll make better decisions as a result. I can’t be convinced otherwise,” he said.

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Methodology

In June and July, reporters from KFF Health News and Spotlight PA surveyed opioid settlement councils in 39 states and Washington, D.C., to assess their general and standard practices for engaging with the public. The team also reviewed council websites, meeting minutes, agendas, and, in some cases, hours of meeting recordings. These councils have various roles, including directly deciding how to spend the money, making recommendations, or providing oversight. Although they go by different names, including advisory councils, boards, committees, and commissions, we refer to them as councils as a broad, encompassing term.

Spotlight PA is an independent, nonpartisan, and nonprofit newsroom producing investigative and public-service journalism that holds power to account and drives positive change in Pennsylvania. Sign up for its free newsletters.

(KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs of KFF — the independent source for health policy research, polling and journalism.)

©2024 KFF Health News. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.

Jack Flemming | (TNS) Los Angeles Times

Stockton’s McLeod Lake is looking pretty in pink this week.

The splash of color is part of a study being conducted by the California Department of Water Resources, which is dumping pinkish dye into the water to figure out why the lake has become a hot spot for harmful algae.

Hazardous algal blooms, which can be toxic to humans, pets and aquatic life, popped up in McLeod Lake in 2020 and 2022 but — curiously — not this year. So scientists are using the dye to record the flow of water, which they’re hoping will answer the question of why the algae spreads some years but not others.

Crews started dumping the rhodamine dye into the water Monday and will complete the study by Friday, according to a news release.

The dye is temporary and harmless to humans. But it is definitely visible. KCRA 3 video showed the blue-green water turning a stark shade of purplish-pink as crews used long poles to distribute the dye evenly at different depths.

The blue-green algae, known as cyanobacteria, is a natural part of the ecosystem but can rapidly grow under certain conditions, including warm temperatures and calm water. When the algae “blooms” so quickly, it can produce toxins leading to loss of appetite, vomiting and even jaundice and hepatitis for swimmers.

When the blooms are big enough, they can turn the water fluorescent green and make it smell putrid. After a particularly big bloom at McLeod Lake in 2006, Stockton installed a bubble system in the Stockton Deep Water Channel to oxygenate the water and break up the algae, the Record reported.

The dye job is the first of two studies that scientists are conducting in the lake. The next one is expected to be scheduled early next year.

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©2024 Los Angeles Times. Visit at latimes.com. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.

Jon Healey | Los Angeles Times (TNS)

When news broke that AI-generated nude pictures of students were popping up at a Beverly Hills Middle School in February, many district officials and parents were horrified.

But others said no one should have been blindsided by the spread of AI-powered “undressing” programs. “The only thing shocking about this story,” one Carlsbad parent said his 14-year-old told him, “is that people are shocked.”

Now, a newly released report by Thorn, a tech company that works to stop the spread of child sexual abuse material, shows how common deepfake abuse has become. The proliferation coincides with the wide availability of cheap “undressing” apps and other easy-to-use, AI-powered programs to create deepfake nudes.

But the report also shows that other forms of abuse involving digital imagery remain bigger problems for school-age kids.

To measure the experiences and attitudes of middle- and high-school students with sexual material online, Thorn surveyed 1,040 9- to 17-year-olds across the country from Nov. 3 to Dec. 1, 2023. Well more than half of the group were Black, Latino, Asian or Native American students; Thorn said the resulting data were weighted to make the sample representative of U.S. school-age children.

According to Thorn, 11% of the students surveyed said they knew of friends or classmates who had used artificial intelligence to generate nudes of other students; an additional 10% declined to say. Some 80% said they did not know anyone who’d done that.

In other words, at least 1 in 9 students, and as many as 1 in 5, knew of classmates who used AI to create deepfake nudes of people without their consent.

Stefan Turkheimer, vice president of public policy for the Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network, the country’s largest anti-sexual-violence organization, said that Thorn’s results are consistent with the anecdotal evidence from RAINN’s online hotline. A lot more children have been reaching out to the hotline about being victims of deepfake nudes, as well as the nonconsensual sharing of real images, he said.

Compared with a year ago or even six months ago, he said, “the numbers are certainly up, and up significantly.”

Technology is amplifying both kinds of abuse, Turkheimer said. Not only is picture quality improving, he said, but “video distribution has really expanded.”

The Thorn survey found that almost 1 in 4 youths ages 13 to 17 said they’d been sent or shown an actual nude photo or video of a classmate or peer without that person’s knowledge. But that number, at least, is lower than it was in 2022 and 2019, when 29% of the surveyed students in that age group said they’d seen nonconsensually shared nudes.

Not surprisingly, only 7% of the students surveyed admitted that they had personally shared a nude photo or video without that person’s knowledge.

The study found that sharing of real nudes is widespread among students, with 31% of the 13- to 17-year-olds agreeing with the statement that “It’s normal for people my age to share nudes with each other.” That’s about the same level overall as in 2022, the report says, although it’s notably lower than in 2019, when nearly 40% agreed with that statement.

Only 17% of that age group admitted to sharing nude selfies themselves. An additional 15% of 9- to 17-year-olds said they had considered sharing a nude photo but decided not to.

Turkheimer wondered whether some of the perceived decline in sexual interactions online stemmed from the shutdown last year of Omegle, a site where people could have video chats with random strangers. Although Omegle’s rules banned nudity and the sharing of explicit content, more than a third of the students who reported using Omegle said they’d experienced some form of sexual interaction there.

He also noted that the study didn’t explore how frequently students experienced the interactions that the survey tracked, such as sharing nudes with an adult.

According to Thorn, 6% of the students surveyed said they’d been victims of sextortion — someone had threatened to reveal a sexual image of them unless they agreed to pay money, send more sexual pictures or take some other action. And when asked whom to blame when a nude selfie goes public, 28% said it was solely the victim’s fault, compared with 51% blaming the person who leaked it.

©2024 Los Angeles Times. Visit at latimes.com. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.

Matt Vasilogambros | (TNS) Stateline.org

PORT AUSTIN, Mich. — Deep in the thumb of Michigan’s mitten-shaped Lower Peninsula, Republican election officials are outcasts in their rural communities.

Michigan cities already were familiar with the consequences of election conspiracy theories. In 2020, Republicans flooded Detroit’s ballot counting center looking for fraud. Democratic and Republican election officials faced an onslaught of threats. And conservative activists attempted to tamper with election equipment.

But the clerks who serve tiny conservative townships around Lake Huron never thought the hatred would be directed toward them.

“I’m telling you — I’ve heard about everything I could hear,” said Theresa Mazure, the clerk for the 700 residents of Hume Township in Huron County. “I just shake my head. And when you try to explain, all I hear is, ‘Well, that’s just the Democrats talking.’ No, it’s the democratic process.”

The misinformation is rampant, she said. Voters mistakenly believe election equipment is connected to the internet, or that voters are receiving multiple ballots in the mail, or that officials are stuffing ballot tabulators with fake ballots at the end of the day.

She knows her voters. They’re her neighbors. But the level of distrust of elections has gotten to a point where they won’t listen to her anymore. The fact that she’s a Republican doesn’t matter — only that she’s the clerk.

Sitting in the Hume Township Hall, about three hours north of Detroit and surrounded by miles of flat cornfields, Mazure leaned on agricultural metaphors to describe the scenario.

“The mistrust was there, the seed was planted, and then it was fertilized and grew,” she said. “I’m very angry about this, because we’re honest people. All we’re trying to do is our job.”

Mazure didn’t feel comfortable talking about politics. But former President Donald Trump, who lost this state four years ago by 154,000 votes, planted the seed of election denialism and helped it grow.

Once again, Michigan is one of the handful of states that could decide who wins the presidency, and the pressure on the people who run elections is enormous. The state’s part-time clerks, who are trained every four years and have limited resources in running elections, are at a breaking point.

“I’m concerned about November,” Mazure said. “People think we’re the enemy. What do we do? How do we combat this?”

‘I was scared’

Irvin Kanaski succeeded his father as Lincoln Township clerk, first serving as a deputy and then winning election to the top job in 1988, after his father had moved into a nursing home.

For much of his tenure as clerk, Kanaski was a full-time farmer, growing corn, beans and wheat. He’s now retired from farming, but still digs graves at the local cemetery. He has served this community of roughly 600 voters for nearly 40 years, but he feels like they’ve turned against him.

“I feel accused of this fraud stuff that’s been thrown around,” said Kanaski, his hands clasped in his lap. “And I just — I take offense to that.”

Throughout the United States, elections are typically administered at the county level, though there are exceptions. In the New England states of Connecticut, Maine, Massachusetts, New Hampshire and Vermont, town clerks run elections. And in Michigan and Wisconsin, municipal and county clerks have varying election duties.

Under Michigan’s hyper-decentralized system, more than 1,500 township and city clerks are responsible for election assignments, such as distributing and collecting mail-in ballots, along with non-election tasks, including maintaining township records, compiling meeting minutes and preparing financial statements.

Michigan township populations range from as low as 15 in Pointe Aux Barques Township in Huron County to a little over 100,000 people in Clinton Charter Township in Macomb County, just north of Detroit. Many of the state’s townships, roughly half of which have populations under 2,000, don’t have websites.

For the small townships with hundreds of voters, the clerk job is part time and pays less than $20,000 a year. When a clerk retires or can no longer do the job, the torch gets passed on to a trusted member of the community — a position almost always sealed with an unopposed election. Ballot drop boxes are sometimes stationed at their homes, where clerks usually conduct their duties.

It’s an old system that doesn’t necessarily consider the financial and professional requirements of running elections in the modern age, said Melinda Billingsley, communications manager for Voters Not Politicians, a Lansing, Michigan-based advocacy group that has successfully pushed against gerrymandered maps and more ways to cast a ballot.

“We need to make sure that clerks are being supported so that they can administer elections effectively,” she said.

During the 2020 presidential election, a voter in Lincoln Township used his own pen to mark a ballot. But it was the wrong kind of pen, and the ink caused the ballot-counting device to malfunction. When Kanaski set the machine aside to be cleaned, the voter was so irate that one of the poll workers, who happened to be a retired police officer, had to escort him out.

“I was scared,” Kanaski said. “You don’t know what they’re going to do.”

This will be Kanaski’s last term in office, but he doesn’t know who in the community would replace him. If no one runs for clerk, the township board appoints someone.

Nearly a tenth of township clerk positions that are up for election this year do not have a candidate, according to a recent article by the Michigan Advance, Stateline’s sibling publication within States Newsroom. The story noted that increased demands and abuse are dampening interest in the job.

Taking a job no one wants

Far from the interstate, down gravel roads lined by corn stalks and Trump signs, Robert Vinande runs Flynn Township’s elections out of his Brown City home, 90 minutes north of Detroit. The red, white and blue township ballot drop box sits in front of one of the three buildings on his property, not far from the driveway.

Sitting at his kitchen table, as chickadees, finches and jays ate from a bird feeder just outside a nearby window, Vinande said he has not yet faced the level of vitriol seen by neighboring clerks. He took over the position in 2022, and suspects that his predecessor left her role because of that pressure.

A neighbor once asked him if the election was safe. Vinande didn’t hesitate in saying it was. If voters call him concerned about their absentee ballots or any other election process, he will walk them through it, step by step. He always reminds voters that he has a strong, bipartisan team of veteran poll workers who help run local elections.

“Generally, people say, ‘Well, if you’re comfortable, I’m comfortable,’” he said.

Flynn Township residents mostly suspect voting irregularities occurred down in the Detroit area — a classic rural-urban divide, he said. He never suspected any widespread voter fraud in 2020.

“I don’t buy it, knowing the checks and balances that are in place,” he said.

When he retired as internal auditor for Dow Chemical Company, specializing in data analytics at its Midland, Michigan, headquarters, he and his wife moved here, into their vacation cabin. Local leaders who knew him thought he’d be suited for the clerk role. There was nobody rushing to take the job.

He’s not one to go to Florida in the winter, and he likes to stay busy. He suspects he’ll stay in the role for the foreseeable future. When working in his wood-paneled den, he’s just happy to be surrounded by a plethora of presidential souvenirs he’s collected over the years. And when he’s not doing his part-time gig, he’s able to pursue his blacksmithing hobby.

Vinande — whose father ran the one-room school in his rural town in Michigan — said this is his way of giving back to the community. But to continue to do this job, he’s going to have to tell his voters the truth, he added, even if they disagree.

“I just want to dispel some of the myths,” he said.

‘We hunker down’

Around 5 in the afternoon on the Thursday before Michigan’s August primary, Mazure walked into the Hume Township Hall, where she’s led elections since 2008, closing the door quickly behind her to prevent the stifling summer heat from getting into the air-conditioned room.

Four election workers were breaking down election equipment at the end of a day of early voting. Six voting booths dotted the small room — more booths than the four voters who cast a ballot that day. Along the walls were three old maps of the township and black-and-white photos of local men who fought in the Civil War.

“Rip that sucker like a Band-Aid,” she told one of the poll workers, pointing to the tape that printed out of the ballot tabulator with the day’s vote totals.

Mazure used a small key to open the tabulator, snagging the four ballots and confirming the machine’s accuracy. The two observers — a Democrat and a Republican — signed forms validating the numbers. It’s checks and balances, she said.

Many local voters falsely believe that the tabulators that count ballots are connected to the internet, Mazure said. But when she ran her legally required public testing of equipment prior to the election, no one showed up to see that the machines were running properly and not flipping votes.

“How do you educate someone who doesn’t want to be educated?” she asked. “They only want to believe the unbelievable. They want to believe that somebody should have won, and it didn’t happen. So, therefore, it’s fraud.”

When she’s not running local elections out of her home, she’s in her garden, tending to tomatoes and green beans and canning for the winter. She loves polka dancing, refinishing furniture and sewing — a relief from the stresses of her position.

“I’m supposed to be retired,” she laughed.

Mazure is up for reelection in November. She wanted to find a replacement in the community and train them before retiring. She never got that kind of training when she started, and the job was as difficult to navigate as it is to drive in a snowstorm, she said. But she hasn’t found a replacement and doesn’t think she will.

Though she’s worn down by the abuse she never thought possible in elections, she leans on a steadfast resiliency, familiar to Midwesterners who have braved long winters.

“We hunker down,” she said. “We try to do the best job we can, hoping that at some point this stigma will go away. We don’t know if it will.”

Stateline is part of States Newsroom, a national nonprofit news organization focused on state policy.

©2024 States Newsroom. Visit at stateline.org. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.

(TNS) KFF Health News 

“We’re losing 300,000 people a year to fentanyl that comes through our border. We had it down to the lowest number and now it’s worse than it’s ever been.”

— Former President Donald Trump at a July 24 campaign rally in Charlotte, North Carolina

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Former President Donald Trump claimed at a recent campaign rally that more than 300,000 Americans are dying each year from the synthetic opioid drug fentanyl, and that the number of fentanyl overdoses was the “lowest” during his administration and has skyrocketed since.

“We’re losing 300,000 people a year to fentanyl that comes through our border,” Trump told his supporters at a July 24 campaign rally in Charlotte, North Carolina. “We had it down to the lowest number and now it’s worse than it’s ever been,” he said.

Trump’s figures appear to have no basis in fact. Government statistics show the number of drug overdose deaths per year is hovering around 100,000 to 110,000, with opioid-related deaths at about 81,000. That’s enough that the government has labeled opioid-related overdoses an “epidemic,” but nowhere close to the number Trump cited.

Moreover, though the number of opioid deaths has risen since Trump left office, it’s incorrect to claim they were the “lowest” while he was president.

Numbers Are High, but Nowhere Near Trump’s Claim

Trump campaign national press secretary Karoline Leavitt wouldn’t comment specifically on the source for Trump’s statistics. She instead sent KFF Health News an email with several bullet points about the opioid crisis under the heading: “DRUGS ARE POURING OVER HARRIS’ OPEN BORDER INTO OUR COMMUNITIES.”

One such bullet noted that there were “112,000 fatal drug overdoses” last year and linked to a story from NPR reporting that fact — directly rebutting Trump’s own claim of 300,000 fentanyl deaths. Additionally, the number NPR reported is an overall figure, not for fentanyl-related deaths only.

More recent government figures estimated that there were 107,543 total drug overdose deaths in 2023, with an estimated 74,702 of those involving fentanyl. Those figures were in line with what experts on the topic told KFF Health News.

“The number of actual deaths is probably significantly higher,” said Andrew Kolodny, medical director for the Opioid Policy Research Collaborative at Brandeis University, noting that many such overdose deaths go uncounted by government researchers.

“But I don’t know where one would get that number of 300,000,” Kolodny added.

Trump’s claim that fentanyl deaths were the “lowest” during his administration and are now worse than ever is also off the mark.

Overdose deaths — specifically those from synthetic opioids such as fentanyl — started climbing steadily in the 1990s. When Trump took office in January 2017, the number of overdose deaths related to synthetic opioids was about 21,000. By January 2021, when he left the White House, that tally was nearing 60,000, data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s National Vital Statistics System shows. Deaths involving synthetic opioids continued to increase after Trump left office.

“There’s some truth to saying that there are more Americans dying [of opioids] than ever before,” Kolodny said. “But again, if you were to look at trends during the Trump administration, deaths just pretty much kept getting worse.”

In the last year, though, statistics show that overdose numbers have plateaued or fallen slightly, though it’s too soon to say whether that trend will hold.

Given that Trump’s claims about fentanyl came when discussing the southern border “invasion,” it’s worth noting that, according to the U.S. government, the vast majority of fentanyl caught being smuggled into the country illegally comes via legal ports of entry. Moreover, nearly 90% of people convicted of fentanyl drug trafficking in 2022 were U.S. citizens, an analysis by the Cato Institute, a libertarian think tank, showed. That year, U.S. citizens received 12 times as many fentanyl trafficking convictions as did immigrants who were in the U.S. without authorization, the analysis showed.

Our Ruling

Trump said, “We’re losing 300,000 people a year to fentanyl that comes through our border. We had it down to the lowest number and now it’s worse than it’s ever been.”

Annual U.S. fentanyl deaths have increased since he left office, but Trump’s claim about 300,000 deaths has no basis in fact and is contradicted by figures his press secretary shared.

Trump is wrong to assert that overdoses were the lowest when he was president. Moreover, Trump continues to link fentanyl trafficking to illegal immigration — a claim statistics do not support.

We rate Trump’s claim Pants on Fire!

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(KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs of KFF — the independent source for health policy research, polling and journalism.)

©2024 KFF Health News. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.