Opinion: Live your dreams

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Kiefer Sutherland -

Working with my father in the movie Forsaken was one of those experiences I have thought about and tried to visualize for so many years and it turned out being even more than I had hoped for.

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Kris­pig tab­bou­leh av ri­ven blom­kål och hal­lou­mi

0,5 blom­kåls­hu­vud, an­sat och sköljt 50 g hal­lou­mi 0,5 ci­tron, en­bart saf­ten 0,5–1 dl oliv­ol­ja 2 to­ma­ter, finskur­na/hac­ka­de 1 kru­ka myn­ta, fin­hac­kad 1 kru­ka stor­bla­dig per­sil­ja, fin­hac­kad 2–3 sal­lads­lö­kar, strim­la­de Salt och pep­par En nä­ve go­da nöt­ter el­ler pumpafrön Gör så här: Riv blom­kål och hal­lou­mi. Blan­da ned ­ci­tronsaft och oliv­ol­ja. Blan­da ­blom­kål­soch hal­lou­mi­ri­set med to­ma­ter, myn­ta, ­per­sil­ja och sal­lads­lök. Sma­ka av med salt och pep­par och gar­ne­ra med frön el­ler ­nöt­ter. Verk­li­gen kris­pigt, ­nyt­tigt och gott till­be­hör till fala­fel el­ler någ­ra ­ski­vor stekt hal­lou­mi. Ser­ve­ra med fräsch ­myn­tayog­hurt!

Ev­ery­thing you need to know about Avengers: In­fin­ity War

There have been all sorts of mag­i­cal weaponry, cool pow­ers and mem­o­rable su­per­heroes i n the l ast decade of Marvel movies. But it’s six myth­i­cal gems and one ob­ses­sive cos­mic vil­lain that tie ev­ery­thing to­gether. Avengers: In­fin­ity War (in cin­e­mas Thurs­day) boasts more good guys than have ever been in a Marvel Cin­e­matic Uni­verse pro­ject be­fore, and they’re all go­ing to have to be at their best to beat Thanos (Josh Brolin), a dude wield­ing a leg­endary metal glove called the In­fin­ity Gaunt­let that holds the all-pow­er­ful In­fin­ity Stones: Space, Power, Re­al­ity, Time, Mind and Soul. We get it, that’s a lot to take in, es­pe­cially if the only cool glove you’ve ever known is Michael Jack­son’s sil­ver num­ber and all you’ve seen of this mas­sive nar­ra­tive is Black Pan­ther. Here’s what you need to know about the Avengers’ big­gest baddy to date and those six twinkly baubles he’s hunt­ing. Look out for Thanos, aka the Mad Ti­tan. The su­pervil­lain first showed his face in the end cred­its of the first Avengers film. He had tasked trick­ster god (and Thor’s brother) Loki (Tom Hid­dle­ston) to lead an alien army against Earth’s might­i­est he­roes but failed. Then in Guardians Of The Gal­axy, he as­signed Ro­nan the Ac­cuser (Lee Pace) to snag a mys­te­ri­ous Orb — which ended up be­ing the con­tainer for the Power Stone — but was thwarted again. Now he’s irked enough to get the job done him­self: With his Black Or­der hench­men in tow, Thanos comes to our world to col­lect the stones in his gaunt­let, which will give him the power to rule the gal­axy. But wait, what are the ori­gins of the stones? As The Col­lec­tor (Beni­cio Del Toro) ex­plained to the Guardians of the Gal­axy (see: the first Guardians movie), the stones date back to cre­ation it­self, are con­cen­trated rem­nants of pure cos­mic power and can only be wielded by folks with ex­tra­or­di­nary strength. Or big, bad dudes with re­ally fancy gauntlets. What kind of stuff can you do with them? The Space Stone can open por­tals in space, fuel dan­ger­ous weapons and also show vi­sions of a pos­si­ble fu­ture. The Time Stone gives its wielder com­plete con­trol over time, from stop­ping it to cre­at­ing end­less loops of it. The Power Stone can wipe out a planet’s en­tire civil­i­sa­tion. The Re­al­ity Stone brings the dead back to life and con­trols dark­ness. The Mind Stone is used to con­trol oth­ers. And no one re­ally knows quite yet the ca­pa­bil­i­ties of the Soul Stone, the only gem that hasn’t been in­tro­duced in the Marvel movies. In the comics, its user has mas­tery over ev­ery liv­ing or dead soul in the uni­verse. So where the heck are they? Loki is in pos­ses­sion of the Tesser­act (aka the Space Stone) as In­fin­ity War opens, The Col­lec­tor is as­sumed to have the Aether (Re­al­ity Stone), and the Power Stone is be­ing guarded by the space cops of the Nova Corps. Doc­tor Strange has the Time Stone housed in the Eye of Ag­amotto amulet, while the Mind Stone is em­bed­ded in the fore­head of the an­droid Avenger, Vi­sion. As for the Soul Stone, maybe Thanos has a bead on where it is be­cause we sure don’t. One pos­si­bil­ity is that it’s buried un­der Wakanda in the high­tech African coun­try’s vi­bra­nium mine, and that could ex­plain how Black Pan­ther (Chad­wick Bose­man) has the abil­ity to visit his ances­tors in an ethe­real realm. Six myth­i­cal gems and one ob­ses­sive cos­mic vil­lain tie ev­ery­thing to­gether Why is it so hard to track these things down? Be­cause of pesky su­per­heroes, of course. Thanos has sent min­ions af­ter them in the past, but he’s been foiled by both the Avengers and the Guardians, which is why he’s get­ting his hands dirty and hunt­ing them him­self. He’s got his Black Or­der, the Avengers have a Hulk. Let’s get ready to rum­ble.

Arts ac­tivist fought for strug­gling artists

Born: De­cem­ber 1 1977 Died: Novem­ber 18 Fu­neral: To­mor­row at 8285 Moloi Street in Um­gababa, KZN, from 9.30am Burial: At a lo­cal ceme­tery When arts ac­tivist, film­maker and politi­cian Vusi Bekezela Mh­longo staged a sit-in at Na­tional Lot­ter­ies Com­mis­sion of­fices in Pre­to­ria two weeks ago to chal­lenge the new leg­is­la­tion on fund­ing, lit­tle did we know that it was his last fight. Mh­longo has been fight­ing for artists’ rights and recog­ni­tion since re­lo­cat­ing to Jo­han­nes­burg late in the 1990s He has had sev­eral sim­i­lar protests for the rights of artists at dif­fer­ent govern­ment depart­ments. At some point he walked from Jo­han­nes­burg to Pi­eter­mar­itzburg, KwaZu­luNatal, to raise funds for strug­gling artists. His per­sis­tent protests paid off when he se­cured two meet­ings with the com­mis­sion. They lis­tened to his con­cerns but, be­fore he could taste the fruits of his ef­forts, he died in a car ac­ci­dent last Satur­day near Vil­liers in the Free State. Mh­longo and friends had also formed an or­gan­i­sa­tion called United ProAc­tive Artists aimed at rais­ing funds for artists. Mh­longo re­lo­cated to Jo­han­nes­burg to pur­sue a dream as a film­maker and theatre di­rec­tor. He strug­gled be­fore his first show The Voice from Kil­i­man­jaro was staged at Vic­tory Theatre in Orange Groove in 2003. The play was set to be staged again on De­cem­ber 16 as part of Yeoville Afro­cen­tric Car­ni­val. Those close to him knew about his fight­ing spirit and his car­ing na­ture for oth­ers. His bach­e­lor flat in Yeoville, Jo­han­nes­burg, be­came a home to dozens of artists that he took un­der his arm. He un­der­stood their strug­gles. The stage and tele­vi­sion ac­tor shared ev­ery­thing he had, and gave many mu­si­cians a plat­form to per­form. Mh­longo took a break from prac­tis­ing arts to fo­cus on his stud­ies, re­sult­ing in him grad­u­at­ing with an hon­ours de­gree in dra­matic arts from Wits Univer­sity. His film cred­its in­clude Re­al­i­ties Be­yond Fame, which was flighted on SABC1. He also joined pol­i­tics, re­viv­ing ANC’s Joe Slovo branch in Yeoville and was elected its chair­man in 2015. Mh­longo is sur­vived by his chil­dren, mother and sis­ter.

Co­or­de­na­ção da cam­pa­nha do MPLA com Isa­ac dos An­jos

KINDALA MA­NU­EL|EDI­ÇÕES NO­VEM­BRO O an­ti­go go­ver­na­dor da pro­vín­cia de Ben­gue­la Isa­ac dos An­jos afir­mou ontem que in­te­gra ago­ra a es­tru­tu­ra cen­tral de co­or­de­na­ção da cam­pa­nha elei­to­ral do MPLA. PO­LÍ­TI­CA 4 Após a sua exo­ne­ra­ção do car­go de go­ver­na­dor pro­vin­ci­al de Ben­gue­la a 8 de Ju­nho de 2017, o en­ge­nhei­ro Isa­ac dos An­jos in­te­gra ac­tu­al­men­te a es­tru­tu­ra cen­tral de co­or­de­na­ção da cam­pa­nha elei­to­ral, avan­çou o pró­prio ao Jor­nal de Angola. A in­for­ma­ção foi pres­ta­da ontem du­ran­te a ce­ri­mó­nia de aber­tu­ra da reu­nião ple­ná­ria ex­tra­or­di­ná­ria do Co­mi­té Pro­vin­ci­al do MPLA em Ben­gue­la, que ele­geu Rui Fal­cão Pin­tro de An­dra­de pa­ra o car­go de pri­mei­ro se­cre­tá­rio pro­vin­ci­al do partido na­que­la pro­vín­cia. A elei­ção de Rui Fal­cão sur­giu na sequên­cia das al­te­ra­ções ha­vi­das a ní­vel do Go­ver­no Pro­vin­ci­al de Ben­gue­la, com a exo­ne­ra­ção de Isa­ac dos An­jos do car­go de go­ver­na­dor. Em fa­ce dis­so e ten­do em con­ta a ne­ces­si­da­de de re­gu­la­ri­za­ção da di­rec­ção do partido na pro­vín­cia, com a no­me­a­ção de Rui Fal­cão pa­ra o car­go de go­ver­na­dor pro­vin­ci­al de Ben­gue­la, o se­cre­ta­ri­a­do do Bu­re­au Po­lí­ti­co do MPLA, nos ter­nos dos es­ta­tu­tos do partido, de­ci­diu con­vo­car a con­fe­rên­cia ex­tra­or­di­ná­ria com a fi­na­li­da­de de pro­ce­der à ces­sa­ção de man­da­to e elei­ção do no­vo pri­mei­ro se­cre­tá­rio pro­vin­ci­al. Com efei­to, foi pro­du­zi­da a re­so­lu­ção nº 3 do se­cre­ta­ri­a­do do Bu­re­au Po­lí­ti­co so­bre a ces­sa­ção do man­da­to do pri­mei­ro se­cre­tá­rio pro­vin­ci­al e mem­bro do co­mi­té pro­vin­ci­al do partido, Isa­ac dos An­jos, e a sua cha­ma­da pa­ra exer­cer fun­ções na es­tru­tu­ra cen­tral cam­pa­nha.

One vote leads to a long line of bat­tle

With one hasty and ex­cru­ci­at­ingly nar­row vote, House Repub­li­cans have all but guar­an­teed that health care will be one of the most piv­otal is­sues shap­ing the next two elec­tion cy­cles — in­clud­ing con­gres­sional, gu­ber­na­to­rial and state leg­isla­tive races in the 2018 midterms and Pres­i­dent Trump’s likely re­elec­tion bid in 2020. Just as Democrats were forced to de­fend Oba­macare in the 2010 midterms — the re­sult was a coast-to-coast drub­bing that Pres­i­dent Barack Obama called a “shel­lack­ing” — Repub­li­cans this time will be in the hot seat. GOP mem­bers of Congress will be asked to de­fend their votes for a bill that could strip in­sur­ance from 24 mil­lion Amer­i­cans and jack up pre­mi­ums and de­ductibles for the coun­try’s sick­est and old­est cit­i­zens. Gover­nors, gu­ber­na­to­rial can­di­dates and state leg­is­la­tors, mean­while, will be asked whether they in­tend to “opt out” of pro­vi­sions in the Af­ford­able Care Act that are over­whelm­ingly pop­u­lar with vot­ers, as is per­mit­ted un­der the Re­pub­li­can plan. Their plans for state Med­i­caid pro­grams also will be scru­ti­nized if mas­sive GOP cuts to Med­i­caid fund­ing are re­al­ized. “Health care will be a defin­ing is­sue,” said John Del Ce­cato, a Demo­cratic strate­gist. “It’s hard to say if it will be the only is­sue be­tween now and 2018, but I can’t re­call a vote this sig­nif­i­cant in terms of its po­lit­i­cal po­ten­tial in 20 years.” For ex­am­ple, Tom Per­riello (D), whose 2010 vote for the Af­ford­able Care Act helped cost him his seat in the House, is now mak­ing his sup­port for Oba­macare a cen­ter­piece of his pitch to be­come gov­er­nor of Vir­ginia — de­pict­ing the Re­pub­li­can health­care plan in his lat­est ad as an am­bu­lance be­ing crushed at a junk yard. A pic­ture of Rep. Mimi Wal­ters (R-Calif.) tak­ing a selfie at Trump’s Thurs­day Rose Gar­den cel­e­bra­tion to cheer House pas­sage of the GOP bill quickly made its way into a fundrais­ing ap­peal from one of her Demo­cratic chal­lengers, Kia Hama-danchy — with the sub­ject line, “I am ap­palled.” And when 217 Repub­li­cans cast “aye” votes for the GOP plan on the House floor on Thurs­day af­ter­noon, their Demo­cratic col­leagues bid them a rowdy adieu by singing, “Na na na na, na na na na, hey, hey, hey, good­bye.” “Health care is a rip­tide,” said Mark Put­nam, a Demo­cratic me­dia strate­gist. “It has now jumped from be­ing just a fed­eral is­sue to be­ing a state is­sue be­cause states are given the right to opt out of pro­tec­tions for pre­ex­ist­ing con­di­tions. Leg­is­la­tors and gover­nors will have to an­swer for that.” Trump’s po­lit­i­cal ad­vis­ers cal­cu­lated that it was less dam­ag­ing elec­torally for con­gres­sional Repub­li­cans to pass a bill that some of their con­stituents see as deeply flawed than to have passed noth­ing at all. “I think it’s a lot worse to have said for six years, since 2010, that this is some­thing you were go­ing to do and then when you had the chance to do it, you didn’t,” said Marc Short, the White House’s di­rec­tor of leg­isla­tive af­fairs and a vet­eran party strate­gist. Short said Thurs­day’s vote will help en­dear Re­pub­li­can House mem­bers to the con­ser­va­tive base as well as to Trump. “I think those mem­bers who stood with the pres­i­dent, the pres­i­dent will re­mem­ber that and their vot­ers will re­mem­ber that,” he said. In re­marks at the Rose Gar­den event, Trump said the cur­rent law had been “a catas­tro­phe” and made sweep­ing as­sur­ances about the GOP’s re­place­ment mea­sure, which he said he was con­fi­dent would pass the Sen­ate de­spite some strong reser­va­tions from Re­pub­li­can sen­a­tors. “Yes, pre­mi­ums will be com­ing down,” Trump said. “Yes, de­ductibles will be com­ing down. But very im­por­tantly, it’s a great plan. And ul­ti­mately, that’s what it’s all about.” Health care al­ready has rever- be­rated in some spe­cial elec­tions this spring, in­clud­ing in the race for the con­gres­sional seat in Ge­or­gia that was va­cated by Tom Price when he be­came Trump’s sec­re­tary of health and hu­man ser­vices. On Fri­day, the Cook Po­lit­i­cal Re­port, which eval­u­ates the po­lit­i­cal en­vi­ron­ment in all 435 con­gres­sional dis­tricts, shifted its as­sess­ments in 20 House races in fa­vor of the Democrats — some from solidly Re­pub­li­can to likely Re­pub­li­can, oth­ers from likely Re­pub­li­can to lean­ing Re­pub­li­can, and more still from lean­ing Re­pub­li­can to toss-up. Thurs­day’s vote “guar­an­tees Democrats will have at least one ma­jor on-the-record vote to ex­ploit in the next elec­tions,” wrote David Wasser­man, the re­port’s House edi­tor. He added that the new dy­namic “is con­sis­tent with past sce­nar­ios that have gen­er­ated a midterm wave” and “al­most a mir­ror im­age of 2010.” Polling shows that the pub­lic dis­agrees with Re­pub­li­can health-care plans. Thirty-seven per­cent of Amer­i­cans sup­port re­peal­ing and re­plac­ing the law known as Oba­macare, while 61 per­cent want to keep it and try to im­prove it, ac­cord­ing to a Wash­ing­ton Post-ABC News sur­vey in April. A Quin­nip­iac Univer­sity sur­vey in March found that Amer­i­can vot­ers over­whelm­ingly dis­ap­proved of an ear­lier ver­sion of the House health-care plan by 56 per­cent to 17 per­cent. The lat­est ver­sion of the Amer­i­can Health Care Act was passed in the House on Thurs­day by a vote of 217 to 213 with­out an anal­y­sis from the Con­gres­sional Bud­get Of­fice, which would de­ter­mine its cost and im­pact on in­sur­ance cov­er­age. The bill would shift power to states to set some health in­sur­ance rules, slash Med­i­caid spend­ing by more than $800 bil­lion and cut nearly $600 bil­lion in taxes un­der the health- care law, most of which will ben­e­fit the wealth­i­est Amer­i­cans. Obama’s Af­ford­able Care Act also pro­hib­ited in­sur­ers from charg­ing more to cus­tomers with pre­ex­ist­ing med­i­cal prob­lems — one of its more pop­u­lar pro­vi­sions — but the Re­pub­li­can bill would lift that pro­hi­bi­tion and give states the op­tion to let in­sur­ers charge more for them. Re­pub­li­can poll­ster Neil Ne­w­house, who com­pleted fo­cus groups in Ohio on Thurs­day evening that briefly touched on this topic, con­cluded that there was “con­sid­er­able con­fu­sion over what was in the leg­is­la­tion.” “The GOP would have likely faced a back­lash from its base had they not passed re­peal/ re­place,” he said. “There is a clear sense that both Trump and Repub­li­cans had promised as much.” Ne­w­house added that the Democrats in his fo­cus groups “seemed to be in a mood to pun­ish those who sup­ported the AHCA” and were “more en­er­gized and fo­cused” than the Repub­li­cans. Away from the White House, there was a pal­pa­ble sense of doom among some GOP cam­paign op­er­a­tives, who imag­ined how easy it would be for Demo­cratic chal­lengers to launch po­tent at­tacks about health care. Even many House Repub­li­cans who voted for the bill are al­ready dis­tanc­ing them­selves from it, ar­gu­ing that prob­lems would be solved in the Sen­ate. “What we’ve done here is po­lit­i­cal mal­prac­tice,” said Rick Wil­son, a GOP strate­gist who is sharply crit­i­cal of Trump. “Democrats will run ads with weep­ing par­ents who can’t cover their pre­mi­ums and Lit­tle Johnny dy­ing. . . . Or ‘ Con­gress­man Smith voted to end cov­er­age of pre­ex­ist­ing con­di­tions. That means 875 peo­ple here in X dis­trict who have can­cer can­not be cov­ered.’” Wil­son added, “Repub­li­cans in the House right now should be on their knees pray­ing for the Sen­ate to kill this,” ar­gu­ing that the line of at­tack would be less pow­er­ful if the bill does not be­come law. Jesse Fer­gu­son, a Demo­cratic op­er­a­tive who has ad­vised scores of House can­di­dates, said, “It doesn’t take even a good ad-maker to fig­ure out how to tell the story of the dam­age that this bill does to peo­ple’s health care, whether it’s the AARP say­ing it charges peo­ple over 50 five times more, or the Amer­i­can Can­cer So­ci­ety say­ing it guts pro­tec­tions for pre­ex­ist­ing con­di­tions. There’s no real way to de­fend that to vot­ers.” Demo­cratic lead­ers are try­ing to seize the po­lit­i­cal ad­van­tage and use the is­sue of health care to gal­va­nize a lib­eral base that was de­mor­al­ized by Trump’s elec­tion. They are re­port­ing a surge in new Demo­cratic can­di­dates look­ing to run in next year’s midterms, even in dis­tricts and states con­sid­ered solidly Re­pub­li­can. Rep. Nancy Pelosi (D-Calif.), the House mi­nor­ity leader who lost her speak­er­ship af­ter the 2010 midterms and has been plot­ting her re­turn to the ma­jor­ity ever since, de­clared Thurs­day that Re­pub­li­can House mem­bers had “walked the plank” with their sup­port for the Amer­i­can Health Care Act. “This vote will be tat­tooed to them,” Pelosi said. “They will glow in the dark.” Of course, Democrats also risk be­ing too bullish. “I love go­ing into a cam­paign where the op­po­si­tion is blindly over­con­fi­dent,” said Chris LaCivita, a Re­pub­li­can strate­gist. “I think they’re just go­ing to put all their eggs in one bas­ket.”


LOUISVILLE — A trainer and jockey ac­cus­tomed to suc­cess. A head­strong horse with a mind of its own. To­gether, they har­nessed their col­lec­tive tal­ents to win the Ken­tucky Derby. Al­ways Dream­ing splashed through the slop for a 2 3/4-length vic­tory on Satur­day, giv­ing Todd Pletcher and rider John Ve­lazquez their sec­ond vic­to­ries in the race but their first to­gether. The New York-based duo has teamed up of­ten over the years and is the sport’s lead­ing money win­ners. On their own, they were a com­bined 2 for 63 com­ing into Amer­ica’s great­est race. Join­ing forces, they were un­beat­able on a cool and rainy day at Churchill Downs. “This is so spe­cial to win this race with Johnny,” Pletcher said. “We’ve been to­gether for all th­ese years and this is sweet.” Sent off at 9-2 odds, Al­ways Dream­ing made it the fifth straight year that a Derby fa­vorite has won, the long­est such stretch since the 1970s. He was fol­lowed across the fin­ish line by a pair of long­shots: 33-1 Lookin At Lee and 40-1 Bat­tle of Mid­way. Al­ways Dream­ing ran 1 1/4 miles in 2:03.59 and paid $11.40, $7.20 and $5.80. “This is the best horse Todd and I have ever come to the Ken­tucky Derby with,” Ve­lazquez said. Lookin At Lee re­turned $26.60 and $18.20, while Bat­tle of Mid­way was an­other five lengths back in third and paid $20.80 to show. Pletcher won his first Derby in 2010 with Su­per Saver; Ve­lazquez won the fol­low­ing year with An­i­mal King­dom. Rarely one to show his emo­tions, Pletcher ad­mit­ted be­ing teary-eyed be­hind his sun­glasses. Go­ing into his 17th Derby, Pletcher sad­dled the post-time fa­vorite for the first time. Much had been made of his 1 for 45 Derby record. “It’s be­com­ing a lit­tle more re­spectable now,” said Pletcher, whose 48 starters tied D. Wayne Lukas for the most in Derby his­tory. Ve­lazquez used his colt’s speed out of the gate to get good po­si­tion early in a chaotic start that saw sev­eral horses, in­clud­ing McCraken and Clas­sic Em­pire, banged around. He steered Al­ways Dream­ing into an ideal trip be­hind pace­set­ter State of Honor, with mud fly­ing in all di­rec­tions on a sur­face that re­sem­bled creamy peanut but­ter. “The track is im­pos­si­ble,” said Mark Casse, who trains Clas­sic Em­pire. On the fi­nal turn, Al­ways Dream­ing took com­mand as State of Honor faded. De­spite chas­ing a quick early pace, Al­ways Dream­ing was still full of run. No other horses threat­ened him down the stretch and Ve­lazquez fu­ri­ously pumped his right arm as they crossed the fin­ish line. “I got a good po­si­tion with him early and then he re­laxed,” Ve­lazquez said. “When we hit the quar­ter pole, I asked him and he re­sponded. He did it him­self from there.” Pletcher had his hands full in the days lead­ing up to the Derby when the colt’s be­hav­ior was less than a dream. He was frac­tious in the morn­ing, re­fus­ing to re­lax. “I was ner­vous watch­ing him gal­lop,” the trainer said. Turns out the dark brown colt knew best. He chan­neled his ag­gres­sion into a de­ter­mined ef­fort on a track turned into goo by on and off rain be­fore the race. “I think he really came in here and knew it was game time, and he was ready to go,” Pletcher said. “The most im­por­tant thing to do is bring the best horse to the Derby, and that’s what we were able to do.” Al­ways Dream­ing earned his fourth straight vic­tory, prov­ing that his five-length win in the Florida Derby was no fluke. The vic­tory was worth $1,635,800. Al­ways Dream­ing’s pri­mary own­er­ship is com­prised of Brook­lyn Boyz Sta­bles and Teresa Vi­ola, whose Brook­lyn-born hus­band Vin­cent owns the NHL’s Florida Pan­thers. “There’s no feel­ing like this,” Vin­cent Vi­ola said.


Add three tsp ap­ple cider vine­gar in a cup of wa­ter. Post a mild sham­poo rinse, use this so­lu­tion and keep it on for a few min­utes. Now, rinse well in cold wa­ter. Do this at least twice a week to see con­sid­er­able dif­fer­ence.

Trump ramps up talk of tar­iffs

Don­ald Trump and aides braced for a busy week Sun­day by threat­en­ing tar­iffs on com­pa­nies that move jobs over­seas, while down­play­ing China’s protest of an un­prece­dented phone call be­tween the Amer­i­can pres­i­den­t­elect and the leader of Tai­wan. Just days af­ter prais­ing a deal pro­vid­ing tax breaks to a com­pany for keep­ing jobs in the U.S., Trump re­newed his threat to slap tar­iffs on the prod­ucts of com­pa­nies that out­source in the fu­ture. “There will be a tax ... soon” of 35% for com­pa­nies that go over­seas and try to sell goods “back across the bor­der,” Trump said dur­ing a Sun­day tweet storm. Trump aides, mean­while, de­scribed the pres­i­dent-elect’s call on Fri­day with Tai­wanese Pres­i­dent Tsai Ing-wen as con­grat­u­la­tory in na­ture and said it does not sig­nal a change in the “one China” pol­icy to­ward the gov­ern­ment in Beijing, at least not right now. “I think I would just say to our coun­ter­parts in China that this was a mo­ment of cour­tesy,” Vice Pres­i­dent-elect Mike Pence told NBC’s Meet the Press, not­ing that Trump had a sim­i­lar con­grat­u­la­tory call with China Pres­i­dent Xi Jin­ping, and “that was not a dis­cus­sion about pol­icy.” China, which claims Tai­wan is a rene­gade prov­ince, protested Trump’s call. Pence also told NBC that Trump is pre­par­ing to take of­fice on Jan. 20, and “we’ll deal with pol­icy at that time.” In putting to­gether an ad­mini- stra­tion, Trump is plan­ning more ap­point­ments and post-elec­tion ral­lies in the days ahead. The pres­i­dent-elect said last week that, on Mon­day, he would nom­i­nate James Mat­tis, a re­tired Marine Corps gen­eral, for sec­re­tary of De­fense. Trump is also weigh­ing a num­ber of can­di­dates for sec­re­tary of State. Dur­ing his Sun­day se­ries of tweets, Trump said no com­pany should leave the United States be­cause he plans to cut taxes and reg­u­la­tions, and those that do move jobs over­seas will face con­se­quences. “Any busi­ness that leaves our coun­try for another coun­try, fires its em­ploy­ees, builds a new fac­tory or plant in the other coun­try, and then thinks it will sell its prod­uct back into the U.S. with­out ret­ri­bu­tion or con­se­quence, is WRONG!” he said. The tweets came days af­ter Trump and aides cel­e­brated a deal with the Car­rier heat and air con­di­tion­ing com­pany, which aban­doned plans to move some jobs to Mex­ico af­ter the state of In­di­ana pro­vided $7 mil­lion in tax in­cen­tives. Even some Trump sup­port­ers, such as for­mer Repub­li­can vice pres­i­den­tial nom­i­nee Sarah Palin, bashed the Car­rier deal as “crony cap­i­tal­ism.” Now, crit­ics are tak­ing aim at Trump’s re­vival of a threat he made dur­ing the pres­i­den­tial cam­paign, say­ing his claim to tax prod­ucts made by U.S. com­pa­nies over­seas will lead to higher prices for Amer­i­can con­sumers. “Pres-Elect Trump means well,” tweeted Sen. Ben Sasse, RNeb. “But won’t his 35% tar­iff idea raise prices on Amer­i­can fam­i­lies? How would it not be a new 35% tax on fam­i­lies?” Chris Ed­wards, di­rec­tor of tax pol­icy at the Cato In­sti­tute, a lib­er­tar­ian think tank, says in­tro­duc­ing the 35% tar­iff “would have all kinds of neg­a­tive and dam­ag­ing reper­cus­sions.” For con­sumers, it could mean pay­ing more for goods, he said. It could also af­fect U.S. multi­na­tional busi­nesses who seek to broaden their reach glob­ally by ex­port­ing goods into other coun­tries. “When, for ex­am­ple, Dupont or GE or other Amer­i­can firms set up fa­cil­i­ties in Europe or Latin Amer­ica or wher­ever, the main pur­pose is to pen­e­trate those mar­kets and to ex­pand their global sales” which boosts U.S. ex­ports, Ed­wards says. In his Sun­day tweets, Trump said his 35% tax “will make leav­ing (the U.S.) fi­nan­cially dif­fi­cult.” Trump ap­peared to be pro­voked by news that Rexnord, the In­di­ana-based bear­ing man­u­fac­turer, is plan­ning to move jobs to Mex­ico. “Rexnord of In­di­ana is mov­ing to Mex­ico and rather vi­ciously fir­ing all of its 300 work­ers,” Trump tweeted over the week­end. “This is hap­pen­ing all over our coun­try. No more!” The Tai­wan phone call also trig­gered a flap. No U.S. pres­i­dent has spo­ken of­fi­cially with a leader of Tai­wan since the United States rec­og­nized main­land China as the sole gov­ern­ment of the Chi­nese peo­ple in 1979. Un­der the “one China” pol­icy, the U.S. ac­knowl­edges the Beijing gov­ern­ment’s claim that Tai­wan is part of China. Hit­ting the Sun­day show cir­cuit, Trump of­fi­cials said the re­ac­tion to the Sun­day phone call is overblown. “It was just a phone call at this point,” Trump ad­viser Kellyanne Con­way said on Fox News Sun day, and “peo­ple shouldn’t read too much into it.” In its state­ment on the call, Tai­wan said the two lead­ers “ex­changed pleas­antries and shared their views and prin­ci­ples re­gard­ing key pol­icy mat­ters, par­tic­u­larly the need to pro­mote do­mes­tic eco­nomic de­vel­op­ment and strengthen na­tional de­fense so that cit­i­zens can en­joy bet­ter lives and in­creased se­cu­rity.” The Fri­day con­ver­sa­tion with the Tai­wanese pres­i­dent was the lat­est in a se­ries of phone calls be­tween Trump and for­eign lead­ers that have raised eye­brows in the diplo­matic com­mu­nity. In a call with Pak­istani Prime Min­is­ter Nawaz Sharif, Trump of­fered “to play any role you want me to play to ad­dress and find so­lu­tions to the coun­try’s prob­lems,” ac­cord­ing to a read­out from Pakistan. Philip­pines Pres­i­dent Ro­drigo Duterte said Trump en­dorsed his ag­gres­sive war on drugs, one in which more than 2,000 peo­ple have been killed by po­lice in what crit­ics de­scribe as vig­i­lante justice. In its protest to the U.S. gov­ern­ment over Trump’s call with the Tai­wanese pres­i­dent, Beijing said, “There is only one China in the world and Tai­wan is an in­sep­a­ra­ble part of the Chi­nese ter­ri­tory.” The state­ment called the one China pol­icy “the po­lit­i­cal foun­da­tion of China-US re­la­tions.” State-run me­dia in China took a lower-key ap­proach, with China Daily say­ing there is no need to “over-in­ter­pret” the Tai­wan phone call, at­tribut­ing it to the New York busi­ness­man’s “in­ex­pe­ri­ence in deal­ing with for­eign af­fairs.” “Pres-Elect Trump means well. But won’t his 35% tar­iff idea raise prices on Amer­i­can fam­i­lies?” Sen. Ben Sasse, R-Neb., on Twit­ter


• Laura Tardif ’s story comes to­gether in frag­ments. There is the empty bed­room in the base­ment of a house by the river. Or the pic­ture that hangs above the din­ner ta­ble: Laura smil­ing as she tugs on her scarf. Then there is Laura’s mother, Claudie Landry, sit­ting at the fam­ily com­puter on a muggy Au­gust af­ter­noon, scrolling through the dig­i­tal foot­print her child left be­hind. She opens a video of Laura sport­ing a white karate gi in the mid­dle of a high school gym­na­sium. As she fights her way across the com­puter screen, Laura isn’t much big­ger than a pa­per clip. Her younger sis­ter, Anne, watches over Claudie’s shoul­der, plac­ing a hand on her mother’s back. There is an­other, colder frag­ment of Laura’s story — a coroner’s report that de­tails the 18-year-old’s fi­nal mo­ments: It’s 8: 14 p. m. on June 21, 2014, and Laura is driv­ing her Mazda 3 north on Route de la Sta­tion in L’Isle-Verte. She sends a text mes­sage to her friend. Two min­utes later, a re­ply comes buzzing on Laura’s iPhone and she opens the mes­sages. The car ap­proaches a rail cross­ing at the crest of a hill. The cross­ing’s red lights flash, its bells clang and the on­com­ing lo­co­mo­tive sounds its whis­tle four times. But Laura never slows down. The train bar­rels into Laura’s car at 64 kilo­me­tres an hour. The coroner con­cludes Laura didn’t see the train com­ing be­cause she was us­ing her mo­bile phone. It is a story un­fold­ing across the country — in the back of speed­ing am­bu­lances, on op­er­at­ing ta­bles and in smoul­der­ing wrecks along the sides of high­ways. Dis­tracted driv­ing is be­lieved to be among the lead­ing fac­tors in fatal col­li­sions in Canada. In a sur­vey two years ago of po­lice and groups that com­bat dis­tracted driv­ing, 76 per cent said the pre­vi­ous five years of data showed dis­trac­tion had been re­spon­si­ble for a greater per­cent­age of road fa­tal­i­ties than im­paired driv­ing. Fines for us­ing your cell­phone be­hind the wheel range from $ 80 to $ 1,500 across Canada, with driv­ers fac­ing be­tween three and five de­merit points. Ex­perts say these mea­sures aren’t enough. Dr. Tarek Razek is a Mon­treal trauma sur­geon. He said it’s alarm­ing how com­monly he op­er­ates on peo­ple who, mo­ments ear­lier, were tex­ting and driv­ing. “It hap­pens ev­ery day,” he said. “Over the years, as we’ve seen a de­cline in pa­tients who come in be­cause of im­paired driv­ing, we’re see­ing more and more peo­ple who were on their phone dur­ing a col­li­sion. It’s scary.” In Fatal Dis­trac­tion, Postmedia ex­am­ines the es­ca­lat­ing threat of talk­ing and tex­ting be­hind the wheel, and why Canad ians do it. The five- part se­ries ex­plores the ex­tent of the prob­lem in Canada to­day, and why leg­is­la­tors need to fo­cus on this lethal is­sue. It also looks at the sci­en­tific di­men­sions of our dig­i­tal ad­dic­tions, and the com­pet­i­tive forces at work by wire­less com­pa­nies and au­tomak­ers to main­tain the sta­tus quo. To­day, a look at the emo­tional toll of dis­tracted driv­ing, and the too-high costs for two fam­i­lies in dif­fer­ent parts of the country. John Bo­den’s hands twitch as he clings to the walker for sup­port. His feet move like they’re teth­ered to con­crete blocks, inch­ing for­ward in slow, painful steps. For the next 10 min­utes, the 55- year- old fa­ther of three will sum­mon an Olympian’s fo­cus sim­ply to push the walker a few hun­dred metres as he lum­bers along the hall­ways of St. Mary’s Hos­pi­tal in Cam­rose, Alta. The walk caps off an­other of Bo­den’s phys­io­ther­apy ses­sions — an hour of stretches, light weightlift­ing and cal­lis­then­ics to pre­vent his mus­cles from de­gen­er­at­ing fur­ther. When it’s over, he’ll sit back in his wheelchair for the rest of the day. It’s been nine years since the crash that al­tered the course of Bo­den’s life — a head-on car col­li­sion caused by a teenage driver who had sent a text mes­sage mo­ments ear­lier. Bo­den doesn’t re­mem­ber see­ing the Dodge Ram as it drifted across the cen­tre lane and into his path. But he re­calls the sound of the col­li­sion: the ex­plo­sion of glass and crum­pled steel. “I’ ll never for­get that for as long as I live,” he said. “It was an aw­ful sound. It haunts you.” High­way 13 slices through cen­tral Al­berta. It strad­dles thick marsh­land to the south, while on the road’s north­ern flank, the fields spill into each other over a hori­zon that seems to meld with the sky. It was in this eerily typ­i­cal piece of West­ern Canada, on a warm evening in May 2007, that Bo­den’s life was changed. The truck sliced through the front of his Chevro­let con­vert­ible, then rolled and skipped along the high­way. The truck ejected its pas­sen­ger, a 17- yearold girl, into the ditch, break­ing her fe­mur and pelvis. Bo­den, still pinned in the driver’s seat, re­called lis­ten­ing to the teen scream. Investigators would con­clude the truck’s teenage driver had looked away from the road to send her text mes­sage be­fore the crash. When the fire­fight­ers came to pull Bo­den from his car, he said, his body felt alien to him. “I looked over and I could see my hand on the gearshift. But it felt like it was in my lap,” he said. “I asked one of the first peo­ple on the scene, I said, ‘Char­lie, could you lift my hand up?’ So he lifted it up and it was re­ally eerie watch­ing some­one lift your hand up and still feel the hand in your lap. I didn’t feel it move at all.” Im­me­di­ately, Bo­den wor­ried about what to tell his wife, Shauna. He called out to one of the by­standers gath­ered around his car. The man di­aled Shauna’s num­ber on his cell­phone and pressed the de­vice to Bo­den’s ear. “I told her I’d be on my way to the hos­pi­tal, rid­ing in an ambu- lance, and that I was OK,” he said. “But I knew I wasn’t OK.” It didn’t seem real at first, when the of­fi­cers knocked at Claudie Landry’s door in Que­bec to tell her that her daugh­ter was dead. “You try to find a way out. You think, ‘It’s not her, you’ve made a mis­take. Where is she?’ There are so many ques­tions stir­ring in your mind,” Claudie said. “I could ac­tu­ally feel my heart sink, I could feel a numb­ness over­take my body.” The day be­fore Laura died, she wrote a math exam to earn the fi­nal cred­its she needed to go to col­lege. Laura had strug­gled to grasp math­e­mat­ics through­out high school, but she en­rolled in adult ed­u­ca­tion at 17 with a re­newed sense of pur­pose. Her mother says she breezed through the fi­nal exam, notch­ing a 96 per cent. In two months, she’d be­gin in­te­rior de­sign classes at Cégep de Rivière- du- Loup and Laura would have her hands full that sum­mer wait­ress­ing at the lo­cal golf course. That evening, though, Laura was hav­ing fun. It was the first day of sum­mer and she was vis­it­ing her new boyfriend in Saint- Éloi. Af­ter­wards, she’d stop by her grand­par­ents’ house be­fore meet­ing up with her friends at a rodeo in nearby Saint-An­tonin. She left her boyfriend’s place around 8 p. m. and drove along the country roads that would lead her back home. Less than 15 min­utes into the drive, a friend texted her about their plans to meet later that night. What hap­pened s hortly there­after was caused in part, investigators later told Claudie and her hus­band, An­dré, by spec­tac­u­larly bad tim­ing. Had Laura’s car ar­rived at the rail cross­ing just 2.5 sec­onds later, they said, it would have sailed passed the train and the 18-year-old would still be alive. The t rain was about 45 metres long — two lo­co­mo­tives bound for Rivière- du- Loup. By the time the con­duc­tor saw Laura’s Mazda 3, it was too late. Even with i ts emer­gency br akes ac­ti­vated, the train plowed into the com­pact car and pushed it for 300 metres be­fore com­ing to a stop. There were other fac­tors that may have con­trib­uted to the col­li­sion. As Laura ap­proached the rail cross­ing, the sun faded into the moun­tains across the St. Lawrence River, re­flect­ing orange light off its glassy sur­face and ob­scur­ing vis­i­bil­ity. The cross­ing also lacked a Be­fore his crash, John Bo­den was an ac­tive man — he played hockey, coached youth base­ball and took his daugh­ters on camp­ing trips. An old fam­ily photo de­picts a stout, broad- shoul­dered Bo­den sport­ing a pair of shorts that re­veal his mus­cu­lar legs. He had the physique of a man who spent his life work­ing; one who tilled the fields on his par­ents’ farm, who shov­elled gravel and drove a dump truck on the back roads of cen­tral Al­berta. On the day of the crash, Bo­den was driv­ing to a base­ball game to see some lo­cal kids com­pete. His daugh­ters were not play­ing, he just wanted to be out­side and en­joy the com­pany of neigh­bours on a warm spring evening. When the truck plowed into Bo­den’s car, it took that life away. “It helps if you pic­ture my spine as a kinked hose,” Bo­den said, when he de­scribed his in­jury in lay­man’s terms. “The mes­sages from my brain don’t quite make it to my mus­cles. And my mus­cles some­times move and spasm in­vol­un­tar­ily; they work against me.” Bo­den spent months in a hos­pi­tal bed be­fore be­gin­ning a slow, painful re­cov­ery. He couldn’t dress him­self, shower or per­form other ba­sic tasks with­out the help of his wife or a health-care aide. Bo­den said he didn’t like to think of what was lost that day. The crash could have torn Bo­den and Shauna apart. That’s what the doc­tors told them early in the re­cov­ery process. “They didn’t sugar- coat it, they said that when a hus­band or wife is par­a­lyzed, some­thing like 85 per cent of cou­ples di­vorce,” Shauna said. “But I think be­cause of the way John is — be­cause he didn’t get an­gry, he didn’t hold grudges, he didn’t start drink­ing — I think that made it a lot eas­ier on us. “We had hard times. There were times I was an­gry that he wasn’t an­gry. But in the end, we made it work.” In or­der to care for Bo­den, Shauna all but gave up her job as a nurse in the psy­chi­atric ward at St. Mary’s. Bo­den said she never com­plained about the sac­ri­fices she made for him. “She’s an ex­tra­or­di­nary per­son,” he said. “I can’t stress that enough.” Bo­den be­gan to tour high schools i n West­ern Canada through­out the year, speak­ing to kids about his in­jury. “I’m not mad at the driver. She never set out to hurt me; she has to live with what she did that day,” he said. “I don’t want to wreck her life, I just don’t want this to hap­pen to other peo­ple. “See­ing me in the chair, I think it shakes some of the kids up. So I try to make them laugh,” he said. “You’d be sur­prised how many wheelchair jokes I’ve mem­o­rized over the years. “The mes­sage is pretty sim­ple: We’ve changed our at­ti­tude to­ward seat­belts, to­ward drunk driv­ing; let’s change our at­ti­tude about phones. I’ ll say, ‘ Tell your par­ents,’ say, ‘ Mom, Dad, can you put the phone away for five min­utes?’ As a par­ent, how do you say no to that?” The reality of Laura’s death sunk in through small, painful changes to the Tardif fam­ily rou­tine. “One day, you’re set­ting four plates at the din­ner ta­ble and the next it’s three,” said Claudie. “I started lock­ing the front door be­fore go­ing to bed. I never used to do that be­cause Laura would be out with her friends.” Two days af­ter the crash, Claudie and Laura’s sis­ter, Anne, curled up on the couch and watched the sea­son premiere of the TV show Teen Wolf. “It seems silly, but it’s some­thing the three of us girls used to do to­gether, it was our show,” said Claudie. Laura’s room is much like it was be­fore the crash. Her bed is made. Her karate gi dan­gles from a wire hanger in the closet. There’s also a photo col­lage Laura af­fixed to the wall next to her dresser. It cap­tures the life of an out­go­ing teenager: Laura at the lake with friends, Laura in a for­mal dress, Laura mak­ing a funny face, Laura in her high school grad­u­a­tion gown. On the dresser is an urn that holds her re­mains. It was months af­ter Bo­den and his wife had spo­ken with Postmedia that an un­ex­pected call came. Shauna’s voice cracked as she de­liv­ered the news. “John passed away,” she said. “It was peace­ful.” He died in his sleep. Bo­den was in the North­west Ter­ri­tor- ies with Shauna and his care­taker, pre­par­ing to lead a high school assem­bly about tex­ting and driv­ing. The care­taker found Bo­den ly­ing in his ho­tel bed. His heart had stopped beat­ing some­time in the night. It’s un­clear whether the spinal in­jury was a fac­tor in his death. Two weeks be­fore, the cou­ple had pur­chased a plot of land near the cen­tre of Cam­rose. Build­ing a home in town rep­re­sented a new be­gin­ning. They’d be closer to friends and a so­cial life. “We were go­ing to build an el­e­va­tor for John, ramps, the sort of things that would have made it a bit eas­ier on us,” said Shauna. “I’m happy John will know where I am. I don’t know if that sounds strange, but it’s com­fort­ing to me that John knows where I’ll be.” Last June, the Tardif fam­ily re­turned to the train tracks in L’Isle-Verte, where Laura died. The rails trace a line from a straw­berry field by the high­way to a knoll that over­looks the water. They pass a barn and a rusted- out fish­ing boat be­fore ar­riv­ing at the crash site. Below the hill­top, the St. Lawrence River widens into the sea. Af­ter she died, the fam­ily planted a wooden cross next to the tracks. They carved Laura’s name into it and laid flow­ers at the foot of the cross. The wound isn’t as fresh as it once was, but Claudie re­calls the emo­tions of that day. “The train passed and it blew its whis­tle,” she said. “In a way it was like re­liv­ing the pain from that day all over again. “But it also felt like Laura was send­ing us a mes­sage, like she was let­ting us know she was there.”

Mother on ‘Brady Bunch’ got start on Broad­way

Florence Hen­der­son, whose por­trayal of Carol Brady on the show “The Brady Bunch” cre­ated an ide­al­ized mother fig­ure for an en­tire gen­er­a­tion, died Thurs­day. She was 82. Hen­der­son died of heart fail­ure about 7:30 p.m. while sur­rounded by her four chil­dren, said Kayla Press­man, her long­time man­ager and pub­li­cist. As Press­man’s tele­phone con­tin­ued ring­ing, the woman who has worked with Hen­der­son for 43 years — start­ing as her per­sonal as­sis­tant — said the ac­tress was “the most vi­brant, beau­ti­ful in­side and out person I’ve ever known in my en­tire life. We just never left each other. She was so won­der­ful to be with, and she was most loyal.” Fi­delity proved to be one of Hen­der­son’s trade­marks, she said, adding that the ac­tress had stayed with the same busi­ness man­ager since she was 18, and when he died, worked with his son. Hen­der­son also had the same agent for more than 30 years. “She keeps long re­la­tion­ships,” Press­man said. “I can’t say enough about the re­mark­able person she is.” Hen­der­son was a well­known night­club en­ter­tainer per­form­ing in Texas when she was asked to au­di­tion for the role that would change her life. Hop­ing to jet into Los An­ge­les, have a screen test for “Brady Bunch” cre­ator Sherwood Schwartz and then get back in time for the evening’s shows in Texas, Hen­der­son was de­layed by LA traf­fic and rushed onto the Para­mount lot two hours late, fran­ti­cally look­ing for a makeup artist to get her ready for the test. Fi­nally, she found some­one with a few spare min­utes — on the set of “Star Trek.” “I was sit­ting in a makeup chair be­tween Wil­liam Shat­ner, Leonard Ni­moy and like six or eight space mon­sters. None of them had any idea who I was or made any at­tempt to be friendly, which re­ally bugged me,” she re­called in TV son Barry Wil­liams’ 1992 mem­oir, “Grow­ing Up Brady.” Both­ered by what she be­lieved to be a shoddy makeup job, Hen­der­son joked through the screen test about how bad she looked, and Schwartz, im­pressed with her comic tim­ing, gave her the role. Hen­der­son’s work as Carol Brady on the series, which ran from 1969 to 1974, and her slyly sexy chem­istry with co-star Robert Reed made the show thrive. The pair helped broaden ac­cep­tance of blended fam­i­lies. Carol, a sin­gle mother of three daugh­ters, was mar­ried to Mike Brady, a sin­gle fa­ther of three sons. Born in 1934 on Valen­tine’s Day, in Dale, Ind., Hen­der­son was the youngest of 10 chil­dren of a home­maker and a to­bacco share­crop­per. She be­gan her show busi­ness ca­reer at 17, when she at­tended New York’s Amer­i­can Academy of Dra­matic Arts. Hen­der­son left the school after her first year be­cause she got a job in the cho­rus of the Broad­way mu­si­cal “Wish You Were Here,” di­rected by Josh Lo­gan. She segued from the cho­rus to the lead role in the fi­nal na­tional tour­ing com­pany of Rodgers and Ham­mer­stein’s “Oklahoma!” Lo­gan re­mem­bered her from “Wish You Were Here” and cast her in the lead role of the 1954 mu­si­cal “Fanny” with Ezio Pinza and Wal­ter Slezak. She ap­peared in other Broad­way mu­si­cals, in­clud­ing Noel Coward’s fi­nal mu­si­cal ef­fort, 1963’s “The Girl Who Came to Sup­per.” From 1959 to 1960, she was the “To­day Girl” on the “To­day” show, pre­sent­ing weather and light news sto­ries. Later, she was the first fe­male guest host of “The Tonight Show Star­ring Johnny Car­son” in the 1970s. After “The Brady Bunch,” Hen­der­son be­came a com­mer­cial spokes­woman and co­pro­duced “Coun­try Kitchen,” a Nashville Net­work series.

New black cash amnesty?

It is learnt the Cen­tre is con­sid­er­ing re­viv­ing the in­come dis­clo­sure scheme for black money de­posited in banks un­der the de­mon­eti­sa­tion of `500 and `1,000 cur­rency notes to give a last chance to peo­ple hav­ing un­ac­counted funds to come clean. Sources said that the Union Cab­i­net had on Thurs­day dis­cussed amend­ments to the In­come-Tax Act. One of the pro­pos­als was that peo­ple with un­ac­counted money can de­clare it and get an amnesty af­ter pay­ing 50 per cent tax. Half of the amount left af­ter pay­ing taxes (or 25 per cent of the to­tal sum de­clared) will be locked in for four years, and will not earn any in­ter­est. The rest (other 25 per cent) will be im­me­di­ately given back. The money raised through this tax could be used for the devel­op­ment of in­fra­struc­ture. Those with un­ac­counted money who choose not to come clean by pay­ing taxes will have to pay 90 per cent tax and penalty. “If the in­come-tax au­thor­i­ties come to know that a per­son has de­posited un­ac­counted money in banks and has not de­clared it un­der the pro­posed scheme, he will have to pay 90 per cent tax and penalty,” a source said. The gov­ern­ment may bring this amend­ment in the cur­rent ses­sion of Par­lia­ment af­ter get­ting the Pres­i­dent’s ap­proval, the source added. Peo­ple who are strug­gling with un­ac­counted funds af­ter the de­mon­eti­sa­tion will there­fore have the op­tion to come clean un­der the pro­posed scheme. The tax au­thor­i­ties had ear­lier talked of levy­ing a peak rate of 30 per cent tax and 200 per cent penalty on those who de­posit un­ac­counted money above `fc2.5 lakhs in the banks af­ter de­mon­eti­sa­tion be­tween Novem­ber 9 and De­cem­ber 30. How­ever, it was felt such a move may not have le­gal back­ing. The gov­ern­ment there­fore de­cided to bring amend­ments to the I-T Act to plug loop­holes for the money de­posited be­tween Novem­ber 9 and De­cem­ber 30. Un­der the In­come Dis­clo­sure Scheme (IDS), that closed on Septem­ber 30, a tax and penalty of 45 per cent was im­posed. Since the black money holder did not utilise the gov­ern­ment’s of­fer to de­clare his ill-got­ten wealth, he should now pay a higher rate of tax, with curbs placed on the use of that money.

PM touts gen­der eq­uity in Africa

MON­ROVIA, LIBERIA •Africa and the rest of the world will never achieve peace and sta­bil­ity with­out em­pow­er­ing women and girls — and en­cour­ag­ing men to sup­port them, Prime Min­is­ter Justin Trudeau said Thurs­day on the first day of his visit to Liberia. “When you try and set­tle a con­flict that doesn’t in­volve women in the solution, it’s not go­ing to last,” Trudeau said in the cap­i­tal of Mon­rovia dur­ing a panel dis­cus­sion on the lead­er­ship roles that women can play in peace, se­cu­rity, gov­er­nance and sus­tain­able de­vel­op­ment. Trudeau opted for Liberia — an im­pov­er­ished coun­try in West Africa that lived through years of bru­tal civil war and was hit hard by the deadly Ebola epi­demic in re­cent years — as the first stop on his first visit to Africa since he be­came prime min­is­ter. He did so, he said, in part be­cause of the lead­er­ship of Liberian Pres­i­dent Ellen Johnson Sir­leaf, who won the No­bel Peace Prize in 2011 for her role in se­cur­ing and main­tain­ing peace fol­low­ing civil war. The sym­bol­ism dove­tails nicely with a de­ci­sion by the Trudeau gov­ern­ment to put gen­der eq­uity and the em­pow­er­ment of women and girls at the heart of its in­ter­na­tional de­vel­op­ment strat­egy, which he talked up to the friendly — and some­times ador­ing — crowd gath­ered for the panel dis­cus­sion at city hall. “We have to pierce through the per­cep­tion that women’s is­sues are only for women to talk about and to fight about,” Trudeau said as he en­cour­aged men to join the battle to im­prove the lives of women and girls in or­der to im­prove the lives of ev­ery­one around them. He did not shy away from say­ing that de­vel­op­ment as­sis­tance should in­clude ac­cess to abor­tion. Ear­lier in the day, how­ever, the prime min­is­ter danced around an­other con­tro­ver­sial ques­tion about hu­man rights in Liberia. “The fact is, dif­fer­ent coun­tries have dif­fer­ent paces of evo­lu­tion in terms of rec­og­niz­ing and en­shrin­ing those rights, but we can see that there has been tremen­dous progress over the years in many dif­fer­ent ar­eas,” Trudeau said when asked to ad­dress the fact that many in Liberia do not con­done same-sex mar­riage. Stand­ing be­side Johnson Sir­leaf at a joint news con­fer­ence, Trudeau praised the Liberian pres­i­dent for the lead­er­ship she has shown on fe­male gen­i­tal mu­ti­la­tion, an­other hu­man rights is­sue that af­fects the re­gion. Asked for her re­ac­tion to Trudeau’s com­ments on LGBTQ rights, Johnson Sir­leaf tried to walk a fine line be­tween ho­mo­sex­ual re­la­tion­ships and the coun­try’s law pro­hibit­ing anal in­ter­course. “Liberia has no laws that re­strict the rights of in­di­vid­u­als to their own choices,” she said.

Ac­tors tap into cul­tural roots for Moana

Two wishes came true for Dwayne Johnson when he agreed to voice a char­ac­ter in Moana. Johnson got to be in a Dis­ney an­i­mated movie mu­si­cal while pay­ing trib­ute to his Poly­ne­sian her­itage. In the movie, Moana is a re­bel­lious teen Poly­ne­sian girl (voiced by new­comer Auli’i Cravalho) from 2,000 years ago. Ig­nor­ing her fa­ther’s warn­ing, she sets sail across the Pa­cific Ocean to de­mand that a pow­er­ful is­land god re­verse bad times. She is joined on the trip of re­demp­tion by a re­luc­tant and ego­cen­tric demi-god Maui (Johnson). “I feel a deep con­nec­tion to this story,” says Johnson, who has Samoan and Hawai­ian roots. The wrestler-turned-ac­tor also ap­pre­ci­ates the un­der­ly­ing tone of the movie, call­ing the frame of ref­er­ence “the Aloha Spirit.” It’s em­bod­ied by the peo­ple of the area now and in the film, which chron­i­cles the cul­ture’s an­cient times and its mythol­ogy. “It’s an in­tan­gi­ble, but when you get off the plane and you have your feet on the ground there, en­er­get­i­cally (the Aloha Spirit) takes you to a dif­fer­ent place,” Johnson says. Credit for the all-en­com­pass­ing de­tail, the ac­tor says, goes to di­rec­tors John Musker and Ron Cle­ments, who en­joy a cel­e­brated Dis­ney past as the film­mak­ers who brought us The Lit­tle Mer­maid and Aladdin. Be­fore get­ting into their Moana moviemak­ing process, Musker and Cle­ments led their movie team to the Pa­cific Is­lands to ed­u­cate them­selves about the Poly­ne­sian past. From wardrobe to mu­sic to dance rit­u­als, they made sure they got it right. “And when we were in the is­lands, peo­ple talked about the ocean as if it were alive and they ca­ressed it and they had these per­sonal re­la­tion­ships with the ocean,” Musker says. “So we knew we wanted the ocean to be a char­ac­ter in the movie.” The cast­ing of Moana was an­other mat­ter. Hawai­ian na­tive Cravalho beat out hun­dreds of oth­ers af­ter mul­ti­ple au­di­tions. The part is her first ma­jor pro­fes­sional gig. But the di­rec­tors re­sponded on a hunch to her “fear­less­ness and play­ful wit” and her im­mer­sion into the sub­ject mat­ter. “I grew up in a small town on the Big Is­land of Hawaii, and I am deeply rooted to my cul­ture,” Cravalho says. “I ac­tu­ally go to an all-Hawai­ian school where the mythol­ogy and the folk­lore of Maui is in our cur­ricu­lum, and I’ve lis­tened to his sto­ries at bed­time.” A show-stop­ping tune might not be in the reper­toire of the shape-shift­ing demi-god Cravalho learned about in school. But the Dis­ney movie has some fun with one num­ber fea­tur­ing Johnson’s vo­cals as Maui. It’s called You’re Wel­come, writ­ten by Hamilton Broad­way star Lin-Manuel Mi­randa. He says he wrote the tune “in the key of DJ” af­ter check­ing out some You Tube clips of Johnson as The Rock taunt­ing a wrestling crowd in song. “I got a re­ally good sense of his vo­cal range,” Mi­randa says. “The rest of it was just writ­ing lyrics that em­body the spirit of Maui, an amaz­ing demi-god. “Once I had the ti­tle, You’re Wel­come — which only Dwayne can pull off and still have you love him and root for him — we were off to the races.” Johnson says thank you to Mi­randa for You’re Wel­come. “He did his re­search and by the time I got the song, it was in my com­fort­able range,” Johnson says. “We all love chal­lenges and this was a chal­lenge with the bar set so in­cred­i­bly high — to sing in a Dis­ney film.” “We thought of Dwayne as the new Angela Lans­bury,” Cle­ments says. More se­ri­ously, Johnson is re­lieved and pleased Moana re­spects and com­mem­o­rates its sub­ject mat­ter. “I was so moved when I saw the movie, for a va­ri­ety of rea­sons, not only be­cause you work on it, but be­cause you pour your heart and soul into it.”

‘ Gone ’ Til Novem­ber’ chron­i­cles Lil Wayne’s time in prison

Lil Wayne is an open book — at least when it comes to one chap­ter in his life. On Tues­day, the pro­lific rap­per, who in 2010 was sen­tenced to eight months in New York’s Rik­ers Is­land on weapons charges, re­leased the di­ary he kept dur­ing his in­car­cer­a­tion. Gone ’ Til Novem­ber: A Jour­nal of Rik­ers Is­land ( Plume Books) was Wayne’s way of find­ing “joy in hell.” Now, it stands as a rev­e­la­tion to fans who get a peek be­hind the cur­tain of celebrity. Here are seven things we learned from our sneak peek. 1HE WAS A SUI­CIDE PREVEN­TION AIDE ... BRIEFLY. Af­ter earn­ing a per­fect score on the pre- em­ploy­ment screen­ing test, Wayne was tasked with mon­i­tor­ing the tier to en­sure in­mates didn’t try to com­mit sui­cide and to alert the on- duty of­fi­cer about at­tempts. The rap­per soon bowed out to fo­cus on self- care. “It’s truly a new re­al­ity for me,” he wrote. “I was ac­tu­ally there when this kid that was in men­tal iso­la­tion tried to hang up. What’s re­ally ( ex­ple­tive) up is that it all could’ve been pre­vented if the COs ( cor­rec­tional of­fi­cers) would’ve just brought him some wa­ter.” But, as Wayne goes on to ex­plain, of­fi­cers are used to in­mates bang­ing on their cells — so much so that it doesn’t trig­ger alarms. 2HE HEARD HIS SON SAY ‘ DA- DA’ WHILE BE­HIND BARS. Wayne’s first son was only a year old when he be­gan serv­ing his sen­tence. As such, the first time Wayne heard Dwayne Michael Carter III — fondly re­ferred to as D. M. C. III — say “Da- da” was on the phone, a bit­ter­sweet mo­ment. 3HE WAS ANX­IOUS WHEN HE PLAYED IN PRISON. Wayne may have rocked stages in front of mil­lions of peo­ple, but rap­ping in front of his fel­low in­mates was an­other story. “I was ner­vous as hell,” he ad­mits of his per­for­mance for tier mates Char­lie and Jamaica. 4HE CON­SID­ERED CHRIS­TIAN RAP ... BRIEFLY. In ad­di­tion to a land­slide of fan mail, Wayne re­ceived a com­pelling let­ter from a church, urg­ing him to use his artistry to spread the gospel. And for a mo­ment, Wayne con­sid­ered it. “I would truly have the power of hav­ing pop cul­ture turn to God,” he wrote. “I would have straight killers in church ev­ery Sun­day.” 5HE MADE $ 20 MIL­LION WHILE IN PRISON. In the months pre­ced­ing his sen­tence, Wayne recorded new mu­sic at a fever­ish pace to stag­ger re­leases through­out his sen­tence. As a re­sult, the rap­per out­paced his 2009 earn­ings, rak­ing in an es­ti­mated $ 20 mil­lion, com­pared with 2009’ s $ 18 mil­lion. 6JAMAICA WAS DE­PORTED DUR­ING HIS BID. Wayne may have been re­luc­tant to use the “f” word in jail, but by all ac­counts, Jamaica was a friend. And when Wayne re­counts how Jamaica was hauled away, you can sense his guilt. Wayne ad­mits that Jamaica had re­peat­edly asked if he could con­nect him with a bet­ter lawyer, but the rap­per didn’t take it se­ri­ously un­til it was too late. 7JAIL MADE HIM RE­AL­IZE HIS CRE­ATIV­ITY WASN’T DE­PEN­DENT ON EX­TER­NAL IN­FLU­ENCES. For a book that mostly deals with the day- to- day and only oc­ca­sion­ally scratches be­yond the sur­face, Wayne gets par­tic­u­larly in­tro­spec­tive at the close. The night be­fore his re­lease, he re­flects on the crutches he used to lean on for in­spi­ra­tion: drugs, cars, women. “Once that was all taken away from me, my cre­ativ­ity was put to the ul­ti­mate test,” he writes. “And I passed that ( ex­ple­tive)!”

Still life

Swirling snowflakes and snow-cov­ered marshes greeted Dana Gib­son the first time she and her fam­ily drove to the 1948 cot­tage that would be­come their Rap­pa­han­nock River week­end place. “It re­minded me of that scene in ‘Doc­tor Zhivago’ when they come upon the aban­doned coun­try house frozen in time and push the door open,” Gib­son says. It was Jan­uary 2014. Gib­son, hus­band Mark Lon­gen­der­fer and their two sons pushed open the front door the real es­tate agent said would be un­locked. In­side, the one-story house was a time cap­sule of vin­tage cot­tage liv­ing: white­washed walls, heart-of-pine floors, board-and-bat­ten walls. It was said to have been built of World War II Navy sur­plus ma­te­ri­als, in­clud­ing Jeep crates. The house had not been lived in for sev­eral years; some old wicker with faded chintz cush­ions, iron beds and a few wob­bly ta­bles had been left be­hind. An old-fash­ioned but airy kitchen of­fered views of the water. “We all liked it right away,” says Lon­gen­der­fer, 53, a gen­eral con­trac­tor. “It was an easy, ca­sual, come-in-and-throw-your-stuff-kind of place.” They bought the 1,100-square-foot house, less than two hours away from their Rich­mond home, as a fam­ily re­treat. Now Gib­son, Lon­gen­der­fer and sons Jack, 18, and DeWolf, 16, come to their North­ern Neck house in all sea­sons. In the fall, that means en­joy­ing the sound of geese fly­ing over­head as they take Paco, their bea­gle, for a walk.

Ху­сто­чка з дру­жи­ною пе­ре­їхав до Фран­ції

— Щой­но До­нецьк звіль­нять від се­па­ра­ти­стів, за­гра­є­мо на ”Дон­бас Аре­ні” сво­їм ”зо­ло­тим скла­дом”, — ска­зав Свя­то­слав Ва­кар­чук під час кон­цер­ту в Ма­рі­у­по­лі на До­неч­чи­ні. За 22-рі­чну істо­рію ”Оке­а­ну Ель­зи” у ньо­му пра­цю­ва­ли дев’яте­ро му­зи­кан­тів. Востан­нє ”зо­ло­тий склад” грав ра­зом у 2014-му в ту­рі ”20 ро­ків ра­зом”. — За від­чу­т­тя­ми це бу­ло по­ді­бне до зу­стрі­чі з да­ле­ки­ми ро­ди­ча­ми, — ка­же 42-рі­чний Пав­ло Гу­ді­мов, га­ле­рист, гі­та­рист пер­шо­го скла­ду ”Оке­а­ну”. — За­раз моя ува­га зо­се­ре­дже­на на ми­сте­цьких про­е­ктах. Пра­цюю пе­ре­ва­жно в арт-цен­трі ”Я Га­ле­рея”. Най­біль­ший про­ект ро­ку — ви­став­ка ”Ті­ні за­бу­тих пред­ків”, при­свя­че­на куль­то­во­му філь­му Сер­гія Па­ра­джа­но­ва. Во­на успі­шно про­йшла у сто­ли­чно­му ”Ми­сте­цько­му Ар­се­на­лі”, а не­за­ба­ром від­кри­є­ться у Льво­ві й Дні­прі. А ще я зо­се­ре­джу­ю­ся на книж­ко­вій спра­ві. Ли­ше за остан­ні пів­ро­ку на­ше ви­дав­ни­цтво ”Арт­бук” пре­зен­ту­ва­ло сім книжок із рі­зних на­прям­ків. Ко­ли­шній кла­ві­шник ”Оке­а­ну Ель­зи” 34-рі­чний Дми­тро Шу­ров має вла­сний гурт ”Пі­а­но­Бой”. Йо­го тре­тій сту­дій­ний аль­бом ”Тейк офф” по­ба­чив світ то­рік. Отри­мав схваль­ні ві­дгу­ки кри­ти­ків. — Це зов­сім іна­кша му­зи­ка, ніж в ”Оке­а­ну Ель­зи”, — ка­же му­зи­чний кри­тик Оле­ксій Бон­да­рен­ко, 23 ро­ки. — Ці пі­сні на­віть мо­жна на­зва­ти своє­рі­дною му­зи­чною п’єсою. Га­даю, Дми­тро Шу­ров не ду­має про те, як зби­ра­ти ста­діо­ни. Він пи­ше для вла­сно­го за­до­во­ле­н­ня. Якщо па­ра пі­сень з аль­бо­му ста­не ра­діо­хі­та­ми, то й до­бре. Зві­сно, від­чу­ва­є­ться, як йо­го гурт ро­сте, змі­ню­є­ться. До то­го ж у Дми­тра є три­ва­лі­ший про­ект — він пи­ше опе­ру, про яку по­ки що ма­ло ві­до­мо. Як му­зи­кант він се­бе успі­шно ре­а­лі­зо­вує. 40-рі­чний Юрій Ху­сто­чка, бас-гі­та­рист ”зо­ло­то­го скла­ду” пе­ре­їхав із дру­жи­ною до Фран­ції. Там ство­рив вла­сний гурт ”Міль­йон ко­пек”. Із 2004-го по 2011-й був уча­сни­ком рок-гру­пи ”Есте­тік едью­кей­шен” із Дми­тром Шу­ро­вим і бель­гій­ським ре­жи­се­ром Луї Фран­ком. — Остан­ні кіль­ка ро­ків у ме­не бу­ла пе­ре­р­ва в про­фе­сій­ній ді­яль­но­сті — на­ро­ди­ли­ся двоє ді­тей, аб­со­лю­тно не­спо­ді­ва­но, — роз­по­від­ає Юрій Ху­сто­чка. — Зва­ли­ли­ся з не­ба на го­ло­ву, і це ви­би­ло ме­не на якийсь час із про­фе­сій­ної ко­лії. Те­пер по­чи­наю ви­хо­ди­ти зі ста­ну ”ба­тьків­ської спля­чки”. Цьо­го ро­ку в ме­не бу­ло ба­га­то кон­та­ктів із мо­ї­ми ко­ли­шні­ми ко­ле­га­ми. Ін­ший ко­ли­шній гі­та­рист ”Оке­а­ну Ель­зи” 30-рі­чний Пе­тро Чер­няв­ський за­сну­вав соль­ний про­ект ”Пе­тер і вов­ки”.

Shake­speare’s plays get an emoji touch

Shake­speare can be a lit­tle chal­leng­ing for a teenager, but no wor­ries, there’s a TL;DR ver­sion now! Pen­guin has launched an OMG Shake­speare se­ries (trans­lat­ing plays into emo­jis) that re-imag­ines his most fa­mous plays in the dig­i­tal age, with ti­tles in­clud­ing Mac­beth #killin­git, A Mid­sum­mer Night #NoFil­ter and YOLO Juliet. The plays, re­told by Court­ney Carbone and Brett Wright, are con­densed down to terse What­sapp-es­que mes­sages, with char­ac­ters ‘check­ing in’ rather than walk­ing on stage and updating their re­la­tion­ship sta­tuses at key mo­ments. ‘To be or not to be’ be­comes ‘2 *b-ee emoji* or not 2 *bee emoji*’. ‘Thus with a kiss I die’ be­comes ‘With a *blow­ing kiss emoji* I *dead emoji*’. The books have been get­ting a strong mar­ket­ing push and their own stand in one store stated: The clas­sics can be *sleep emoji* Even with all the *heart emoji *heart­break emoji* *grin emoji* *dead emoji*. In­tro­duc­ing OMG Shake­speare! Shake­speare’s plays like ‘Mac­beth’ now read #killin­git and ‘A Mid­sum­mer Night’ #NoFil­ter and YOLO Juliet ‘Never wanted to burn a book be­fore’ @Fred­dyA­maz­ing wrote along­side a pic­ture of the stand, elic­it­ing over 3,000 retweets. Srsly (short for se­ri­ously) Ham­let, Mac­beth #killin­git and YOLO Juliet are out now, with A Mid­sum­mer Night #nofil­ter launch­ing next Jan­uary.One of the books car­ries the ded­i­ca­tion: “To all my ex­tra­or­di­nary English teach­ers, I’m sorry.”


В ав­стра­лій­сько­му шта­ті Но­вий Пів­ден­ний Вельс ого­ло­си­ли на­дзви­чай­ний стан че­рез ве­ли­че­зну зграю мі­сце­вих ка­жа­нів — ле­тю­чих ли­сиць. — Во­ни стра­шен­но шум­лять, — роз­по­від­ає 64-рі­чна Едрі­ен Гор з око­лиць Сід- нея. — Не мо­жна ви­йти у двір, бо ля­ка­ю­ться й ата­ку­ють. Ле­тю­чих ли­сиць вва­жа­ють рід­кі­сним ви­дом. За їх убив­ство пе­ред­ба­че­ний штраф. Вла­да ви­ді­ли­ла гро­ші, щоб спро­бу­ва­ти про­гна­ти ка­жа­нів во­дою або шу­мом.

”Не хо­ті­ли ла­ма­ти жи­т­тя се­стрі”

8-рі­чна Ві­кто­рія має спо­тво­ре­ну фор­му го­ло­ви. Це на­слі­док гі­дро­це­фа­лії, або ж во­дян­ки го­лов­но­го моз­ку. Та­кож дів­чин­ка стра­ждає на ро­зу­мо­ву від­ста­лість та ато­пі­чний дер­ма­тит (за­па­ле­н­ня шкі­ри. — ГПУ). Ви­хо­ву­є­ться в Ко­ло­мий­сько­му ди­тя­чо­му бу­дин­ку-ін­тер­на­ті на Іва­но-Фран­ків­щи­ні. Її прі­зви­ща опі­ку­ни не на­зи­ва­ють. До ін­тер­на­ту дів­чин­ка по­тра­пи­ла 2,5 ро­ку то­му як си­ро­та. Жур­на­лі­сти про­гра­ми ”Го­во­рить Укра­ї­на” на те­ле­ка­на­лі ”Укра­ї­на” з’ясу­ва­ли, що во­на має ба­тьків. Сім’я ба­тька по­хо­дить із се­ла Бал­ків­ці Чер­ні­ве­цької обла­сті. Ма­ти — з Іва­но-Фран­ків­щи­ни. Пра­цю­ють в Іта­лії. До 1 трав­ня 2016-го не зна­ли про донь­ку. Ма­ти Ві­кто­рії На­та­лія на­пи­са­ла від­мо­ву від ди­ти­ни. — Лі­ка­рі за­пев­ня­ли, що дів­чин­ка по­мре че­рез тяж­кі хво­ро­би. До­до­му пі­сля по­ло­гів нам її не від­да­ли б. Се­стра її на­віть не ба­чи­ла. У шо­ко­во­му ста­ні на­пи­са­ла від­мо­ву. Що дів­чин­ка ви­жи­ла, знав ли­ше я і мої ба­тьки, — роз­по­від­ає брат На­та­лії. Своє ім’я при­хо­вує. — Ба­тько ди­ти­ни в той час був за кор­до­ном. При­їхав на дру­гий день пі­сля по­ло­гів. Ми йо­му ска­за­ли про смерть Ві­ти. Не хо­ті­ли ла­ма­ти жи­т­тя се­стрі. Як­би во­на прийня­ла дів­чин­ку-ін­ва­лі­да, у неї не бу­ло б сім’ї. За­раз у неї все до­бре. На­ро­ди­ла хло­пчи­ка. Брат по­ро­діл­лі офор­мив на се­бе опі­кун­ство над Ві­кто­рі­єю. На Ве­лик­день цьо­го ро­ку по­дзво­нив до Іта­лії і роз­ка­зав прав­ду про дів­чин­ку. — До Ко­ло­миї при­їхав ба­тько Ві­ти, — ка­же по те­ле­фо­ну ди­ре­ктор Ко­ло­мий­сько­го бу­дин­ку-ін­тер­на­ту Ма­рія Де­нис. — Він по­дав до­ку­мен­ти на ба­тьків­ство. При­віз для Ві­ти по­да­рун­ки. Лю­бить її, пі­клу­є­ться. Але дів­чин­ку не зби­ра­є­ться за­би­ра­ти до Іта­лії. Сім’я над­си­ла­ти­ме гро­ші на лі­ку­ва­н­ня й до­гляд. Ба­тько за­пла­тив алі­мен­ти до сер­пня. Дер­жав­но­го фі­нан­су­ва­н­ня на­віть на під­гуз­ки не ви­ста­чає. Що вже ка­за­ти про поль­ські й ні­ме­цькі ма­зі, які по­трі­бні Ві­ті. За­раз Ві­кто­рію що­ти­жня про­від­у­ють ро­ди­чі ба­тька. Дів­чин­ка не мо­же го­во­ри­ти. Але їх упі­знає. Ра­діє по­да­рун­кам. Най­кра­ща ігра­шка для неї — м’яч. Дер­жав­но­го фі­нан­су­ва­н­ня на­віть на під­гуз­ки не ви­ста­чає

Merle Hag­gard, coun­try music leg­end, dies at 79

In his 1968 song Mama Tried, Merle Hag­gard sang of turn­ing 21 in prison. Hag­gard, who died Wed­nes­day in Cal­i­for­nia on his 79th birth­day, had done just that, though not, as he sang in the song, “do­ing life with­out pa­role.” Hag­gard’s youth of petty crime, fi­nan­cial in­se­cu­rity and freight­car hop­ping even­tu­ally in­formed songs that spoke plainly but not pre­dictably of so­cial out­casts, blue-col­lar con­cerns and per­sis­tent rest­less­ness. Aside, per­haps, from Hank Wil­liams, no other fig­ure in coun­try music af­fected the way songs would be writ­ten and how they would be sung as much as Hag­gard did. A 53-year record­ing ca­reer yielded 38 No. 1 coun­try hits, a run ex­ceeded only by Con­way Twitty and Ge­orge Strait. Hag­gard was born in Oil­dale, Calif., in 1937, the son of a pair of Dust Bowl refugees from Ok­la­homa. He spent his early years liv­ing in a house that his fa­ther, James, had fash­ioned from an aban­doned re­frig­er­ated train car. The el­der Hag­gard died when Merle was 9, throw­ing his world into chaos. Two years later, he hopped his first rail­road car, start­ing a se­ries of en­coun­ters with po­lice that cul­mi­nated in a stretch of hard time. He spent 21⁄ years 2 at San Quentin State Prison af­ter a botched bur­glary be­fore be­ing paroled in 1960, at age 23. He had dab­bled in music be­fore prison. In­spired by a Johnny Cash con­cert at San Quentin, he pur­sued it in earnest upon his re­lease, even­tu­ally land­ing a gig play­ing bass for Cal­i­for­nia coun­try star Wynn Ste­wart. Hag­gard signed to Tally Records in 1962. His Sing A Sad Song en­tered the charts the fi­nal week of 1963. He moved to Capi­tol Records in 1965 and had his first chart­top­per, The Fugi­tive, two years later. Rather than move to Nashville, Hag­gard pre­ferred to stay in Cal­i­for­nia, of­ten record­ing at Capi­tol’s Hol­ly­wood stu­dios. Hag­gard’s most fa­mous hit, Okie From Musko­gee, came in fall 1969 and touted tra­di­tional, pa­tri­otic val­ues. “We don’t burn our draft cards down on Main Street,” Hag­gard sang on coun­try ra­dio sta­tions as hun­dreds of thou­sands gath­ered for Na­tional Mora­to­rium demon­stra­tions against the Viet­nam War, “but we like liv­ing right and be­ing free.” But Hag­gard’s own per­spec­tives, even when it came to that song, rarely were so cut and dried. Hag­gard’s po­lit­i­cally ori­ented songs ran the gamut. If there was some ques­tion whether Hag­gard’s per­sonal opin­ions matched those in Okie, no one could mis­un­der­stand his mes­sage for a cer­tain type of pro­tester in his next sin­gle, Workin’ Man Blues: “When you’re run­nin’ down our coun­try, man, you’re walkin’ on the fightin’ side of me.” Hag­gard cre­ated music that in­vari­ably drew on the past, spoke to the present and in­flu­enced the fu­ture. He left an in­deli­ble mark on sub­se­quent gen­er­a­tions of singers, so his sound re­ally has never left the air­waves. It’s there, in the voices of Strait and Randy Travis, who claimed his in­flu­ence, and in the songs of those who yearned for his gift of writ­ing sim­ply and with such emo­tional res­o­nance. It’s in the music of Em­my­lou Harris, Alan Jack­son and Dwight Yoakam, who recorded his songs. Fi­nally, it’s there in more than a half-cen­tury’s worth of songs that span the range of the Amer­i­can ex­pe­ri­ence. Songs about prisons and bar­rooms, of high­ways and trains, of loves lost and re­mem­bered, of life lived in the spot­light and look­ing in the mir­ror. No­body ap­proached those sub­jects quite like Hag­gard, but every­one could find a piece of them­selves in his songs.


HAPPY BIRTH­DAY | March 27: This year you are fiery and bold. Some­times your en­ergy will not be greeted pos­i­tively. As a re­sult, you will find your­self es­cap­ing or act­ing out. Be care­ful with your spend­ing, as you could do some da­m­age. A lit­tle self-dis­ci­pline will go a long way. If you are sin­gle, you open up to a new type of per­son. You might want to date for a while be­fore mak­ing a com­mit­ment. If you are at­tached, the two of you en­joy traveling, ex­plor­ing dif­fer­ent cul­tures and tak­ing a work­shop or sem­i­nar to­gether on a mu­tu­ally in­ter­est­ing topic. Scor­pio tunes in to you. ARIES (March 21-April 19) Much of what you re­cently have heard might come to the fore­front now and make sense. You’ll start to process what a big change some­one has made with­out let­ting oth­ers know how im­por­tant it was to him or her. Com­mu­ni­cate your feel­ings. TAU­RUS (April 20-May 20) You might won­der about the re­volv­ing door of friends that seems to en­ter your life pe­ri­od­i­cally. En­joy the mo­ment. You rarely re­lax like this or have so much fun. You could be un­usu­ally will­ful when deal­ing with a part­ner. GEM­INI (May 21-June 20) You could be at a point where you need to stop and try not to re­late so in­tensely. You have a lot to get done, and you will, but tak­ing a break or a nap right now would be best. You can’t keep run­ning around as you have been with­out a break. CANCER (June 21-July 22) Your abil­ity to con­jure up wild ideas and have them fit the mo­ment seems to work for you. Oth­ers love to pal around with you when you are in the mood to sim­ply en­joy your­self. A child or loved one could get moody or jeal­ous. LEO (July 23-Aug. 22) Stay cen­tered and make a re­quest. You might ex­pect some re­sis­tance, but oth­ers won’t hes­i­tate to re­spond. You might won­der why it has been so easy to get what you want. Could you be mak­ing moun­tains out of mole­hills? Get into the mo­ment. VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22) Your abil­ity to di­ag­nose a prob­lem is likely to help oth­ers, es­pe­cially a friend and a close loved one. You might won­der why you do not do this for your­self. A dis­cus­sion could re­veal some­one’s in­tense feel­ings. Han­dle this per­son with kid gloves. LI­BRA (Sept. 23-Oct. 22) You could be on the fence about a ma­jor pur­chase and un­sure about which di­rec­tion you should head in. Though you might have been open to hav­ing a dis­cus­sion, you seem to be avoid­ing it now, as you know the im­pact it will have. Clear the air. SCOR­PIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21) You might want to take a leap of faith. Rec­og­nize that you will land fine be­cause you can han­dle an is­sue. Don’t look for prob­lems where there are none. Ac­cept a loved one’s ges­ture for what it is. Try ap­proach­ing this per­son dif­fer­ently. SAGIT­TAR­IUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21) Make this a lazy day, where you don’t feel the need to do any­thing. The more rest and re­lax­ation you get right now, the bet­ter the next few days will be. You can’t sit on a prob­lem for much longer. Open up a dis­cus­sion, but make it a one-onone talk. CAPRI­CORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19) Re­sist hav­ing a con­ver­sa­tion that could an­noy a loved one. You can ini­ti­ate it an­other time with­out ir­ri­tat­ing this per­son and still get the re­sults you de­sire. You might be sur­prised by what this friend re­veals. Try not to have a knee­jerk reaction. AQUAR­IUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18) You might have con­cerns and could feel crit­i­cal of some of what you hear. How­ever, you know that this sit­u­a­tion is par­tially your re­spon­si­bil­ity. One-on-one re­lat­ing might push you to re­veal more of what is on your mind. PISCES (Feb. 19-March 20) Reach out for more in­for­ma­tion be­fore you “yea” or “nay” a po­ten­tial trip. Don’t fret over a cer­tain sit­u­a­tion; in­stead, es­cape to a movie and let go of the mat­ter. You will see how much more re­laxed you are when you emerge.

Whistler’s Other Cool Side: Whistler Film Fes­ti­val

Not only will the stars twin­kle in the sky but they’ll also shine on the ground at this year’s Whistler Film Fes­ti­val, where cin­e­matic leg­ends like Kiefer Suther­land and Scot­tish (and Van­cou­ver) ac­tor Robert Car­lyle will ap­pear, to rub shoul­ders and even ski a few runs. Held in six venues around town from De­cem­ber 2 to 6, and dubbed Canada’s Coolest Film Fes­ti­val, the fest is cel­e­brat­ing its fif­teenth year with a stag­ger­ing set of stats, in­clud­ing seven­teen world pre­mieres, five North Amer­i­can pre­mieres, eleven Cana­dian pre­mieres, and nine Whistler pre­mieres. And with forty-six fea­ture films and forty-three shorts, it’ll be al­most im­pos­si­ble to see them all. Kick­ing off the five-day event on Wed­nes­day at 8 p.m. is the open­ing gala and Cana­dian pre­miere of Carol, a provoca­tive film about for­bid­den love set in the 1950s star­ring Cate Blanchett. It gar­nered a stand­ing ova­tion at Cannes and has been gain­ing crit­i­cal ac­claim for its con­tro­ver­sial story. The tough de­ci­sions come on Thurs­day, with the Western Cana­dian pre­miere of A Light Be­neath Their Feet, a com­ing-of-age in­die film star­ring Taryn Man­ning from Or­ange Is The New Black, the light com­edy Chas­ing Banksy, a se­ries of short films, a fea­ture on a taboo teen re­la­tion­ship, and the light-hearted The Colos­sal Fail­ure of the Mod­ern Re­la­tion­ship. Moun­tain cul­ture junkies will get their ski fix at Hokkaido Back­coun­try Project, and any­one look­ing for a spin on a mob­ster clas­sic will love Leg­end. Fri­day opens with a Na­tional Lam­poon-styled com­edy The Steps, and throttles on­ward with two sets of short films, in­clud­ing the fes­ti­val’s short­est one at three min­utes in length, and the thriller The Demons. Fans of Bri­tish films that delve into so­cial com­men­tary on mis­er­able hope­less­ness will love Blood Cells. Don’t miss the chance to see Kiefer Suther­land at 7 p.m. at his trib­ute, and then catch his film For­saken at 9 p.m. Twenty films air on Satur­day in ad­di­tion to the third se­ries of short films, a spot­light on Robert Car­lyle at 7 p.m., the R-Rated Party at the Longhorn that cel­e­brates the fes­ti­val’s fif­teenth an­niver­sary, and the four-hour mu­sic café at Garfinkel’s, fea­tur­ing a range of live mu­sic from soul to world-beat to acous­tic to art­fully in­no­va­tive cham­ber-pop. Sun­day rounds off the fes­ti­val with awards, the heart­ful doc­u­men­tary When Ele­phants Were Young, and the clos­ing gala of Numb, an ac­tion film about a trea­sure hunt in the Coast Moun­tains in the mid­dle of win­ter. Re­gard­less of the film(s) you see, you’re guar­an­teed to be swept away in a will­ing state of dis­be­lief for the en­tire fes­ti­val, and left count­ing down to next year. For tick­ets visit whistler­film­fes­ti­val.com.

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