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This L.A. mailman retired after 42 years. Hundreds showed up to his farewell party

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This L.A. mailman retired after 42 years. Hundreds showed up to his farewell party

There were 200 people on the back patio of Glassell Park’s Verdugo Bar, and John Ayala had a hug for all of them.

Wiping tears from his eyes as he slowly made his way through the intergenerational crowd, he recognized almost everyone in attendance — if not by name, then definitely by address.

For four decades, the 61-year-old Ayala delivered mail to their homes, and now he was finally retiring, to the great surprise of everyone, including himself. He’d been talking about it for years — working it into the many conversations he had each day with the friends he’d made along his mail route in the hills of Mount Washington, a small residential community in northeast Los Angeles.

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The folks at the retirement party were glad that he would finally get some well-deserved downtime, but they were also wistful. For them, Ayala’s departure represented the end of an era when mail delivery came with a side of conversation.

“He talked with everyone,” said Jonathan Sample, a graphic designer who grew up in Mount Washington and now lives there with two kids of his own. “He was a really unifying presence.”

At a time when just 26% of Americans say they know their neighbors, according to a recent Pew Research study, Ayala helped create a sense of community in Mount Washington, even if it was only through the shared experience of having an unexpectedly personal relationship with the local mailman with a gruff voice and a gregarious disposition.

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Over the years, Ayala would invite people from his route to the shows he played with his metal band Horns Up, and whether or not they liked the music, they‘d come out because they liked him. He would frequently talk about sports (especially the Dodgers and the Packers) and many on the hill knew he had two knee replacements — a result of a job that required him to hop in and out of a truck all day — because he would share updates on his recovery.

And when he started delivering reams of college marketing materials to families with high school seniors, he’d often inquire where the soon-to-be graduate was headed.

John Ayala (center) celebrates with friends at his retirement party.

Ayala, center, celebrates with friends at his retirement party at Glassell Park’s Verdugo Bar.

(Carlin Stiehl / For The Times)

“He’s amazing. He knows my kids — my daughter is 40 and my son is 37 — and they love him,” said John Amour, a Mount Washington resident who has known Ayala since the ’90s. “They’ve grown up with him. He remembers their name. He says, ‘How is Brianna?’”

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Because Ayala made daily visits to the homes on his route, he also knew who was on vacation, who was moving and who was having a medical crisis.

A few years ago, he was delivering mail to a man whose wife had been in the hospital. When Ayala asked “What’s up with Sandy?” the man shared that she had just passed away.

“I was the first one to see him after that and I just had to hug him,” Ayala said. They still text occasionally.

1 A good bye sign is out on USPS postal carrier John Ayala mailing route.

2 John Ayala delivers mail to a home.

3 Los Angeles resident Seonna Hong stops on the road to thank Ayala.

1. A goodbye sign is displayed on Ayala’s route during his final shift. 2. John Ayala delivers mail to a home. 3. Los Angeles resident Seonna Hong stops on the road to thank Ayala. (Ronaldo Bolaños / Los Angeles Times)

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“If people are sick, he’ll tell people in the neighborhood,” said Laura Lee, who has lived in Mount Washington for 40 years. “If I start wondering about someone I haven’t seen in a while, I’ll ask him, just to make sure they’re OK.”

For Ayala, connecting people with one another comes naturally.

“I’ll find out someone is a Red Sox fan and I’ll tell them, you know your neighbor Neil up the street is from Boston too. You guys should talk,” he said.

Ayala, who grew up in El Sereno and is married with two sons, has deep family roots in the United States Postal Service. His mother, Yolanda, worked for the agency for 39 years, as did each of her four brothers and a sister-in-law. Ayala’s uncle was the first Latino vice president of finance for the Postal Service in the 1990s.

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Ayala was an honors student at South Pasadena High School, but he wasn’t interested in college. Toward the end of his senior year, his mom saw a job opening at work and encouraged him to apply. He’s been working for the Postal Service since 1984 — even during the time his metal band Lace was selling out the Whiskey a Go Go and the Roxy in the mid ’80s.

A USPS themed cake for John Ayala's retirement party.

Neighbors made a USPS-themed cake for Ayala’s retirement party.

(Carlin Stiehl / For The Times)

“I always wanted to be a rock star, but I probably wouldn’t be alive today if we’d made it,” he said.

He started delivering mail in Mount Washington in 1987 and never looked back. He loved the people and taking a break by the Self-Realization Fellowship’s verdant headquarters to read the newspaper. “It’s a neighborhood I could never afford,” he said. “It’s like a different world.”

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Also, he said, “I never had to buy lemons. My customers always gave me lemons.”

The Postal Service changed his route once in 2008, but a few years later, he was able to return to Mount Washington. “I couldn’t wait to get back up there,” he said. “It was just like, oh man, I’m going to be in heaven again.”

After 42 years of service, Ayala’s pension couldn’t get any higher, so he decided to retire at the end of 2025. He could have retired in 2020, but as he wrote in a Facebook post in 2023, “I’m having too much fun.”

On a rainy day in December, Ayala maneuvered his truck one final time through Mount Washington’s narrow streets. Even as he emptied it of mail, it gradually filled up with gifts from his longtime customers — a bottle of vodka, a few bottles of wine, a six-pack of craft beer, homemade biscotti, a signed farewell poster, several thank you cards and a giant foam cheese hat from one of the many residents who knew he was a Packers fan.

A hand-drawn thank you card taped to a mailbox on Ayala's route.
A yard sign says "Rock on Mailman John"

Graphic designer Jonathan Sample made dozens of signs saying “Rock on Mailman John” for neighbors who wanted to send well wishes to Ayala on his last day.

(Ronaldo Bolaños / Los Angeles Times)

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And then there were the signs, stuck on stakes, posted on telephone poles, taped to mailboxes all over the hill.

Good Luck John! We’ll Miss You!

Mailman John!! Thank you!!

Rock on Mailman John! Enjoy Your Retirement. We Love You!

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Not everyone who made signs and delivered gifts knew each other, but they all knew Ayala.

Even after he retired, Ayala was still bringing the people of Mount Washington together. The farewell party at the Verdugo Bar was put together by a trio of neighbors who got to know each other because they all wanted to be involved in celebrating their beloved mailman. At the bar, residents who live on the same street finally got around to introducing themselves.

“See that group in the corner?” said Penny Jones, an artist who helped organize the party. “That’s the Glenalbyn contingent. They are just getting to know each other.”

Also among the many people who had come to wish Ayala a fond farewell? Alex Villasenor, the neighborhood’s UPS driver, wearing an Iron Maiden shirt in Ayala’s honor.

“I had to represent,” he said. “We always chat and clown around and block each other and honk at each other on the hill. He goes for the Raiders and I go for the Packers. I’ll be sad not to see him.”

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I was at the party, too — and not just to report this story, but because for the last 18 years, Ayala was my mailman. More than anyone else in my life — even my parents — he religiously read my stories in The Times, always commenting when I had a piece on the front page.

“Great story, Deb!” he’d yell from his truck after putting some real estate fliers in my mailbox. It always made my day.

Ayala (center) hugs a friend at his retirement party

Ayala has a hug for everyone at his party.

(Carlin Stiehl / For The Times)

Like everyone else, I’m going to miss him.

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A few months after his retirement, I called Ayala to see how he’s been doing. It’s been a difficult adjustment.

“I just miss everybody, “ he said. “It’s hard. You lost a friend. One person. I lost like 2,000 friends.”

Two hundred residents attended John Ayala's retirement party after 40 years with the USPS.

Two hundred residents attended John Ayala’s retirement party after 40 years with the USPS.

(Carlin Stiehl / For The Times)

He said sometimes in the middle of the night when he’s tossing and turning, he imagines traveling street by street, just thinking about everyone on his mail route.

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But he is committed to staying in touch. He still texts some of his friends about sports, and he’s planning to make a trip up the hill soon just to walk around and greet people.

Ayala may have stopped delivering the mail, but he’s not done delivering connection.

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You can’t fake this: ‘The Christophers’ is a witty film about forgery and friendship

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You can’t fake this: ‘The Christophers’ is a witty film about forgery and friendship

Michaela Coel and Ian McKellen star in The Christophers.

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Claudette Barius/NEON

After Steven Soderbergh’s terrific 2025 double bill of Presence and Black Bag, I almost wish that, purely for the sake of variety, I could say that his new movie, The Christophers, is a dud. But I can’t. It’s terrific, and it’s the latest confirmation that Soderbergh is working with a nimbleness that no other American director at the moment can match. You might have to go back to the workhorse days of the old Hollywood studio system for such a consistent abundance of quantity and quality.

The Christophers, which was written by Ed Solomon, is a spry and witty chamber comedy, most of it set in the ramshackle London townhouse of a famous painter, Julian Sklar, played by a superb Ian McKellen. Not long after the movie begins, Julian takes on a new assistant, Lori Butler, played by Michaela Coel. What he doesn’t know is that Lori is a skilled art restorer, and that she’s been hired to infiltrate his home by his two greedy grown-up children, played by James Corden and Jessica Gunning.

Lori’s mission is to find several of Julian’s unfinished paintings — all portraits of his former lover Christopher — and finish them in Julian’s style. The plan is that when Julian dies, perhaps someday soon, the forged Christophers will be discovered and sold for millions. Lori will get a third of the proceeds.

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Soderbergh has a deft way with heist and home-invasion movies, and The Christophers is, as you’d expect, full of twists and reversals. Lori has some moral qualms about taking on a forgery job, but she also has a personal gripe to settle with Julian that leads her to say yes. Also, she needs the money; as ever, Soderbergh is keenly attuned to his characters’ economic straits.

When she starts working at Julian’s townhouse, Lori mostly keeps her head down and pretends to know nothing about her boss or about art. But Julian can sense that his new assistant is more clever than she lets on.

We learn that Julian experienced a close brush with cancellation years ago, owing to some impolitic remarks he made about women artists. It’s one of many reasons his career has floundered in recent years — that, plus a general lack of inspiration and productivity.

McKellen has a sublime ability to combine gravitas with mischief, and he gives his strongest performance in years as this incorrigible old soul. I was reminded of his great Oscar-nominated turn in Gods and Monsters, as the Hollywood director James Whale, another queer artist in the twilight of a legendary career. But McKellen is matched, nuance for nuance, by Coel, an intensely magnetic screen presence whose work here is mesmerizing in its poise and restraint.

It’s no spoiler to note that Julian is too smart to be deceived by Lori for long, and once the truth begins to emerge, their battle of wits doesn’t just deepen; it turns inside out. Despite their differences — in race, gender, class, temperament and worldview — Julian and Lori are more alike than they realize, and what’s thrilling about The Christophers is the way it becomes a tart yet tender portrait of two kindred spirits.

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Julian, for all his bloviating, turns out to be a more empathetic listener than he appears, and Lori, for all her initial reserve, turns out to be Julian’s rhetorical and intellectual equal. In the movie’s best scene, Lori dissects the history of Julian’s entire Christophers project, balancing rigorous analysis of his materials and techniques with unsparing insight into what each painting reveals of his emotional state at the time.

McKellen and Coel make such splendid company that I’d have gladly watched them simply trade insults for two hours. But Soderbergh and Solomon have grander ambitions, and every scene of The Christophers is springloaded with ideas. They know that it’s never been harder for artists to make a living doing what they do; it’s no coincidence that both Julian and Lori rely on side hustles just to get by.

The filmmakers also know the absurdities of the fine-art world, where the price of a painting can fluctuate wildly according to the whims of the market. Soderbergh, not for the first time, seems to be commenting at least in part on the struggles of independent filmmaking. Not unlike the New York pro-sports milieu in High Flying Bird or the Florida male strip club in Magic Mike, the studios and galleries of The Christophers can feel analogous to the movie industry itself — a place where, against crushing odds, art somehow manages to find a way.

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L.A. Affairs: After getting dumped at 46 by a cheater, could I ever find love again?

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L.A. Affairs: After getting dumped at 46 by a cheater, could I ever find love again?

Editor’s note: A version of this story, performed by the author, won the L.A. Affairs Live storytelling event on April 3.

I am engaged. Which I didn’t think would ever happen.

In my 40s, I was in love with someone. We lived together and had been together for seven years. I thought that would be my last relationship. Then he broke up with me, and I was suddenly dumped at 46. I was terrified that would be my last relationship.

I don’t know if you’ve ever had the experience of being single in L.A. in your late 40s, but I don’t recommend it. None out of 10. All the thumbs down. It felt like missing the last helicopter out of ’Nam, as if I were running after couplehood as bombs went off around me and yelling, “Nnnnnooooooooooo!!” And I could add, “I know it’s not working out but don’t gggggooooooooo!!!” as I reached with all I had to not be left behind.

I felt I had to concede: “Well, die alone it is, then.”

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I know a relationship isn’t the answer to everything. But I felt so abandoned. It was scary, and I fell apart. My fall was cushioned by lots of Dominos and DoorDash. But still, I fell, and it hurt.

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Laura House performs at the first L.A. Affairs Live, a Los Angeles Times storytelling competition.

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Eventually, I put myself back together and tried again. I got on the apps. We all know the dating apps. That’s where you go on a website and make up a lot of lies to trick someone into loving you.

I had used them off and on for years and I always lied. Not even to misrepresent myself. I just didn’t know what to say. What did guys want to hear? What would catch their eye in a sexy little headline? I figured guys liked “Star Wars.” So for a long time, my sexy little headline was: “Han shot first.” I wasn’t entirely sure what it meant, but I have a cute, nerdy guy friend who says it. It seemed meaningful to him, so I gave it a shot. I might as well have written “Just love me!!!” I tried to cast a wide net.

But this time when I started dating, I decided to be honest and not out of any kind of virtue. Frankly, I felt too old and tired to find a game to play, and I recommend this for dating profiles. Before you sign up, give up. So, this time for my sexy little headline, I wrote: “Wordy, nerdy and kind of sturdy.” I put it all out there. Full disclosure. I will not walk on a beach with you, but I will play Scrabble. This is who I am. If I’m lying, I’m dying.

Not a lot of people responded, but one did.

We started messaging, had some calls and felt we might like each other. So we agreed to have dinner. It’s a seemingly simple thing to set up, but when I asked him where he wanted to eat, he was flummoxed. He said, “You pick the place. I don’t know where to go. I’m not good at plans. You make the plan. I can follow through with the plan, but I’m not a good planner!” Which is a weird red flag, right? I considered canceling. Then I considered the fact that my ex was great at making plans … to see other women while we were together.

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I thought maybe it was time for a non-planner.

We decided to meet at the Smoke House in Burbank. Brian is a jazz trumpet player and a little bit old-timey. So I figured he’d love this place. Plus, those cheesy garlic breadsticks are heaven.

I got really dressed up for our date. Normally, I dress like a drunk art teacher, but I didn’t know how many more first dates I had in me. (I know I said don’t try too hard on the profile and I stand by that.) To meet IRL, I had to make it count. Dating can be exhausting. I’m not much of a dresser-upper. I had friends help me and I did the whole thing: cute boots, skirt, cleavage, hair curl, face paint. All of it.

When I got to the restaurant, he was waiting at the host stand. We saw each other for the first time. The moment of truth. No one looks exactly like their pic. It’s always a bit better or worse. We gazed across the lobby at each other and shared smiles that suggested, “Sure. Why not?” Which is all you need. You don’t need fireworks or an angelic choir singing at first glance. You just want that gate arm to go up.

What happened next changed my life.

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We were shown to our table. Brian walked in front of me. A waiter, balancing a giant tray above his head, got between us. Then the waiter gets distracted. As I looked up, I saw the tray starting to tip toward me, and I thought, “Well, it’s not gonna fall. He’s a professional waiter. Nope! Here it comes!” The waiter’s tray fell, hit my chest, bounced off and crashed to the floor. Down came plates and cups and half-eaten shrimp scampi. Whoosh.

I stood there. Mortified. Everyone in the restaurant looked. Waiters rushed over asking if I was OK. I was stunned. I thought, “How did this happen? And why now and on my big date? And who doesn’t finish eating their shrimp scampi? There’s only four or five of them. And it’s delicious, and it costs $25.”

I mentally checked in with myself. I was a middle-aged lady on a date. That’s what we do. I thought, “Do you need a rain check or to reschedule? You were just attacked by appetizers.” I felt a little stunned, but nothing had gotten on me. I decided to stay and I made my way to the table where Brian was seated.

He looked across the table at me very sweetly, with kind eye contact, before asking, “Are you OK?” Just like on the dating profile, I wanted to be honest. I said, “Yes, that was very embarrassing and a weird shot of adrenaline. But yes, I’m OK.”

After a beat, he looked across the table at me. And very sweetly and with kind eye contact, he asked, “Can I laugh now?”

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Frankly, in all my years of dating, I never knew exactly what I had been looking for, but I knew in that moment I had found it. My Prince Smartass. A year later, he proposed to me at the dinner table on a family vacation. And we’ve been together ever since.

The author is a comedian, TV writer, storytelling teacher and the winner of the first L.A. Affairs Live storytelling competition, where she performed a version of this story on stage. She, Brian and their Chihuahua named Mouse live in Lake Balboa. She’s on Instagram: @imlaurahouse.

L.A. Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the L.A. area, and we want to hear your true story. We pay $400 for a published essay. Email LAAffairs@latimes.com. You can find submission guidelines here. You can find past columns here.

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Zohran Mamdani reflects on his first 100 days as NYC mayor, and what else is left to do : NPR’s Newsmakers

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Zohran Mamdani reflects on his first 100 days as NYC mayor, and what else is left to do : NPR’s Newsmakers

A shovel, hand weights and a construction hat now displayed in the foyer of New York City Hall are symbols of what Mayor Zohran Mamdani says are the “pothole politics” behind key achievements in his first 100 days in office. That’s where we started our conversation this week during a wide-ranging interview for NPR’s Newsmakers video podcast.

Sitting in the ornate Blue Room of City Hall underneath a portrait of Alexander Hamilton, a founding father who helped shape the nation, 34-year-old Mamdani ticked off all that he’s been able to get done on his list of promises to voters:

“On day eight, we delivered $1.2 billion to make universal child care a reality across our city.”

“We secured more than $30 million in settlements with bad landlords, [and] repaired more than 6069 apartments.”

“We were able to secure nearly $100,000 a day for workers and small businesses that had been exploited by mega-corporations and delivery apps.”

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“And we showed that the government can do all of these big transformative things while also doing the little things … filling in 102,000 potholes in that same length of time.”

“I share this with all of you, to give you a sense of where we are on what animated so many,” Mamdani said. “It shows people the very things they were told they would be wrong to believe in are in fact the ones that we can deliver on.”

Just after our interview there was another big win for the energetic young mayor. New York Governor Kathy Hochul announced she’s now backing a plan to tax the multi-million dollar homes of out-of-state residents. It’s money that will go toward paying down the $5.4 billion city budget shortfall.

Mamdani quickly turned to social media to tout the move.

“When I ran for mayor, I said I was going to tax the rich,” he tells the camera in a video post showing him standing in front of a $238 million penthouse.

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He leans in, knocks on the lens and says, “Well today, we’re taxing the rich.”

You can watch the Newsmakers interview with Mamdani above. Below are highlights from our conversation.

Mamdani says there’s a lot more to do

Following through on some of his other campaign promises has proven challenging for the mayor. He has promised to disband a police unit accused of heavy handed tactics with protesters, but has not yet done so. It is a key part of Mamdani’s police reform.

I asked where he stands on the issue now.

“I’m committed to disbanding the Strategic Response Group and decoupling our city’s response to protests versus threats of terrorism,” he said. “Part of what you’re seeing in our administration is that we want to deliver this in a manner that isn’t just checking a box, but in a manner that both upholds the sanctity of the First Amendment, the freedom of expression of protest, and also does so in a manner that keeps New Yorkers safe.”

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Overcoming Skepticism

There was a lot of doubt from the political establishment when Mamdani, a democratic socialist, swept into office on the promise of affordability.

He shared that message walking the streets of New York City and creating playful videos that talked economics through “halalflation” or poked fun at the focus on his youth with a promise to get older every year. Those are now a signature of his administration. He uses these videos to announce new plans from his administration or to mark major religious holidays important to New Yorkers such as Ramadan and Passover.

In office he’s been a pragmatist and some of his doubters are now key allies on some issues, including Democratic Governor Hochul, who is a partner in his push for universal childcare and now this new tax levied on the most wealthy part-time residents of New York City.

The proposed “pied-a-terre” tax got a sharp reaction from the president who accused the mayor of “destroying” the city in a Thursday post online.

Many Republicans continue to paint the mayor as a radical to be feared. He still faces bigoted attacks on his faith and ethnicity. I asked if he feels pressure to show his brand of democratic socialism works before the midterms this fall, knowing that those attacks are only going to ramp up.

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Mamdani said he doesn’t think about how Republicans try to characterize him.

“I think about the fact that the power of an ideology is judged in the worth of its delivery,” he said. “Because for a long time, Republicans have sought to describe themselves as being driven by the needs of working people, when in reality we’ve seen a chasm in what they’ve actually delivered for those people.”

The war in Iran speaks to a “broken kind of politics”

That chasm is most clear in his deep opposition to the U.S. war on Iran, he said.

“We’re talking about a federal administration that has spent close to $30 billion dollars killing thousands of people at a time when working class people across this country cannot afford the bare minimum,” he said. “And to be told that a city-run grocery store is implausible, but spending more than $500 million a day to kill people in Iran and Lebanon is not only plausible but necessary, it speaks to a broken kind of politics.”

He said that New Yorkers feel the effects of that war beyond their pocketbook.

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“At the core of any war is a dehumanization that takes place, and that dehumanization is not limited to any battlefield,” he said. “It extends into the lives of people across this country.”

He shared the story of a young Muslim woman he called after seeing the news that she had been thrown to the ground at a New York City subway stop.

“She told me that the first thing her attacker said to her before he attacked her was, ‘I wonder how many Iranians we killed today,’” he said. “That is what we are allowing to take hold in our politics.”

“He’s the President and I’m the Mayor” 

Mamdani captured the nation’s attention all over again when he met President Trump in November after he won the mayor’s office.

The president had referred to him as a “communist lunatic” and Mamdani had called the president a “fascist” and promised to “Trump-proof” New York City.

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Yet he appeared to charm the president, even as he smiled and said “yes” when he was asked if he still thinks Trump is a fascist.

“I think that one of the few things that we have in common is that we are both New Yorkers,” Mamdani said. “One part of being a New Yorker is both, to be honest and to be direct. And when I’m sitting with the president, we talk about places of potential collaboration … But we’re also very clear about places of disagreement.”

On his new life at Gracie Mansion

So what’s life like now that he’s moved from a one-bedroom in Queens to a literal mansion?

“You never realize how small your one-bedroom is until you try and move it into the larger bedroom that we have there,” he said.

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Mamdani hasn’t had time to really think about all that space he now has, because he spends most of his time at City Hall and around New York City. He tries to keep a semblance of his old life by getting around the city on foot, by bike or train.

“If you spend every single day driving around in a tinted window security detail, you will have a very specific view of the city,” he said. “You actually meet other New Yorkers and you break out of the bubble that so many have come to expect of politics, where politicians only seem to be spending time with other politicians or the people who donated to make them politicians.”

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