Lifestyle
After years in conflict zones, a war reporter reckons with a deadly cancer diagnosis
Rod Nordland looks at the Istanbul old city from Galata Tower on Nov. 20, 2016. Nordland was diagnosed with glioblastoma, a terminal brain cancer, in 2019.
Yasin Akgul/AFP via Getty Images
hide caption
toggle caption
Yasin Akgul/AFP via Getty Images
Rod Nordland looks at the Istanbul old city from Galata Tower on Nov. 20, 2016. Nordland was diagnosed with glioblastoma, a terminal brain cancer, in 2019.
Yasin Akgul/AFP via Getty Images
As a war correspondent for The New York Times, Newsweek and the Philadelphia Inquirer, Rod Nordland faced death many times over. He’s felt bullets whizzing by his head in Cambodia, and once escaped a hotel room in Sarajevo moments before a mortar attack reduced his bed to rubble.
But in 2019, Nordland confronted a different type of danger when he was diagnosed with glioblastoma, the most lethal form of brain tumor.
The median life expectancy for someone with glioblastoma is about 14 months. Less than 7% of people survive five years. Nordland says his time as a war corresponded helped prepare him for his cancer diagnosis.
“One of the most important things I learned as a war correspondent was … to stay calm and not lose control of your emotions,” he says. “And I think that’s been a really good lesson for dealing with cancer, too.”
Optimistic by nature, Nordland acknowledges that he’s already beaten the odds by living with glioblastoma for as long as he has. He’s actively engaged in treatment, but he also recognizes that there is no cure for his type of cancer.
“I had to face the reality that my death was within a fairly short timespan, highly probable,” he says. “That had never been the case before. And I think it made me a better person for that.”
Nordland writes about facing mortality from war and cancer in his new memoir, Waiting for the Monsoon.
Interview highlights
Waiting for the Monsoon, by Rod Nordland
Harper Collins
hide caption
toggle caption
Harper Collins
Waiting for the Monsoon, by Rod Nordland
Harper Collins
On his current treatments for glioblastoma
I’m doing a low-dose of chemo, and I’m also wearing a device on my head called an Optune. It’s a series of ceramic arrays that are kind of glued to my head after I shave it. And then they they emit electronic beams that are thought to fight tumors. … So every three days or so I have to shave my head bald and then reapply the arrays. And I have to make sure that the Optune machine is close to me. So it often means having somebody else carry it for me if I move it around or put it in a backpack or in the back of my wheelchair. So that’s a bit annoying and certainly restricts my movement a lot.
On the side effects of the treatments
I do use a wheelchair when I go out to appointments, to doctors appointments, just for safety’s sake. Because while I can walk with a cane sometimes without a cane, I’m very prone to falls and tripping because … when the doctor cut the tumor out, he also cut some nerves that provided sensation to my left side. So I have no sensation on my left, which causes a lot of mobility problems. It gives you what they call poor proprioception, which is a fancy word, meaning your brain’s knowledge of where your body is in space. And if your brain doesn’t know where your body parts are, you’re obviously very prone to falls, which, in my case, are bad for my head [and] can be fatal.
On being a war correspondent
When I began working as a war correspondent, I was still 20-something and still in many ways an adolescent. Like a lot of young people, I really didn’t believe in my own mortality. And I think that’s true of a lot of people who do that kind of work, because otherwise, who would do it? Who would jump out of an airplane into a parachute if they didn’t have some belief in their own immortality? So I lost that arrogance very profoundly when I was on a front line against my own rules in Cambodia, on the outskirts of a refugee camp where there was a nasty little internecine war going on between factions that ran the camp and lived off of the proceeds of the food and supplies they could steal. … I was standing shoulder to shoulder with one of these militiamen, and there were bullets whizzing over our heads. … And we just stood there like idiots. And one of those bullets hit the guy next to me and blew his brains out, quite literally.
… After that, I started doing it really differently. That taught me that I was, in fact, mortal, which is an important lesson that all young men should learn as soon as possible. And after that, I never went to the front lines anymore.
On the meaning of life
I asked everybody I met what the meaning of life was. I even asked Alexa. The answer was, to quote Eleanor Roosevelt, that “the purpose of life is to live life to the fullest and to enjoy everything about it.” That’s somewhat of a lame answer. But at one time I asked that question of a nurse and she turned it around on me and said, “What do you think the meaning of life is?” So I said, “Well, I’m sorry, I’m going to have to punt on that. But I think the meaning of life is, as Raymond Carver said, ‘to feel yourself beloved on this earth.’” And that was my answer then. And it’s my answer in the book too.
Sam Briger and Susan Nyakundi produced and edited this interview for broadcast. Bridget Bentz, Seth Kelley and Carmel Wroth adapted it for the web.
Lifestyle
We’re having a main character summer. Are you? : It’s Been a Minute
Lifestyle
Vintage-obsessed millennial parents are driving L.A.’s booming kids’ clothing resale market
Kids’ vintage clothing sales are experiencing a remarkable boom at in-person markets and online, where prices for clothes for little ones have shot up on websites including Depop and Poshmark. Millennial parents are looking to outfit their kids in the clothes and TV and film characters they loved (or coveted) when they were kids.
The result? There’s a new generation of kiddos hitting the playground looking incredibly cool. Take Amari Case, a SoCal toddler who spent a Sunday afternoon this spring ambling around a vintage market in a West Hollywood warehouse clad in baggy jeans and a ’90s-era tee emblazoned with the “Dragon Ball Z” character Son Goku.
When she wasn’t scribbling on a Lorax coloring sheet, she’d been cruising around the market with her dad, Aaron Munoz Case, snapping up new pieces destined to make her the flyest kid at the preschool playground.
Neil Wright, from left, Kristine Nite Scalzo and Brandon Rosenblatt, co-founders of Elemeno Kids Vintage Market.
Showing off Amari’s new vintage satin L.A. Raiders jacket and tiny teal Grant Hill Detroit Pistons jersey, Munoz Case, who was also impeccably dressed, noted that while Amari went through a phase at about 18 months where she wanted to dress herself, eventually she gave up and went back to letting her dripped-out dad dictate her wardrobe.
Munoz Case found Amari’s first vintage piece at the Rose Bowl Flea Market and got the bug, going back every month to pick up something to add to his little’s wardrobe.
Trendspotters and researchers say Munoz Case isn’t alone in his quest. The market for kids’ vintage clothing has heated up precipitously over the last few years, perhaps hitting a boiling point in January when an Eeyore romper from the ’90s sold for over $3,000 on EBay. (It was new with tags, but one without tags still went for almost a grand about a month later.)
The thirst for tiny throwbacks is so popular that first-ever, all-kids market Elemeno — named after the “L-M-N-O” bit of “The Alphabet Song” and where Amari was toddling and shopping — drew 17 vendors and over 2,000 attendees over a single weekend in March. (There are plans for another Elemeno Kids Vintage Market pop-up later this year in New York, as well as plans to bring the event back to L.A. sometime next year.)
1. Cameron Scalzo, wearing a vintage McDonald’s T-shirt from the ‘90s, and mom Kristine Nite Scalzo. 2. Cameron Scalzo rocks an Avirex jacket from the ‘90s.
Eye Speak Vintage’s Kristine Nite Scalzo, who co-organized the event and is opening an all-kids vintage store in Pasadena this month, says she fell under the kids vintage spell in 2020 when she was pregnant with her son. She’d always been a vintage shopper for herself, so she knew she wanted to pass the passion down to the next generation. She started filling up her son’s closet, and soon enough, she found herself selling her other finds out of a bodega in her garage.
She has a by-appointment space in Pasadena now, where she draws everyone from Rihanna’s stylist to out-of-town moms who make a point to stop by on their way to Disneyland. “The community around kids vintage has really skyrocketed on Instagram over the past six years,” Scalzo says. “We want to know who we’re buying from. We want to know that we’re doing good with buying secondhand. And it’s a hobby for people that can turn into a possible business on the side. Because knowing there’s a big group that’s interested in vintage kids clothes, you can always pass an item [your kid outgrows] to someone else or resell it.”
Scalzo says some parents are out digging through bins at the Goodwill Outlet looking for the perfect piece, while others are content to pay up for, say, a ’90s Simpsons T-shirt or a mini-size Harley-Davidson jacket. Scouring the racks at the Elemeno market, most pieces cost $15 to $40, though there were special pieces pulled to the side in some booths with price tags that could make a parent’s eyes pop. (Think $275 for a set of well-worn Spider-Man overalls from the ’00s or $150 for a pair of Cross Colours denim shorts from the ’90s.)
In kids and adult vintage alike, mint condition is highly valued. No matter the era in which they were raised, kids tend to be messy. They get strawberry juice on their shirts or scuff up the knees on their Bugle Boy jeans. Vintage kids clothes that look pristine are more expensive, and while plain kids clothes do sell, items with characters on them or cool prints tend to draw more attention and dollars.
Brandon Rosenblatt, another of the Elemeno organizers, says he’s had his eye on a specific kids “Back to the Future” shirt for some time, but notes that it typically sells for about $1,000. He’s partial to McKids clothes for his daughter, from McDonald’s short-lived kids clothing brand, noting that he’s even snagged her a vintage official McDonald’s-themed aloha shirt from Hawaii, something he says he’s never seen anywhere else.
1. Siblings Amora and Milo Castilo wear vintage cowboy hats, jackets and chaps. 2. Thalia Castilo and her kids Amora and Milo.
Other collectors, he says, might be a little less obscure, leaning into mainstream characters such as Strawberry Shortcake or from ’80s and ’90s properties including “The Land Before Time” and “Rugrats.”
“A lot of millennials are having kids — like everyone who’s in their 30s and 40s — and they all want to put their kids in the same IP they grew up in,” Rosenblatt says.
“It’s the thrill of the hunt that gets everyone so excited,” Scalzo says. “Once you find that perfect nostalgic piece, you’re like ‘Holy s—,’ and you just want to chase that feeling again and again.”
Mia De La Rosa, a reseller who was at the Elemeno market, says that like Scalzo, she started buying kids vintage clothes when she was pregnant with her daughter, Liv, who’s 6 now, very into everything on PBS Kids and has a closet full of thrifted vintage garb covered in characters such as D.W., the annoying little sister from the ’90s show “Arthur.”
Everything Liv wears is “completely her style,” De La Rosa says. “She dresses herself every day and she gets compliments on what she’s wearing at school all the time.”
Other vintage-wearing kids — and in particular younger ones — might simply be sporting what their parents like or might just like the look of the shirt even if they don’t know what it’s advertising. (An 8-year-old boy at the Elemeno market, for instance, chose to wear a pristine T-shirt highlighting the ’90s Jim Carrey movie “The Mask” because it featured his favorite color: green.)
Derrick Broaster, a vintage enthusiast turned full-time reseller, says that while he chooses to put himself in clothes from the ’60s and ’70s, he outfits his two sons in clothes from the 2000s. (“How Bow Wow used to dress when he was a kid,” he says.)
Although his younger son tends to rebel against Broaster’s vintage picks, opting for whatever Spider-Man shoes happen to be in his eyeline, his older son has leaned in, letting his dad advise him on what vintage pieces could work and what would be the most stylish.
1. Julian, left, and Javier Gutierrez show off their vintage clothing. Javier says his mom always tells him to keep his vintage outfits clean. 2. Mom Priscilla Guzman, clockwise, Dad Javier Gutierrez and sons Julian and Javier Gutierrez enjoy the vibe of vintage clothing. Guzman says she’s been buying and selling kids’ vintage since her oldest son was born eight years ago.
Rosenblatt says a good portion of what vintage finds he sees in the market now has returned to the U.S. from places in Central America and South America or Asia where those pieces were likely sent decades ago after they were donated or given away.
“There’s a real underbelly of this vintage game with rag houses getting access to bulk product overseas and letting people sort through it,” he says. “There are companies now that rip through 20, 30 or 40,000 pieces of vintage clothing a week. It’s a really interesting ecosystem.”
For many kids vintage sellers, finding their stock is just as fun and interesting as getting it back into consumers’ hands. “Anywhere we can find clothes, we’re there,” says Matthew Carlos, owner of Long Gone Youth. He started selling vintage clothes 11 years ago, when he was 15, switched to kids vintage at 20 and has spent the last six years scouring flea markets, websites and swap meets.
“The kids market is definitely growing,” he says, “but I still feel like we haven’t even gotten close to where we can go. It’s just getting popular now, but the more events [like Elemeno] we can do, the more it’ll go mainstream.” Even now, some major brands like Gap and OshKosh B’gosh have recognized the interest in some of their styles from the ’80s and ’90s, moving to re-release the looks in limited runs.
Jackie and Frank Oropeza with daughter Rumi Mae shop at Elemeno Kids Vintage Market.
Kids resale is also leaning into streetwear culture. Rosenblatt, who worked in the streetwear industry, says that he’s noticed that a good portion of those interested in kids vintage — particularly, male shoppers — tend to be fans of streetwear brands like Supreme, Fear of God Essentials and Bape. At Elemeno, for instance, a good portion of the parents we saw pushing strollers were well-dressed dads seemingly on solo missions, something you don’t always see at kid-centric events.
“I just want my son to feel like I did as a kid,” said Justin Nguyen, while watching his toddler, Jayden, play with bubbles. “I want him to be happy, carefree and joyful, and I want to be able to spend time with him. My mom and dad were always working, even on the weekends. Now that I’m a dad, taking my son out on weekends to do stuff like this just seems like a blessing.”
Lifestyle
‘Hellions’ author Julia Elliott wins $150K fiction prize
Author Julia Elliott won for her short story collection Hellions.
Forrest Clonts/Tin House
hide caption
toggle caption
Forrest Clonts/Tin House
Writer Julia Elliott has won this year’s Carol Shields Prize for Fiction for her short story collection Hellions. The award honors work by women and nonbinary authors in the U.S. and Canada.
Elliott, who also authored the novel The New and Improved Romie Futch and the short story collection The Wilds, is known for blending elements of Southern gothic horror, surrealism and fairy tale. Hellions, published in 2025, includes stories set against backdrops like a plague-stricken medieval convent, a feminist art colony, and small Southern towns.
“This eerie, eclectic, genre-leaping collection takes no half-measures; every sentence of Hellions crackles or crawls,” wrote the prize jury in a statement. “Here, human folly moves against a backdrop of horror and magic … But for all its wildness, there is tremendous control.”
The prize, named after a Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist, awards $150,000 to one winner each year. Novels, short story collections, and graphic novels by women and nonbinary authors are eligible.
This year’s finalists included Quiara Alegría Hudes (The White Hot), Lee Lai (Cannon), Megha Majumdar (A Guardian and a Thief), and Sonya Walger (Lion). They will each receive $12,500.
The Carol Shields Prize went to writer Canisia Lubrin in 2025.
You can listen to actor Donna Lynne Champlin read Elliott’s story “Hellion” on the Death, Sex & Money podcast here.
-
Wyoming4 minutes agoWyoming Town Rivalries – Feuds & Hate
-
Crypto7 minutes agoCryptocurrency is money, rules South African court – African Law & Business
-
Finance12 minutes agoHow can I illustrate our financial position to a spouse who shows little interest?
-
Fitness19 minutes agoFitness coach debunks 8 ‘crazy’ exercise myths women still believe: From periods and workouts to weightlifting
-
Movie Reviews27 minutes agoMovie Review: ‘Sacred Heart: His Reign Has No End’ – Catholic Review
-
World37 minutes agoVideo: A Death at the Epicenter of Ebola
-
News42 minutes agoMap: 5.1-Magnitude Earthquake Strikes off the Coast of California
-
Politics49 minutes agoVideo: Steve Hilton Holds Slim Early Lead in California Governor’s Race