Lifestyle
How Covid Changed the Lives of These 29 Americans
Five years ago, Covid took hold and the world transformed almost overnight. As routines and rituals evaporated, often replaced by grief, fear and isolation, many of us wondered: When will things go back to normal? Could they ever?
Today, for many, the coronavirus pandemic seems far away and foggy, while for others it’s as visceral as yesterday. We asked Americans what changes forged in that upheaval have lasted, and hundreds of you detailed the ways your lives assumed a different shape — for better and for worse.
Here are some stories of those enduring changes. Interviews have been edited and condensed for clarity.
Donna Sintic,
72, Santa Monica, Calif.
It totally changed my perspective on holidays which I had controlled for too many years. Suddenly it was okay to eat pizza on the patio — spaced six feet apart — on Thanksgiving. My new resolution was to relinquish control and just let holidays be about gathering family and counting blessings.
Asher Steinberg,
33, New York City
Life is mostly back to normal for me, but my partner and I still test if we have respiratory symptoms, and generally ask our family to as well. I still feel some uncertainty about what the right decisions are — Should I put on a mask on this crowded subway car? Is that person just coughing because of allergies or should I move a couple seats over?
Antoine Carter,
39, Milwaukee He lost his stepdad and an aunt to Covid in 2020.
It restructured our family dynamic, and I needed to step up and fill new roles. Then George Floyd happened, and it gave me courage to stand up for myself, and ask for what I deserved at my job. I went back to school in 2021 and finished my bachelor’s degree online. It forced me to think, and figure out what was next, and who the next me was.
Carolina Acosta-Alzuru,
66, Athens, Ga.
Before the pandemic I had only one houseplant. Today I have more than 30. I still work a lot. I still wake up at 5 a.m. But now I meditate and take care of my plants before I do anything else.
Sarah Kelly,
35, Winston-Salem, N.C. She was finishing graduate school at the time.
My fellowship ended with no direction forward, I lost my temporary housing and didn’t qualify for unemployment as a student. With little savings, I moved back to my hometown for family and community support. I live a much smaller life now, in a town with no opportunities in my field. The upside to it all? I have a beautiful 5-month-old baby girl, who has brought me more joy than I knew was possible.
Miguel Guzman,
56, San Antonio He nearly died after getting Covid in late 2020.
The most important thing is being grateful to be alive, just being able to do the things that we love to do, to play mariachi music. Being in that dire situation, that’s the only thing that I wanted. I was thinking about my family — how they were going to manage if I didn’t live. But I’m still here.
Michelle Jaggi,
43, Erie, Pa.
Masks became so divisive, and I didn’t expect that. A lot of the concrete connections with people are eroded when you’re not participating in the typical activities, when going out to lunch is replaced by texts and calls. It leads to hurt feelings on both sides. I have friends who have said, “Things don’t have to be this way,” but my family feels, for our safety, that it does need to be this way. Those friendships have changed.
Lynn Truong,
36, Las Vegas
My favorite thing I learned was how to love and appreciate my face with no makeup on. Pre-pandemic, I would put on makeup just to check the mail.
Kesha Coward,
47, Richmond, Va. She has multiple sclerosis, and lost her job in April 2022.
I had never been unemployed and I had to lean on my savings. I have M.S., and I didn’t have health insurance for about a year, so I didn’t have my medication. I was able to find a new job, with insurance, but I could not work remotely. I did get Covid, and it impacted my health — I have had a heart monitor installed. I was really going through it, and I had to push myself. I told myself, this can’t be the end of everything.
James P. Burns,
72, New York City
My wife and I had always wanted a dog, but had hesitated because of time constraints. But with the uncertain future, a dog made perfect sense. Kiki will be 5 in April.
Constance Kreemer,
75, Santa Cruz, Calif. She is a professional dancer and has taught yoga for decades.
I believe my body is my temple. I became a pariah during the pandemic because I wasn’t willing to be vaccinated. I had friends who wouldn’t hug me or get in a car with me. I had people tell me I must be a Republican, when I am very, very liberal. There was so much fear instilled in everyone. The lasting change for me was to know who my people were.
Rosanne Zoccoli,
72, New York City
I do wish that more investment be made into this type of long Covid. It is, incorrectly, not considered dangerous. But I can’t smell gas or smoke.
Paige Woodard,
21, Northampton, Mass.
It was the most drastic weight gain I had ever had in my life. And I think I didn’t notice it for a while, in part because I was living in, like, sweatpants and pajama pants, and I didn’t really have to go anywhere. And that weight has stayed on.
Jacqueline Child,
30, Denver She started a dating app with her sister for disabled and chronically ill people.
I was not outspoken about my disability, and now, interacting with this community every day, I have really normalized it for myself. I think for many non-disabled people, there’s a view that disability and intimacy don’t go together. That is something we want to change.
Sydney Drell Reiner,
67, Hermosa Beach, Calif. She was married for 27 years.
“You look so much happier,” friends tell me now that we’re separated and finalizing the divorce. But what I think they’re really seeing is me — the person I used to be before this marriage. The person who made choices based on what I wanted, rather than what I believed was required of me. Covid stripped away the distractions and revealed a truth I’d been avoiding. And for that, strangely enough, I am endlessly grateful.
Tarit Tanjasiri,
61, Irvine, Calif. His cafe and bakery had 70 employees in 2020.
We were able to leverage our relationship with our vendors and at least keep our employees fed. I know that they were there at the hardest times volunteering to come and clean the bakery for free. We’re able to now really make more investments to offer everyone health insurance, retirement plans.
Michele Rabkin,
61, Oakland, Calif.
Trying to keep our spirits up, me, my husband and a few friends decided we would get together on Zoom to chat, then go watch a movie and come back on Zoom afterwards to talk about it. We’ve watched 175 movies together so far.
Shawn’te C.R. Harvell,
42, Elizabeth, N.J. He is a funeral home manager.
I wasn’t getting much sleep because we were so busy, and that was the first time I questioned my career choice. Everything changed with how we culturally referenced and dealt with our dead, to the point where we were going to the cemetery and it was just the funeral director and the deceased. You had to FaceTime the family. I did not get into this to just be picking up a body to dispose of it. It changed the way we do funerals now.
Charles Huang,
22, Rosemount, Minn. He has not gotten Covid and continues to mask.
The isolation I still feel is painful. When I’m in a crowded elevator or on a fully booked flight, I try to act calm, but my mind frantically fixates on the possibility of contracting Covid, and puzzles over why post-pandemic life never came for me the same way it came for what looks like nearly everyone else.
Cindy Way,
67, State College, Pa.
When my evangelical church closed, I felt a spiritual urge to explore other traditions. I began to question everything I had been told, and went into a spiritual freefall from which I haven’t fully recovered. I saw my lifelong Republican views flip as well. I no longer felt threatened by those outside my bubble and began to attend an affirming church and support the rights of all the disenfranchised. It’s still very painful to acknowledge the pain and damage I may have caused others.
Carolyn Thomas,
60, Strasburg, Va.
My employer insisted that we get Covid shots or file for exemptions that, if approved, would lead to regular testing. I wouldn’t get the shots or tests, and so I had to retire early and give up my high salary for a lower pension than I’d expected. I’d voted for Democrats my entire life, and in 2024 I voted for Trump.
Malik Shelton,
33, Augusta, Ga.
A lot of nurses would tell you, in some ways, we miss Covid — the way people treated you then. The country was going through a hard time, and everyone was being hit, so you didn’t have so many situations with nurses being called names, or patients saying they don’t want anyone with an accent. Those things, now? They happen every day.
Kevin Nincehelser,
37, Topeka, Kan. He and his wife had two more children during the pandemic.
I have been close to them their whole lives because Covid allowed me to work from home and better assist with childcare. My wife and I converted our kids from public school to home-school. We now have all our groceries delivered. I am also a business owner and converted our business from 100 percent in the office to 100 percent work from home.
Dr. Mark Hamed,
45, Sandusky, Mich. He is a local public health official.
It taught me to get out of my silo and listen to people with different opinions, different politics and let them educate me. I met with these little old ladies, as they explained their fears about vaccines and autism. They were so scared for their grandchildren. And after that conversation, they were hugging me, texting me. This community is all about family, so now I tell them, “We should probably get the flu vaccine, because we care about our older folks.” They all mean well, there is just so much misinformation.
Talia Falkenberg,
22, Atlanta Her high school was still remote when she returned for her senior year in the fall of 2020.
There were a lot of firsts I was missing out on. My peers and I were so focused on our own futures, and it made us zoom out and focus on the big picture. I don’t sweat the small stuff anymore, and I don’t feel as angry. I give a little more grace, now, to the administrators who made that decision.
Judith Liskin-Gasparro,
78, Iowa City
An informal Yiddish study group started up over Zoom. Although Yiddish was the native language of all of my (immigrant) grandparents, I had learned no Yiddish as a child. I thought the group might be a nice distraction. To my surprise, I fell in love with Yiddish.
Stephanie Woerfel,
72, Everett, Wash.
My sister and I were avid pool swimmers. We live 10 minutes away from Puget Sound. One day we saw a woman in a bikini coming out of the water onto the beach. The next week my sister and I took the plunge. We swim twice a week in the Sound rain or shine, snow or wind.
Asia Santos,
39, San Diego She volunteered to travel as a nurse to New York City in April 2020.
You were faced with these huge questions every day: What is a good death? What is a bad death? My thing was, no one is allowed to die alone. It was the only way I could get up the next day. You can make trauma work negatively for you, or positively.
Mei Davis,
60, Pensacola, Fla. She has not fully regained her sense of taste and smell after getting Covid in 2021.
Life almost becomes muted. I lived to travel, and the first thing I always did was look up the best restaurant wherever I was. I still do that, because you don’t want to give up on these things, and you hope someday they might come sliding back.
Lifestyle
President Trump to add his own name to the Kennedy Center
President Donald Trump stands in the presidential box as he visits the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washington, D.C, on March 17, 2025.
Jim Watson/AFP via Getty Images
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Jim Watson/AFP via Getty Images
The John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts will now have a new name — the “Trump-Kennedy Center.” White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt announced the news on social media Thursday, saying that the board of the center voted unanimously for the change, “Because of the unbelievable work President Trump has done over the last year in saving the building.”
Shortly after the announcement, Ohio Democrat Rep. Joyce Beatty, an ex-officio member of the board, refuted the claim that it was a unanimous vote. “Each time I tried to speak, I was muted,” she said in a video posted to social media. “Participants were not allowed to voice their concern.”
When asked about the call, Roma Daravi, vice president of public relations at the Kennedy Center, sent a statement reiterating the vote was unanimous: “The new Trump Kennedy Center reflects the unequivocal bipartisan support for America’s cultural center for generations to come.”
Other Democrats in Congress who are ex-officio members of the Kennedy Center Board, including Sen. Chuck Schumer and Rep. Hakeem Jeffries issued a statement stating that the president is renaming the institution “without legal authority.”
“Federal law established the Center as a memorial to President Kennedy and prohibits changing its name without Congressional action,” the statement reads.


Earlier this year, Trump installed himself as the chairman of the center, firing former president Deborah Rutter and ousting the previous board chair David Rubenstein, along with board members appointed by President Biden. He then appointed a new board, including second lady Usha Vance, White House Chief of Staff Susie Wiles, Fox News host Laura Ingraham and more.

Trump hinted at the name change earlier this month, when he took questions before becoming the first president to host the Kennedy Center Honors. He deferred to the board when asked directly about changing the name but said “we are saving the Kennedy Center.”

The president was mostly hands off with the Kennedy Center during his first term, as most presidents have been. But he’s taking a special interest in it in his second term, touring the center and promising to weed out programming he doesn’t approve of. His “One Big Beautiful Bill” included $257 million for the building’s repairs and maintenance.
Originally, it was called The National Cultural Center. In 1964, two months after President Kennedy was assassinated, President Lyndon Johnson signed legislation authorizing funds to build what would become the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts.
Lifestyle
How one L.A. immigrant’s quest spawned generations of Christmas tree sellers
It’s mid-November, a full week before Thanksgiving, and the progeny of Francisco Robles, a Mexican immigrant who peddled watermelons in East L.A., have converged in West Covina to commemorate the 76th year of the family’s seasonal business: selling fresh Christmas trees around L.A. from the forests of the Pacific Northwest.
Francisco and his wife, Lucia, left Mexico for a better life in the early 1900s, so it’s hard to imagine what they would make of their thoroughly Americanized descendants today. One of them is looking for a place to plug in her electric car; another is zipping around the large lot on a motorized scooter; and a third is carrying a large, elaborately framed photo of their mother, “the Queen of our hearts,” who died on Mother’s Day, so she can be part of the family photo commemorating the 2025 tree season.
The Robles’ 76-year-old grandson, Louis Jr., is keeping track of today’s Christmas tree delivery from a folding chair, wearing horn-rim glasses, slacks and a white, open-neck dress shirt. But most of his family — his three adult children, their spouses and a few of his grandchildren — are casually dressed in red “Robles Christmas Trees”-themed sweatshirts or holiday leggings, laughing and posing for cellphone photos under a huge red-and-white striped tent in the parking lot of the bustling Plaza West Covina mall.
Louis Robles Jr., 76, right, listens as his children go over an inventory list of Christmas trees delivered to his son Gabriel Robles’ lot at Plaza West Covina on Nov. 19. Gabriel stands at his father’s left, beside his wife Kathy Robles. His sister, Lorraine Robles-Acosta, far left, looks over paperwork about the trees that will next be delivered to her lot in Montebello.
All the pumpkin patch trimmings from October have been put away — the petting zoo, towering inflatable slides, Cyglos and other rides — and now the family is setting up Christmas decor and stands for the trees that will soon be delivered.
It’s a far cry from the dusty streets where Francisco Robles sold his watermelons from a truck more than a century ago. By the end of this day, the massive 53-foot-truck will have delivered its icy bundles of Nordmann, noble and silvertip firs — what Louis Jr. calls “the Cadillac of Christmas trees” — to all three of their lots in Eagle Rock, Plaza West Covina and the Montebello mall.
The Robles family is eager to get the Christmas tree lots going. Sales were slower than usual at their pumpkin patches this year, a slump they blame on Immigration and Customs Enforcement raid concerns among their large Latino customer base.
Antonio Villatoro, left, closes a hatch after moving trees, while Javier Vasquez, looks on at Robles Christmas Trees run by Gabriel Robles at Plaza West Covina.
The Robles family adds festive decor and places for photos to their Christmas tree lots such as this wall at Gabriel Robles’ business at Plaza West Covina.
Members of the Robles family talk carefully about ICE and immigration. They are business people and deeply religious — Louis Jr. is an assistant pastor at the Living Word Apostalic Church in El Monte, where they attended as a family for years — and they want to keep their politics private.
“But we are not fearful,” said Gabriel Robles. “We’ve lived here all our lives, born and raised here, and we’ve been through so much. I believe this ICE issue is another moment in time. It will pass like COVID happened and passed, and we can stand whatever they throw at us. Los Angeles is a melting pot of immigrants. We’re all unified together, no matter who is in office, and you can’t get rid of us. We are the fabric of L.A.”
Getting the family together in mid-November is unusual because, from October through December, the Robleses are juggling the family business with their other jobs: Gabriel Robles, operator of the Robles Pumpkin Festival and Christmas Trees in West Covina, is an insurance broker; his wife, Kathy, is a homemaker who manages their books. Gabriel’s older sister, Lisa Nassar, operator of Cougar Mountain Pumpkin and Christmas Trees in Eagle Rock, does security screenings at Disneyland (“I keep Tinker Bell safe,” she says, laughing). Her husband, Sam Nassar, is a counselor at Mt. San Antonio College. Lorraine Robles-Acosta is a massage therapist who does lots of work for her church; her husband, Joseph Acosta, is a drug and alcohol counselor. Together, they run the Robles Pumpkin Patch and Christmas Tree Farm in Montebello.
It’s a grueling schedule, but they cling to Louis Jr.’s motto — “We’ll sleep in January” — because this business is in their blood. Not all of the younger generation of Robleses is as gung-ho about the family business as their parents are. But Gabriel and Kathy’s sons, Roman, 21, and Mason, 19, are already devising plans to improve the family’s presence on social media, and the couple’s art-loving daughter Loren, 15, set up the acrylic paints for pumpkin painting.
The Robles family’s late matriarch, Madalene Robles, smiles from a portrait held by her husband, Louis Jr., so she can be part of the family photos commemorating the start of the 2025 Christmas tree season on Nov. 19 at their son, Gabriel Robles’ lot in West Covina. Madalene Robles died on her birthday, May 11, which also happened to be Mother’s Day, her favorite holiday.
Louis Jr.’s children, Lisa, Stephen, Gabriel and Lorraine, played among the trees in their father’s tree lots, first in Monrovia in 1973, Louis Jr. says, then in Rosemead and Pico Rivera. Louis Jr. purchased a small trailer with a tiny space heater to sit on the lot so the kids could eat and rest there while he and his wife sold trees.
“That trailer was so cold at night,” said Lisa, shivering with the memory.
In those early years, when Louis Jr. worked all day at a produce warehouse with his dad before spending his evenings at his Christmas tree lot, he and Madalene used the tree money to create magical Christmases for their children.
“I remember waking up to mountains of presents under the Robles’ tree,” Lorraine said dreamily, “and Mom wrapped every single gift.”
When they were older, Lorraine and her siblings helped set up and sell the trees. They’d chase after the few scalawags who tried to steal them, and ultimately they lobbied Louis Jr. to let them have their own lots, which over time expanded from selling a few pumpkins on straw before Halloween to big pumpkin patch extravaganzas with petting zoos, art activities, inflatables and rides. (Stephen, who lives in San Diego, stepped away from the seasonal business.)
The Robles family considers silvertip firs, with their sturdy open branches and graceful form, to be the Cadillac of Christmas trees, said Gabriel Robles. They used to be plentiful, but they’re harder to find these days, he said, because they require altitude and cold to thrive.
Inflatables like bounce houses and giant slides were Gabriel’s innovation, and so popular he insisted on adding them to his Christmas tree lot too. His dad warned against the idea, but Gabriel said he was determined. He set them up at his lot and they did well for a few days. But then it rained, and his father’s logic became apparent. The inflatables never dried, Gabriel said, and the cold and mud made them even less appealing to visitors. “I still have customers to this day who say, ‘Please put the inflatables out again,’ but they don’t understand they take forever to dry.”
The Robles family is dismissive about big-box competitors (“They’ll never replace the tradition and environment you get at our lots,” said Lisa), and they collectively hiss at the mention of artificial trees.
“My dad has been worried that artificial trees get nicer and nicer, but it hasn’t really changed our sales,” Gabriel said. “The No. 1 reason people come to our lots is the fragrance. They want that fresh pine smell throughout their home, and fake sprays don’t cut it.”
Worker Jonathan Tovar, foreground, who helps with general operations, and Roman Robles, 21, background, whose father Gabriel Robles runs the lot, arrange trees while inventory is being unloaded.
The Robles family hand-select their trees every year from the farms in the Pacific Northwest. (The names of the farms are secret to keep competitors away, Gabriel said.) After the trees are delivered, the family sprays them with water every night and keeps them shaded from the sun so they don’t dry out. “That’s the secret of our success,” Gabriel said.
Louis Jr. said the biggest part of his family’s success has been adding fresh ideas to expand the business that come from each passing generation, starting with his dad, Louis.
Francisco and Lucia Robles and their five L.A.-born children lived on Brooklyn Avenue in East L.A. All three of their sons went to war for the United States, and two never came home, one lost in World War II and the other in the Korean War. Their third son, Louis Robles, served in WWII, right out of high school. He entered the Army’s 101st Airborne Division and earned a Purple Heart as one of the paratroopers who, at age 20, dropped into German-occupied France on D-day, June 6, 1944.
Paratrooper and produce wholesaler Louis Robles Sr. supplemented his income in 1949 by selling Christmas trees in L.A. In this family photo from 1955, Robles, then 31, pauses by his Robles Produce truck preparing to drive a load of fir trees from snowy Washington to his lot in Lincoln Heights. The boy at left is unindentified.
When he returned from the war, Louis joined his father selling produce, but he had bigger ideas, Louis Jr. said of his dad. He didn’t want to sell from a truck; instead, he went into the wholesale business, selling watermelons and oranges from a stall at the old Central Wholesale Produce Market at 8th Street and Central Avenue in downtown L.A. He married Elena Ramirez, who helped at the warehouse, keeping the books, and they had four children: three girls — Gail, Priscilla, Denise — and a boy, Louis Jr.
Then, in 1949, the same year his son was born, Louis Robles had another idea: Watermelon sales slowed in the winter. Oranges were plentiful year-round, but he needed another crop that could fill the income gap. He noticed how people went to the railyard in December and bought Christmas trees off boxcars, so fresh they still had ice clinging to their branches. Packing them in snow was how trees were kept fresh during transport from the Pacific Northwest.
Inspired by this, Louis Sr. found a vacant lot in Lincoln Heights and started selling Christmas trees. Being the innovator he was, he didn’t want to rely on other people’s choices for his trees. So he researched tree farms in the Pacific Northwest and visited them himself, selecting his own trees and, for a while, even driving his warehouse’s Robles Produce truck up north to transport them himself.
Lisa Nassar helps unload small Christmas trees at her brother Gabriel Robles’ Christmas tree lot at Plaza West Covina on Nov. 19. The 53-foot-long truck filled with trees from the Pacific Northwest stopped at Nassar’s lot first in Eagle Rock that morning, and would continue on to their sister Lorraine Robles-Acosta’s lot in Montebello.
Eventually, Louis Sr. bought his own produce warehouse, and Louis Jr., always a helper after school and on weekends, joined the business right after graduation. The younger Robles married his high school sweetheart, Madalene Maldonado on Jan. 4, 1969 — after the busy holiday season, of course — and they immediately started a family. Although she helped at the warehouse, Madalene’s main interest “was being a homemaker; raising her children and being a good wife,” Louis Jr. said.
Louis Sr. was considered by his family to be a taskmaster. He was generous about giving out jobs, but he didn’t tolerate people standing around at work. Laughing, Lisa said anytime you saw him coming, you grabbed a broom and started sweeping. “I still carry that mentality — there’s always something to do, even if it’s just pushing a broom,” she said.
Louis Sr. instilled that work ethic in all of his family growing up. “Grandfather was the first one out on the floor, always working and moving, and he took people up with him,” Gabriel said. “He really believed if he succeeded, you were going to succeed. It wasn’t about a handout, it was a hand up.”
Workers unloaded trees at Robles Christmas Trees run by Gabriel Robles.
Louis Sr. was well-respected by his creditors and so beloved by his employees that they insisted on filling his grave themselves after his sudden death in 1984. But the senior Robles never attended any of his son’s games in high school, Louis Jr. said, and he missed many family activities because of work.
“That was his blind spot. He always put business first,” Louis Jr. said. “I decided I wanted a balance — I would take care of business but I would also take time to go to my children’s games.”
Louis Sr. was such a force of nature, no one was prepared when he fell in December 1984. Because this was the family’s busy season, he insisted on working despite a bad cold that turned into walking pneumonia, Louis Jr. said. He told his family he would rest in January.
He almost made it. Shortly before Christmas Louis Robles had a stroke, then a heart attack and, on Dec. 27, at age 60, he died.
Gabriel Robles, right, consults with his father, Louis Robles Jr., while Gabriel’s son Mason, left, checks his phone during the first delivery of this year’s Christmas trees at his West Covina lot.
Louis Sr.’s death, so unexpected, required Louis Jr. to take over the business himself, but it also cemented his vow to put God and family first. “I remember playing in the all-stars game in baseball and looking for my dad, and he wasn’t there, and I thought, ‘I’m not going to do that to my kids,’” he said.
Gabriel laughed, saying: “My dad was so much into my basketball games, I got kind of embarrassed.”
Eventually, the watermelon and produce business became too competitive, and Louis Jr. sold the warehouse around 2012. By then, Robles Produce was debt-free, he said. His children were working, getting married and established in their own homes, and he’d been ordained as a pastor in 1999 and was deeply involved in his church. But the family pumpkin patch and Christmas tree business remained a constant.
“It does get in your blood,” said Lorraine’s husband, Joseph, with a laugh. “I got my blood transfusion when I married my wife.”
Today, Louis Jr. acts as an advisor and consultant to his children’s three pumpkin patches and Christmas tree lots. They meet to discuss pricing and inventory, but the siblings run their own lots with each a little different from the other. There are disagreements, of course, Gabriel said, “but in the end, the thing that makes us so successful is we’re united — if someone goes against us, we’re a united front.”
Louis Robles, 76, center, of El Monte, poses with three generations of his family: son Gabriel Robles, of Fontana, far left, with his daughter Loren, 15, wife Kathy, and two sons sitting up top, Mason 19, left, and Roman, 21, Louis’ daughters Lisa Nassar, of Upland, right, Lorraine Robles-Acosta, of Pomona, and Lorraine’s husband Joseph Acosta, far right, at Robles Christmas Trees in West Covina. Gabriel’s sons say they are eager to continue the family business. “I’ve been bitten by the bug,” said Mason.
It’s not clear how many of Louis Sr.’s seven great-grandchildren will continue the family business, but Gabriel’s sons, Roman and Mason, say they’re on board. Both have opted to skip college for a hands-on business course, soaking up whatever they can from their father and grandfather.
“Our great-great-grandfather started with nothing, and now we have this. And every generation we’ve built it higher,” Mason said.
“Not many kids my age are blessed to have a family business to learn from,” said Roman. “I want to do something more with my life than just showing up.”
Lifestyle
Kumail Nanjiani opens up on his regrets, critical failures and embracing fear : Wild Card with Rachel Martin
A note from Wild Card host Rachel Martin: Here’s my theory about Kumail Nanjiani: He is not a person who is afraid of his feelings. I think he’s the opposite of that kind of person.
Kumail has made his emotional life part of his comedy – whether it’s his deep and abiding love for his wife (as told in the hit movie, “The Big Sick”), his obsession with his cat or the anxiety that grips him in the middle of the night – Kumail’s brand of comedy is often about how we feel our way through living.
His new standup special is on Hulu and it’s called “Night Thoughts.”
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