Lifestyle
'It’s going to be the Wild West.' Devastated by fire, Altadena artists vow to rebuild
A week after the devastating Eaton fire tore through Altadena, killing 17, with 24 people missing as of this writing, and destroying more than 7,000 structures, cars were double-parked outside Knowhow Shop in Highland Park. People from all over Los Angeles, their faces obscured by masks due to raining ash, carried bags of toys and clothing to donate to Altadena Kindred, a fundraiser for Altadena children who have been displaced.
Just a month ago, one of the event’s organizers, Linda Hsiao, an Altadena ceramist and industrial designer, had helped host a similarly community-minded event in the foothill town. At the holiday craft fair at Plant Material, local artists shared handmade ceramics, knives, jewelry, hot sauce, embroidery and tie-dyed textiles. Adding to the family-friendly vibe, the St. Rita Cub Scout Pack showed up to sell mistletoe foraged from the nearby trails.
Bianca D’Amico, an artist who helped organize the December event — her son attended the preschool on Christmas Tree Lane that burned down — is proud of the hyperlocal market they created together in the former gas station, which amazingly survived, on Lincoln Avenue. “There is something deeply personal about our fellow vendors who pour so much of themselves into their work and are the spirit of Altadena,” D’Amico said, calling them a “creative, plant-loving, dog-friendly, kid-wrangling community of makers, artists and designers.”
In December, Altadena artists gathered at Plant Material on Lincoln Avenue to sell their handmade wares for the holidays. Many of them have lost their homes.
(Lisa Boone / Los Angeles Times)
Today, nearly all the vendors, including Hsiao; her husband, architect Kagan Taylor; and their two children, are homeless. “Our house is still standing, but it’s not safe for us to return,” she said of the smoke damage. “Right now, all I can think about is how we’ve lost our friends, our schools, our entire community.”
Hsiao’s shock was evident as she welcomed friends and accepted donations for Altadena Kindred. “This is where we were supposed to grow old,” she said haltingly. “This is where my son was supposed to ride his bike to school.”
With the loss of neighborhood schools, Hsiao is determined to find a way to create a place where all of the community’s children can gather.
But how do you create something like that when all of your neighbors are gone?
Located at the foot of the San Gabriel Mountains, the unincorporated community of more than 42,000 people has long been a refuge for artists, according to glass and metal artist Evan Chambers, who was born and raised in Altadena, just like his parents and grandparents.
“It’s always been a very accepting community of eccentric people of all types,” said Evan Chambers, pictured in his Pasadena studio.
(Evan Chambers)
“It’s always been a very accepting community of eccentric people of all types,” said Chambers, who purchased his home from the estate of the infamous compost czar Tim Dundon, also known as Zeke the Sheik.
He credits gallery owner Ben McGinty with creating a space for all artists at his Gallery at the End of the World, which survived the fire. “He accepted all of us,” Chambers said of the gallery, which has existed for more than two decades. “I had my first show there.”
Chambers, 44, grew up surrounded by river-rock walls and Arts and Crafts homes that have informed his aesthetic as a glassblower. He lost his home, including the ceramics studio he built for his wife, Caitlin, but is adamant that he will rebuild. “We’re going to rock this,” said the father of two. “With climate change, there is no safe place to go. All that matters is that you suffer with the people you want to help and be helped by. If you’re going to burn, you burn with your people.”
Born and raised in Los Angeles, ceramist Victoria Morris has lived in many neighborhoods throughout the city. But when she purchased a small midcentury house in Altadena a decade ago, the artist felt like she had found a home, personally and professionally. “I thought, ‘This is my last stop,’” Morris said.
The ceramist worked in a studio on Lake Avenue, two miles from her home, where she stored photographs and hard drives in the basement. Just a month ago, Morris hosted a holiday sale, and people packed the showroom to shop for her midcentury-inspired lamps and vases.
Today, it’s all gone.
Morris feels fortunate to have a second home in Ojai. Still, she grapples with the nightmare of evacuating on Jan. 7 and what she has lost. “My husband, Morgan [Bateman], said, ‘Grab your wedding ring, your passport, the animals, and get a jacket and some sturdy shoes.’ There was this beautiful vintage Japanese print that cost nothing, but I loved her so much. And as I was leaving, I thought, ‘Should I grab her?’ Something in my brain said no. I have a notebook where I write the formulas for all my work. It’s been my bible for the last 20 years. Did I grab that? No. Our hard drives? Gone.”
When Bateman finally managed to get access to their property, he found their home and beloved garden smoldering. “All our neighbors are gone,” he told her, rattled.
Brendan Sowersby and Annabel Inganni’s Altadena home, which burned down, was filled with custom furnishings and accessories designed by the couple. Their son Bird stands outside Lake Avenue’s Cafe de Leche, which is also gone. (Annabel Inganni)
On Wednesday, Wolfum textile designer Annabel Inganni was thinking about her 14-year-old son as she waited to pick up a free mattress and box spring at Living Spaces in Monrovia.
“He is in eighth grade, and his school in Pasadena has something like 67 families that have been impacted,” she said. “They are such a supportive community, but I’ve been burying my sadness just to get Bird back to school. And I know it’s not just us. It’s the entire town.”
Inganni lived in the Rubio Highlands neighborhood with her husband, furniture designer Brendan Sowersby of 100xbtr, their two dogs and three cats (all were evacuated safely). Their home was filled with custom furnishings the couple designed. Now, everything is gone. Many of her neighbors lived in their childhood homes. She describes the community as “heaven on earth.”
“Altadena is the most special, innovative, diverse, accepting, core-values town I’ve ever lived in,” she added. “The sense of community is strong. Now, we don’t even have a post office. I lost my home, studio and the archives of everything I’ve ever done. It’s a lot.”
Chris Maddox and Thomas Renaud lost their Altadena home in the Eaton fire. (Thomas Renaud)
After temporarily evacuating to Moorpark last Tuesday, Thomas Renaud returned to Altadena after learning his neighbors’ home was still standing.
“They wanted to go back and get some things, and I offered to drive them,” he said. Renaud was hopeful that the home he shared with his partner, Chris Maddox, and their dog, Van — who both got out safely — would also be left unscathed. But as he drove down Altadena Drive after dropping off his neighbors on Wednesday, all he could see was ash and fire. “When I rounded the corner to my street, I saw that the entire neighborhood was gone,” he said, “and I just lost it.”
When the LGS Studio ceramist and Maddox purchased their house about five years ago, they immediately fell in love with Altadena’s creative community.
“Many artists, musicians and writers live here, and we felt like we had our slice of that,” he said. “We put so much love into that house; it was a place for all our friends and family. It wasn’t just that we lost a house but a home.”
Although Renaud returned to work at his studio in Glassell Park this week, he said he is still in shock. “I don’t think I’ve slept more than one night in the past week,” he said. “Everything right now feels so overwhelming. All the support humbles us, but where do we begin?”
He said that, like many others without homes, finding semipermanent housing is a good start.
Ceramist Linda Hsiao with her children, Wawona, 3, and Saben, 5, in her Altadena home studio in November. Their home is still standing, but the family is unable to live there.
(Robert Hanashiro / For The Times)
As artists, it’s unsurprising that many are haunted by the things they left behind. For Morris, it’s a set of mugs by Los Angeles ceramists Kat and Roger, a quilt she made with her mother, a pencil drawing of her grandmother by her grandfather.
Chambers mentions a lamp by Pasadena artist Ashoke Chhabra and his great-uncle Charles Dockum’s mobile color projector, as well as Dockum’s correspondence with architect Frank Lloyd Wright.
The journals that Inganni had been keeping since she was 6, along with irreplaceable family mementos, are destroyed. “Brendan’s father passed away two years ago, and we had his ashes and photos, and they’re all gone,” she said. “That’s what gets him the most.”
When it came time to evacuate, Renaud grabbed one bag of clothes, the dog, the dog bed and his great-grandfather’s watch. “I didn’t think the fire would come this far,” he said. “My grandmother was a painter, and I had her original artwork. Those are the things I’m grieving for the most. I was thinking, ‘We’ll come back.’ But it’s family history that we can’t get back.”
“Everyone at the hardware store knew my name and would always offer my dog treats,” said artist Victoria Morris.
(Colleen Shalby / Los Angeles Times)
During the COVID-19 pandemic, Morris sought refuge in her studio. But now the businesses near her studio are gone, like Altadena Hardware on Mariposa Street, Grocery Outlet Bargain Market, Café de Leche and Steve’s Pets. Added Morris: “Everyone at the hardware store knew my name and would always offer my dog treats.”
Despite all they have lost, the artists acknowledge moments of grace. Friends have set up GoFundMe accounts to help them with their short-term needs. Chambers’ friends from preschool and elementary school built beds for him and his family. Morris has received notes that have brought her to tears.
“Two people sent me pictures of one of my vases and a bowl and told me they survived,” she said. “And it has brought them so much happiness. They offered them to me, and I told them no. I want them to keep them.”
Hsaio received a photo from a tequila maker in Altadena who went through his rubble and found one of her Tiki tumblers intact. “These people weren’t just my customers,” she said. “They were my community.”
Still, some are filled with trepidation about what comes next.
Renaud and Taylor have received text messages from strangers offering to purchase their damaged homes. “It’s still smoldering,” Renaud said in disbelief.
“It’s going to be the Wild West,” Inganni said. “Everyone I’ve spoken to is rebuilding. That’s what is percolating in the community. But I think people are very nervous about land grabs and worried about people who don’t have the financial capability to cover themselves.”
In the meantime, Morris just wants to get back to work. “I don’t want to miss being a part of rebuilding Altadena,” she said. “It may be a collective. It may be a store. There’s no way I can cut and run out of a place that’s so special.”
Inganni said Sowersby is considering building desks for the community and developing a fireproof home system.
Renaud, temporarily living in a friend’s accessory dwelling unit, or ADU, in Mount Washington, also wants to help.
“I needed to go and see our house because I needed to grieve,” he said. “If you don’t see what you’ve lost, it’s always a question mark in your mind. But now, I want to be a part of the rebuilding. I have a truck. I’m ready.”
Lifestyle
‘Hoppers’ is delightfully unhinged and a dam good time
A young environmental activist becomes a beaver and integrates into a forest community in Pixar’s Hoppers.
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Disney/Pixar
We’re long past the days when the Pixar brand was a reliable indicator of quality, when every other year or so would bring a new masterwork on the level of The Incredibles, Ratatouille and WALL-E. In recent years, the Disney-owned animation studio has succumbed to sequelitis; I didn’t much care for Inside Out 2 or the Toy Story spinoff Lightyear, and even ostensible originals like Soul and Elemental have felt like high-concept disappointments.
So it’s a relief as well as a pleasure to recommend Pixar’s wildly entertaining new movie, Hoppers, without reservation. Directed by Daniel Chong from a script by Jesse Andrews, this eco-themed sci-fi farce may not be vintage or all-time-great Pixar. But its unhinged comic delirium is by far the liveliest thing to emerge from the company in years.
The movie stars Piper Curda as the voice of Mabel Tanaka, a plucky 19-year-old college misfit and environmental activist who lives in the woodsy suburban town of Beaverton. Mabel is more of an animal lover than a people person. She inherited a love of nature from her late grandmother, and she wants nothing more than to protect her favorite place, a forest glade.
The town’s popular mayor, Jerry — amusingly voiced by Jon Hamm — is trying to ram a highway through the area. But to Mabel’s alarm, the busy beavers who made the glade a haven for local wildlife have inexplicably vanished, and they seem to have taken all the other forest critters with them.
While investigating this disturbing situation, Mabel stumbles on a high-tech experiment that’s being conducted by her biology professor, Dr. Sam, voiced by Kathy Najimy. Dr. Sam calls the program Hoppers, because it allows a single human mind to enter, or “hop,” into the body of a robot animal, which can then pass itself off as an actual animal and communicate with real creatures in the wild.
Against Dr. Sam’s wishes, Mabel hops into the robot beaver and makes her way deep into the forest, where she hopes to convince a real beaver to return to the glade — and bring all the other animals back with it.
What Mabel discovers in the forest, though, is not at all what she expected. She encounters a community that includes birds, bunnies, racoons, a very grumpy bear and, of course, other beavers, including the friendly, somewhat naïve beaver king, George, endearingly voiced by Bobby Moynihan. (The movie takes the idea of the animal kingdom quite literally; the enormous vocal ensemble includes the late Isiah Whitlock Jr. as a royal goose, and Meryl Streep as the most imperious monarch butterfly imaginable.)
Mabel Tanaka (voiced by Piper Curda) is a plucky 19-year-old college misfit and environmental activist.
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Disney/Pixar
George has no idea that Mabel isn’t a real beaver, and he quickly takes a liking to her, even though her efforts to learn why the animals left the glade have a way of getting her and everyone into hot water.
None of this may sound too odd, especially coming just a few months after Zootopia 2. But Hoppers is just getting started; the movie gets funnier, stranger, and more surreal as it goes along. The mind-bending, body-swapping premise has obvious shades of Avatar, which Andrews’ script knowingly shouts out early on.
There are also references to classic horror films like The Birds and Jaws, and for good reason. Hoppers asks the question: What would happen if animals were fully aware of what humans have done to the planet — and suddenly in a position to do something about it? In the final stretch, the film almost becomes a body-snatcher movie, with a level of creepiness that may scare the youngest in the audience, though my 9-year-old laughed far more than she screamed.
I laughed a lot, too; Hoppers is full of funny throwaway lines and oddball non-sequiturs that I expect I’ll hear a hundred more times when it finally makes its way into our streaming rotation. The movie occasionally flirts with darkness, but even Pixar’s daring can only go so far, and its environmental advocacy ultimately lands on an unobjectionable message about how humans and animals can coexist.
That may sound conventional, but it’s borne out beautifully by Mabel and George’s unlikely friendship, which happily continues even after Mabel is no longer a beaver. There’s something fitting about that: for Pixar, Hoppers is nothing short of a return to form.

Lifestyle
How to have the best Sunday in L.A., according to Jordan Chiles
Jordan Chiles is always in motion.
The decorated gymnast and two-time Olympian recently competed in the latest season of “Dancing With the Stars,” finishing in third place alongside her partner Ezra Sosa. She’s an ambassador for brands including Nike and Hero Cosmetics. In August, she launched a mentorship program called SHERO Athlete Collective for young athletes.
And in the midst of all of that, she’s finishing up her senior year at UCLA.
In Sunday Funday, L.A. people give us a play-by-play of their ideal Sunday around town. Find ideas and inspiration on where to go, what to eat and how to enjoy life on the weekends.
“I’m happy, but I’m also sad,” the 24-year-old says about her final year as a Bruin, adding, “It’s pretty cool to know that my dream school has become my legacy.”
Chiles is also in the thick of a legal battle to reclaim the bronze medal she won, then was stripped of, at the 2024 Paris Olympics. In January, the Swiss Federal Supreme Court granted her an appeal to reexamine the matter. “I’m going to stand for what is right,” she says. “I am doing the things to make sure no other athlete has to go through what I had to go through.”
With the Olympics arriving in Los Angeles in 2028, the question of whether Chiles will participate is top of mind for many fans. Her response?
“Right now, it’s just me and my college career,” she says, flashing a bright smile. “I think right now just being able to be a part of UCLA for my last season and then seeing from there on, from April until the next year, we’ll see what happens.”
Chiles trains every day except Wednesdays and Saturdays, but on her perfect Sunday, she’d skip the gym to hang out with her dogs, take a trip to the mall and binge-watch her favorite shows.
9 a.m.: Gospel music to start the day
I feel like waking up at 9 a.m. is the perfect time because it gives you enough time in the day to do whatever, but also you didn’t wake up too early. The first thing I’d probably do aside from washing my face and brushing my teeth, is put on gospel music or listen to anything that can put my mind at ease. If I don’t have practice, then that’s typically what I’m doing, cleaning my house and starting to rejuvenate my body differently. I’d take my dogs out. I have an Aussie doodle, a teacup poodle and a maltipoo. Their names are Versace, Chanel and Dolce Gabbana. Very bougie dogs.
9:30 a.m.: Breakfast with a side of “Chicago Fire”
I’d cook for myself. I like typical scrambled eggs, bacon, avocado toast and sometimes a bagel. To get in some fruit, I’d drink some apple juice to make it feel like, “OK, this was a great, healthy breakfast.” Then I’d most likely sit on my couch and start binge-watching something. This is where lazy Jordan comes in. Like I got up, I did this, I ate, so now it’s time to relax. I’ve recently been watching all of the Chicago [shows] like “Chicago Fire,” “Chicago PD” and “Chicago Med.” I also recently started rewatching “Pretty Little Liars.”
12:30 p.m. Shop for athleisure and other goodies
This is typically when Jordan feels like she needs to go shopping. I’d put my dogs up and go to the mall. I deserve to go shop. I deserve to go splurge. I like going to the Topanga mall. I really, really like Jamba Juice and there’s one in the Topanga mall. I used to know the secret menu by heart before they started putting it on the actual menu. My go-to is the White Gummi smoothie.
I love streetwear, so if there’s sneaker stores around, I’d check that out. I sometimes end up in an Apple Store, don’t ask me how or why. It just always ends up like that. If I need to get athleisure wear, I always go to Nike. You can never have too many Nike Pros. If I need to get my eyebrows threaded or my nails done, I can do everything at the mall while I’m shopping.
4 p.m.: Time for homework
I’m heading back home so I can beat traffic and let my dogs out. I’d probably sit on my couch, scrolling on Pinterest, trying to figure out what I’m going to eat. Then I’d start doing my homework. Since I am still in college, I’d start whatever I need to do for that week. I try to stay as organized as best as I can because it is hard being a businesswoman and still being a college student. I’d probably do homework for about 2 ½ hours.
7 p.m.: Domino’s pizza and more binge-watching
I’d turn whatever show I’m watching back on, then I’d either cook or sometimes I’ll order in. It honestly depends on what Sunday it is. If it’s football Sunday, you know I have the wings and the typical Sunday vibes. But if it’s not, I might make tacos or Alfredo, or order off Uber Eats. I know this is probably crazy but I really, really, really, really love Domino’s. I am a pizza person. My Domino’s order is a small pepperoni, pineapple, olives and sausage slice … hand tossed, cheesed up, and then I will get a side of garlic knots and a side of buffalo wings with ranch.
If it’s not Domino’s, then I either will do Shake Shack or Wendy’s. I know it’s probably crazy and you’re like “Jordan, you’re an athlete,” but sometimes a girl just has to go in that direction. I like teriyaki food and hibachi places, so I’d either order from a place called Blazed N Glazed or Teriyaki Madness, or this place on campus called Hibachi Papi.
9 p.m. Video games before bed
I have an Xbox and a PlayStation, so sometimes I will go into my game room and just literally sit in my chair and play “Call of Duty” or “Halo.” Other than that, I have no night rituals. I will just make sure my dogs are fed. I always pray before I go to bed and my skincare is legit all Medicube, but I always make sure to do a face mask every other day before I go to bed.
10:30 p.m.: Prepare for an early practice
Since I probably have to wake up the next morning for an early practice, I feel like 10:30 p.m. is a good time to go to sleep. Unless I’m doing something with my friends and we don’t get back until like 11:30 p.m., but other than that, I’m in my bed or at least on my couch just relaxing.
Lifestyle
No matter what happens at the Oscars, Delroy Lindo embraces ‘the joy of this moment’
Delroy Lindo is nominated for an Oscar for best supporting actor for his role in Sinners.
Rebecca Cabage/Invision/AP
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Rebecca Cabage/Invision/AP
Over the course of his decades-long career on stage and in Hollywood, Sinners actor Delroy Lindo has experienced firsthand what he calls the “disappointments, the vicissitudes of the industry.”
On Feb. 22, at the BAFTA awards in London, Lindo and Sinners co-star Michael B. Jordan were the first presenters of the evening when a man with Tourette syndrome shouted a racial slur.
Initially, Lindo says, he questioned if he had heard correctly. Then, he says, he adjusted his glasses and read the teleprompter: “I processed in the way that I process, in a nanosecond. Mike did similarly, and we went on and did our jobs.”
Lindo describes the BAFTA incident as “something that started out negatively becoming a positive.” A week after the BAFTAs, he appeared with Sinners director Ryan Coogler at the NAACP awards.

“The fact that I could stand there in a room predominantly of our people … and feel safe, feel loved, feel supported,” he says. “I just wanted to officially, formally say thank you to our people and to all of the people who have supported us as a result of that event, that incident.”
Sinners is a haunting vampire thriller about twins (both played by Jordan) who open a juke joint in 1930s Mississippi. The film has been nominated for a record 16 Academy Awards, including best actor for Jordan and best supporting actor for Lindo, who plays a blues musician named Delta Slim.

This is Lindo’s first Oscar nomination; five years ago, many felt his performance in the Spike Lee film Da 5 Bloods deserved recognition from the Academy. When that didn’t happen, Lindo admits he was disappointed, but he had no choice but to move on.
“I have never taken my marbles and gone home,” he says. “And I want to claim that I will not do that now. I will continue working.”
Interview highlights
On his preparation to play Delta Slim

Various people have mentioned … [that] my presence reminds them of an uncle or their grandfather, somebody that they knew from their families, and that is a huge compliment, but more importantly than being a compliment, it’s an affirmation for the work. My preparation for this started with Ryan sending me two books, Blues People, by Amiri Baraka — who was [known as] LeRoi Jones when he wrote the book — and Deep Blues, by Robert Palmer.
Lindo, shown above in his role as Delta Slim, says director Ryan Coogler “created a sacred space for all of us” on the Sinners set.
Warner Bros. Pictures
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Warner Bros. Pictures
In reading those books and then referencing those books, continuing to reference those throughout production, I was given an entrée into the worlds, the lifestyles of these musicians. There’s a certain kind of itinerant quality that they moved around a lot. The constant for them is their music, so that there is this deep-seated connection to the music.
On being Oscar-nominated for the first time — and thinking about other Black actors, including Halle Berry and Lou Gossett Jr., who had trouble getting work after their wins
I will not view it as a curse, because I am claiming the victory in this process, no matter what happens. … In terms of this moment, I absolutely am claiming, as much as I can, the joy of this moment. I’m not saying I don’t have trepidation, I do. It’s the reason I was not listening to the broadcast this year when the nominations were announced. I did not want to set myself up. But I’m … attempting as much as I can to fortify myself and know in my heart that I will continue working as an actor. I absolutely will.
On being “othered” as a child because of his race
Because my mom was studying to be a nurse they would not allow her to have an infant child with her on campus, so as a result of that, I was sent to live with a white family in a white working class area of London. … I was loved, I was cared for, but as a result of living with this family in this all-white neighborhood, I went to an all-white elementary or primary school. And I was literally the only Black child in an all-white school.
So one afternoon, after school had ended, I was playing with one of my playmates … And at a certain point in our game, a car pulls up, and this kid that I was playing with goes over to the car and has a very short conversation with whomever was in the car, which I now know was his parent, his father. He comes back and he … says, “I can’t play with you.” And that was the end of the game.
On the experience of writing his forthcoming memoir
It’s been healing, actually. I’m not denying that it has opened me up. I’ve been compelled to scrutinize myself. I’m using that word very advisedly, “scrutinized.” It’s a scrutiny, it’s an examination of oneself. But in my case, because a very, very, very significant part of what I’m writing has to do with re-examining my relationship with my mom. And so my mom is a protagonist in my memoir. I’m told by my editor and by my publisher that one of the attractions to what I’m writing is that it is not a classic “celebrity memoir.” I am examining history. I’m examining culture. I’m looking at certain passages of history through the lens of the “Windrush” experience [of Caribbean immigrants who came to the UK after World War II].
On getting a masters degree to help him write his mother’s story
My mom deserved it. My mom is deserving. And not only is my mom deserving, by extension, all the people of the Windrush generation are deserving. Stories about Windrush are not part of the global cultural lexicon commensurate with its impact. The people of Windrush changed the definition of what it means to be British. There are all these Black and brown people, theretofore members of what used to be called the British Commonwealth. And they were invited by the British government to come to England, the United Kingdom, to help rebuild the United Kingdom in the aftermath of the destruction of World War II. My mom was part of that movement. They helped rebuild construction, construction industry, transportation industry, critically, the health industry, the NHS, the National Health Service. My mom is a nurse.
The reason that I went into NYU was because my original intention was to write a screenplay about my mom. I wanted to write a screenplay about my mom because I looked around and I thought: Where are the feature films that have as protagonist a Caribbean female, a Black female, where are they? … I wanted to address that, I wanted to correct that, what I see as being an imbalance.
Ann Marie Baldonado and Susan Nyakundi produced and edited this interview for broadcast. Bridget Bentz, Molly Seavy-Nesper and Beth Novey adapted it for the web.

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