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L.A. Affairs: I was 18. He was 36 and my teacher. Could our marriage survive?

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L.A. Affairs: I was 18. He was 36 and my teacher. Could our marriage survive?

I was a teenager getting ready to attend Sequoia Junior High School in Reseda in 1960. My father heard that there was a new drama teacher at the school named Mr. C who was going to put on his first play. Since my father had done some acting in Indiana at Fairmount High School (the same school that James Dean had gone to), we went to the play together.

It was a silly but entertaining comedy with an odd title: “A Rocket in His Pocket.” Mr. C’s next play was another obscure and quirky little show titled “Come Out of the Closet.” Clearly neither play would be chosen in today’s world, but at the time audiences greeted them both enthusiastically.

A few years later, I took a drama class from Mr. C and was fortunate enough to be cast as Anne in his production of “The Diary of Anne Frank.” (Obviously, his choices for productions had improved.)

As the oldest of three siblings, I already had quite a bit of experience when Mr. C asked me to babysit his two young children. It didn’t happen often, but it gave me a chance to meet his wife. Reseda High School was close to Sequoia, which made it easy for me to later attend Mr. C’s subsequent shows, including “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” “The Wizard of Oz” and even “1984.”

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Suddenly and tragically, Mr. C’s young wife died of cancer. I felt sorry for my former teacher and volunteered to help out by babysitting his children, free of charge, while he taught summer school. I was attending what was then San Fernando Valley State College when a lonely Mr. C called me that fall and asked me to dinner as a thank-you for taking care of the children. Me? The babysitter?

I was still surprised despite knowing him for several years. I had seen all of his plays, and we knew a lot of the same people. And I especially loved his children. So why not accept his invitation? We went to dinner at Yamashiro in Hollywood and ended up staying for three hours talking and talking. It turned out that even though he was 18 years older than I was, we had a great deal in common.

That wonderful dinner led to another dinner at Hoppe’s Old Heidelberg in Los Angeles. After that, there were dinners in the Valley with his children at Bob’s Big Boy, Piece o’ Pizza and Van de Kamp’s bakery. As we spent more time together, we realized that although several people he knew (including my mother) weren’t thrilled with the idea, we were in love and wanted to get married.

So we did.

Nothing was easy for us in those early years. We were raising his two children who had lost their mother. He was working on his master’s degree in theater and directing plays, and I was going to college to earn my teacher’s credential. We soon realized that one teacher’s salary didn’t go far. We never seemed to have enough money.

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Consequently, we took a chance in 1974 and tried out for “Gambit,” a CBS game show hosted by Wink Martindale. With a combination of personality, trivia knowledge and a lot of luck, we were on the show for four days and actually won $18,000 in cash and prizes — much more than Mr. C’s annual salary at the time!

It was a life-changing experience for us. Mr. C also faced another big change when he left Sequoia Junior High and transferred to Chatsworth High School. His drama program there attracted outstanding students (many of whom became famous), and together they put on productions such as “Grease,” “The Elephant Man,” “Equus,” “The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie” and “A Chorus Line” for a supportive community.

In addition, we discovered that we both loved to travel. As a result, we organized theater trips for his drama students to take them to London, Paris and New York. Years later we branched out and traveled during spring break with hundreds of his students and some adults to Japan, Australia, Bangkok, Hong Kong and Singapore. That was our one big indulgence — spending extra money on travel.

After our children graduated from high school, we decided to try something different. Since we both had our master’s degrees and had taught in California for many years, we were hired to teach at Taipei American School in Taiwan.

For the first time in our marriage, we were alone — in our charming but funky little house in the hills above the city. It was like a honeymoon for us. After 10 terrific years teaching and producing shows at the school, we came back to live locally for a few years and to spend time with our daughters and grandchildren. Mr. C had retired, but I still wanted to teach again internationally. Sometime later, I accepted a job teaching third grade at a small private school in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.

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“It’s just for two years,” I promised my mother.

But I had to break that promise to her because our time in Malaysia became another romantic interlude as we shared nine happy years in the tropics. Mr. C’s biggest job there was playing Santa Claus for all the elementary school classes at holiday time. He enjoyed acting this time and not directing.

We’re back home now and living in Westlake Village. Our traveling days may be over, but fortunately we kept journals of all the trips we’ve taken for 50 years to more than 100 countries. Every day we reread one of them and recall our adventures in Tanzania, South Africa, Europe, Argentina, China, India, Sri Lanka and beyond. We can practically taste the foods we ate years ago, hear the music and delight in the colorful dances and shows we saw around the world.

Our unlikely romance that many thought had little chance of success became a true partnership for life. For 57 years, I have loved being married to Robert Carrelli — he’s now 93 — and I’m extremely happy Mr. C made the daring decision to marry his 18-year-old babysitter on March 17, 1967.

The author is a retired international educator who lives in Westlake Village. She can be reached at patriciacarrelli@gmail.com.

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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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Country Joe McDonald, anti-war singer who electrified Woodstock, dies at 84

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Country Joe McDonald, anti-war singer who electrified Woodstock, dies at 84

Singer Joe McDonald sings during the concert marking the 40th anniversary of the Woodstock music festival on Aug. 15, 2009 in Bethel, New York. McDonald has died at age 84.

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Country Joe McDonald, the singer-songwriter whose Vietnam War protest song became a signature anthem of the 1960s counterculture, has died at 84.

McDonald died on Saturday in Berkeley, Calif., according to a statement released by a publicist. His health had recently declined due to Parkinson’s disease.

Born in 1942, in Washington, D.C., he grew up in El Monte, Calif., outside Los Angeles, according to a biography on his website. As a young man he served in the U.S. Navy before turning to writing and music during the early 1960s, eventually becoming involved in the political and cultural ferment of the Bay Area.

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In 1965 he helped form the band Country Joe and the Fish in Berkeley. The group became part of the emerging San Francisco psychedelic music scene, blending folk traditions with electric rock and pointed political commentary.

The band’s best-known song, “I-Feel-Like-I’m-Fixin’-to-Die Rag,” captured the growing anti-war sentiment of the Vietnam era. With its ragtime-influenced rhythm and sharply satirical lyrics about war and political leadership, the song quickly became associated with protests against the conflict.

McDonald delivered the song to some half a million people at the 1969 Woodstock festival in upstate New York. Performing solo, he led the crowd in a form of call-and-response before launching into the anti-war anthem, turning the performance into one of the defining scenes of the festival.

Country Joe and the Fish released several recordings during the late 1960s and toured widely, becoming closely identified with that era’s West Coast rock and protest movements.

McDonald later continued performing and recording as a solo artist, recording numerous albums across a career that spanned more than half a century. His work drew variously from folk, rock and blues traditions and often reflected his long-standing interest in political and social issues.

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Although he became widely known for his opposition to the Vietnam War, McDonald frequently emphasized respect for those who served in the U.S. military. After his own service in the Navy, he remained engaged with veterans’ issues and occasionally performed at events connected to veterans and their experiences, according to his website biography.

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Country Singer Maren Morris Tells Donald Trump Supporters ‘You Voted For This’

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Country Singer Maren Morris Tells Donald Trump Supporters ‘You Voted For This’

Maren Morris to Trump Voters
You Got Bamboozled!!!

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Photos: These bold women stand up for justice, rights … and freedom

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Photos: These bold women stand up for justice, rights … and freedom

Jean, 72, a Chinese opera performer, poses for a portrait before performing in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.

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Annice Lyn/Everyday Asia

March 8 is International Women’s Day — a date picked in honor of a remarkable Russian protest.

During World War I, women in Russia went on strike. They demanded “bread and peace.” Among the results of their four-day protest: the Czar abdicated and women gained the right to vote.

This bold strike began on Feb. 23, 1917, according to the Julian calendar then used in Russia. That date translated to March 8 in the Gregorian calendar that much of the world uses. So that’s the day chosen for this celebratory event.

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True to the spirit of those Russian women, the world pauses on this day to celebrate the achievements of women. This year to mark International Women’s Day, the United Nations is calling for “Rights. Justice. Action. For all women and girls.”

Sometimes, the true achievements are the ones that we barely see. The photographers at The Everyday Projects, a global photography and storytelling network, have shared portraits of women who in ways large and small are determined, like those Russian women over 100 years ago, to improve the lives of women and to build a better world.

Singing with strength

Kuala Lumpur-based photographer Annice Lyn likes to highlight the strength, resilience and the stories of women who are often overlooked.

That’s the inspiration for her portrait of Jean, 72, as she prepares for a performance of Chinese opera at Kwai Chai Hong, a restored heritage alley in Kuala Lumpur’s Chinatown in August 2024.

Such performances, typically staged during festivals and temple celebrations, combine singing, acting, martial arts, elaborate costumes and symbolic makeup to tell classical stories from Chinese folklore, history, and literature.

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“Performers like Jean often dedicate decades of their lives to mastering this art form, preserving techniques and stories that are centuries old,” says Lyn. They told her that they may encounter negative reactions — questions like “are you wasting your time” or simply indifference.

“Sustaining a centuries-old practice in a modern urban setting requires both resilience and passion,” says Lyn, who made this picture minutes before the performance. “I wanted to give Jean the dignity she deserves through this portrait, a strong, intimate image that acknowledges her beauty, her discipline and the life she has dedicated to Chinese opera. I hoped to make her feel seen and heard, capturing not just a performance but a living cultural legacy.”

Dreaming of a toilet

Nkgono Selina Mosima, a resident of Thaba Nchu, Free State, South Africa, has hoped for years that she could afford to dig a pit toilet in her yard.

Tshepiso Mabula/The Everyday Projects


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The subject is Nkgono Selina Mosima, a resident of Thaba Nchu, Free State, South Africa, a region where poverty is rampant, Mosima is one of many residents who lack proper sanitation, says Tshepiso Mabula, a photographer and writer based in Johannesburg. Her wish was to hire someone to dig a pit toilet in her yard – in which human waste is collected in a pit and allowed to break down naturally over time – but she couldn’t afford the cost. The alternative is open defecation – finding a secluded place despite the personal risks and the potential health consequences of untreated human excrement.

“I was drawn to Nkgono by her unrelenting faith and positive outlook; despite her difficult circumstances, she constantly reiterated her hope that things would improve,” says Mabula. “This inspired the framing of the portrait: the bright colors, her headscarf and the belt around her waist all serve to highlight her strength, optimism and faith.”

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The picture was taken in 2020. Today, Mabula says, many women still lack safe and effective sanitation options. Nkgono was a powerful voice for action and change as she eventually could afford to dig a pit toilet on her property.

Russian footballers

The girls from Voronezh were in the locker room before practice at a national training camp that brought together players from across the country, where coaches from the U.S. women’s national team had been invited.Saint Peterburg, 26/01/19 Until 2022, there was an amateur women’s American football league in Moscow. Anyone could join, regardless of age, body type, or level of training. Everything was built on enthusiasm, so the players had to study the rules and playbooks on their own, while the more experienced athletes usually took on the role of coaches. Some women were invited by friends, others were drawn to the unusual nature of the sport, and some simply wanted to improve their physical fitness. After the first practice, many left. The game required not only strength and endurance, but also the ability to understand and memorise a large number of complex plays. Players had to buy their own protective gear, pay for field rentals, and cover their own travel expenses to competitions in other cities. Those who stayed, however, found a new family — a safe space to express emotions, including aggression. The women admitted that playing American football made them braver and more decisive. They allowed themselves to step outside their comfort zones and push beyond the limits of their usual lives. They changed jobs and left relationships that had run their course. And the sound of pads colliding on the field became their favorite. This series was published in 2021, but the publication page is no longer available; only an archived version remains: https://web.archive.org/web/20210831181857/https://glasnaya.media/zhenskij-amerikanskij-futbol-v-rossii/

These women from Voronezh, Russia, participated in the country’s short-lived but intense American-style football league. They’re hanging out in the locker room.

Kristina Brazhnikova/Everyday Russia


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Kristina Brazhnikova/Everyday Russia

It seems improbable — starting an American football league for women in Russia. Not soccer but football. That’s what Portugal-based photographer Kristina Brazhnikova is documenting in her project “Mighty Girls,” which she shot between 2018 and 2021.

Any Russian woman could join, regardless of age, body type or level of training, she says. Coaches from the U.S. women’s national football team participated.

In the photo, the girls from the Voronezh team “Mighty Ducks” (Gabi, Katya, and Olesia) are in the locker room of a training camp preparing for practice. Team members came up with the name, she says.

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“Everything was built on enthusiasm, so the players had to study the rules and playbooks on their own. Some women were invited by friends, others were drawn to the unusual nature of the sport, and some simply wanted to improve their physical fitness,” says Brazhnikova, who is Russian herself.

After the first practice, many women decided the game wasn’t for them, she says. It requires not only strength and endurance but the ability to memorize complex plays. Players had to buy their own protective gear, pay for field rentals and cover their travel expenses to competitions in other cities.

“Those who stayed, however, found a new family,” says Brazhnikova — and a new form of expressing emotions, including aggression. The women told her that playing American football made them braver and more decisive. They allowed themselves to step outside their comfort zones and push beyond the limits of their usual lives. They changed jobs and left relationships that had run their course. And the sound of pads colliding on the field became their favorite,” she says.

The league ceased to operate in 2022.

Hunting for missing loved ones

Hilaria Arzaba Medran, 57, poses for a photo with tools as she searches for her disappeared son and other victims in a location known to have been a clandestine grave. Ilaria's son Oscar Contreras Arzaba disappeared on May 22, 2011, at the age of 19. Ilaria is a member of Solecito, an organization of more than 250 family members with numerous chapters throughout the State of Veracruz, who go out and search for their missing relatives nearly on a daily basis. Cordoba, Veracruz, Mexico. February 20, 2018. James Rodríguez / Everyday Latin America Reason for selection: “Women risking their lives in search of their loved ones is a common theme in the work I do. Yet it never ceases to amaze me.” Published in Le Monde: https://www.lemonde.fr/international/portfolio/2018/06/22/tous-les-maux-du-mexique-reunis-au-veracruz_5319874_3210.html

Hilaria Arzaba Medran of Mexico stands with tools she’ll use as she searches a clandestine burial site for the grave of her son, Oscar Contreras Arzaba, who disappeared in 2011 at age 19.

James Rodríguez/Everyday Latin America

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Hilaria Arzaba Medran, 57, is no stranger to loss. Her son Oscar Contreras Arzaba disappeared on May 22, 2011, at the age of 19. A resident of the Mexican state of Veracruz, she’s a member of Solecito, an organization whose 250 members go out and look for their missing relatives on a regular basis. Holding tools in this photograph taken in Feb. 20, 2018, she searches for her missing son and other victims in a location known to have served as a clandestine grave.

“This collective is primarily led by women, and I was awe-struck by their determination to find their loved ones despite horrific violence and real-life threat to their own well-being,” says photographer James Rodríguez.

On this occasion in 2018, Rodriguez and others in the group had received an anonymous tip of a possible clandestine cemetery on the outskirts of Cordoba. She went searching with several other collective members, digging tools in hand. “We went into an isolated rural field that felt macabre in itself and [we] had no sort of security personnel with us. I was truly astounded by their conviction and courage,” he says.

A demand for housing

Janaina Xavier, a community leader, holds her son while looking out the window of the building where she lives with six of her 10 children in an occupation near the Cracolândia district in São Paulo, Brazil, on April 23, 2024. She currently serves as a council member for the Coordination of Policies for the Homeless Population and advocates for the rights of people living in and around Cracolândia, one of the city’s most stigmatized areas. I chose this image because it reflects how women living in marginalized urban spaces are shaping public policy and grassroots resistance. Janaina Xavier’s leadership connects motherhood, community organizing and political advocacy in one of São Paulo’s most contested territories. This image has not been previously published and was not produced with grant funding.

Janaina Xavier, a community leader, holds her son in a building in São Paulo, Brazil, that was occupied by people without housing in 2024.

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Janaina Xavier, a community leader, holds her son while looking out the window of the building where she lives with six of her 10 children near the Cracolândia district in São Paulo, Brazil, on April 23, 2024.

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She currently serves as a council member for the Coordination of Policies for the Homeless Population and advocates for the rights of people living in and around Cracolândia.

“I’ve known Janaina Xavier for many years, since I began my long-term work documenting Cracolândia in São Paulo. She has long been involved in struggles for housing rights for people living in this highly stigmatized region of the city,” says photographer Luca Meola.

This photograph was taken inside a building being illegally occupied by Xavier and dozens of other families – a way for them to secure housing in the city center.

“For many low-income families, occupying empty buildings is one of the only ways to remain in the central area and access essential services and work opportunities,” Meola says.

In 2025, the city evicted Xavier, her family and the other residents.

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The mother leaders of Madagascar take charge

In the Grand South of Madagascar, in Amboasary Sud, women known as “Reny Mahomby,” or mother leaders, are mothers who take charge of their families and inspire other mothers in the community to change their behavior in terms of hygiene, well-being, children’s education, small business activities, and the fight against poverty. In this photo, these mothers leders are dancing before starting their training sessions. Amboasary Sud – Madagascar – November 2021 I chose this photo to highlight the important role women play within their community. They can be powerful agents of change.

In the Grand South of Madagascar, women known as “reny mahomby,” or mother leaders, perform a welcoming dance before starting a session to teach women in the community how to improve their lives.

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In this photo from the Grand South of Madagascar, in Amboasary Sud, women known as “Reny Mahomby,” or “mother leaders” perform a welcoming dance.

The “mother leaders” inspire other mothers in the community to make changes in their lives – to improve hygiene, to educate their children, to start small businesses, says photojournalist Aina Zo Raberanto, who lives in this African island nation but had never before visited the Grand South.

The dance took place at the start of a training session, says Raberanto. In this photo from November 2021, she says. “These mother leaders welcome us with a traditional dance from the region. I was deeply moved by their commitment to their community.”

The mothers of Madagascar “are the pillars of the household while sometimes facing difficult realities such as violence or early marriage,” she says. “I took this photograph to show both their strength, their dignity, their joy for life and the warmth of their welcome despite the hardships. Behind their smiles and movements lies a great determination to continue supporting their families and to build a better future for their children.”

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Marching for their rights

Members of Puta Davida, a feminist collective advocating for the labor and human rights of sex workers, take part in the final march of a public action during Carnival in downtown Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, on Feb. 14, 2026. The event reclaimed the historic Mangue area — once officially designated as a prostitution zone in the early 20th century — and sought to assert political representation, collective memory and labor rights for sex workers. I chose this image because it shows how sex workers intervene in one of Brazil’s most symbolic cultural moments to challenge their own representation. By organizing during Carnival, the collective transforms a festive space into a platform for political visibility and historical accountability. Previously published in Brasil de Fato, Feb. 16, 2026. Link: https://www.brasildefato.com.br/2026/02/16/antes-de-desfilar-na-sapucai-prostitutas-de-varias-geracoes-ocupam-o-edificio-balanca-mas-nao-cai-para-discutir-memoria-e-representacao/

Members of Puta Davida, a feminist collective advocating for the labor and human rights of sex workers, take part in a march during Carnival in downtown Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, on Feb. 14, 2026.

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This photograph was taken during Carnival in Rio de Janeiro this February.

“I have been accompanying the collective Puta Davida for about three years. [It] works to create public debate around sex work, advocating for the recognition of sex work as legitimate labor and for the protection of sex workers’ human and labor rights,” says photographer Luca Meola.

The Puta Davida is a feminist collective from Rio de Janeiro created in the early 1990s by the sex worker and activist Gabriela Leite, a historic figure in Brazil’s movement for sex workers’ rights.

“I have been accompanying the collective for about three years. [It] works to create public debate around sex work, advocating for the recognition of sex work as legitimate labor and for the protection of sex workers’ human and labor rights,” says photographer Luca Meola.

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In 2026, one of the community organizations that prepares music, dance, and large performances for Carnival parades chose to dedicate its parade to sex workers

Meola, who photographed the members of this group as they marched, says: “For me, what is powerful about this moment is how these women reclaim visibility in public space. Through political organization, performance and collective presence, they challenge stigma and assert their rights — which I believe strongly resonates with this year’s theme [for International Women’s Day] of justice and action,” says Meola.

Kamala Thiagarajan is a freelance journalist based in Madurai, Southern India. She reports on global health, science and development and has been published in The New York Times, The British Medical Journal, the BBC, The Guardian and other outlets. You can find her on X @kamal_t

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