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You can sword-fight at this club. But no politics allowed

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You can sword-fight at this club. But no politics allowed

Gaia Ferrency, 17, of Swissvale, Pa., waits to participate in a long-sword tournament as part of Friday Night Fights, hosted by Pittsburgh Sword Fighters, on Oct. 4 at a former Catholic church northeast of Pittsburgh.

Justin Merriman for NPR/‎


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Over the last few years and through this year’s contentious campaign season, which was rooted in America’s deep divisions, there has been a coarsening in the way people talk to each other. We wanted to explore how some are trying to bridge divides. We asked our reporters across the NPR Network to look for examples of people working through their differences. We’re sharing those stories in our series Seeking Common Ground.

CREIGHTON, Pa. — With their faces hidden behind hard black masks, two fighters stand a few feet apart and raise their swords.

They step forward and clank the broad, dull metal blades against each other repeatedly. One fighter strikes the other in the chest. The fight is over, and a small crowd applauds.

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Inside this former Catholic church northeast of Pittsburgh, under a 25-foot ceiling flanked by Gothic, pointed-arch windows, members of the Pittsburgh Sword Fighters club and school gather.

In this photo, two sword fighters, wearing all black and protective gear, fight against one another with long metal swords. In the background, audience members watch them compete in the tournament.

The audience cheers on two sword fighters as they take part in a long-sword tournament hosted by Pittsburgh Sword Fighters.

Justin Merriman for NPR


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Justin Merriman for NPR

It’s a tournament — as well as a party — billed as Friday Night Fights.

There are plenty of rules in a sword fight. But there’s one rule that applies after the fighters have put down their weapons: no talk of politics.

The evolution of the rule started around 2016, when club owner Josh Parise says he was getting fed up with the rancor of political discourse in the U.S. — personal attacks were on the rise, even within families, as was cancel culture.

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“I couldn’t tolerate the lack of decency between human beings,” says Parise, whose club focuses on historical European martial arts.

“None of it made sense anymore,” he says.

This photo is a portrait of Josh Parise. The photo shows him from the waist up, and he's wearing a gray shirt with an unbuttoned horizontal-striped shirt on top of it.

Josh Parise, 48, of Oakmont, Pa., is the owner of Pittsburgh Sword Fighters.

Justin Merriman for NPR


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And then there were a few would-be sword fighters who came to the club and didn’t treat others well. Parise had to tell them to get on their horses and leave.

“It’s infuriating to me, so with this place, we just don’t allow that to happen,” Parise says.

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Leaving their politics at the door

As club volunteer Kat Licause watches the matches, she says the directive to avoid politics has led to closer relationships in the club.

“I don’t think we avoid it in the sense that we’re running scared of big questions and topics,” says Licause, who works as a tech writer. “I think we just have this mutual understanding here that if any of us was ever in trouble, we would pick each other up, like immediately.”

The club space is outfitted with medieval and Gothic touches, like coats of arms, a three-eyed raven sculpture and faux stonework that Parise made himself.

Chuck Gross stands in the doorway of the former Catholic church. He's wearing a dark tank top and has a long beard. Taxidermic animals with antlers are mounted on the wall above and around him. A teenage girl or young woman is to the left of him in the doorway.

Chuck Gross, one of the head long-sword instructors at Pittsburgh Sword Fighters, stands in the doorway of the former Catholic church where a long-sword tournament will take place.

Justin Merriman for NPR


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Against the far wall, a custom Dumbledore throne sits on a fake altar. Off to the sides, there’s a table for potluck dishes and an open bar. The crowd and the vibe are noticeably chill, considering the main activity.

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“You walk up, you acknowledge one another, and then you hit each other with big metal sticks,” Parise says with a wry smile.

But divisive political rhetoric, which can be sharper than the swords here, must be left at the club’s big wooden door. The politics ban doesn’t rise to the level of, say, a 15th-century heresy law, but it’s there.

Parise says his students and club members run the gamut politically, from religious conservatives to progressives. He loves to see them find common ground.

“I just don’t want people to feel uncomfortable, but I also don’t want them to bring their baggage with them,” he says. “Leave it outside and just do the thing.”

Teaching and learning from fellow fighters

As the tournament gets underway, a judge briefs the fighters and urges them to play by the rules and stay under control, lest he “red-card” them.

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In this photo, Todd Rooney stands while holding a long metal sword. He's wearing a black protective sword-fighting outfit that has a skull patch on one sleeve.

Todd Rooney, a high school English teacher, is photographed on Oct. 4. Rooney is a competitor in the long-sword tournament.

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“These are teachable moments,” the judge says. “We fight at Friday Night Fights to learn and help each other.”

More fighters line up. Among them is high school English teacher and long-sword instructor Todd Rooney.

He’s holding his headgear, waiting for his name to be called to fight. Rooney has been a member of the sword fighters’ club for almost 10 years and appreciates the politics-free zone.

“Because that rule exists here, I get to work with, spar with, teach, learn from people from all different walks of life, all different political affiliations, religious groups,” Rooney says.

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And the controlled conflict of a sword fight, he says, brings about a kind of clarity.

“We have to encounter each other as fully human — we have to respect each other,” he says. “And it’s especially important here, when we’re coming at each other with weapons.”

In this photo, nine men and one woman are congregated around the steps of the former church where the sword fights are held. They are wearing casual clothes. Some are sitting or standing on the steps, while a few are standing in front of the steps.

Members gather on the steps of the former Catholic church where Pittsburgh Sword Fighters hosts a Friday Night Fights long-sword tournament.

Justin Merriman for NPR


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BBC Verify: Satellite image shows tanker seized by US near Venezuela is now off Texas

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BBC Verify: Satellite image shows tanker seized by US near Venezuela is now off Texas

Trump was listed as a passenger on eight flights on Epstein’s private jet, according to emailpublished at 11:58 GMT

Anthony Reuben
BBC Verify senior journalist

One of the Epstein documents, external is an email saying that “Donald Trump traveled on Epstein’s private jet many more times than previously has been reported (or that we were aware)”.

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The email was sent on 7 January 2020 and is part of an email chain which includes the subject heading ‘RE: Epstein flight records’.

The sender and recipient are redacted but at the bottom of the email is a signature for an assistant US attorney in the Southern District of New York – with the name redacted.

The email states: “He is listed as a passenger on at least eight flights between 1993 and 1996, including at least four flights on which Maxwell was also present. He is listed as having traveled with, among others and at various times, Marla Maples, his daughter Tiffany, and his son Eric”.

“On one flight in 1993, he and Epstein are the only two listed passengers; on another, the only three passengers are Epstein, Trump, and then-20-year-old” – with the person’s name redacted.

It goes on: “On two other flights, two of the passengers, respectively, were women who would be possible witnesses in a Maxwell case”.

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In 2022, Ghislaine Maxwell was sentenced to 20 years in prison, external for crimes including conspiracy to entice minors to travel to engage in illegal sex acts and sex trafficking of a minor.

Trump was a friend of Epstein’s for years, but the president has said they fell out in about 2004, years before Epstein was first arrested. Trump has consistently denied any wrongdoing in relation to Epstein and his presence on the flights does not indicate wrongdoing.

We have contacted the White House for a response to this particular file.

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‘Music makes everything better’: A Texas doctor spins vinyl to give patients relief

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‘Music makes everything better’: A Texas doctor spins vinyl to give patients relief

Dr. Tyler Jorgensen sets “A Charlie Brown Christmas” on a record player at Dell Seton Medical Center in Austin Texas. He uses vinyl records as a form of music therapy for palliative care patients.

Lorianne Willett/KUT News


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AUSTIN, TEXAS — Lying in her bed at Dell Seton Medical Center at the University of Texas at Austin, 64-year-old Pamela Mansfield sways her feet to the rhythm of George Jones’ “She Thinks I Still Care.” Mansfield is still recovering much of her mobility after a recent neck surgery, but she finds a way to move to the music floating from a record player that was wheeled into her room.

“Seems to be the worst part is the stiffness in my ankles and the no feeling in the hands,” she says. “But music makes everything better.”

The record player is courtesy of the ATX-VINyL program, a project dreamed up by Dr. Tyler Jorgensen to bring music to the bedside of patients dealing with difficult diagnoses and treatments. He collaborates with a team of volunteers who wheel the player on a cart to patients’ rooms, along with a selection of records in their favorite genres.

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“I think of this record player as a time machine,” he said. “You know, something starts spinning — an old, familiar song on a record player — and now you’re back at home, you’re out of the hospital, you’re with your family, you’re with your loved ones.”

UT Public Health Sophomore Daniela Vargas pushes a cart through Dell Seton Medical Center on December 9, 2025. The ATX VINyL program is designed to bring volunteers in to play music for patients in the hospital, and Vargas participates as the head volunteer. Lorianne Willett/KUT News

Daniela Vargas, a volunteer for the ATX-VINyL program, wheels a record player to the hospital room of a palliative care patient in Austin, Texas.

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The healing power of Country music… and Thin Lizzy

Mansfield wanted to hear country music: Willie Nelson, Merle Haggard, George Jones. That genre reminds her of listening to records with her parents, who helped form her taste in music. Almost as soon as the first record spins, she starts cracking jokes.

“I have great taste in music. Men, on the other hand … ehhh. I think my picker’s broken,” she says.

Other patients ask for jazz, R&B or holiday records.

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The man who gave Jorgensen the idea for ATX-VINyL loved classic rock. That was around three years ago, when Jorgensen, a long-time emergency medicine physician, began a fellowship in palliative care — a specialty aimed at improving quality of life for people with serious conditions, including terminal illnesses.

Shortly after he began the fellowship, he says he struggled to connect with a particular patient.

“I couldn’t draw this man out, and I felt like he was really struggling and suffering,” Jorgensen said.

He had the idea to try playing the patient some music.

He went with “The Boys Are Back in Town,” by the 1970s Irish rock group Thin Lizzy, and saw an immediate change in the patient.

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“He was telling me old stories about his life. He was getting more honest and vulnerable about the health challenges he was facing,” Jorgensen said. “And it just struck me that all this time I’ve been practicing medicine, there’s such a powerful tool that is almost universal to the human experience, which is music, and I’ve never tapped into it.”

Dr. Tyler Jorgensen, a palliative care doctor at Dell Seton Medical Center, holds a Willie Nelson album in an office on December 9, 2025. Ferguson said patients have been increasingly requesting country music and they had to source that genre specifically.

Dr. Tyler Jorgensen plays vinyl records as a form of music therapy for palliative care patients in Austin, Texas. Willie Nelson’s albums are a perennial hit.

Lorianne Willett/KUT News


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Creating new memories

Jorgensen realized records could lift the spirits of patients dealing with heavy circumstances in hospital spaces that are often aesthetically bare. And he thought vinyl would offer a more personal touch than streaming a digital track through a smartphone or speaker.

“There’s just something inherently warm about the friction of a record — the pops, the scratches,” he said. “It sort of resonates through the wooden record player, and it just feels different.”

Since then, he has built up a collection of 60 records and counting at the hospital. The most-requested album, by a landslide, is Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours from 1977. Willie is also popular, along with Etta James and John Denver. And around the holidays, the Vince Guaraldi Trio’s A Charlie Brown Christmas gets a lot of spins.

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These days, it’s often a volunteer who rolls the record player from room to room after consulting nursing staff about patients and family members who are struggling and could use a visit.

Daniela Vargas, the UT Austin pre-med undergraduate who heads up the volunteer cohort, became passionate about music therapy years ago when she and her sister began playing violin for isolated patients during the COVID-19 pandemic. She said she sees similar benefits when she curates a collection of records for a patient today.

“We are usually not in the room for the entire time, so it’s a more intimate experience for the patient or family, but being able to interact with the patient in the beginning and at the end can be really transformative,” Vargas said.

Often, the palliative care patients visited by ATX-VINyL are near the end of life.

Jorgensen feels that the record player provides an interruption of the heaviness those patients and their families are experiencing. Suddenly, it’s possible to create a new, positive shared experience at a profoundly difficult time.

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“Now you’re sort of looking at it together and thinking, ‘What are we going to do with this thing? Let’s play something for Mom, let’s play something for Dad.’” he said. “And you are creating a new, positive, shared experience in the setting of something that can otherwise be very sad, very heavy.”

Other patients, like Pamela Mansfield, are working painstakingly toward recovery.

She has had six neck surgeries since April, when she had a serious fall. But on the day she listened to the George Jones album, she had a small victory to celebrate: She stood up for three minutes, a record since her most recent surgery.

With the record spinning, she couldn’t help but think about the victories she’s still pursuing.

“It’s motivating,” she said. “Me and my broom could dance really well to some of this stuff.”

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Video: Who Is Trying to Replace Planned Parenthood?

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Video: Who Is Trying to Replace Planned Parenthood?

new video loaded: Who Is Trying to Replace Planned Parenthood?

As efforts to defund Planned Parenthood lead to the closure of some of its locations, Christian-based clinics that try to dissuade abortions are aiming to fill the gap in women‘s health care. Our reporter Caroline Kitchener describes how this change is playing out in Ames, Iowa.

By Caroline Kitchener, Melanie Bencosme, Karen Hanley, June Kim and Pierre Kattar

December 22, 2025

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