washingtontimes--2020-12-26--Retiring judge took job personally "and it’s killing me."

ALLENTOWN , Pa. ( AP ) - Lehigh County Judge Kelly L. Banach was wearily wrapping up a marathon morning court session in 2014 when a prosecutor and detective hurried to the bench .
We ’ ve just come from investigating a homicide , they told the judge .
Marked on the victim ’ s calendar , they said , was a lunch appointment that day - with Banach .
More than six years later , Banach ’ s eyes still well up when she talks about Carlos Lugo , a man she put behind bars for leading a drug @ @ @ @ @ @ @ his lengthy rap sheet .
Lugo was fresh out of prison when they crossed paths one afternoon at Pizza Mart , her favorite lunch spot near the courthouse in Allentown .
He confided that he was trying to stay straight but , unable to find a job , was feeling the familiar pull of criminal life .
You ’ re better than that , Banach told Lugo , ticking off a list of jobs he might qualify for .
Encouraged , Lugo agreed to tell the judge about his progress in a few @ @ @ @ @ @ @ day before the lunch meeting , Lugo and two friends attempted to rob a man on Westminster Street in Allentown .
The man pulled his own gun in self-defense and shot Lugo , 35 , dead .
“ I was stunned , ” Banach said .
“ I think I even said out loud , ‘ Carlos , couldn ’ t you have just waited til lunch ?
We could have talked about it ’ .
” Banach , who retires this month after 17 years on the bench , said Lugo ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ took his failure to succeed personally .
It ’ s a lament she voices frequently in court , especially to the defendants who appear before her again and again , highlighting the futility of the pep talks she hands down with her sentences and , to some degree , the criminal justice system .
“ I took this job personally and it ’ s killing me , ” she said in a recent interview .
She considered herself a problem-solver , but her efforts often had no effect , as the same people @ @ @ @ @ @ @ same issues she had tried to address .
And the system , with all its weaknesses , was beyond her power to improve .
Banach oversaw both adult and juvenile court .
As the mother of two sons , it was a particular gut punch to recognize the faces of young men standing before her because they ’ d passed through her juvenile courtroom as teens .
Neither the creative sentences she ’ d craft there , full of rehabilitative programs , nor her motherly advice from the bench , had put them @ @ @ @ @ @ @ much of this is my fault , ” Banach began to wonder .
“ I ’ ve sent a whole generation of men of color to prison , ” she said .
“ Justifiably .
They ’ ve committed crimes .
The sentences were legal sentences and reasonable sentences .
But , yet , I ’ ve sent these men to jail , leaving generations of children without male figureheads.
” Banach said this realization led her to issue sentences that some may feel were more lenient that those given in other courtrooms @ @ @ @ @ @ @ lot of judges , especially in criminal court , that the longer they sit and the more dismayed they become , their sentences become harsher .
I ’ ve been the reverse .
The longer I sit , the more I realize it doesn ’ t help .
Even extended periods of probation .
It just trips people up , ” she said .
Banach , 63 , didn ’ t always feel so down about her career .
Growing up in Allentown ’ s West End , she was cognizant from a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ life , and she wanted to give back to the community .
Her father , Stanley , was a doctor and her mother , Marietta , worked in a medical lab .
After graduating from Cornell University and Villanova University School of Law , Banach joined the Bucks County public defender ’ s office in 1983 and worked there for two years .
After a brief stint as a civil litigator , Banach was hired at the Lehigh County district attorney ’ s office in 1987 , where she rose through the ranks @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the Special Offenses Unit , prosecuting sex offenders and child predators .
It was in the DA ’ s office that she met her husband , Richard Mongilutz , then an Allentown police detective .
He was the investigator on many of her cases , and they didn ’ t always see eye-to-eye .
Banach recalled walking into an interview room one day to see Mongilutz serving coffee and doughnuts to a man suspected of raping several children .
“ I couldn ’ t believe it .
I grabbed him by the arm @ @ @ @ @ @ @ said , ‘ What the hell is that ’ ?
” Mongilutz explained that suspects were more likely to open up to a detective who treated them like human beings .
Watching the way he handled people shaped Banach ’ s judicial philosophy , she said .
Life is hard and people are struggling , she reminds herself often .
Be kind .
That approach has led to some successes .
Luis Perez says Banach ’ s kindness saved his life .
He was 26 when Banach sentenced him for retail theft .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ , Perez had his first contact with police as a 10-year-old heroin mule for his father , who was incarcerated as a result , leaving Perez to care for his younger siblings .
Perez said he was hardened and hopeless at his guilty plea hearing in 2006 .
“ Judge Banach asked me what was going on in my life .
Not just about my crime , but me .
It was the first time someone had asked me that , and I kind of just broke down , ” he said .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ connected him with people and programs .
He used what he learned to found ReciproCITY , an Allentown nonprofit that connects people experiencing homelessness , poverty or reentry hurdles with services , .
“ That day in Judge Banach ’ s courtroom was the defining moment in my life .
She gave me the open door to grab the opportunities I needed .
Thank God for her , ” he said .
“ She changed my life.
” When Banach feels like she ’ s not getting through to a defendant , she @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
It ’ s not unusual for the judge to summon siblings , pastors and grannies leaning on walkers to the front of the courtroom .
Don ’ t tell me you ’ ll do better , she says to the person being sentenced , tell them .
This personal touch extended to crime victims too , said Kim Silvestri , who supervises the victim-witness unit of the Lehigh County district attorney ’ s office .
Silvestri described Banach as “ always conversational with victims , kind , funny at appropriate times , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Banach never failed to say “ I ’ m sorry ” after victims told their story , and would acknowledge that there was only so much the courts could do to ease their pain .
“ One of the most compelling things I ever heard her say , which impacts me every day in my work , is ‘ Generally speaking , the criminal justice system is rather unsatisfactory.
’ It was compelling to me as a victim advocate because it ’ s the truth , ” Silvestri said .
Banach , who @ @ @ @ @ @ @ an “ over-sharer ” who doubts there is a higher power , said she marvels at victims who come into court ready to forgive .
She lets the ones still struggling with their feelings know they aren ’ t under any obligation to turn the other cheek .
“ Telling someone they have to forgive , that ’ s minimizing the experience of a victim .
It tells them that what they ’ re feeling is wrong , that the feeling will garner them some greater consequence in the great beyond , ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in court , Banach should also be remembered as a crime fighter , said Steve Luksa , Lehigh County ’ s first assistant district attorney .
He recounted numerous times the judge made herself available when he needed a search warrant approved in the middle of the night or , most memorably , when she was halfway through a manicure at a nail salon .
Banach told the wet nails story during a Dec. 15 ceremony to unveil her official portrait , which will hang in courtroom 2A .
She posed for the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg ’ s photo on it .
Due to the pandemic , the ceremony was held on Zoom , with the portrait sitting in one frame of the video conferencing system , while dozens of well-wishers popped in an out of the other screens .
Luksa was the prosecutor who informed Banach that Lugo , the former inmate she ran into at Pizza Mart , would miss their lunch date .
It didn ’ t surprise him at all that the judge would have lunch with someone she @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Judge Banach has always believed that most people who come through her courtroom can be redeemed .
That given the right set of circumstances , an individual can be better , ” Luksa said .
After some rest and maybe a little travel with Mongilutz , Banach hopes to return to the courthouse next year as a senior judge , sitting one afternoon a week in juvenile court .
Being a judge is tough and disappointing , but she said she ’ ll feel worse if she doesn ’ t help .

LAURIE MASON SCHROEDER, The (Allentown) Morning Call

ALLENTOWN, Pa. (AP) - Lehigh County Judge Kelly L. Banach was wearily wrapping up a marathon morning court session in 2014 when a prosecutor and detective hurried to the bench. We’ve just come from investigating a homicide, they told the judge. Marked on the victim’s calendar, they said, was a lunch appointment that day - with Banach.
More than six years later, Banach’s eyes still well up when she talks about Carlos Lugo, a man she put behind bars for leading a drug ring, one of many offenses on his lengthy rap sheet. Lugo was fresh out of prison when they crossed paths one afternoon at Pizza Mart, her favorite lunch spot near the courthouse in Allentown. He confided that he was trying to stay straight but, unable to find a job, was feeling the familiar pull of criminal life.
You’re better than that, Banach told Lugo, ticking off a list of jobs he might qualify for. Encouraged, Lugo agreed to tell the judge about his progress in a few weeks, over a slice.
One day before the lunch meeting, Lugo and two friends attempted to rob a man on Westminster Street in Allentown. The man pulled his own gun in self-defense and shot Lugo, 35, dead.
“I was stunned,” Banach said. “I think I even said out loud, ‘Carlos, couldn’t you have just waited til lunch? We could have talked about it’.”
Banach, who retires this month after 17 years on the bench, said Lugo’s death hit her hard because she took his failure to succeed personally. It’s a lament she voices frequently in court, especially to the defendants who appear before her again and again, highlighting the futility of the pep talks she hands down with her sentences and, to some degree, the criminal justice system.
“I took this job personally and it’s killing me,” she said in a recent interview.
She considered herself a problem-solver, but her efforts often had no effect, as the same people would return to her courtroom with the same issues she had tried to address. And the system, with all its weaknesses, was beyond her power to improve.
Banach oversaw both adult and juvenile court. As the mother of two sons, it was a particular gut punch to recognize the faces of young men standing before her because they’d passed through her juvenile courtroom as teens. Neither the creative sentences she’d craft there, full of rehabilitative programs, nor her motherly advice from the bench, had put them on a better path.
“How much of this is my fault,” Banach began to wonder.
“I’ve sent a whole generation of men of color to prison,” she said. “Justifiably. They’ve committed crimes. The sentences were legal sentences and reasonable sentences. But, yet, I’ve sent these men to jail, leaving generations of children without male figureheads.”
Banach said this realization led her to issue sentences that some may feel were more lenient that those given in other courtrooms.
“I think there are a lot of judges, especially in criminal court, that the longer they sit and the more dismayed they become, their sentences become harsher. I’ve been the reverse. The longer I sit, the more I realize it doesn’t help. Even extended periods of probation. It just trips people up,” she said.
Banach, 63, didn’t always feel so down about her career. Growing up in Allentown’s West End, she was cognizant from a young age that she lived a privileged life, and she wanted to give back to the community. Her father, Stanley, was a doctor and her mother, Marietta, worked in a medical lab.
After graduating from Cornell University and Villanova University School of Law, Banach joined the Bucks County public defender’s office in 1983 and worked there for two years. After a brief stint as a civil litigator, Banach was hired at the Lehigh County district attorney’s office in 1987, where she rose through the ranks to senior chief deputy and supervisor of the Special Offenses Unit, prosecuting sex offenders and child predators.
It was in the DA’s office that she met her husband, Richard Mongilutz, then an Allentown police detective. He was the investigator on many of her cases, and they didn’t always see eye-to-eye.
Banach recalled walking into an interview room one day to see Mongilutz serving coffee and doughnuts to a man suspected of raping several children.
“I couldn’t believe it. I grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the hallway and said, ‘What the hell is that’?”
Mongilutz explained that suspects were more likely to open up to a detective who treated them like human beings. Watching the way he handled people shaped Banach’s judicial philosophy, she said. Life is hard and people are struggling, she reminds herself often. Be kind.
That approach has led to some successes. Luis Perez says Banach’s kindness saved his life. He was 26 when Banach sentenced him for retail theft. A single father of four small children, Perez had his first contact with police as a 10-year-old heroin mule for his father, who was incarcerated as a result, leaving Perez to care for his younger siblings.
Perez said he was hardened and hopeless at his guilty plea hearing in 2006.
“Judge Banach asked me what was going on in my life. Not just about my crime, but me. It was the first time someone had asked me that, and I kind of just broke down,” he said.
Banach took an interest in Perez and connected him with people and programs. He used what he learned to found ReciproCITY, an Allentown nonprofit that connects people experiencing homelessness, poverty or reentry hurdles with services,.
“That day in Judge Banach’s courtroom was the defining moment in my life. She gave me the open door to grab the opportunities I needed. Thank God for her,” he said. “She changed my life.”
When Banach feels like she’s not getting through to a defendant, she’ll enlist someone with more influence. It’s not unusual for the judge to summon siblings, pastors and grannies leaning on walkers to the front of the courtroom. Don’t tell me you’ll do better, she says to the person being sentenced, tell them.
This personal touch extended to crime victims too, said Kim Silvestri, who supervises the victim-witness unit of the Lehigh County district attorney’s office. Silvestri described Banach as “always conversational with victims, kind, funny at appropriate times, no-nonsense and honest.”
Silvestri noted that Banach never failed to say “I’m sorry” after victims told their story, and would acknowledge that there was only so much the courts could do to ease their pain.
“One of the most compelling things I ever heard her say, which impacts me every day in my work, is ‘Generally speaking, the criminal justice system is rather unsatisfactory.’ It was compelling to me as a victim advocate because it’s the truth,” Silvestri said.
Banach, who describes herself as “quirky” and an “over-sharer” who doubts there is a higher power, said she marvels at victims who come into court ready to forgive. She lets the ones still struggling with their feelings know they aren’t under any obligation to turn the other cheek.
“Telling someone they have to forgive, that’s minimizing the experience of a victim. It tells them that what they’re feeling is wrong, that the feeling will garner them some greater consequence in the great beyond,” she said.
Despite her motherly demeanor in court, Banach should also be remembered as a crime fighter, said Steve Luksa, Lehigh County’s first assistant district attorney. He recounted numerous times the judge made herself available when he needed a search warrant approved in the middle of the night or, most memorably, when she was halfway through a manicure at a nail salon.
Banach told the wet nails story during a Dec. 15 ceremony to unveil her official portrait, which will hang in courtroom 2A. She posed for the painting while holding a face mask with Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s photo on it. Due to the pandemic, the ceremony was held on Zoom, with the portrait sitting in one frame of the video conferencing system, while dozens of well-wishers popped in an out of the other screens.
Luksa was the prosecutor who informed Banach that Lugo, the former inmate she ran into at Pizza Mart, would miss their lunch date. It didn’t surprise him at all that the judge would have lunch with someone she’d sent to prison.
“Judge Banach has always believed that most people who come through her courtroom can be redeemed. That given the right set of circumstances, an individual can be better,” Luksa said.
After some rest and maybe a little travel with Mongilutz, Banach hopes to return to the courthouse next year as a senior judge, sitting one afternoon a week in juvenile court.
Being a judge is tough and disappointing, but she said she’ll feel worse if she doesn’t help.
___
Online:
https://bit.ly/38hXYVb


washingtontimes--2020-12-26--Florida hunter makes Christmas cookies with python eggs

WEST PALM BEACH , Fla. ( AP ) - Burmese python may not be everyone ’ s first food of choice for festive holiday fare - or second , third or fourth either .
For starters , it ’ s snake .
Plus , because of potentially high mercury levels , there ’ s still a lot of uncertainty over the health risks posed by eating South Florida ’ s most destructive invasive species .
But one South Florida python hunter has been experimenting with what some have dubbed “ chicken of the Glades ” - making meals , snacks @ @ @ @ @ @ @ holidays that distinctive South Florida flavor .
How about python jerky , a plate of constrictor and grits for breakfast or maybe a nice Christmas cookie whipped up with snake-yolk dough ?
“ I really like making jerky because it ’ s a great snack , but the meat is also good for pasta sauce and sliders , especially when mixed with some other meat like hog , ” said Donna Kalil , a veteran python hunter who just bagged snake number 470 since she joined the python elimination program at the South @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in 2017 .
While on a hunt last week , Kalil shared some of her jerky , which she munches to help refuel during the often 10-hour days out in the Everglades looking for the stealthy snakes .
A recent batch with her own secret barbecue sauce , which she has named Everglades Boys , turned out too hard .
But a batch with mojo was spot on : chewy on the inside , slightly crispy on the outside .
Her top cooking tip : “ Don ’ t overcook python .
It @ @ @ @ @ @ @ right .
It takes practice.
” Her health advice : She uses a home testing kit to check mercury levels in the meat and cooks only small snakes , which are likely to have the lowest levels of the contaminant .
That ’ s still a big snake as they can reach six feet or more in their first year .
Mercury occurs naturally in the earth but it can also build up in ocean waters and places like the Everglades , entering the atmosphere mostly through the burning of fossil fuels and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Once deposited , certain microorganisms can change mercury into more dangerous methylmercury , a highly toxic form that builds up in fish , shellfish and animals that eat fish , in a process known as bioaccumulation .
That ’ s why many coastal and freshwater fish in Florida , including the largemouth bass , already have recommended consumption limits by the Florida Department of Health .
But in general , the bigger the predator , the more mercury that is likely accumulated .
And that makes pythons a problem , as they @ @ @ @ @ @ @ feet and 100 pounds - and eat just about everything else in the Everglades , including the occasional alligator .
The Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission and the Florida Department of Health are conducting a joint study on mercury contamination in pythons that are caught by the state contractors in Broward , Miami-Dade , Monroe , Collier , Palm Beach , Hendry , and Lee counties .
The goal is to develop consumption advisories for Burmese pythons in South Florida , so the public can understand the risks before putting snakes on @ @ @ @ @ @ @ eat python on a daily basis because it ’ s still unclear how contaminated the snakes are .
When she does , she likes to pressure cook the meat for a few minutes before using it in sautees or in pasta sauce .
When she is lucky enough to catch an egg-bearing female , she removes the eggs , which are a bit bigger than chicken eggs , and cooks them either hard-boiled with Sriracha sauce or in frittatas .
Kalil also freezes the eggs , which she uses for cookies .
The @ @ @ @ @ @ @ less adventurous foodies , but the gluten-free rocky road and sugar cookies she made last week to share with friends as pre-holiday treats were pretty delicious .
Just as achieving the right consistency for python meat dishes is a challenge , spotting and capturing the invaders in the Everglades is an art in itself .
As a professional hunter , Kalil goes out almost every single day , combing the marshes that surround levees for the characteristic pattern : tan and light brown marked with dark brown and black blotches .
She slowly @ @ @ @ @ @ @ levees while a partner or volunteer stands on a custom-made perch she had installed on top of the car , like a tuna tower with powerful lights on all sides , for night hunts .
“ You have to have a mix of expanded peripheral vision and moments of laser-sharp focus if that makes any sense , ” she laughed while looking out the car window to the sloping grassy area between the levee and the shallow water .
From the perch , Kalil ’ s fellow hunter Amy Siewe focused on the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ out at breathtaking views of cypress domes .
They both sported pink T-shirts with the Everglades Avengers logo .
Siewe , a self-described herper - reptile and amphibian enthusiasts - moved from Indiana to South Florida to become a python hunter last year .
“ There could be dozens of pythons surrounding us right now but they are so good at occupying this habitat that we can ’ t see them , ” said Siewe .
The giant snakes are everywhere in South Florida , devouring mammals in the Everglades and disrupting the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ They are such a threat to the health of the fragile ecosystem that state wildlife managers have put a bounty on their heads and enlisted teams of hunters to track them down and take them out .
Pythons are believed to have appeared in the Everglades in the early 1980s , having been kept as pets and then released by frustrated owners who got tired of feeding them mice and other live meals .
In the wild , they found perfect conditions : plenty of water in which to mate and abundant food @ @ @ @ @ @ @ which has led to high reproduction rates : females can lay up to 100 eggs a year .
In addition to the District ’ s paid python hunters , the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission also runs a python elimination program by employing contractors .
This year was a record , with nearly 3,000 snakes removed by both teams .
Since the start of the programs in 2017 nearly 6,300 pythons have been captured , said Eric Sutton , FWC ’ s executive director .
He said the state and federal governments @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that the python is a significant threat to the success of the programs .
“ If you ’ re going to get the water right , you have to make sure the right ecosystem is there , ” Sutton said .
Allowing the consumption of python meat might encourage more people to get involved in catching them , Kalil said .
“ It ’ s a great source of protein , so if we can find a safe way to use the whole animal and not just the skin , it might encourage @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the Everglades .
”

WEST PALM BEACH, Fla. (AP) - Burmese python may not be everyone’s first food of choice for festive holiday fare - or second, third or fourth either.
For starters, it’s snake. Plus, because of potentially high mercury levels, there’s still a lot of uncertainty over the health risks posed by eating South Florida’s most destructive invasive species.
But one South Florida python hunter has been experimenting with what some have dubbed “chicken of the Glades” - making meals, snacks and even sweets that could give the holidays that distinctive South Florida flavor. How about python jerky, a plate of constrictor and grits for breakfast or maybe a nice Christmas cookie whipped up with snake-yolk dough?
“I really like making jerky because it’s a great snack, but the meat is also good for pasta sauce and sliders, especially when mixed with some other meat like hog,” said Donna Kalil, a veteran python hunter who just bagged snake number 470 since she joined the python elimination program at the South Florida Water Management District when it started in 2017.
While on a hunt last week, Kalil shared some of her jerky, which she munches to help refuel during the often 10-hour days out in the Everglades looking for the stealthy snakes. A recent batch with her own secret barbecue sauce, which she has named Everglades Boys, turned out too hard. But a batch with mojo was spot on: chewy on the inside, slightly crispy on the outside.
Her top cooking tip: “Don’t overcook python. It’s really tricky to get it right. It takes practice.”
Her health advice: She uses a home testing kit to check mercury levels in the meat and cooks only small snakes, which are likely to have the lowest levels of the contaminant. That’s still a big snake as they can reach six feet or more in their first year.
MERCURY STANDARDS
Mercury occurs naturally in the earth but it can also build up in ocean waters and places like the Everglades, entering the atmosphere mostly through the burning of fossil fuels and mining and traveling long distances before settling. Once deposited, certain microorganisms can change mercury into more dangerous methylmercury, a highly toxic form that builds up in fish, shellfish and animals that eat fish, in a process known as bioaccumulation.
That’s why many coastal and freshwater fish in Florida, including the largemouth bass, already have recommended consumption limits by the Florida Department of Health.
But in general, the bigger the predator, the more mercury that is likely accumulated. And that makes pythons a problem, as they grow massive - some more than 18 feet and 100 pounds - and eat just about everything else in the Everglades, including the occasional alligator.
The Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission and the Florida Department of Health are conducting a joint study on mercury contamination in pythons that are caught by the state contractors in Broward, Miami-Dade, Monroe, Collier, Palm Beach, Hendry, and Lee counties. The goal is to develop consumption advisories for Burmese pythons in South Florida, so the public can understand the risks before putting snakes on the plate.
Kalil doesn’t eat python on a daily basis because it’s still unclear how contaminated the snakes are. When she does, she likes to pressure cook the meat for a few minutes before using it in sautees or in pasta sauce.
When she is lucky enough to catch an egg-bearing female, she removes the eggs, which are a bit bigger than chicken eggs, and cooks them either hard-boiled with Sriracha sauce or in frittatas. Kalil also freezes the eggs, which she uses for cookies.
The soft and leathery eggs might turn off less adventurous foodies, but the gluten-free rocky road and sugar cookies she made last week to share with friends as pre-holiday treats were pretty delicious.
HUNTING FOR SNAKES
Just as achieving the right consistency for python meat dishes is a challenge, spotting and capturing the invaders in the Everglades is an art in itself. As a professional hunter, Kalil goes out almost every single day, combing the marshes that surround levees for the characteristic pattern: tan and light brown marked with dark brown and black blotches.
She slowly drives her 1997 Ford Expedition on the levees while a partner or volunteer stands on a custom-made perch she had installed on top of the car, like a tuna tower with powerful lights on all sides, for night hunts.
“You have to have a mix of expanded peripheral vision and moments of laser-sharp focus if that makes any sense,” she laughed while looking out the car window to the sloping grassy area between the levee and the shallow water.
From the perch, Kalil’s fellow hunter Amy Siewe focused on the other side of the levee, looking out at breathtaking views of cypress domes. They both sported pink T-shirts with the Everglades Avengers logo.
Siewe, a self-described herper - reptile and amphibian enthusiasts - moved from Indiana to South Florida to become a python hunter last year. “There could be dozens of pythons surrounding us right now but they are so good at occupying this habitat that we can’t see them,” said Siewe.
The giant snakes are everywhere in South Florida, devouring mammals in the Everglades and disrupting the natural balance of predator and prey. They are such a threat to the health of the fragile ecosystem that state wildlife managers have put a bounty on their heads and enlisted teams of hunters to track them down and take them out.
Pythons are believed to have appeared in the Everglades in the early 1980s, having been kept as pets and then released by frustrated owners who got tired of feeding them mice and other live meals. In the wild, they found perfect conditions: plenty of water in which to mate and abundant food. The invaders have no predators, which has led to high reproduction rates: females can lay up to 100 eggs a year.
In addition to the District’s paid python hunters, the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission also runs a python elimination program by employing contractors. This year was a record, with nearly 3,000 snakes removed by both teams. Since the start of the programs in 2017 nearly 6,300 pythons have been captured, said Eric Sutton, FWC’s executive director.
He said the state and federal governments are spending billions in Everglades restoration and that the python is a significant threat to the success of the programs.
“If you’re going to get the water right, you have to make sure the right ecosystem is there,” Sutton said.
Allowing the consumption of python meat might encourage more people to get involved in catching them, Kalil said.
“It’s a great source of protein, so if we can find a safe way to use the whole animal and not just the skin, it might encourage more people to get involved in saving the Everglades.”


washingtontimes--2020-12-26--Staying fit, building community and fighting ‘COVID handles’

He came here 26 years ago as a high school junior , seeking refuge from the unforgiving streets of East Point just outside of Atlanta .
His mother , a Pittsburgh native raising him alone , sent him back to her hometown to live with his aunt on Highland Avenue in Turtle Creek .
It changed the trajectory of his life .
On his first day at Woodland Hills High School , he encountered legendary Wolverines head coach George Novak , who coaxed him onto the football field , beginning a journey that would take him to big-time college football @ @ @ @ @ @ @ two seasons in the National Football League .
“ It was the best thing for me and the best decision my mom probably ever made because it just made my life turn in a different way , ” he said .
Now , at 42 , he goes back to that same field , the Wolvarena , and local gyms to teach fitness and nutrition free of charge to folks chronically underserved in both areas , and just maybe change the trajectory of their lives , too .
That he continues to do @ @ @ @ @ @ @ importance of his mission .
At 6-foot-3 and 260 pounds with shoulders like boulders , biceps like bowling balls and a thick beard flecked with gray , Mr. Edmonds ’ presence belies the affable , upbeat nature of the founder of the Athletic Trauma Unit .
He creates a genuine community with his workouts , which sometimes attract hundreds of people .
But they started with just him and two others .
In 2006 , he had played a few years with the Cincinnati Bengals and a little time in NFL Europe .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
“ I felt good about walking away from it , with my knees and my shoulders and my head intact , ” he said .
“ I wanted to get on with some different ventures in life - something that was mine , something that I could say , ‘ I did that.
’ “ I had in my mind that I was always going to come back .
I felt indebted to the Woodland Hills community.
” He worked as a juvenile correctional officer until June 2014 .
At another crossroads @ @ @ @ @ @ @ - fitness - but also with a specific mission : giving people advice to get in shape when they don ’ t have a gym or the means to pay for it .
“ I didn ’ t want people to have to pay me .
I felt like the gripe within the community was they didn ’ t want to go to the gym because they were far away - in Monroeville , in Murrysville , or way Downtown.
” The concept of food deserts - areas with residents of lower income @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to affordable and nutritious food - has gained increasing awareness in recent years .
So too have “ fitness deserts.
” Neighborhoods such as Braddock , Rankin and Turtle Creek are like the overlapping part of a Venn diagram for both types of deserts .
Edmonds became a certified personal trainer , then eliminated the need for a gym from the equation .
His workout was designed around the principles of body resistance movements , so all participants need is themselves and gravity .
No weights , no machines , no ropes , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hosted his first workout at the Wolvarena in 2014 .
“ Two people showed up the first day .
Within a few weeks , there were 10 .
By the end of the summer , we ’ d have 50 to 100 people .
It really caught hold.
” Anyone from kids to seniors can participate and go at their own pace , although Edmonds will push them with positivity .
After a workout , a friend remarked , “ Man , this is like , traumatic .
We put ourselves through some @ @ @ @ @ @ @ name Athletic Trauma Unit - ATU for short - was born .
Edmonds does private athletic training as a separate business , but to continue the mission of free workouts , he started a 501c3 charitable organization that relies on donations .
He ’ s also started a food truck to promote healthy eating .
“ I ’ m not a nutritionist , but the whole intention of the food truck is teaching people healthy eating by showing them ‘ this tastes good.
’ I ’ ll give you the recipe and you @ @ @ @ @ @ @ lot of salt and sauce .
You can help your family be more healthy so we can build a healthier community.
” He ’ s led turkey drives at Thanksgiving and his Athletic Trauma Unit participates in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette ’ s Goodfellows fund , which helps Toys for Tots provide toys to families in need during the holiday season .
Edmonds has not let the pandemic get in the way of his mission , even if that means mandatory masks , temperature checks , limiting class attendees and scheduling more frequent workouts @ @ @ @ @ @ @ YouTube channel for workouts and moved his classes to Zoom in response to the most recent state restrictions .
“ I don ’ t care if it ’ s one person or 100 , we ’ re going to work out , ” he said .
“ That person might be dealing with mental health or family issues , so I approach everyone the same .
I struggle too , just like everyone else .
Taking away some of these different barriers can be helping someone save their own life .
“ I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ classes and get married and have kids .
One person met another and ended up donating their kidney to them .
A friend lost 250 pounds and got a grant to have excess skin removed because he did it naturally .
A woman with a prosthetic got a grant for a running leg .
We have a 93-year-old woman who comes here.
” Candace Foster , an accountant from Homewood , has been coming since the beginning .
The 53-year-old single mother of three has precious little time to work out and gyms @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ATU , she found not only an avenue to fitness , but a genuine community of friends who work out together and have dinner and socialize together , too .
“ I knew from the first workout that this was it .
It was all levels , ages , men and women , all in different places in life with one thing in common : We wanted to get or stay fit and maintain health and wellness .
“ Now it ’ s this big whole network , ” she said .
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ No one comes to work out thinking they can ’ t measure up .
We all finish together and make sure no one is left behind .
He really has an impact , and it helps during these dark times.
” These dark times make exercise difficult , especially when you add snow into the mix .
Edmonds says that right now , it ’ s not as important what you do , but that like the Nike slogan says , you just do it .
Every day .
Find something that you @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s just a little video class or a stationary bike or jumping rope , he said .
Just do something .
If you walk your pets , walk them a little longer .
Do the steps at your house .
Anything that you can do to move and to get your heart rate going .
“ We ’ re all human beings .
It ’ s like anything .
It ’ s a force of habit .
If you take yourself off of the things that you do every day , it @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , he said , “ No one wants to get COVID handles .
”

PITTSBURGH (AP) - Chris Edmonds says Pittsburgh saved his life.
He came here 26 years ago as a high school junior, seeking refuge from the unforgiving streets of East Point just outside of Atlanta. His mother, a Pittsburgh native raising him alone, sent him back to her hometown to live with his aunt on Highland Avenue in Turtle Creek. It changed the trajectory of his life.
On his first day at Woodland Hills High School, he encountered legendary Wolverines head coach George Novak, who coaxed him onto the football field, beginning a journey that would take him to big-time college football at West Virginia University and culminate in two seasons in the National Football League.
“It was the best thing for me and the best decision my mom probably ever made because it just made my life turn in a different way,” he said.
Now, at 42, he goes back to that same field, the Wolvarena, and local gyms to teach fitness and nutrition free of charge to folks chronically underserved in both areas, and just maybe change the trajectory of their lives, too. That he continues to do so amidst a pandemic only heightens the importance of his mission.
At 6-foot-3 and 260 pounds with shoulders like boulders, biceps like bowling balls and a thick beard flecked with gray, Mr. Edmonds’ presence belies the affable, upbeat nature of the founder of the Athletic Trauma Unit. He creates a genuine community with his workouts, which sometimes attract hundreds of people. But they started with just him and two others.
In 2006, he had played a few years with the Cincinnati Bengals and a little time in NFL Europe. Then the 29-year-old hung up his helmet.
“I felt good about walking away from it, with my knees and my shoulders and my head intact,” he said. “I wanted to get on with some different ventures in life - something that was mine, something that I could say, ‘I did that.’
“I had in my mind that I was always going to come back. I felt indebted to the Woodland Hills community.”
He worked as a juvenile correctional officer until June 2014. At another crossroads, he delved into his true passion - fitness - but also with a specific mission: giving people advice to get in shape when they don’t have a gym or the means to pay for it.
“I didn’t want people to have to pay me. I felt like the gripe within the community was they didn’t want to go to the gym because they were far away - in Monroeville, in Murrysville, or way Downtown.”
The concept of food deserts - areas with residents of lower income and reduced mobility who have limited access to affordable and nutritious food - has gained increasing awareness in recent years. So too have “fitness deserts.” Neighborhoods such as Braddock, Rankin and Turtle Creek are like the overlapping part of a Venn diagram for both types of deserts.
Edmonds became a certified personal trainer, then eliminated the need for a gym from the equation. His workout was designed around the principles of body resistance movements, so all participants need is themselves and gravity. No weights, no machines, no ropes, no kettlebells or box jumps.
He hosted his first workout at the Wolvarena in 2014.
“Two people showed up the first day. Within a few weeks, there were 10. By the end of the summer, we’d have 50 to 100 people. It really caught hold.”
Anyone from kids to seniors can participate and go at their own pace, although Edmonds will push them with positivity. After a workout, a friend remarked, “Man, this is like, traumatic. We put ourselves through some real trauma - athletic trauma.”
The name Athletic Trauma Unit - ATU for short - was born.
Edmonds does private athletic training as a separate business, but to continue the mission of free workouts, he started a 501c3 charitable organization that relies on donations. He’s also started a food truck to promote healthy eating.
“I’m not a nutritionist, but the whole intention of the food truck is teaching people healthy eating by showing them ‘this tastes good.’ I’ll give you the recipe and you can make it at home without a lot of salt and sauce. You can help your family be more healthy so we can build a healthier community.”
He’s led turkey drives at Thanksgiving and his Athletic Trauma Unit participates in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette’s Goodfellows fund, which helps Toys for Tots provide toys to families in need during the holiday season.
Edmonds has not let the pandemic get in the way of his mission, even if that means mandatory masks, temperature checks, limiting class attendees and scheduling more frequent workouts with fewer people. He started a YouTube channel for workouts and moved his classes to Zoom in response to the most recent state restrictions.
“I don’t care if it’s one person or 100, we’re going to work out,” he said. “That person might be dealing with mental health or family issues, so I approach everyone the same. I struggle too, just like everyone else. Taking away some of these different barriers can be helping someone save their own life.
“I’ve seen people meet in these classes and get married and have kids. One person met another and ended up donating their kidney to them. A friend lost 250 pounds and got a grant to have excess skin removed because he did it naturally. A woman with a prosthetic got a grant for a running leg. We have a 93-year-old woman who comes here.”
Candace Foster, an accountant from Homewood, has been coming since the beginning. The 53-year-old single mother of three has precious little time to work out and gyms weren’t for her. With ATU, she found not only an avenue to fitness, but a genuine community of friends who work out together and have dinner and socialize together, too.
“I knew from the first workout that this was it. It was all levels, ages, men and women, all in different places in life with one thing in common: We wanted to get or stay fit and maintain health and wellness.
“Now it’s this big whole network,” she said. “We’re just regular people. No one comes to work out thinking they can’t measure up. We all finish together and make sure no one is left behind. He really has an impact, and it helps during these dark times.”
These dark times make exercise difficult, especially when you add snow into the mix. Edmonds says that right now, it’s not as important what you do, but that like the Nike slogan says, you just do it. Every day.
Find something that you like to do, even if it’s just a little video class or a stationary bike or jumping rope, he said. Just do something. If you walk your pets, walk them a little longer. Do the steps at your house. Anything that you can do to move and to get your heart rate going.
“We’re all human beings. It’s like anything. It’s a force of habit. If you take yourself off of the things that you do every day, it can lead to different issues.”
Besides, he said, “No one wants to get COVID handles.”
___
Online:
https://bit.ly/2WunD7G


washingtontimes--2020-12-26--Workers left downtown Orlando. Will they ever come back?

ORLANDO , Fla. ( AP ) - For one of Orlando ’ s barbecue kings , a lunch spot in a downtown tower next to City Hall was an easy sell : the smokey aromas lured crowds of hungry office workers every day from their cubicles to the 4 Rivers ’ outpost on the south end of Orange Avenue .
When the pandemic hit in March , those office workers disappeared .
And the restaurant is gone , too , just one in a string of casualties that signal the shift to working from home will leave a lasting , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ downtown that Orlando has long tried to establish as a business and cultural hub .
“ When the pandemic hit and the use of office space was compromised … then the business itself is compromised , ” said 4 Rivers founder John Rivers .
“ I don ’ t believe it ’ s a realistic assumption that it ’ s going to rebound immediately.
” Data shows office vacancies , which were already high before workers were sent home to help prevent the spread of the coronavirus , have inched up even higher @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is now available for sublease in Orlando ’ s core and across the region , such as in Lake Mary ’ s business district , a harbinger that companies are looking to downsize or potentially break their leases .
It ’ s also a warning sign of more vacancies ahead in early 2021 , said Brian Alford , the director of market analytics at the CoStar Group .
“ We ’ re going to see vacancies rise all across the market , particularly in Lake Mary and downtown Orlando , ” Alford said @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that ’ s for a couple of quarters … or if this thing drags out … then that would lengthen the horizon for weakening conditions.
” In downtown Orlando , 420,000 square feet of space is available for sublease , Alford said , while in Lake Mary , space for sublease has doubled in the last two months , climbing to 370,000 square feet .
Throughout Metro Orlando , 1.3 million square feet of office space is available , compared with about 891,000 in fourth quarter of last year .
GrayRobinson , one @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that has long occupied five floors in a tower on Pine Street , is in talks to sublease about a quarter of its space , or 20,000 square feet , to another company .
Dean Cannon , president of the firm and a former speaker of the Florida House , said the firm already needed less space as law libraries moved online .
And now , in the wake of the pandemic , the firm surveyed its lawyers and employees and found that many liked working from home and wanted to continue some @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the future .
That means more shared offices or other arrangements could be in the future , Cannon said .
“ I think we will not need as much total square footage as we currently have , ” he said .
“ I think some reasonable reduction in footprint makes sense for us.
” Cannon said the pandemic could lead to a reshuffling of tenants downtown , where some companies leave because of economic conditions while subleasing could allow others to move downtown from the suburbs because they can get cheaper rent prices @ @ @ @ @ @ @ good thing .
You may end up with a more diverse tenant mix , ” he said .
Even before the virus fallout , downtown vacancies were running at a six-year high , in part because of moves such as the one SunTrust made to leave one tower to move to another .
But the long-term nature of corporate leases means it could take years to fully realize the impacts of the virus .
Alford said many firms appear to be re-signing their leases , but now for the shortest term possible to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ flat year over year , below the 1.3 % growth rate across the entire metro area , Alford said .
While the data paints a grim picture for Orlando when comparing to its own recent history , it ’ s outperforming other U.S. cities .
“ Orlando is going to emerge in better shape than most markets , ” he said .
“ I think the lack of density is going to help Orlando withstand it.
” Orlando , like most cities , depends on property taxes to pay for police , fire @ @ @ @ @ @ @ revenue could wane if property values take a hit , a worry Orlando Mayor Buddy Dyer has expressed in recent months .
“ Whether we ’ re going to maintain property values , especially in the downtown area , is a concern over the next couple of years , ” Dyer said in September as the City Council approved a $ 1.4 billion budget .
Orlando ’ s downtown is book-ended on its north and south sides by the sprawling campuses of two large hospital systems , which have continued to drive traffic @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the tourism-driven town has also been crushed by mass layoffs at Walt Disney World , the region ’ s largest employer , as well as at Universal Orlando , SeaWorld Orlando and hotel companies like Rosen Resorts , Gaylord Palms and Hyatt .
Disney alone cut about 18,000 workers in Central Florida .
The job losses have rippled through other industries , too , leaving workers like Dimitri Kopanski looking for cheaper rent .
Kopanski and his partner had moved into an apartment overlooking Lake Eola where he could walk to his job @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
But soon after the pandemic struck , and concert tours , summer music festivals and other events his employer thrived on were canceled , he was laid off from his job manufacturing high-end headphones .
“ If nothing had been disrupted , yeah , I was getting a lot out of ( living downtown ) in many ways , ” he said .
“ For a short time , we were enjoying it.
” Left with his partner ’ s teacher salary and Florida ’ s troubled unemployment system that made it @ @ @ @ @ @ @ insurance , the couple ’ s $ 1,700 monthly rent was too steep .
When their lease expired in August , they decided to leave downtown for east Orlando near one of Valencia College ’ s campuses , where the rent was $ 600 less each month .
Before the pandemic , downtown was in the midst of a boom of new apartments .
The downtown area still has more than $ 2 billion in projects in the pipeline , and counts more than 18,000 residents , according to the Orlando Downtown Development @ @ @ @ @ @ @ corridor ’ s 5,200 apartment units were built in the last five years , according to the board .
Another 5,000 apartments are either under construction or proposed for downtown .
Chip Tatum , the CEO of the Apartment Association of Greater Orlando , said his agency isn ’ t anticipating an exodus from downtown life , even if work-from-home options remain the norm after the pandemic .
With public-sector employees at City Hall , Orange County and the courthouses , there ’ s a solid foundation of residents outside of private-sector workers @ @ @ @ @ @ @ near venues like the Dr. Phillips Center for the Performing Arts , Amway Center and Exploria Stadium .
“ But we don ’ t anticipate any long-term impacts from the work-from-home trend , ” he said .
As tens of thousands of people have faced economic turmoil , the metro area still scored some points in the region ’ s long game to broaden its economy beyond tourism , said Cristal Sircy , the chief operating officer of the Orlando Economic Partnership .
But the group ’ s chief examples occurred far outside @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Lillium announced this month it would set up its first U.S. hub of electric air taxis in Lake Nona , about 20 miles southeast of downtown .
The Minnesota-based SkyWater Technology is negotiating with Osceola County to take over a 40-year lease at the high-tech BRIDG and the Center for NeoVation .
And Luminar Technologies , which manufactures software for autonomous vehicles near the University of Central Florida in east Orange County , went public on Nasdaq .
Rivers , the restaurateur , said a vibrant downtown is important to a community and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ will find a way to adapt if pandemic-driven changes remain even if a successful vaccine roll-out begins to allow people to begin to fill up offices , shops and restaurant dining rooms again .
“ Any thriving city needs a thriving downtown .
I believe there will be some pivoting that will be happening , ” Rivers said .
“ People and business tend to find a way to survive .
”

ORLANDO, Fla. (AP) - For one of Orlando’s barbecue kings, a lunch spot in a downtown tower next to City Hall was an easy sell: the smokey aromas lured crowds of hungry office workers every day from their cubicles to the 4 Rivers’ outpost on the south end of Orange Avenue.
When the pandemic hit in March, those office workers disappeared. And the restaurant is gone, too, just one in a string of casualties that signal the shift to working from home will leave a lasting, if not permanent, imprint on the downtown that Orlando has long tried to establish as a business and cultural hub.
“When the pandemic hit and the use of office space was compromised … then the business itself is compromised,” said 4 Rivers founder John Rivers. “I don’t believe it’s a realistic assumption that it’s going to rebound immediately.”
Data shows office vacancies, which were already high before workers were sent home to help prevent the spread of the coronavirus, have inched up even higher. A record amount of square footage is now available for sublease in Orlando’s core and across the region, such as in Lake Mary’s business district, a harbinger that companies are looking to downsize or potentially break their leases. It’s also a warning sign of more vacancies ahead in early 2021, said Brian Alford, the director of market analytics at the CoStar Group.
“We’re going to see vacancies rise all across the market, particularly in Lake Mary and downtown Orlando,” Alford said. “Then the pandemic determines if that’s for a couple of quarters … or if this thing drags out … then that would lengthen the horizon for weakening conditions.”
In downtown Orlando, 420,000 square feet of space is available for sublease, Alford said, while in Lake Mary, space for sublease has doubled in the last two months, climbing to 370,000 square feet. Throughout Metro Orlando, 1.3 million square feet of office space is available, compared with about 891,000 in fourth quarter of last year.
GrayRobinson, one of Florida’s largest law firms that has long occupied five floors in a tower on Pine Street, is in talks to sublease about a quarter of its space, or 20,000 square feet, to another company.
Dean Cannon, president of the firm and a former speaker of the Florida House, said the firm already needed less space as law libraries moved online. And now, in the wake of the pandemic, the firm surveyed its lawyers and employees and found that many liked working from home and wanted to continue some combination of home and office work in the future. That means more shared offices or other arrangements could be in the future, Cannon said.
“I think we will not need as much total square footage as we currently have,” he said. “I think some reasonable reduction in footprint makes sense for us.”
Cannon said the pandemic could lead to a reshuffling of tenants downtown, where some companies leave because of economic conditions while subleasing could allow others to move downtown from the suburbs because they can get cheaper rent prices.
“That may actually be a good thing. You may end up with a more diverse tenant mix,” he said.
Even before the virus fallout, downtown vacancies were running at a six-year high, in part because of moves such as the one SunTrust made to leave one tower to move to another.
But the long-term nature of corporate leases means it could take years to fully realize the impacts of the virus. Alford said many firms appear to be re-signing their leases, but now for the shortest term possible to maintain flexibility.
Rent growth downtown is flat year over year, below the 1.3% growth rate across the entire metro area, Alford said. While the data paints a grim picture for Orlando when comparing to its own recent history, it’s outperforming other U.S. cities.
“Orlando is going to emerge in better shape than most markets,” he said. “I think the lack of density is going to help Orlando withstand it.”
Orlando, like most cities, depends on property taxes to pay for police, fire, parks and other needs. That revenue could wane if property values take a hit, a worry Orlando Mayor Buddy Dyer has expressed in recent months.
“Whether we’re going to maintain property values, especially in the downtown area, is a concern over the next couple of years,” Dyer said in September as the City Council approved a $1.4 billion budget.
Orlando’s downtown is book-ended on its north and south sides by the sprawling campuses of two large hospital systems, which have continued to drive traffic there even during the pandemic.
But the tourism-driven town has also been crushed by mass layoffs at Walt Disney World, the region’s largest employer, as well as at Universal Orlando, SeaWorld Orlando and hotel companies like Rosen Resorts, Gaylord Palms and Hyatt. Disney alone cut about 18,000 workers in Central Florida.
The job losses have rippled through other industries, too, leaving workers like Dimitri Kopanski looking for cheaper rent.
Kopanski and his partner had moved into an apartment overlooking Lake Eola where he could walk to his job at Jerry Harvey Audio on Garland Avenue.
But soon after the pandemic struck, and concert tours, summer music festivals and other events his employer thrived on were canceled, he was laid off from his job manufacturing high-end headphones.
“If nothing had been disrupted, yeah, I was getting a lot out of (living downtown) in many ways,” he said. “For a short time, we were enjoying it.”
Left with his partner’s teacher salary and Florida’s troubled unemployment system that made it difficult for him to quickly collect unemployment insurance, the couple’s $1,700 monthly rent was too steep. When their lease expired in August, they decided to leave downtown for east Orlando near one of Valencia College’s campuses, where the rent was $600 less each month.
Before the pandemic, downtown was in the midst of a boom of new apartments.
The downtown area still has more than $2 billion in projects in the pipeline, and counts more than 18,000 residents, according to the Orlando Downtown Development Board. Just under half of the corridor’s 5,200 apartment units were built in the last five years, according to the board. Another 5,000 apartments are either under construction or proposed for downtown.
Chip Tatum, the CEO of the Apartment Association of Greater Orlando, said his agency isn’t anticipating an exodus from downtown life, even if work-from-home options remain the norm after the pandemic.
With public-sector employees at City Hall, Orange County and the courthouses, there’s a solid foundation of residents outside of private-sector workers in addition to the allure of living near venues like the Dr. Phillips Center for the Performing Arts, Amway Center and Exploria Stadium.
“But we don’t anticipate any long-term impacts from the work-from-home trend,” he said.
As tens of thousands of people have faced economic turmoil, the metro area still scored some points in the region’s long game to broaden its economy beyond tourism, said Cristal Sircy, the chief operating officer of the Orlando Economic Partnership. But the group’s chief examples occurred far outside of downtown Orlando.
The German company Lillium announced this month it would set up its first U.S. hub of electric air taxis in Lake Nona, about 20 miles southeast of downtown. The Minnesota-based SkyWater Technology is negotiating with Osceola County to take over a 40-year lease at the high-tech BRIDG and the Center for NeoVation. And Luminar Technologies, which manufactures software for autonomous vehicles near the University of Central Florida in east Orange County, went public on Nasdaq.
Rivers, the restaurateur, said a vibrant downtown is important to a community and predicted that, over time, businesses will find a way to adapt if pandemic-driven changes remain even if a successful vaccine roll-out begins to allow people to begin to fill up offices, shops and restaurant dining rooms again.
“Any thriving city needs a thriving downtown. I believe there will be some pivoting that will be happening,” Rivers said. “People and business tend to find a way to survive.”


washingtontimes--2020-12-26--A Sudan in transition presents first-ever film for Oscars

CAIRO ( AP ) - Nearly two years after the overthrow of autocrat Omar al-Bashir , Sudan is taking steps to rejoin the international community from which it was long shunned .
That includes its film industry .
For the first time in its history , Sudan has a submission for the Academy Awards .
Produced by a consortium of European and Egyptian companies but with a Sudanese director and cast , “ You Will Die at Twenty ” will compete in the Best International Feature Film category .
The story follows a young man whose death at the age @ @ @ @ @ @ @ his birth , casting a shadow over his formative years , and parallels the burdens placed on a generation of Sudan ’ s young people .
Based on a short story by Sudanese novelist Hammour Ziyada , critics say it demonstrates that the country ’ s cultural scene is reawakening after decades of oppression .
The film was produced amid mass demonstrations against al-Bashir , who was toppled by the military in April 2019 after ruling the country for nearly 30 years .
“ It was an adventure , ” filmmaker Amjad Abu @ @ @ @ @ @ @ There were protests in the streets that had grown to a revolution by the beginning of filming.
” Sudan ’ s uprising erupted in late 2018 , and as the number of people in the streets swelled , many of them young , the military stepped in and toppled the Islamist president .
Since then , the country has embarked on a fragile transition to democracy , ending years of theocratic rule that limited artists ’ freedoms .
The film ’ s submission was announced in November by the country ’ s ministry @ @ @ @ @ @ @ second anniversary of the start of the uprising .
It follows a narrative written by Ziyada in the early 2000s that chronicles the life of a child in 1960s in a remote village , located between the Blue and White Nile rivers .
The inhabitants are largely guided by ancient Sufi beliefs and traditions , a mystical strain of Islam .
The film starts when a mother , Sakina , takes her newborn boy to a Sufi ceremony at a nearby shrine as a blessing .
As a sheikh gives his blessing , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ meditative dance , suddenly stopping after 20 turns , falling to the ground - a bad omen .
The frightened mother appeals to the Sheikh to give an explanation .
But he says , “ God ’ s command is inevitable.
” At this point , the crowd understands this is a prophecy predicting the child will die at 20 .
Stunned and frustrated , the father leaves his wife and son , named Muzamil , to face their fate alone .
Muzamil grows up under the watchful eye of his overprotective mother @ @ @ @ @ @ @ his early demise .
He is haunted by the prophecy - even other children name him “ the son of death.
” Despite that , Muzamil proves to be an inquisitive boy full of life .
His mother allows him to go to study the Quran .
He receives praise for his memorization and recitation of verses .
Then comes a turning point .
A cinematographer , Suliman , returns to the village after years working abroad .
Muzamil , who is by now working as an assistant to the village shopkeeper , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ alcohol , a social taboo .
Suliman , who lives with a prostitute , opens Muzamil ’ s eyes to the outside world .
Through their discussions , he starts to doubt the prophecy that has governed his life so far and torn his family apart .
As he turns 19 , Muzamil takes it upon himself to decide what it means to be alive , even as death beckons .
The film has received positive reviews from international critics .
It premiered at the 2019 Venice International Film Festival ’ s parallel @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the Lion of the Future for Best First Feature - the first Sudanese film to do so .
Since then , it has won at least two dozen awards at film festivals worldwide .
Abu Alala says his team tackled obstacles in making the film , thrown up by the same conservative milieu that it depicts .
He blames the environment created by al-Bashir , who came to power in an Islamist-backed military coup in 1989 .
Under his rule , limited personal freedoms meant art was viewed with suspicion by many .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ was that local residents at the initial filming location objected to their presence .
The crew was forced to move , but they persevered .
“ We believed that it should be done under any circumstances , ” Abu Alala said .
He says that it was lucky that the film ’ s production period coincided with the cultural watershed moment of the uprising .
The previous government wouldn ’ t have been a proponent of his work .
The movie has also been met with commendations from inside the region .
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ film that makes the audience feel all of its details whenever and whoever they are , ” wrote Egyptian film critic Tarik el-Shenawy .
The film is only the eighth to be made inside Sudan .
Abu Alala says that its selection shows Sudan has countless stories that remain untold .
“ There wasn ’ t a film industry existing in Sudan - only individual attempts … Sudan ’ s rulers - communists or Islamists - were not interested in cinema .
They just were interested in having artists on their sides , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hopes that he and other filmmakers will have the freedom to share Sudan ’ s stories with the world .

CAIRO (AP) - Nearly two years after the overthrow of autocrat Omar al-Bashir, Sudan is taking steps to rejoin the international community from which it was long shunned. That includes its film industry.
For the first time in its history, Sudan has a submission for the Academy Awards. Produced by a consortium of European and Egyptian companies but with a Sudanese director and cast, “You Will Die at Twenty” will compete in the Best International Feature Film category.
The story follows a young man whose death at the age of 20 is prophesied not long after his birth, casting a shadow over his formative years, and parallels the burdens placed on a generation of Sudan’s young people.
Based on a short story by Sudanese novelist Hammour Ziyada, critics say it demonstrates that the country’s cultural scene is reawakening after decades of oppression.
The film was produced amid mass demonstrations against al-Bashir, who was toppled by the military in April 2019 after ruling the country for nearly 30 years.
“It was an adventure,” filmmaker Amjad Abu Alala told The Associated Press. “There were protests in the streets that had grown to a revolution by the beginning of filming.”
Sudan’s uprising erupted in late 2018, and as the number of people in the streets swelled, many of them young, the military stepped in and toppled the Islamist president. Since then, the country has embarked on a fragile transition to democracy, ending years of theocratic rule that limited artists’ freedoms.
The film’s submission was announced in November by the country’s ministry of culture, a month before the second anniversary of the start of the uprising.
It follows a narrative written by Ziyada in the early 2000s that chronicles the life of a child in 1960s in a remote village, located between the Blue and White Nile rivers. The inhabitants are largely guided by ancient Sufi beliefs and traditions, a mystical strain of Islam.
The film starts when a mother, Sakina, takes her newborn boy to a Sufi ceremony at a nearby shrine as a blessing. As a sheikh gives his blessing, a man in traditional clothing performs a meditative dance, suddenly stopping after 20 turns, falling to the ground - a bad omen.
The frightened mother appeals to the Sheikh to give an explanation. But he says, “God’s command is inevitable.” At this point, the crowd understands this is a prophecy predicting the child will die at 20.
Stunned and frustrated, the father leaves his wife and son, named Muzamil, to face their fate alone.
Muzamil grows up under the watchful eye of his overprotective mother, who wears black in anticipation of his early demise. He is haunted by the prophecy - even other children name him “the son of death.”
Despite that, Muzamil proves to be an inquisitive boy full of life. His mother allows him to go to study the Quran. He receives praise for his memorization and recitation of verses. Then comes a turning point.
A cinematographer, Suliman, returns to the village after years working abroad. Muzamil, who is by now working as an assistant to the village shopkeeper, gets to know him through delivering him alcohol, a social taboo.
Suliman, who lives with a prostitute, opens Muzamil’s eyes to the outside world. Through their discussions, he starts to doubt the prophecy that has governed his life so far and torn his family apart.
As he turns 19, Muzamil takes it upon himself to decide what it means to be alive, even as death beckons.
The film has received positive reviews from international critics. It premiered at the 2019 Venice International Film Festival’s parallel section, Venice Days. It won the Lion of the Future for Best First Feature - the first Sudanese film to do so. Since then, it has won at least two dozen awards at film festivals worldwide.
Abu Alala says his team tackled obstacles in making the film, thrown up by the same conservative milieu that it depicts. He blames the environment created by al-Bashir, who came to power in an Islamist-backed military coup in 1989. Under his rule, limited personal freedoms meant art was viewed with suspicion by many.
One major challenge, he said, was that local residents at the initial filming location objected to their presence. The crew was forced to move, but they persevered.
“We believed that it should be done under any circumstances,” Abu Alala said. He says that it was lucky that the film’s production period coincided with the cultural watershed moment of the uprising. The previous government wouldn’t have been a proponent of his work.
The movie has also been met with commendations from inside the region.
“It is a very real and local film that makes the audience feel all of its details whenever and whoever they are,” wrote Egyptian film critic Tarik el-Shenawy.
The film is only the eighth to be made inside Sudan. Abu Alala says that its selection shows Sudan has countless stories that remain untold.
“There wasn’t a film industry existing in Sudan - only individual attempts … Sudan’s rulers - communists or Islamists - were not interested in cinema. They just were interested in having artists on their sides,” he said.
Now, he hopes that he and other filmmakers will have the freedom to share Sudan’s stories with the world.


washingtontimes--2020-12-26--Series of explosions target police in Kabul; at least 2 dead

KABUL , Afghanistan ( AP ) - A series of explosions hit the Afghan capital on Saturday morning , killing at least four people including two police officers , officials said .
The deaths were caused by a sticky bomb attached to a police vehicle detonated in western Kabul , police spokesman Ferdaws Faramarz said .
The explosion wounded two civilians .
Two other police officers were wounded when a bomb attached to their car exploded earlier Saturday in southern Kabul , Faramarz said .
Maooma Jafari , deputy spokeswoman for the health ministry , said that four corpses and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ following the two explosions .
A third sticky bomb detonated in eastern Kabul but caused no casualties , he said .
There were reports of at least two other blasts elsewhere in the city but police had no immediate details .
In a separate report form northern Balkh province , a senior army officer was killed when his vehicle hit a roadside bomb , said Arif Iqbali , a Sholgara district police chief .
Iqbali said that Mohammad Tareq , the garrison commander of the army brigade in Balkh was the apparent target @ @ @ @ @ @ @ The latest attacks came as Taliban and Afghan government negotiators held talks in Qatar , trying to hammer out a peace deal that could put an end to decades of war .
No one has immediately claimed responsibility for the attacks in Kabul .
The Islamic State group has claimed responsibility for multiple attacks in the capital in recent months , including on educational institutions that killed 50 people , most of them students .
The talks in Doha have been suspended until early January and there is speculation they could be further @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Taliban militants have waged bitter battles against IS fighters , particularly in eastern Afghanistan , while continuing their insurgency against government forces and keeping their promise not to attack U.S. and NATO troops .
IS has also claimed responsibility for last week ’ s rocket attacks targeting the major U.S. base in Afghanistan .
There were no casualties .

KABUL, Afghanistan (AP) - A series of explosions hit the Afghan capital on Saturday morning, killing at least four people including two police officers, officials said.
The deaths were caused by a sticky bomb attached to a police vehicle detonated in western Kabul, police spokesman Ferdaws Faramarz said. The explosion wounded two civilians.
Two other police officers were wounded when a bomb attached to their car exploded earlier Saturday in southern Kabul, Faramarz said.
Maooma Jafari, deputy spokeswoman for the health ministry, said that four corpses and four wounded people were taken to hospital following the two explosions.
A third sticky bomb detonated in eastern Kabul but caused no casualties, he said.
There were reports of at least two other blasts elsewhere in the city but police had no immediate details.
In a separate report form northern Balkh province, a senior army officer was killed when his vehicle hit a roadside bomb, said Arif Iqbali, a Sholgara district police chief.
Iqbali said that Mohammad Tareq, the garrison commander of the army brigade in Balkh was the apparent target who was killed in the attack.
The latest attacks came as Taliban and Afghan government negotiators held talks in Qatar, trying to hammer out a peace deal that could put an end to decades of war.
No one has immediately claimed responsibility for the attacks in Kabul. The Islamic State group has claimed responsibility for multiple attacks in the capital in recent months, including on educational institutions that killed 50 people, most of them students.
The talks in Doha have been suspended until early January and there is speculation they could be further delayed.
At the same time, Taliban militants have waged bitter battles against IS fighters, particularly in eastern Afghanistan, while continuing their insurgency against government forces and keeping their promise not to attack U.S. and NATO troops.
IS has also claimed responsibility for last week’s rocket attacks targeting the major U.S. base in Afghanistan. There were no casualties.


washingtontimes--2020-12-26--Axtell minister finds peace in Nativity scenes

AXTELL , Neb .
( AP ) - Nativity scenes - 260 of them - fill the dining room at the Rev .
Gale Dorn ’ s home in Axtell .
They even spill out into his living room .
From a clock to a set of rubber duckies , Dorn , the minister at Trinity Evangelical Lutheran Church in Axtell , has collected Nativity scenes for more than 30 years .
He even has a shower curtain featuring a Nativity scene .
He received his first scene when he was 6 or 7 years old .
“ My aunt @ @ @ @ @ @ @ at Christmastime , ” Dorn said about the miniature Nativity scene .
About 30 years ago , he began putting up Nativity scenes outside .
When he couldn ’ t fit more , he would change styles in order to add more .
He began collecting indoor Nativity scenes 20 years ago .
“ I started getting them when we would go on vacation .
There is probably 30-35 states represented here , ” Dorn told the Kearney Hub .
He also has pieces from Canada and Mexico .
Dorn and his wife @ @ @ @ @ @ @ gift stores that sell Nativity scenes while they are on vacation .
He ’ s also found scenes at stores like Menards or Cracker Barrel .
He often finds unique items to add to his collection .
He has a Nativity scene tree skirt , dish towels , potholders , salt and pepper shakers and a pillow case .
Family , friends and congregation members at his church have started gifting him Nativity scenes .
At age 94 , Dorn ’ s mother made a large quilt featuring a Nativity scene .
His @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a Nativity scene and gave it to him last year for Christmas .
For Dorn , the Nativity scenes bring him peace .
“ I guess the reason I like nativities is in the Bible stories , it ’ s the one story where everybody did what they were supposed to do .
Joseph didn ’ t back down when Mary was pregnant .
She did what she was supposed to do .
The shepherds left their flock when they were called .
The wise men traveled three years and tricked Herod and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , ” he explained .
Dorn and his grandson , Callen , will eat breakfast in the dining room in the summer and will look at and count the Nativity scenes .
He plans to replace a shelf in the dining room to add more space .
“ I tell the ( church ) council that they need to add on to the parsonage for me , but they just kind of shake their heads , ” Dorn said with a laugh .

AXTELL, Neb. (AP) - Nativity scenes - 260 of them - fill the dining room at the Rev. Gale Dorn’s home in Axtell. They even spill out into his living room.
From a clock to a set of rubber duckies, Dorn, the minister at Trinity Evangelical Lutheran Church in Axtell, has collected Nativity scenes for more than 30 years. He even has a shower curtain featuring a Nativity scene. He received his first scene when he was 6 or 7 years old.
“My aunt started sending us these in a box at Christmastime,” Dorn said about the miniature Nativity scene.
About 30 years ago, he began putting up Nativity scenes outside. When he couldn’t fit more, he would change styles in order to add more. He began collecting indoor Nativity scenes 20 years ago.
“I started getting them when we would go on vacation. There is probably 30-35 states represented here,” Dorn told the Kearney Hub. He also has pieces from Canada and Mexico.
Dorn and his wife, Marcia, typically find antique or gift stores that sell Nativity scenes while they are on vacation. He’s also found scenes at stores like Menards or Cracker Barrel. He often finds unique items to add to his collection. He has a Nativity scene tree skirt, dish towels, potholders, salt and pepper shakers and a pillow case.
Family, friends and congregation members at his church have started gifting him Nativity scenes. At age 94, Dorn’s mother made a large quilt featuring a Nativity scene. His grandchildren put together a 1,000-piece puzzle of a Nativity scene and gave it to him last year for Christmas.
For Dorn, the Nativity scenes bring him peace.
“I guess the reason I like nativities is in the Bible stories, it’s the one story where everybody did what they were supposed to do. Joseph didn’t back down when Mary was pregnant. She did what she was supposed to do. The shepherds left their flock when they were called. The wise men traveled three years and tricked Herod and everybody did what they were supposed to,” he explained.
Dorn and his grandson, Callen, will eat breakfast in the dining room in the summer and will look at and count the Nativity scenes. He plans to replace a shelf in the dining room to add more space.
“I tell the (church) council that they need to add on to the parsonage for me, but they just kind of shake their heads,” Dorn said with a laugh.


washingtontimes--2020-12-26--Clinic aims to improve virus outlook in Black communities

MADISON , Wis. ( AP ) - Early in the pandemic , health care workers noted an alarming trend : people of color were dying at higher rates from COVID-19 .
This was happening in Wisconsin and continues across the country .
Researchers at Mayo Clinic are working with more than 100 Black churches and community medical centers in the Twin Cities to try to close this health gap through a program called Fostering African-American Improvement in Total Health ( FAITH ) .
“ After the first diagnosis of COVID-19 in March , we had a premonition that the African @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on pre-existing structural inequities , such as inadequate access to quality health care .
And we knew that we had to act fast , ” said Dr. LaPrincess Brewer , a cardiologist at Mayo Clinic , which also serves communities in southwest and central Wisconsin .
Brewer authored a paper published by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention that details efforts to improve health among communities of color through FAITH , Wisconsin Public Radio reported .
During the pandemic , these efforts have included offering COVID-19 testing at churches , food distribution @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for necessary purchases .
There was also a social media campaign through FAITH to provide COVID-19 information .
The partnership helped promote emergency preparedness and communicate risk to communities in need during a pandemic , Brewer said .
While the pandemic exposed a gap in COVID-19 outcomes , other health disparities are not new .
In Wisconsin , health officials are trying to get more people of color immunized against the flu .
As with COVID-19 , people of color are also more likely to have complications from the seasonal flu .
Health @ @ @ @ @ @ @ important to get a flu vaccine this year , because the flu and COVID-19 will be circulating at the same time and cause similar symptoms .
The Wisconsin Department of Health Services has kicked off a public education campaign designed to encourage people of color to get a seasonal flu shot .
“ Historically in Wisconsin , there have been many barriers that have led to communities of color having the lowest vaccination rates in the state , and consequently , that is where we find high rates of the flu , ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ release .
“ As our agency focuses on improving health equity , we must actively work to address these barriers and help all of our residents know how important the flu vaccine is to protect them and their communities from serious illness.
” Nearly all states , including Wisconsin , have had difficulty trying to convince people to get a flu shot .
Resistance has been highest among communities of color , where only 26 percent get vaccinated against influenza each year .
“ A lot of people still do not have primary @ @ @ @ @ @ @ getting episodic care .
So when a patient comes to see me this year , I ’ m going to ask if they ’ ve gotten a flu shot this year .
And if they haven ’ t , I ’ ll encourage them to get one , ” said Dr. Kevin Izard , a physician at Paladina Health in Milwaukee .
Overall , there were more than 36,000 cases of the flu last year in Wisconsin .
Hospitalizations topped 4,400 hospitalizations and 183 people died from influenza .
“ Protect yourself , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ want any further hospitalizations from influenza , especially with hospitals being overwhelmed with COVID patients , ” said Thomas Haupt , influenza surveillance coordinator for DHS .
So far , there have been fewer than a dozen cases of confirmed influenza cases in Wisconsin .
State health officials say it could be due to measures taken to prevent the spread of COVID-19 , such as mask-wearing or social distancing .
But they warn people not to become complacent because the flu season is far from over .
Last year , a record 42 @ @ @ @ @ @ @ flu .
So far this year , 37 percent have gotten shots against the seasonal flu .

MADISON, Wis. (AP) - Early in the pandemic, health care workers noted an alarming trend: people of color were dying at higher rates from COVID-19. This was happening in Wisconsin and continues across the country.
Researchers at Mayo Clinic are working with more than 100 Black churches and community medical centers in the Twin Cities to try to close this health gap through a program called Fostering African-American Improvement in Total Health (FAITH).
“After the first diagnosis of COVID-19 in March, we had a premonition that the African American community would be hardest hit based on pre-existing structural inequities, such as inadequate access to quality health care. And we knew that we had to act fast,” said Dr. LaPrincess Brewer, a cardiologist at Mayo Clinic, which also serves communities in southwest and central Wisconsin.
Brewer authored a paper published by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention that details efforts to improve health among communities of color through FAITH, Wisconsin Public Radio reported.
During the pandemic, these efforts have included offering COVID-19 testing at churches, food distribution, and gift cards to community members for necessary purchases. There was also a social media campaign through FAITH to provide COVID-19 information. The partnership helped promote emergency preparedness and communicate risk to communities in need during a pandemic, Brewer said.
While the pandemic exposed a gap in COVID-19 outcomes, other health disparities are not new. In Wisconsin, health officials are trying to get more people of color immunized against the flu.
As with COVID-19, people of color are also more likely to have complications from the seasonal flu. Health care providers say it’s especially important to get a flu vaccine this year, because the flu and COVID-19 will be circulating at the same time and cause similar symptoms.
The Wisconsin Department of Health Services has kicked off a public education campaign designed to encourage people of color to get a seasonal flu shot.
“Historically in Wisconsin, there have been many barriers that have led to communities of color having the lowest vaccination rates in the state, and consequently, that is where we find high rates of the flu,” DHS Secretary Andrea Palm said in press release. “As our agency focuses on improving health equity, we must actively work to address these barriers and help all of our residents know how important the flu vaccine is to protect them and their communities from serious illness.”
Nearly all states, including Wisconsin, have had difficulty trying to convince people to get a flu shot. Resistance has been highest among communities of color, where only 26 percent get vaccinated against influenza each year.
“A lot of people still do not have primary care doctors, so they’re getting episodic care. So when a patient comes to see me this year, I’m going to ask if they’ve gotten a flu shot this year. And if they haven’t, I’ll encourage them to get one,” said Dr. Kevin Izard, a physician at Paladina Health in Milwaukee.
Overall, there were more than 36,000 cases of the flu last year in Wisconsin. Hospitalizations topped 4,400 hospitalizations and 183 people died from influenza.
“Protect yourself, protect others. We don’t want any further hospitalizations from influenza, especially with hospitals being overwhelmed with COVID patients,” said Thomas Haupt, influenza surveillance coordinator for DHS.
So far, there have been fewer than a dozen cases of confirmed influenza cases in Wisconsin. State health officials say it could be due to measures taken to prevent the spread of COVID-19, such as mask-wearing or social distancing. But they warn people not to become complacent because the flu season is far from over.
Last year, a record 42 percent of Wisconsinites were vaccinated against the flu. So far this year, 37 percent have gotten shots against the seasonal flu.