A charred Grand Canyon mascot is recovered from the rubble. Can Brighty the Burro be saved?
The 600-pound (273-kilogram) sculpture, a familiar sight to visitors at the Grand Canyon Lodge on the national park's North Rim, was severely damaged when a summer wildfire reduced the nearly century-old building to rubble. Brighty was discovered with his head and body largely intact, but missing an ear and with his front legs detached, a stark testament to the blaze's intensity.
As firefighters continued to battle the persistent flames, Brighty embarked on a five-hour journey. Strapped into the back of a pickup truck, he was transported from his North Rim home to the South Rim on Friday, marking a significant step in his recovery.
The immediate plan involves housing the iconic burro in the Grand Canyon National Park's museum collection for a thorough assessment. Park officials and conservation experts face the task of determining whether the statue can be meticulously restored to its former glory or if a new sculpture will be commissioned.
While no timeline has been set for Brighty's future, a wave of support has emerged on social media. Fans fondly recall family photographs taken with the sculpture and the popular children's book loosely based on the original burro's adventures, all expressing a desire to see Brighty returned to his rightful place.
'It's a very special symbolic piece of history for a lot of people,' park spokesperson Joëlle Baird told The Associated Press.
An enduring symbol of life along the rugged canyon, the hefty statue represents a free-spirited burro who lived more than a century ago. Brighty was known to migrate up and down the canyon as the seasons changed. He'd help haul water to a summer camp on the North Rim in exchange for pancakes and would give children rides.
One of the first chores for the team will be testing for any toxic materials on the sculpture, Baird said. Then, depending on the damage assessment, the park could end up working with a foundry to make the burro whole again.
Brighty is a small but important part of what will be a yearslong effort for the National Park Service as it charts a path for restoration and reconstruction on the North Rim. More immediately, Baird said a special team that focuses on stabilizing the soil, controlling erosion and reseeding will begin assessing the burned areas starting next week.
The Dragon Bravo Fire was sparked by lightning in early July. It burned for about a week before exploding into a fast moving conflagration that forced evacuations and consumed the Grand Canyon Lodge and dozens of cabins. The National Park Service has defended its handling of the fire, saying a sudden and extreme shift in the wind far exceeded forecasts.
Persistent hot, dry and windy weather has hampered crews over the past several weeks, making it more difficult to fight the flames on the North Rim and elsewhere around the West — from Idaho and Montana to California, Colorado, Utah and New Mexico.
According to the National Interagency Fire Center, nearly four dozen large fires are burning in the U.S., with more than 17,700 firefighters and support personnel assigned to them.
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The Guardian
6 hours ago
- The Guardian
‘Didn't have a pillow': the program kitting out foster students starting college
When Ar'reiona Green was accepted to Sacramento State last year, she knew she would need books and school supplies. She didn't expect to need a toolbox. Or hangers. Or that her dorm room wouldn't come with a fan or a lamp. Like many first-year students, Green, who is headed into her sophomore year and plans to become a plastic surgeon, was excited about her future adventures. But coming up through the foster system in California, she didn't know anyone who had gone to college. While she felt ready for her classes, life as a college student was mostly mysterious except for what she'd seen online. That's where Dec My Dorm stepped in. The program works with more than 140 foster youth headed to college, hosting an annual event in July to kit out each student with sheet sets, pillows, a shower caddy and connections to other people in the same situation. Green took part in the summer of 2024, leaving with several duffel bags filled with the things she needed, including many items she didn't know she would need, like dish soap. 'I was expecting bed stuff and towels,' Green said. 'I wasn't expecting them to give me period products and school supplies. They were giving out school merch and stepping stools and toolboxes. They really went above and beyond.' The program started in 2018 when Jill Franklin, a program manager of the Independent Living Program for the department of children and family services in Los Angeles county, met a student who came from the foster system. The young woman described arriving at the University of California at Berkeley with just a trash bag, not knowing that dorm rooms are spartan affairs with a desk, chair, bed with an oddly sized mattress – and that's it. 'She didn't have a pillow or a sheet or a towel, and everybody else was there with their parents and their bags of stuff,' Franklin said. 'At the time, I was editing college essays and I realized, we never ever thought about that first day.' Franklin started with a small Amazon wishlist and a handful of students. It was particularly important that the kids were involved in the process as much as possible, she said, because they were used to living in spaces that were not their own. 'You might have a 17-year-old who's on the football team and says: 'I don't want Minnie Mouse sheets,' but oh well, that's what it is, and they probably aren't going to be there for very long and it's not their bedroom,' said Franklin. 'It was very important that they pick their own bedding, their own towels and their own blankets, so that when they walk in that room, or someone else walks in that room, it says: 'This is who I am.'' In 2022, she met Phyllis Shinbane, who had retired as director of operations from Connecting a Caring Community, a non-profit organization based in Calabasas, California. Like many people, Shinbane had been unaware that foster youth often have nothing they can bring with them to college, but realized this was a need she could help fill. Along with CCC's executive director, Lisa Kodimer, and the Dec My Dorm co-chair Allison Weiss, they raised more than $40,000 in donations and connected with sponsors and volunteers to help 142 students in 2025. 'It's just leveling the playing field,' said Shinbane, who hopes to expand the program to other states. 'It's just putting them in a room where they're equal, where they're not different, where their past doesn't define them, that they are the same as every other college student that came from a supportive, structured, safe home.' Eight per cent to 11% of people in foster care obtain a bachelor's degree, said Sarah Wasch, associate director of the Field Center for Children's Policy, Practice & Research at the University of Pennsylvania. Although most people in foster care can remain in the system until they are at least 21 years old, many foster parents don't have the funds to furnish a dorm room. 'There's a disconnect around who is responsible to oversee that transition,' Wasch said. 'For youth in foster care, it's very unclear if it's the foster family's responsibility, the case manager's, the court's or the legal guardian's.' While some states have programs addressing foster care and higher education, efforts remain piecemeal and there are plenty of gaps to fill, like dorm room needs and storage over summers, she said. Most colleges have support systems specifically aimed at supporting students who come from the foster system, like the Guardian Scholars program in California. Those focus mainly on financial support for tuition and meals, and advising for classes, not for student life. At one point, legislation was introduced to create a federal center that would coordinate state efforts, but it did not pass, Wasch said. Kelisha Williams, a foster student from Kentucky who graduated from Harvard University last spring, said she wished there had been a program like Dec My Dorm when she was going to school. Although Harvard provided a list of dorm room essentials, she watched a lot of YouTube videos to figure out what she would need to fit in and worked to save the money. She emphasized that it's not just about having the essentials, like a shower caddy and a bar of soap. Not having those things could make foster students feel like they don't belong. 'I knew that was going to be a big hurdle, and I did not want anyone to know that I was not like them, or that I didn't deserve to be there,' Williams, 22, said. 'So I kind of just made sure that I worked the summer before to have everything that I needed, even, you know, if it was kind of plush objects like posters and things like that.' Shinbane said that many volunteers were enthusiastic about going with students to set up their dorm rooms, if desired, but there were legal concerns about privacy. The organization offers other resources, like free eye-screening and glasses, and providing students with a resource folder with QR codes linking students to food assistance, clothing programs and campus support. They invite former participants to come meet the new class headed to college, so they can offer advice and support. 'This program is like a living, breathing thing,' Shinbane said. 'It evolves every year, and our goal is to provide them with services and resources to help ensure their success.'
The Guardian
7 hours ago
- The Guardian
‘Didn't have a pillow': the program kitting out foster students starting college
When Ar'reiona Green was accepted to Sacramento State last year, she knew she would need books and school supplies. She didn't expect to need a toolbox. Or hangers. Or that her dorm room wouldn't come with a fan or a lamp. Like many first-year students, Green, who is headed into her sophomore year and plans to become a plastic surgeon, was excited about her future adventures. But coming up through the foster system in California, she didn't know anyone who had gone to college. While she felt ready for her classes, life as a college student was mostly mysterious except for what she'd seen online. That's where Dec My Dorm stepped in. The program works with more than 140 foster youth headed to college, hosting an annual event in July to kit out each student with sheet sets, pillows, a shower caddy and connections to other people in the same situation. Green took part in the summer of 2024, leaving with several duffel bags filled with the things she needed, including many items she didn't know she would need, like dish soap. 'I was expecting bed stuff and towels,' Green said. 'I wasn't expecting them to give me period products and school supplies. They were giving out school merch and stepping stools and toolboxes. They really went above and beyond.' The program started in 2018 when Jill Franklin, a program manager of the Independent Living Program for the department of children and family services in Los Angeles county, met a student who came from the foster system. The young woman described arriving at the University of California at Berkeley with just a trash bag, not knowing that dorm rooms are spartan affairs with a desk, chair, bed with an oddly sized mattress – and that's it. 'She didn't have a pillow or a sheet or a towel, and everybody else was there with their parents and their bags of stuff,' Franklin said. 'At the time, I was editing college essays and I realized, we never ever thought about that first day.' Franklin started with a small Amazon wishlist and a handful of students. It was particularly important that the kids were involved in the process as much as possible, she said, because they were used to living in spaces that were not their own. 'You might have a 17-year-old who's on the football team and says: 'I don't want Minnie Mouse sheets,' but oh well, that's what it is, and they probably aren't going to be there for very long and it's not their bedroom,' said Franklin. 'It was very important that they pick their own bedding, their own towels and their own blankets, so that when they walk in that room, or someone else walks in that room, it says: 'This is who I am.'' In 2022, she met Phyllis Shinbane, who had retired as director of operations from Connecting a Caring Community, a non-profit organization based in Calabasas, California. Like many people, Shinbane had been unaware that foster youth often have nothing they can bring with them to college, but realized this was a need she could help fill. Along with CCC's executive director, Lisa Kodimer, and the Dec My Dorm co-chair Allison Weiss, they raised more than $40,000 in donations and connected with sponsors and volunteers to help 142 students in 2025. 'It's just leveling the playing field,' said Shinbane, who hopes to expand the program to other states. 'It's just putting them in a room where they're equal, where they're not different, where their past doesn't define them, that they are the same as every other college student that came from a supportive, structured, safe home.' Eight per cent to 11% of people in foster care obtain a bachelor's degree, said Sarah Wasch, associate director of the Field Center for Children's Policy, Practice & Research at the University of Pennsylvania. Although most people in foster care can remain in the system until they are at least 21 years old, many foster parents don't have the funds to furnish a dorm room. 'There's a disconnect around who is responsible to oversee that transition,' Wasch said. 'For youth in foster care, it's very unclear if it's the foster family's responsibility, the case manager's, the court's or the legal guardian's.' While some states have programs addressing foster care and higher education, efforts remain piecemeal and there are plenty of gaps to fill, like dorm room needs and storage over summers, she said. Most colleges have support systems specifically aimed at supporting students who come from the foster system, like the Guardian Scholars program in California. Those focus mainly on financial support for tuition and meals, and advising for classes, not for student life. At one point, legislation was introduced to create a federal center that would coordinate state efforts, but it did not pass, Wasch said. Kelisha Williams, a foster student from Kentucky who graduated from Harvard University last spring, said she wished there had been a program like Dec My Dorm when she was going to school. Although Harvard provided a list of dorm room essentials, she watched a lot of YouTube videos to figure out what she would need to fit in and worked to save the money. She emphasized that it's not just about having the essentials, like a shower caddy and a bar of soap. Not having those things could make foster students feel like they don't belong. 'I knew that was going to be a big hurdle, and I did not want anyone to know that I was not like them, or that I didn't deserve to be there,' Williams, 22, said. 'So I kind of just made sure that I worked the summer before to have everything that I needed, even, you know, if it was kind of plush objects like posters and things like that.' Shinbane said that many volunteers were enthusiastic about going with students to set up their dorm rooms, if desired, but there were legal concerns about privacy. The organization offers other resources, like free eye-screening and glasses, and providing students with a resource folder with QR codes linking students to food assistance, clothing programs and campus support. They invite former participants to come meet the new class headed to college, so they can offer advice and support. 'This program is like a living, breathing thing,' Shinbane said. 'It evolves every year, and our goal is to provide them with services and resources to help ensure their success.'
The Independent
9 hours ago
- The Independent
How Orthodox Jewish families are finding ways to support their trans children
Ziva Mann remembers how joyful and smiley her daughter was as a child — the family even gave her the nickname 'Giggles.' 'She was just sunshine,' Mann said. That changed around second grade, when her joy began to fade. 'She got sadder and sadder,' Mann recalled. 'It was like watching someone disappear.' Mann later realized that her child's growing sadness was connected to a struggle to reckon with her gender identity. Her daughter came out as transgender at home in Massachusetts four years ago. 'Mom, I'm a girl,' Mann remembers hearing her say. Though she was surprised by the news, she quickly came to admire her daughter's bravery. Since then, the family has striven to find the best ways to support Ellie within their modern Orthodox community, where tradition and strict gender roles shape daily life. They've managed to find emotional and spiritual resources close to home at a time when transgender rights are under attack nationwide. Raising a trans child in Orthodox Jewish communities Two of the three biggest branches of Judaism in the U.S. — Reform and Conservative — support the rights of transgender people, but it can still be challenging for trans youth to find an inclusive congregation. Schools in Orthodox Jewish communities are typically divided by gender, and most synagogues have separate seating sections for men and women — sometimes on different floors. ' Orthodoxy today is just binary,' said Myriam Kabakov, co-founder and executive director of Eshel, an organization supporting LGBTQ+ people in Orthodox environments. 'You're either male or you're female. So if a trans person is in between transitioning, very often they will be asked not to come to synagogue.' She said even after someone has fully transitioned, rabbis should allow them to sit where they feel comfortable. But that acceptance is not guaranteed. To connect parents and trans children with inclusive synagogues, Eshel developed a program called 'Welcoming Shuls,' where people can confide in spiritual leaders who will treat them with respect. According to Kabakov, about 300 rabbis and 160 families with trans members have joined their listings. Deslie Paneth is among them. She lives on Long Island and has traveled far to find support for Ollie, her transgender son. 'One night, I said to my husband 'I need help, I don't know how to navigate this,'' Paneth said. 'Without Eshel, I don't know how this would have turned out for any of us.' Balancing tradition and change Mann defines herself as modern Orthodox, meaning she strives to uphold Judaic law while embracing the values within her family. 'The only time we break the rules is to save someone's life,' she said. 'Because a life is more important than all of the rules.' Respecting her daughter's identity felt akin to saving her life, so Mann didn't feel the need to talk to God about it. She said who her daughter is as a person mattered more than the gender she thought she had. Mann has heard of families with trans children who were asked to leave their synagogue, but this didn't happened to her. Before discussing Ellie's identity with other relatives, Mann reached out to her rabbi. He assured her that her daughter would be treated with dignity and respect. 'He offered us a blessing,' Mann said. 'The strength, the love and the grace to parent a child who's walking a difficult path.' Finding a place to belong Mann feels lucky to have found support, both in religious spaces and among family members, which has helped Ellie be her joyful self again. Some Orthodox families have faced a tougher process. Paneth recalled her son, before starting his transition around 2017, was deeply religious and they enjoyed sitting together at synagogue. 'He tells me still today that, especially around the holiday times, it hurts him that he can't sit next to me in temple,' Paneth said. 'He's probably my child that has the strongest commitment to Judaism from an emotional connection." A rabbi told Paneth that Ollie is welcome to come to services, but he would now be expected to sit among the men. This is part of the reason why Ollie has not returned to synagogue since his transition. Faith and identity at a crossroads Ollie believes that his relationship with religion splintered as a student in an all-girls Orthodox Jewish high school. As he started raising questions about gender equality, none of the answers sufficed. 'I'm still convinced that if I wasn't trans, I would still be a religious Jew,' the 27-year-old said. He initially told his parents he was a lesbian. But since attending a secular college, making LGBTQ+ friends and feeling trapped during the pandemic, he decided to speak with them again. 'If I was going to survive this, I had to come out with my parents as trans and start medically transitioning.' He had top surgery in 2022 and soon after met his girlfriend at JQY, a program for Jewish LGBTQ+ teens. The couple now lives together in New York. Ollie doesn't think of himself as Orthodox, and says he would like to find a new path toward God. Paneth understands and still includes him in the Jewish holidays. Ollie appreciates it. Because he first connected to God as a girl, it doesn't feel natural to him to embrace traditions that are typical for Jewish men, like wearing a kippah. 'I don't do any of the tasks that men do religiously because I'm the same person I always was,' he said. 'Even though I look different, my relationship to God didn't change.' Making synagogues more inclusive Kabakov said many LGBTQ+ Jews eventually decide to leave Orthodoxy, but for those who wish to remain, Eshel and some spiritual leaders offer support. Rabbi Mike Moskowitz, who works at an LGBTQ+ synagogue in New York, thinks of his job as helping people understand how they can be their authentic selves and still feel accepted by their religion. 'It's not that Judaism is the problem,' he said. 'Orthodoxy, the people, are the problem.' The counseling he provides for trans children and their parents is specific to each person, but in general, he offers fresh interpretations of the Hebrew Bible. 'Those who want to be transphobic say the Bible says you can't wear misgendered clothing,' Moskowitz said. 'I think a response is that trans folks are not wearing misgendered clothing. They're wearing gender-affirming clothing.' He, like Kabakov, believes there's a trend in Orthodoxy toward more inclusivity, but there's more work to do. 'Discrimination is unholy,' he said. 'Unity is coping through kindness and being able to replace the weight of oppression with the elevation of love.' ____ Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP's collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.
