Latest news with #Turtle
Montreal Gazette
28-05-2025
- Health
- Montreal Gazette
Letters: What are the signage rules for ‘Bankruptcy Sale'?
The new regulations regarding exterior signage and packaging take effect on June 1. One wonders whether businesses that will not — or can't afford to — change their signage or packaging will be forced to close their doors and lay off employees rather than paying hefty fines imposed for non-compliance. In such a case, we certainly hope that the OQLF makes sure that the Vente de Liquidation sign is substantially larger than the Going Out of Business sign. Allen Rubin, Westmount Hats off to those who care for us Re: ' We don't want applause, but deserve respect ' (Opinion, May 27) Dr. Shaun Selcer's brilliantly written commentary deserves a standing ovation. It provides clarity not only on just how broken our health-care system is, but also on those who work tirelessly for the public while having to constantly struggle against this outrageous system we all must endure. He and others like him deserve our thanks for their dedication and commitment. I can only imagine what our society would look like if these dedicated doctors walked away. Elizabeth Bright, Côte-St-Luc The joy a pet brings is worth celebrating Re: ' A party for Turtle ' (Features, May 26) Having said goodbye to some of our animals, I can understand this family's grief — and their idea of a celebration of their dog's life was wonderful. Turtle was surely smiling down at them. Many people won't welcome another animal after a pet's death, saying it hurts too much. But I have always felt it is wonderful to share your life and love with a new animal, and give them a chance at a great life. Opening your heart can bring sorrow, but also so much joy. I'd risk it without hesitation. Suzanne Lacroix, St-Laurent Skip the politics, pass the bread Re: ' Sorry for Trump's interference ' (Letters, April 30) My wife and I occasionally visit Hyannis on Cape Cod to savour fine dining at an elegant Italian restaurant. During chats with the new owner, the diligent restaurateur repeated one overriding concern — the rash of calls coming from Canadian bus lines to cancel annual summer reservations. We empathize, of course, while also lamenting America's role in creating this quagmire. We dine to briefly forget this calamity. Our country's long, uneven experiment in democracy is facing its most grievous threat since the Civil War. While attorneys general in Democratic states and popular dissent are cobbling together a makeshift resistance, the current administration — with Republican backing — is eagerly dismantling democracy. As historian Ruth Ben-Ghiat put it starkly: 'Republicans have exited democracy.' And it is about to leave the population more frightened, sicker and poorer. In a divided land, we must seek some solace as a relentless authoritarian machine is afoot. Pass the warm, crusty bread, please. R. Jay Allain, Orleans, Mass. Submitting a letter to the editor Letters should be sent by email to letters@ We prioritize letters that respond to, or are inspired by, articles published by The Gazette. If you are responding to a specific article, let us know which one. Letters should be sent uniquely to us. The shorter they are — ideally, fewer than 200 words — the greater the chance of publication. Timing, clarity, factual accuracy and tone are all important, as is whether the writer has something new to add to the conversation. We reserve the right to edit and condense all letters. Care is taken to preserve the core of the writer's argument. Our policy is not to publish anonymous letters, those with pseudonyms or 'open letters' addressed to third parties. Letters are published with the author's full name and city or neighbourhood/borough of residence. Include a phone number and address to help verify identity; these will not be published. We will not indicate to you whether your letter will be published. If it has not been published within 10 days or so, it is not likely to be.
Belfast Telegraph
27-05-2025
- Business
- Belfast Telegraph
First look at revamped historic cinema in east Belfast
The first images of the major redevelopment of a historic art deco cinema in east Belfast have been released. CGI renders of the Strand cinema's new look show a redesigned building, with the original front canopy replaced by large windows, and a new rooftop sign in the same font as was previously used on the building The Strand, located at the junction of the Holywood and Belmont roads, is undergoing a £6.5m renovation and is scheduled to reopen in summer 2026. A new 'café-bar space' is being added to the front of the building, which will also feature three curved glass windows. As part of the development, 'the building's front façade will be restored with hand-glazed, blue-green terracotta tiles in the same material and style used when the doors first opened 90 years ago.' Accessibility features are being added, with level access and a new lift, while bike stands are being built to 'support active travel.' The reconstruction was designed by Hall Black Douglas architects, and work is being carried out by Ballymena firm Martin & Hamilton Construction, in a build that will create 150 construction-sector jobs. Funding for the redevelopment has come from a variety of sources, including £1.8m from Belfast City Council's Belfast Investment Fund, Levelling Up Funding UK, National Lottery Heritage Fund, Garfield Weston, Foyle Foundation and Ulster Garden Villages alongside a range of private investors. Commenting on the new renders, Mimi Turtle, CEO of the Strand, said: 'We are thrilled to be sharing these highly-anticipated CGIs, which give people a taste of what the new and improved Strand will look like when we reopen our doors next summer. 'It was essential to us that the building's heritage was both protected and celebrated, while implementing vital enhancements and features that will strengthen the Strand's offering for future generations to come. 'Over the coming months, our team will continue to support the wider community and keep everyone connected to our treasured venue. 'We've been hosting our popular silver-screenings in Belmont Bowling Club, and we're looking forward to sharing further updates on both the restoration progress, and community activities being held across different locations.' Until recently, the Strand had found a temporary home in Connswater shopping centre where it spend £15,000 to redecorate a unit near the entrance. They had been holding screenings there, and had displays through which they could share their archive with guests. However, they were forced to move out at short notice in March of this year when the shopping centre was placed into receivership. Strand have been putting on screenings in a variety of local sports clubs, and have plans to continue to do so over the summer. Mrs Turtle said the closure of Connswater had 'left a financial hole' that the charity would 'struggle to recuperate without a solid venue to operate out of over the next year.' Stand were one of five creative organisations that lost premises when Connswater closed which have since found new spaces to operate in, albeit three of them have had to move outside of east Belfast.
San Francisco Chronicle
24-05-2025
- Entertainment
- San Francisco Chronicle
A theater review of S.F. Mayor Daniel Lurie's Instagram reels
In the old days, a politician was judged by his charisma in front of a bandstand, the power of his radio-ready voice or how he looked on TV. Today, if San Francisco Mayor Daniel Lurie is any yardstick, it's all about getting constituents to smash that like button on your Instagram reels. Lurie is hardly the only leader to turn to the form. Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, D-N.Y., is a master of it, looking slick yet organic, like she's very urgently talking to you, her confidante. Now local politicians are getting in on the act, too, with iPhone-toting aides following them around to trumpet their messages. But by entering the business of content creation — like Lurie, who shares at least one post of himself out and about each weekday on @danielluriesf — they're also subject to artistic critique. More than press releases and podium appearances, more than public hearings and ribbon cuttings, social videos are our mayor's way of communicating en masse with the citizens he serves. Politicos of the past had to be telegenic, sure, but then it was newscasters shaping the narrative, choosing the angles, making the cuts. Now that it's Lurie, a newcomer both as a politician and a public figure of any sort, approving the editorial choices, they're more revealing. So far, the overall impression of the mayor's social presence is of an ambassador pounding the pavement and taking Muni from West Portal to Market Street, from Mission Bay to Golden Gate Park. He's out there, observing troubled corridors in the South of Market and Mission districts, applauding San Francisco entrepreneurs for investing in the city. Yet while some leaders are natural performers, effortlessly presenting even generic content ChatGPT could have written about 'challenges' and 'commitments,' Lurie's Instagram grid so far is a checkerboard of acting 101 gaffes. Lurie hasn't yet made the camera his old pal or his lover. He hasn't learned how to hear the rhythm and melody in his speeches yet; he's still lurching from one word to the next like he's at sea and they're a series of life preservers. Occasionally, as in a February appearance with Supervisor Jackie Fielder at the 16th and Mission plaza, Lurie's crew forgoes any editing bells and whistles. Here, where the man is basically on his own, is a good indication of what his team has to work with: They have to take a Spear Carrier No. 3, staccato rhythms and all, and make him a star. Background music and voiceover help smooth him over. Cuts provide welcome variety. Emojis pop in, serving as bullet points for his themes. Lurie settles on a favorite gesture, thumbs and index fingers forming a downward-pointing rhombus. He adopts a newscaster-in-the-field mode, as if we're to take his remarks on, say, the crowd of holiday shoppers at Stonestown Galleria as journalistically objective. The mayor seems to favor food content, and sometimes his crew follows him about his day as if he were an aspiring influencer. Here's Lurie sampling Turtle Tower's pho to the soundtrack of Fleetwood Mac. There's Lurie ordering a strawberry matcha boba in Chinatown. Here's Lurie at Meski on opening night with Golden State Warriors star Draymond Green. There's Lurie introducing an 'El Salvadorean' restaurant at Fisherman's Wharf while a hotel lobby-style beat drops. Of course, if he were an actual Foodtokker, he would have, like, 34 followers. You'd wonder why this uncharismatic guy was trying and swipe away. Other posts befuddle even more. Without explanation, Lurie pops into a Muni completionist's jaunt for the last route she hasn't ridden, like the un-hyper hype man glomming onto some family's afternoon outing. Presumably, the actual, less camera-friendly work of mayoring is not accurately represented on Instagram. An elected official, like any other user, has to curate. More noteworthy is that making reels is evidently a part of Lurie's job. If you don't post a video about it, were you even really governing? Now tech companies are mediating yet another aspect of citizenship. The Venn diagram of your followers and your demos is not a perfect circle, and Meta, one of the biggest companies in the world, is not a legitimate part of the democratic process. But Lurie's posts imply that a certain type of voter — the online, connected one — is the one worthy of his communication. In all Lurie's reels, perhaps his piece de resistance is a Valentine's Day clip in which the mayor, finally de-icing before the camera, marvels at the number of couples in line to wed at City Hall that day and then officiates over some. Here, the city itself finally stars, and Lurie finds his type as an actor, playing the part of its proud but reserved and goofy uncle. As any seasoned actor can tell you, it's crucial to know your type: bombshell or schoolmarm, waif or gouty royal, matinee idol or underbridge troll. Having a type doesn't mean you can't play against it or evolve it over time. But embracing it shows you have the self-awareness to know how you generally come across and can tailor your message accordingly. It shows you've done your homework as an actor instead of leaping onstage without knowing your back story and motivation. It shows you know your audience and your story — or in Lurie's case his city and his place in it — and that's been a mayor's job since time immemorial, regardless of medium.
Yahoo
07-05-2025
- General
- Yahoo
Turtle building added to national 'endangered places' list
NIAGARA FALLS — A grassroots effort to reawaken the building commonly known as 'The Turtle' in downtown Niagara Falls has picked up support from a 75-year-old nationwide preservation organization that specializes in saving unique places across America. The National Trust for Historic Preservation announced Wednesday that it has named the turtle-shaped former Native American Center for the Living Arts building to its 2025 list of America's 11 Most Endangered Historic Places. The group's designation describes the Turtle as a 'powerful symbol of Indigenous heritage,' while noting, 'Unfortunately, the building has been vacant for almost 30 years, and the owner previously shared plans for demolition. A coalition has formed in hopes of 'reawakening' the Turtle once again.' Sites are selected by the trust based on historical significance, architectural importance and severity of threat faced. Placement on the list can help raise awareness about a site, which can help mobilize financing and support for local preservation efforts. 'As we approach the 250th anniversary of the United States, we must acknowledge and support the Indigenous history that has so often been hidden and forgotten,' said Carol Quillen, president and CEO of the National Trust for Historic Preservation. 'The plans to 'reawaken' the Turtle would provide exactly the celebration of tribal heritage and culture that we need more than ever.' Di Gao, senior director of research and development for the National Trust, joined members of the local group, Friends of the Niagara Turtle, in formally announcing the building's designation during a press conference on Wednesday at Cataract House Park across the street from the former Native American arts center in downtown Niagara Falls. She likened the designation to 'an act of hope' aimed at spurring wider interest in the effort to preserve and reopen the Turtle. 'Over it's four decades of existence, the list has become a highly effective tool for sharing the stories of some our nation's most captivating sites and galvanizing public support for over 350 places and we're proud to say, after they've been included on this list, only a handful have been lost,' Gao said. Opened in 1981 as a center for celebrating Native American arts, the Turtle building has been closed and vacant since 1995. Northern Arapaho architect Dennis Sun Rhodes designed the building in the shape of a turtle to honor the Haudenosaunee creation story that the Earth was built on the back of a Great Turtle. The three-story, 67,000-square-foot building, located at 25 Rainbow Blvd., features a geodesic dome roof 'shell' and large porthole 'eye' windows. 'The Turtle is a powerful symbol of Indigenous heritage and was once a hub for fostering education, cultural preservation and community healing,' Gao said. 'We've included the Turtle on the endangered list because it has now been vacant for nearly 30 years and is not yet a locally designated landmark. Yet these walls hold community memories and promise for future generations.' The building is currently owned by the private company, Niagara Falls Redevelopment, which previously opposed efforts to have the building designated by the city as a local landmark. NFR did not immediately respond to a request for comment, however, the company has previously indicated through its spokesperson that any potential for future renovation would depend entirely on the proposed use and that the company has not received 'viable interest' in redeveloping the site since it acquired it from the city in 1997. The local non-profit group Friends of the Turtle was formed in the wake of the Niagara Falls City Council's decision to reject a request by the city's Historic Preservation Commission to have the building designated as a local landmark. The Friends are receiving support in their efforts to 'reawaken' the Turtle from Preservation Buffalo Niagara, a local group that works to preserve historic and culturally significant sites across Western New York. Supporters of the preservation effort say the building embodies the self-determination and preservation of the Haudenosaunee who, in the mid-1970s, embarked on the Turtle's construction as part of an effort to preserve their arts and culture after the negative impact of the Indian boarding schools and centuries of the United States Government controlling nearly every aspect of tribal life. They also view the building as a prime and exceedingly rare example of a cross between Postmodern and Indigenous architecture. Preservationists say the building's design blends Postmodern approaches to anthropomorphism in conjunction with meaningful Haudenosaunee symbols and practices embodied in the function and form of the building. Friends members say their coalition includes more than 1,000 Indigenous and non-Indigenous people and that they have engaged extensively with the Haudenosaunee Nations and other Indigenous communities who are interested in revitalizing the building as a cultural resource. Plans for the building could include re-establishing it as a cultural center offering exhibitions, dance and music performances, and educational experiences highlighting Native American heritage, culture, and languages. Shaun Wilson, a member of the Mohawk and Turtle Clan who serves as the chairman of the board for the Friends of the Niagara Turtle, said he believes the Turtle could come alive and thrive once again as a center for celebrating Indigenous culture and arts, partly because times have changed a lot since the building closed in 1981. Wilson believes a new group of operators would greatly benefit from something the earlier operators did not have: Access to the world through marketing and promotion on the internet. He said he believes operators of the building would be in a much better position today to attract visitors and support for an Indigenous cultural center inside a unique building that would be unlike any other attraction of its kind, not just in New York but in the United States. 'I think, historically, the Turtle was, looking back on it, it probably could have been welcomed by the community more,' he said. 'It was a different time when it did operate. It was the first building of its kind and something like this here in New York state could have the Indigenous community re-learning its culture in this building. We have the community today that could operate this building.' Wilson said his group is working with local architect John Baptiste from Anowara Architecture as it moves forward with the preservation initiative. He said a key step in the process will likely involve a walk-through that would allow for a closer examination of the building's condition, which Wilson said Friends of the Turtle members have been unable to do to date. While he acknowledged the potential cost of renovation may be high, Wilson said Friends members are hoping that by increasing the public's understanding of the significance of the Turtle, they will be able to put together a 'viable' plan that the building's owners have said no one has been able to produce. 'We had to start somewhere, so we started with community awareness and that there's potential to save the building,' Wilson said.
Washington Post
06-05-2025
- Health
- Washington Post
Our dog died. My kids turned their grief into a backyard dog party.
My children — 12, 10 and 7 — sat us down to show us their PowerPoint presentation. The slides, designed to convince my husband and me that we needed a second dog, included photos of newborn puppies, potential names and how the kids would contribute. 'Turtle would have a friend!' their last slide read. Turtle, our shaggy, beige 32-pound labradoodle, was almost 3. From his first puppy weeks, he would stay at my side during the day, glancing up now and then to check in. Each night, he curled up in bed with whichever kid needed him most. 'Maybe it's not a terrible idea?' I said to my husband, secretly hopeful he'd warm to the idea of a puppy. My sister's dog had just delivered a healthy litter, and soon the puppies would need homes. My sister and I had always been close, but she lived in Nashville and I lived in North Carolina, and I didn't see her nearly as much as I wanted. A chance to adopt one of her pups as a 'sibling' to ours felt fun and special. 😊 Follow Feel-good stories Follow 'Okay,' my husband said. 'But,' he continued with his eyes on the kids, 'you need to show us you can handle a puppy by taking more responsibility for Turtle now.' The kids promised to walk, brush and clean up after Turtle, then erupted into squeals. I smiled at Paul. 'Guess we're adding one to our family of six.' To celebrate, Paul took the kids out for dinner. I was tired (and grateful for Paul's willingness to fly solo), so I plopped onto the couch, grabbed the remote and called Turtle. But he didn't come. I went searching and found him leaning against the wall at the top of the steps. He let out a soft growl and gingerly sat, as if in pain. I scooped him up as gently as I could and called Paul to let him know I was heading to the emergency clinic. There, a vet diagnosed Turtle with a spinal condition called intervertebral disc disease, prescribed some pain medications and sent us home. But overnight, Turtle's condition worsened. Back at the animal hospital, I learned his spine wasn't just aching, his nerves were severely compressed with no injury to explain it, and with little hope for recovery. How? I wondered. My young, healthy dog, who 24 hours earlier had trotted alongside my 10-year-old and me on our routine walk for coffee, leaped on and off the couch like a gazelle, chased squirrels from the yard, rolled over for belly rubs if anyone neared. Now surgery was the only option. Even then, the vet said, he may not walk again. I looked at Turtle, whom my son wanted to make the ring bearer at his wedding one day. 'Do it,' I said, handing over a credit card. Paul brought the kids to see Turtle before the anesthesia knocked him out. His tail wasn't moving, but his eyes beamed up at them. We drove home to await the 'all clear' call. Instead, with almost no warning, Turtle died. Not even a day had passed since we had agreed to a 'sibling' puppy. At home, we walked around the house, unsure what to do with our bodies that ached to hold our good boy. My son put on Turtle's collar like a necklace. My youngest, who couldn't stop crying, asked if my sister could send videos of the puppies. We watched the sleeping puppies' bellies move up and down. Advertisement All three kids piled into our bed that night. In the dark, my 7-year-old asked, 'Is the Rainbow Bridge real, or something people say to make kids feel better?' Advertisement I didn't have an answer about the Rainbow Bridge — the so-called heavenly place where dogs who've passed run free while they wait to reunite with their families — except to say I hoped it was real. The next morning, I stared at Turtle's water bowl. The house was too quiet without his jingling collar, his dramatic yawns. I dried my eyes and woke everyone for school, knowing the first morning without Turtle would be hard. He was always the one they wanted to snuggle when they were sad. And now, in the darkest days of their young lives, that source of comfort was gone. Advertisement Meanwhile, my sister's puppies started opening their eyes. Tiny white and black creatures who were changing, it seemed, by the hour. Our neighbor's dog, Bertie, became a welcome distraction. My kids borrowed the orange and white spaniel for snuggles at our house several nights in a row. Advertisement 'Mom,' my son said one night with Bertie in his lap. 'Could we invite a bunch of dogs over to play? Like a party in Turtle's honor?' I understood the desire. I'd asked to pet every dog I passed and looked forward to Bertie's visits as much as the kids. 'Turtle would want us to do this,' he pleaded. I didn't know what Turtle would want, or whether such a thing was worth considering, but I couldn't deny that it was taking a village (of dogs) to move us through the sludge of grief. And so, the idea for a celebration of life for Turtle was born. The kids designed invitations with pictures of Turtle and his best chocolate Lab buddy, Rivers, that read, 'Come Celebrate Turtle's Life' and 'Dogs welcome, humans tolerated.' They made a list of nearby dogs and stuffed yellow envelopes with invitations and Milk-Bones, then biked around the neighborhood to deliver them. The morning of the party, we baked cookies for humans and picked up doggy doughnuts at a local pet bakery. The kids hung signs from our fence and scattered dog toys throughout the yard. They Scotch-taped paper paw prints to the patio leading to a display of treats and a photo clothesline of Turtle. Our yard looked party-worthy, but I wasn't sure what to expect. Would people and dogs actually show up? Would the dogs get along? And would my kids feel better or worse surrounded by other people's pets? To my surprise, 13 dogs and 40 people showed up that day. Some dogs chased each other, while others relaxed with a chew toy. They all wanted belly scratches. I looked around my yard, sopping up the joyful energy. In the delightful chaos, my kids seemed happy. We gathered the crowd for a slideshow, and my son read a eulogy, a word he'd learned that week in preparation for the party. 'Turtle was more than just a pet. He was my brother,' he said to the silent crowd, his voice shaking. I saw a few people wipe their eyes. Later, when the crowd had dispersed, a second-grader from down the street showed back up at our door with a homemade card for my son. 'Your speech was AMAZING,' he'd written in blue marker. 'I want to do that again,' my 7-year-old daughter said before we'd even finished pulling bone-shaped bunting from our trees. In the weeks that followed, we told more funny stories and fewer sad ones. We framed our favorite pictures. We awaited new puppy videos from my sister. I'm not sure if we would've been ready for a new puppy so soon after losing Turtle if we hadn't committed to one before he died. Or if we hadn't allowed the kids to throw a party for Turtle, and leaned into the comfort we found in our neighbors' and friends' dogs. But now, my sister's puppy — who we're calling Codie — feels like an adorable balm, and one that was orchestrated from somewhere beyond here, maybe over the Rainbow Bridge.
