If you’d been thinking about joining Arcata’s Public Safety Committee, I’ve got some bad news for you. 

The Arcata City Council will consider dissolving the committee at its meeting this Wednesday. There’s only one person on the committee, the Arcata Police Department’s Lt. Luke Scown, who is the committee’s city liaison. It hasn’t met since April 26, 2023. Every meeting since — one every month — has been announced with a little cancellation notice posted to the city’s website. Despite the city’s efforts to attract potential members, no one’s joined. 

The group was created in 2016 to talk about public safety issues and give recommendations to the city council. A sample from the July 2019 meeting: the five members present talked about community courts, posting case workers around higher-crime areas, expanding a neighborhood watch program, and considered inviting then-HSU president Tom Jackson to speak at one of their meetings in the coming months. An Arcata resident called their Safe Arcata plan “a useless 3 pages that has bored him” and said the committee’s focus is “unclear to him.” 

A staff report on the ordinance to nix the committee says that it’s not necessary to keep it because the problems it was designed to cover are addressed regularly through other means, such as city council meetings, study sessions, and continuing coordination between APD, city staff, and elected officials. 

“This approach reflects current practice, in which public safety matters are informed by public input received at Council meetings, engagement between staff and community members, and coordination across City departments,” reads the staff report. “It reinforces the Council’s role in setting policy direction in public meetings and the City Manager’s role in implementing that direction through departmental leadership.”

Lt. Scown told the Outpost that APD Chief Chris Ortega will go into greater detail during Wednesday’s meeting. 

“There’s lots of avenues for people to bring concerns and opinions and thoughts about policing in their community to the government,” Scown said. “There’s all different kinds of channels that are open and available and always have been. We are, probably more so than ever, heavily involved in community groups and do a lot of reaching out and interaction with a lot of different groups throughout the community.”

It’s that time of year again!

Yes, the coming of spring in an even-numbered year means that it’s time once again to re-launch LoCO Elections, the website where you, a citizen, can put your questions to the people who would like to represent you in governmental office.

This is a primary election, so we’re talking about county offices, here — representatives on the Humboldt County Board of Supervisors, the county’s Superintendent of Schools, its Treasurer-Tax Collector, and so on. The races at the city level will come this fall.

It’s not a terribly action-packed season, all things considered. Only two of the offices up for election are contested — the race for Assessor and for supervisor from the Fifth District — but even some candidates running unopposed have signaled their intention to participate.

How does LoCO Elections work? You can read this complete explainer written 12 years ago, amazingly, for a full rundown. Here’s the short version: You submit a question for one or more candidates for office. Outpost staff checks to see if you are not just trolling, and then, if you are not, approves your question for publication. People may upvote your question if they wish to signal to the candidate that it’s a question they would like to see answered. The candidate, then, hopefully, answers it, and you and everyone else reads that answer. Pretty simple!

In addition, the candidate can post press releases from his or her campaign to communicate with the readership directly, cutting LoCO gatekeepers out of the loop.

OK! We’ve got both candidates for Fifth District Supervisor, the county’s marquee race, all signed up and ready to go. Several other candidates are also standing by. We send out an invitation email to all candidates; if you’re one of those and you didn’t receive your invite, just drop us a line at news@lostcoastoutpost.com and we’ll hook you up.

June 2nd is approaching sooner than you think! Get electionizing! Go to LoCO Elections and submit your question now! Click this very long and bolded link to do that!

One final note: The Outpost does not accept endorsement letters-to-the-editor, because they are boring. However: As in years past, we will soon open the floor for endorsement limericks. Not yet, though — it’s too early in the cycle to submit everyone to that pain.

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This story was originally published by CalMatters. Sign up for their newsletters.

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Green-card holders no longer qualify for loans from the Small Business Administration, eliminating a longtime source of financing for immigrants that advocates say will discourage job creation and harm the economy.

The SBA limited access to its loans to U.S. citizens and nationals only starting in March, and expanded that policy to SBA-backed loans beginning in April. On top of that, any business that’s even partly owned by a permanent legal resident with a green card is no longer eligible for the loans.

California — which has the most small businesses and the largest immigrant population in the nation — could be most affected. SBA loans have been important to immigrant entrepreneurs because they typically are low-interest and available to those without an established credit history. The agency has also backed loans by private funders, providing a government guarantee for people banks may deem riskier. Now, all those loans are off the table for owners and would-be owners of restaurants, bake shops, law practices, medical clinics, taxi medallions, nail salons and more who hold green cards.

Small business owners are responsible for 99% of net new jobs in the state, according to the California Office of the Small Business Advocate. Immigrant entrepreneurs make up 40% of the state’s business community and generated $28.4 billion in income in 2023, according to GO-Biz, the governor’s office of business and economic development.

Small Business Majority, a national business advocacy group, wrote to the SBA in mid-March, urging the federal agency to reconsider the changes. The letter, signed by dozens of state and national groups and chambers of commerce, called the new policies “a misguided approach that ignores critical economic data underscoring the job creating power of the immigrant community.”

The SBA has a limited lending capacity, said Maggie Clemmons, a spokesperson for the agency. “The agency’s rule change will help ensure more American citizens have access to funding previously granted to noncitizens,” she said in an email.

The SBA approved 3,358 loans for small businesses owned partly by a lawful permanent resident in fiscal year 2025, largely during the Biden administration, Clemmons said. That represented 4% of the 85,000 loans approved by the agency.In California, the changes could affect about 220,000 small business owners who hold green cards, said Carolina Martinez, chief executive of CAMEO Network, a national association of organizations that support small businesses.

“The most important thing for us is to really understand that this SBA decision… is really bad for the American economy,” Martinez said.

Pursuing the American Dream

Cristina Foanene, a Romanian immigrant who arrived in the United States 20 years ago, was a green-card holder when she obtained an SBA loan in 2018 that allowed her and her husband to buy a building and expand their glass company, MCS Glass, in Fresno. They now have 30 employees.

“The loan gave us an opportunity to create more jobs, to have an even greater impact in our community,” Foanene said. Their goal is to manufacture more products and create more positions, she added.

She said she doesn’t know where the business would be today without the SBA loans they received over the years. They just signed their third loan last month, Foanene said, their first as American citizens.

She called herself loyal to this country and said she’s sad that others like her may not have the same opportunities to pursue the American Dream by securing SBA loans while “respecting the laws.”

“It literally breaks my heart,” Foanene said. “There are so many good people with good intentions. I feel it’s unfair.”

Other entrepreneurs or independent contractors also lose a possible safety net that SBA loans once provided.

“During the pandemic, these loans were crucial to people’s survival,” said Dung Nguyen, program and organizing director for California Healthy Nail Salon Collaborative, an organization that advocates for Vietnamese immigrants, many of whom work in the nail-salon industry. The group signed the Small Business Majority’s letter to the SBA.

Nguyen said the nail-salon workers and owners who took out those loans during the pandemic are still paying them back.

‘A new kind of status’

Kenia Zamarripa, spokesperson for the San Diego Regional Chamber of Commerce, which also signed the letter to the SBA, said this latest policy change is another example of how immigrants are more vulnerable as federal funds for other programs have been taken away. Her group and others are pushing for immigration reform that includes a standardized path to citizenship, she said.

“This is a community that’s doing things the right way, looking for a legal path,” she said. “It’s like you’re punishing them for doing the right thing.”

The SBA changes push green-card holders to “informality,” Zamarripa said. “What’s next? What other resources will be taken away? How else will immigrants continue to be targeted?”

Others echo that concern.

“This dialog is really challenging our concept of what undocumented means,” said Gabriela Alemán, a spokesperson for Mission Asset Fund, a San Francisco organization that supports and lends to small business owners. “These are community members that are now being pushed into a new kind of status.”

Mission Asset Fund’s lending circles — modeled after the Mexican community-based lending practice called tandas — can provide up to $2,500 in loans to small business owners. The group just got its California lenders’ license and will eventually be able to provide larger loans, Alemán said.

But it will be tough for groups like it to fill the gap left by the SBA’s new policies for permanent legal residents who may want to start or grow their businesses.

“There are not any other options at this scale (that the SBA provides),” said Brian Kennedy Jr., entrepreneur ecosystem director at AmPac Business Capital, a Los Angeles-area community development financial institution and SBA partner. “We’re talking about $35,000 up to $30 million.”

What’s next

Many small business owners already use — and may increasingly rely on — community development financial institutions and other lenders whose mission is to help people with limited options, credit histories and savings.They could also turn to the state for help. State-funded options include a small business loan guarantee program through its IBank, and programs through the treasurer’s office that reduces risks to lenders by pledging state funds as collateral, or contributing to loan-loss reserves.

Microenterprise Collaborative of Inland Southern California works with lenders, technical assistance providers and community partners to help small business owners in Inland Southern California.

Pamela Deans, the group’s executive director, said the SBA’s policy change will alter how the organization refers entrepreneurs to sources of capital. Rather than pointing them to “a relatively straightforward” SBA process, she said the group will have to inform them of a more fragmented set of options and warn them about predatory lending.

“Many of these would‑be owners will have a much harder time piecing together enough safe, affordable capital to lease a space, buy equipment or cover early working capital — so the taquería, the child care business, the trucking startup may never open in the first place,” Deans said.

Bianca Blomquist, California director for Small Business Majority, also is concerned about small business owners turning to unscrupulous lenders. She said her group found out recently that an owner of a child care business in downtown L.A. took out a $10,000 loan at what she thought was 13% interest. It was actually closer to 250%.

Other advocates are hoping philanthropy and impact investors will step up and make more capital available to small lenders.

“Women, entrepreneurs, immigrants and communities of color always have had to think outside the typical paths,” said Leticia Landa, executive director of La Cocina, a small business incubator in San Francisco. “I do hope, especially in California, that we’re going to come up with something.”

This story was originally published by CalMatters. Sign up for their newsletters.

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We already knew that Democrat Tom Steyer, a billionaire running for California governor, is rich. But how rich?

In 2024, Steyer and his wife, Kat Taylor, reported a total income of $39 million, thanks to the duo’s massive investments in the global stock market. That’s more than all nine of his major opponents in the governor’s race and their partners made that year combined, according to their federal tax returns released this week.

A 2019 state law, designed to better inform California voters, requires candidates for governor to release their federal tax returns to qualify for the June primary ballot. Among major candidates, only Chad Bianco, Matt Mahan, Katie Porter and Tony Thurmond have already filed their 2025 tax returns.

Here are some highlights:

Tom Steyer

Income: $39 million in 2024, primarily from massive investments in the global stock market. They also made $6 million in passive income in Luxembourg, Netherlands, Bermuda and the Cayman Islands in 2024. They collected $38,000 in royalties from other properties and earned $23,000 from TomKat Ranch, their 1,800-acre cattle ranch in Pescadero.

Federal taxes paid: $5.4 million in 2024 — 54 times the average annual California household income.

Their earnings swing with the market: In 2021, they reported $160 million in income from investments and paid $39 million in taxes. But in 2022, they made a paltry $8 million and paid $1 million.

Tom Steyer and his spouse, Kat Taylor, right, are introduced by state Sen. Henry Stern, D-Los Angeles, left, at the California Democratic Convention in San Francisco on Feb. 21, 2026. Photo by Jungho Kim for CalMatters

The couple regularly file tax returns in dozens of states each year (19 in 2024) and pay taxes abroad, too. Steyer also has a United Kingdom bank account, which at one point had a balance of $61 million in 2024.

The pair are big on philanthropy, donating $18 million in 2024, including $3 million in stock to Yale University and $1.5 million in stock to TomKat Foundation, the couple’s philanthropic nonprofit.

Steve Hilton

Income: $7.5 million in 2024, including $250,000 from Fox News and $6.7 million his wife, Rachel Whetstone, made as chief communications officer at Netflix. The couple also earned $360,000 from global investments but reported a net $3,000 loss in capital gains.

The couple received another $25,000 that year in rent from three properties in London, including two flats in the trendy Camden area. Hilton, a Republican, reported losing more than $226,000 on his media company CR Productions.

Federal taxes paid: $2.8 million in 2024.

Eric Swalwell

Income: $461,000 in 2024, including his $184,000 congressional salary and $247,000 from his wife Brittany’s consulting work. The couple had a $41,000 home mortgage interest deduction in 2024. Rivals have challenged the Democrat’s California residency, though he lists a Bay Area rental as his primary residence.

Federal taxes paid: $83,000 in 2024.

Katie Porter

Income: $300,000 in 2025, nearly all from her salary as a law professor at the University of California-Irvine. Porter, a Democrat, also collects royalties from book sales: She made $140,000 in 2023 from books she authored, including two textbooks and her memoir ‘I Swear: Politics Is Messier Than My Minivan’ published that year. She earned $18,000 in 2024 and $3,500 last year in royalties.

Federal taxes paid: $58,000 in 2025.

Chad Bianco

Income: $590,000 in 2025, jointly with his wife Denise Bianco. Bianco’s return don’t break down the Republican’s wages, but his base salary as sheriff was $348,000 in 2024, after the Riverside County Board of Supervisors gave him a 27% pay raise that May.

He was already the highest paid sheriff in the state in 2023, earning more than $593,000 in total compensation, which includes benefits such as a pension and health care coverage.

Federal taxes paid: $127,000 in 2025.

Xavier Becerra

Income: $490,000 in 2024, jointly with his UC Davis physician wife Carolyn Reyes. That includes Becerra’s nearly $250,000 salary at the time as U.S. Health and Human Services secretary in the Biden administration. The couple leased out four single-family homes that made them a net profit of $110,000.

Federal taxes paid: $116,000 in 2024.

Tony Thurmond

Income: $309,000 in 2025 — $203,000 as superintendent of public instruction and $18,000 from Integrated Community Services, a San Rafael-based disability supportive service where he worked as a supportive living aide, one of several side jobs the Democrat has held. Wife Vanessa Wiarco earned $87,000 as community engagement manager with KVCR Public Media at San Bernardino Community College.

Federal taxes paid: $52,000 in 2025.

Antonio Villaraigosa

Income: $1.4 million in 2024, most of which came from Actum, a business consulting firm with offices worldwide, including Los Angeles and Sacramento, and his own firm, Antonio Villaraigosa LLC. He also collected a $125,000 pension as the former Democratic mayor of Los Angeles. He and his wife Patricia filed their taxes separately.

Federal taxes paid: $462,000 in 2024.

Betty Yee

Income: $211,000 in 2024, almost all of which came from pensions and Social Security benefits. Yee, a Democrat, reported $1,300 in consulting and teaching income and her husband, Steven Jacobs, a rabbi with no reported income. The couple received $54,000 from selling a timeshare in October 2024. In 2021, the couple also reported $3,400 in gambling income in 2021.

Yee, who was California controller until January 2023, received an annual salary of roughly $157,000 in 2022 and $13,000 in 2023, when the job ended in January.

Federal taxes paid: $24,000 in 2024.

Matt Mahan

Income: $507,000 in 2025, including his San Jose mayoral salary of $226,000 and his wife Silvia Scandar Mahan’s salary of $267,000 as president of Cristo Rey San Jose High School. In 2024, the couple claimed $14,000 in clean energy credits for using solar-powered electricity.

Federal taxes paid: $99,000 in 2025.

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CalMatters’ Jeanne Kuang and Juliet Williams contributed reporting.

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“[Marco Rubio] has got a language advantage over me, ‘cause I’m not learning your damn language,” Trump continued. “I don’t have time. I was okay with languages but I’m not gonna spend time learning your language. That much I won’t do.”

— Donald Trump to Latin American leaders, March 2026

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October 2008. I walk into a French restaurant in Santiago de Chile feeling out of place. Casual slacks and an untucked blouse, my hair a frothy mass of curls, too long. My face damp and make-up smudged. Alone.

I feel thousands of miles from my Nevada home and a lifetime away from the comfort of speaking English. So few chilenos speak English. This makes Santiago an excellent place to immerse myself in language learning.

That said, I’m tired of working so hard to communicate.

Estoy sola. Estoy cansada. Tengo hambre.

So hungry. The restaurant’s foyer is narrow, dark, humid. Still air. Shuttered.

No one greets me or acknowledges my presence. It’s 7 p.m. Mas temprano. Too early for self-respecting chilenos to be dining out. Two or three men sit alone in booths, reading newspapers, drinking pisco sours topped with frothy egg whites.

Today’s El Mercurio is folded under my arm.

I catch the eye of a bustling waiter, setting up for the night. He’s placing carefully folded white cloth napkins on tables. Arranging forks. Aligning wine glasses for white and for red.

I straighten my back.

“¿Permiso?”

Nothing. I try a more commanding, confident tone. Soy profesora.

“¿Perdón?”

He finally looks at me. I gesture to a table. He shrugs. I sit. Unfold my paper. Wait for a waiter.

I stare at the closest, willing el mesero to come to the table. I catch the gaze of another, walking briskly out of the kitchen. He sees me. Catches my eye. Looks away.

Unlike me, the waiters seem cool in the heat of the late spring evening. No discernible sweat. Brisk in pleated pants and crisp white shirts. Collared like coiffed French poodles.

Mas temprano.

It was a Friday night and my students had taken a bus to Viña del Mar en la costa. My plan was to force myself to get out and practice language skills. I decided on dinner at a French bistro, highly recommended by students, a block from metro Estación Manuel Montt. With a population of more than 6 million, Santiago is the largest city I’ve lived in, by far. I’m teaching two university classes for a study abroad program at La Universidad Andrés Bello. I’m enrolled in four semesters of Spanish compressed into five months. Como reportera necesito hablar español.

I rent an apartment in Providencia, close to metro Estación Salvador. My place is equidistant between the university campus and fine dining, galleries and clubs where my mostly U.S. students dance until 4 a.m. One wanders into my morning classes in the clothes she wore the night before.

I’ve dined by the pool at a renowned Peruano restaurant Barandiaran, ordering ceviche, the best I’ve ever tasted. But that night I was with people, some of them men. And it had been the right time for dining – after 9 p.m. But I was raised in the U.S. Midwest where we enjoy an evening meal at 5 p.m. So I wait to go out until 7 p.m.

Which is still desmasiado temprano. Ahora estoy sola. Me siento cohibida. Feeling self-conscious. Every hair out of place, keeping my arms at my sides so pit sweat doesn’t show. I lean into the aisle and practically trip a waiter.

“Un cerveza, por favor,” I ask. Looking at his eyes. Which are averted. And he repeats the order, correcting my careless gender mistake, as much for the lurking staff as for anything.

“Una cerveza, por supuesto,” he said, pronouncing the “ah” in “una” distinctly. A beer is a girl, not a boy. “Una cerveza para la señora. Claro.”

And I wish I were home in my 11th floor condo overlooking Parque Balmaceda, tucked in safe with a pot of boiling water on the stove, a plastic sack of elbow macaroni and The Daily Show to watch on my Macbook. I’d cook the noodles al dente and stir in grated cheese. A crushed clove of garlic, bat of butter, squirt of sriracha. Porque tengo hambre. Hey, estoy pensando en español.

I catch myself thinking in Spanish for a few seconds almost every day. For weeks, I have had to focus hard and plan ahead, memorizing words to accomplish life’s simple tasks – eat, drink, buy groceries, travel. I panic before opening my mouth to speak. I stand in line at el supermercado, rehearsing answers to the standard questions. Do you have an account here? Do you want paper or plastic?

The workers speak fast so I have to guess the questions and often give up and answer no, no. If I hear language that sounds like the standard “how are you paying for this?” I respond with efectivo, gracias, and whip out chileno pesos. Given occasional confused looks from clerks, I likely give this answer to the wrong question.

“How are you doing today?”

“Cash, thank you.”

Most days, I want to be back in Reno where I don’t have to remember to tip the young person who packs my food items into bags. Where I don’t have to ride the metro home with bags on my arms. Where I can drive my car to Safeway, type my phone number into a keypad for deals, pay with my credit card, and load groceries into my trunk. Where I don’t have to rehearse my orders at the deli counter and remember that half a kilo is a pound of cheese. Medio kilo, I would say, and point to el queso.

I point so much. When you can’t speak a language, you point and point. When you can’t speak a language, you can’t understand directions to the store that sells towels and you can’t find café entero or la machina in which to grind whole beans. My first week in Santiago involved attempting to find good coffee or a grinder for the whole beans that I’d packed in my luggage.

After many frustrating quests, I bought a jar of Nescafe. Instant coffee is easy. Add a little cocoa powder and you’ve got a gas station mocha. My new chileno friends joke about this, about my weird affection for No Es Café.

But tonight, tengo hambre. I plan to order delicious French cuisine. I will point to menu items and the pretentious chileno waiters will not try to hide their scorn for my 43-year-old female solitude. I will read the paper to hide from them. But my belly will be full.

I wait and I wait. Espero y espero. The gorgeous verb “esperar” means “to wait” and also “to hope.” My beer arrives and I drink it. But no menu. The waiters have disappeared. I give up. I fold my paper, leave the equivalent of $10 on the table and walk out.

It’s two blocks to a shop with 50 flavors of helado. I like frutas del bosque the best. Fruits of the forest.

Next to me in line, a chileno starts a conversation in English. He introduces himself.

“Hello, I am Geraldo.”

“Didra,” I say. If a Spanish-speaker looks at those letters, they will pronounce my name exactly right.

“Are you of the U.S.?”

“Si, soy estadounidense.” Weird to me that we don’t have a word in English for a UnitedStates-ian. We are all americanos, of course, from Canada to Patagonia. It takes travel to learn the reality of this.

I order frutas del bosque.

“Sabe a moras,” I explain to Geraldo that it tastes like blackberries. He asks for the English translation. He likes to practice English and says he studies my language by watching The Simpsons.

“Black, how you say, berry?”

“Blackberry, si, perfecto.”

He asks where I live in the estados unidos and I say, “Nevada, Las Vegas.” I’ve tried telling people I’m from Reno but Las Vegas is more widely known in sudamerica.

“Las Vegas!” Geraldo’s eyes light up. “It is my dream to go there for one weekend. I would, I think you say, clean up.”

“Buena suerte!” I tell him. “If you get to Las Vegas, Geraldo. I hope you do. Espero.”

We part ways. Fueled by frozen dairy, I walk to the bar district in Bellavista and slide into a dark dive with live music. It’s almost 9 p.m., and the place is starting to fill.

“Una cerveza,” I say at the bar, fucking nailing the gender this time. “Guiness, por favor.”

New language, new soul, new window to the world. Familiar Irish beer.

El barman responds without delay. I will tip him well. Men are smoking at the bar. I light a Lucky Strike. Inhale. Exhale. Fumar es una dicha. Bliss to my lungs. Nicotine surges into my bloodstream, heightening senses and mental acuity. I lean back, smile and take in the scene.

In a dark corner of the room, a teen sings from a tall stool, long bangs drooping over his face. He plays an acoustic guitar plugged into an amp and leans into a microphone, singing mostly 1990s covers from U.S. bands. He’s learned the sounds of words, stringing together unfamiliar consonants and vowels memorized. Language is a cryptic mesh of noise that we learn to decipher, to unglue meaning. So many people learn English by watching and listening to U.S. popular media. I’m impressed. The singer throw his heart into the lyrics of Pearl Jam, Sublime, Guns and Roses. Channeling Cobain, he strums and sings: “come as you are, as a frand as a nold enemy.” I realize I don’t know the lyrics to “Come As You Are” or I might sing along. Because I’m drinking.

Alcohol is a universal language. I sink into the spell of warm imported beer, overpriced and only slightly better than the local macrobrew Crystal. The men next to me, I guess early 50s, are tipsy from beer and whiskey. They look like shorter, heavier versions of Robert DeNiro, with an extra chin, and Harvey Keitel, balding with a comb-over. We engage in small talk but soon launch into inquiries about U.S. politics and the upcoming election.

“¿Las elecciones en estado unidos? ¿Te gusta McCain?”

They want to know how will I vote. Do I like John McCain? Do I support the right – and perhaps by extension Pinochet-style dictatorships or the left, this Obama guy, this wannabe Salvador Allende. In Chile, it boils down to this. Fascism or socialism. Security or equity. I try my best to express my ideology en español.

“La gente de mi país tiene miedo.” The people in my country have fear. I don’t have the right words to describe my nation’s growing terror of The Other — immigrants, women, people of color. I don’t know how to say I think George W. Bush’s administration exploits those fears.

No tengo el vocabulario para describirlo.

I bungle it. Double Chin DeNiro stumps out his cigarette, sips his whiskey neat and asks me:

“¿Ellos piensan que Obama es peligroso?”

“Ah, no. Disculpe. La gente piensan que todos es peligroso.” The people think that everything is dangerous. “Me gusta Obama. Espero que gane.” I like Obama. I hope he wins. Espero. Espero.

Double Chin DeNiro laughs at this, pats my shoulder, changes the subject. Combover Keitel leans in close and chides me for smoking Lucky Strikes. The Luckies have too much nicotine for a girl.

“Demasiada nicotina,” Keitel says. He furrows his brow. “Deberías fumar algo menos.” You should smoke something less. I observe that nicotine, like beer, is also a girl.

I use my Lucky to light another Lucky. Keitel and DeNiro cackle at this and shake their heads. I lean back to watch Chileno Cobain cover Michael Jackson’s “Thriller.” I feel comfortable. Me siento a gusto, I think, I feel OK in this moment.

“Una cerveza mas, por favor,” I ask el barman. “Una mas.”

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Postscript: A month later, eight of my travel writing students gathered in my Santiago 11th floor apartment to watch election returns. We made a huge pot of a traditional chileno stew charquicán and drank pisco sours and vino tinto chileno. I cried as we watched Barack Obama’s acceptance speech. It had been eight long years.

Espero y espero.

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Deidre Pike is chair of the journalism department at Cal Poly Humboldt. Ella pide disculpas por los errores en español.

Yesterday, millions of people around the country gathered together with their cardboard signs and upside-down flags, singing and marching and declaring a fairly unified message in our constitution and this American experiment. It feels like the message keeps getting muddled in the name, since we have no kings. One pastor said, “If it was called ‘No Assholes’ I would go, but this whole ‘No Kings’ thing makes it seem ridiculous.” Another pastor retorted back, “Yeah, but the collective gathering is still important.” And I could see everyone is both wrong and right to some degree.

Protests are a backbone of our country — non-violently rebelling against an unjust dominant narrative and insisting people see a different way forward. It’s a constitutional privilege needing protection at all times. Today starts Holy Week in the Christian Church, which began with a protest against an idolatrous empire and oppressive dictators.

Holy Week began with a protest.

Palm Sunday is the start of where we see, more obviously, two kingdoms clash against each other — the kingdom of empire with military might and oppression, juxtaposed against the kingdom of love with grace and peace. It began at the start of Passover week, when Jesus and his disciples — with a crowd of marginalized folx like the poor, healed, formerly blind, children, women, and others — arrived into Jerusalem. This was a city of around 40,000 people, but during Passover it ballooned to over 200,000 with pilgrims and travelers. (Josephus, a Jewish historian, counted the population as high as 3 million.)

Because Passover is a historical celebration of Israel’s rescue out of slavery in Egypt and the escape from the oppressors that kept them captive, there was always concern that the Jews would turn on Rome and revolt. So Rome, which occupied and ruled over Israel, would send whomever they put in charge of the area to Jerusalem with at least 1,000 troops to police the city and keep the peace.

On this Sunday, it was incredibly likely that Pilate, the Roman official in charge of Jerusalem, would be arriving into the city from the East out of the Mediterranean area. He would be atop his war horse, wearing robes with the details of his official capacity and the backing of Roman power. Pilate’s garrison would be marching before and behind him. There were horses and men and weapons and armor. There were flags and noise and dust and everyone would have known they were coming from miles away. Within this legion was heavy intimidation and a severe threat of violence should anyone try to cause a rebellion or if things got out of hand.

On the other side of Jerusalem came a different sort of parade and noise, when Jesus arrived on a donkey with the poor, marginalized and forgotten before and behind him. Nothing would be adorning Jesus to prove who he was. He was confident in his identity and mission and he knew God’s kingdom would always stand up to and against Roman imperial power, or any other kind of oppressive power that causes marginalized, poor and ignored people to suffer.

Palm Sunday shows two different kinds of kingdoms. A kingdom of intimidation and a kingdom of inclusion. Jesus revealed an alternative kingdom, where instead of violent Roman imperial power bringing political change, love and justice could move mountains.

I am in no way comparing these United States to the ancient Roman Empire, but I am comparing our human propensity for domination, power, greed and control. These aren’t just sins living in the individual human heart but they are the cultural waters we swim in and are impacted by — our political leaders as well.

Your collective hatred of our current president won’t save you or fix you. It’s simply a convenient distraction from the good work you’re meant to do in this world. When all our energy is focused on the things we’re against, we sometimes forget to participate in the things we are for, because no matter how unkind, horrific and abusive power is, even when power threatens your very life, there’s a deeper truth of love in the world. Love has more power than anything else. Love has the power to save.

The truth is, the world has been desperate for saving for a long time because things haven’t been made right. Wars and bombings and genocide. Masked policing and border problems and dehumanizing of undocumented folx. Mass shootings and tornados and Epstein and divorce and cancer and abortion and racism and all the things coming undone around us that make us cry out, “Hosanna! Save us! Deliver us! Make it right, right now!”

“Hosanna” isn’t “hallelujah.” Hosanna isn’t praise and it isn’t worship. Hosanna isn’t balloons and snow cones and parades with streamers and fireworks and a marching band. Hosanna is desperation. Hosanna is crying mothers and frenzied shouts. Hosanna is truth-telling in the rawest form, vulnerable and exposed. Hosanna holds nothing back and isn’t protected in bubble wrap or sensitive to another’s emotions. Hosanna isn’t afraid of hurting someone’s feelings or manipulating a situation. Hosanna is a broken, at the end of your rope, and boldly demanding that things are finally made right … because we’ve had enough!

Palm Sunday isn’t a day for palm branches and parades. It’s a day of protests and signs and chanting our needs. It’s a day of demonstration and desperation. It’s a day where we cry out our broken and bold “hosanna” in the most obscene fashion, and trust that Jesus is with us in that broken hosanna. It’s a day when we speak truth to power, defenseless and unarmed.

Palm Sunday reveals the truth of what is and the hope of what’s to come.

Holy week starts today with desperate, truthful shouts of what we need. Jesus didn’t belittle or shame the crowd who protested injustice and boldly spoke out against oppressive powers. Jesus joined in the protests by upending everything from religious institutions to violent objects of death. He spent his last days making a mockery of Roman power and religious obligation. He spent his last days demonstrating what love looks like, and that love conquers all. Because the truth is, God’s love isn’t contained to temples or church buildings.

The truth is: God’s love isn’t prosperity gospel or flashy advertisements to convince you to join the crowd. The truth is: God’s love is usually found in the most desperate of places, with the most desperate of people, who are desperate to see. The truth is: God’s love comes riding into every fortified or occupied place in the most defenseless way. The truth is: God’s love shows up in our desperation, and with a broken, disappointed and hopeful hosanna, we continue forth in that love.

Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.

And until then, may we hold up signs and speak truth to power and make our neighbors chicken soup. May we stop flinging hatred into the world and instead continue forth in Love.

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A huge crowd of protestors gathered in downtown Eureka on Saturday for the third “No Kings” rally,  a nationwide movement condemning the policies and actions of the Trump administration. 

The sprawling crowd wrapped around the Humboldt County Courthouse, stretching along both sides of Fifth Street for several city blocks. Demonstrators joyfully sang along to Chappell Roan’s “Pink Pony Club” and protest songs led by the Raging Grannies while waving handmade signs and whooping at honking passersby. There were lots of American flags, inflatable animal costumes, cowbells and AI-generated art.

It’s always difficult to estimate crowd size, but Eureka Police Chief Brian Stephens guessed that there were between 2,000 and 3,000 people in attendance. He told the Outpost that the event organizers would probably have a better estimate after the protest. Asked whether there had been any issues reported, Stephens shook his head and said the day was going smoothly. 

There was a moment when two EPD officers seemed to be responding to an incident or chasing after someone, running across Fifth Street and around the corner to the Sheriff’s Office side of the courthouse. Fortunately, it was just a dog that had gotten away from its owner. They got the dog on a leash and walked it back toward Fifth Street to be reunited with its owner. Whew!

As usual, your LoCO took lots and lots of pictures. You may peruse them below.

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