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The Hill
5 days ago
- Politics
- The Hill
I'm a Black mother and a physician with a message about Black kids' future
On a day shortly before the 2024 election, I was picking up my children from school. As my older child was finishing basketball practice, my younger child made his usual plea to buy his favorite Icee. 'Mama, can I have an Icee? Please!' he whined, tugging at my bag. Reluctantly, I handed him a few bills. 'Thanks for the Icee!' he said with his big toothy smile as he dashed to the sidewalk. Watching him run away, I felt anxious. He's still my baby, even though he's in third grade. From where I stood, he looked confident and strong. But those dollar bills were flapping around in his hand, reminding me to tell him to keep his money in his pocket. It wasn't just about the bills; it hit me hard that as the mother of Black boys, my worries for their future will never really vanish — especially with everything happening in our country today. Before I became a parent, I thought I'd raise my children with the same firmness that my West Indian teachers used at the small Episcopalian elementary school I attended in Brooklyn, N.Y. They were quick to discipline and had high expectations for us. I figured being strict would help prepare Black children for a world that rarely sees them as innocent — but that was before I became a mother, feeling the heavy responsibility of raising Black boys. The effects of racism aren't just for the history books. Black Americans carry the weight of discrimination and injustice from those before us, determined not to pass that trauma on to our children. No matter how hard I try, being their parent often feels like a tough balancing act. I feel caught between protecting them from the harsh realities of life in this country and giving them the opportunities to make mistakes and learn. As a mother, physician and health equity advocate, I have seen how our health care system affects Black children, who often face longer wait times in emergency rooms, higher chances of being diagnosed incorrectly and a greater risk of not surviving through their first year of life. These health outcomes are connected to wider issues, including education. For example, a report from the Congressional Black Caucus Foundation found that Black boys face systemic bias in schools. Misunderstandings about their behavior in preschool can lead to harsh punishments, robbing them of their chance to learn and play. By middle school, harmful stereotypes can lead to them being excluded from gifted programs, hurting their confidence and interest in school. The Supreme Court's 2023 ruling on affirmative action in college admissions will likely limit opportunities for Black students in fields such as medicine and law. A recent study showed that cuts to diversity, equity and inclusion programs under the Trump administration have led to serious funding drops for important initiatives aimed at closing the gap in racial health outcomes. The National Institute on Minority Health and Health Disparities took the biggest hit, losing almost 30 percent of its funding. Weakening these health programs ultimately puts our lives at risk. As I sat there watching my younger son enjoy his Icee, I felt the weight of my responsibility — not just for my kids, but for all kids who will live in the world we create. That world can feel hostile, especially given the recent anti-DEI backlash. I am reminded daily that there is much work left to do. Our actions today matter for Black children's futures. Challenges in education and health care must be addressed. If we want to make a real difference for our children, we must be intentional about where to focus our advocacy. We must support race-conscious policies, prioritizing those that tackle the systemic inequities affecting education and health care. Americans can contact their local representatives and tell them that these programs are crucial for improving outcomes for Black children. We should encourage lawmakers to develop programs that provide Black students with fair access to advanced classes and academic support, while also pushing school boards to adopt equitable discipline policies. We must fight to fund health care systems that focus on the needs of underrepresented communities, directly addressing racial health inequities. We must be innovative about securing continued funding for the work of agencies like the National Institute on Minority Health and Health Disparities to keep critical health programs for Black children. We can illuminate the issues that Black children face by raising our voices. This is about the future of our children, who deserve a shot at success. It's time for us to focus on creating environments where all children, especially Black children, can thrive. We all share this responsibility — and need to act before it's too late. Uché Blackstock, M.D., is the founder and chief advisor of Advancing Health Equity, a strategic health equity consulting firm. She is the author of 'Legacy: A Black Physician Reckons with Racism in Medicine' and an ambassador for the Congressional Black Caucus Foundation National Racial Equity Initiative Taskforce.
Yahoo
6 days ago
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Who's looking for a man in finance? Seeing 'Materialists' with the TikToker behind 2024's viral hit.
MANHATTAN — When I met up with Megan Boni outside our local AMC, I'd had her song stuck in my head for weeks. The content creator, known online as Girl on Couch, went mega-viral last year with a catchy bop about what kind of guy she's looking for. 'I'm looking for a man in finance, trust fund, 6'5', blue eyes,' the now 28-year-old states with playful vocal fry in a video first posted to TikTok before it was remixed by DJs Billen Ted and David Guetta, transcending social media and climbing the charts. 'Man in Finance' might as well be the theme song for Materialists, which I saw at a press screening weeks before. On its first official day in theaters, June 13, Boni and I met up to see the film together. She grabbed a small popcorn and I got a small Icee, and we both headed inside the frigid theater, which was surprisingly packed for 2 p.m. on a weekday. I asked her what she knew about the movie, and she was only really familiar with its stars. She was dressed comfortably — as was I — but she was headed to the Jersey Shore to meet her parents after the credits rolled. I thanked her for coming to see a random movie with a stranger, and she joked that a free movie was always a good time. Boni is funny. Right now, she's still in New York City, living off the money from the record deal she signed in 2024, but she's hoping to break in to comedy. I'm hoping that she can help me, someone who hasn't dated in 10 years, crack how accurate this movie is in its assessment of modern love. In Materialists, Dakota Johnson plays a matchmaker named Lucy whose clients quantify their desires to her, treating people like math problems. They must be above a certain height, below a certain BMI, earn a certain amount of money and reach a number of other standards. A 6'5' man in finance with a trust fund and blue eyes would be a hot commodity, or what Lucy and her coworkers call a unicorn. Matchmakers use this information to pair people up, and people use this information on dating apps to weed through the masses to find those they might be attracted to. Lucy's also making her own matches. She's torn between two men: One is perfect on paper — kind with a job in finance (Pedro Pascal) — and one is passionate but hopelessly poor (Chris Evans). Boni and I sat in polite silence in plush reclining seats as Lucy's professional and love lives played out onscreen. I thought I had been struck by a sudden onset flu during the screening, but I had mistakenly flipped on the seat warmer button that I didn't know existed, resulting in both chills and a cold sweat. Boni was too focused to notice. For something that's billed as a romantic comedy, Materialists isn't particularly funny, so I was surprised when I heard Boni laughing throughout it, mostly at mentions of a leg-lengthening surgery that men can get to become taller. As the credits rolled, we chatted as we descended various sets of stairs and escalators, grabbing a seat outside the concessions area to chat. 'Can I be honest?' Boni said. 'I mean, it was bad.' She didn't like Lucy. Lucy's mean! For Boni, the moral of the story was difficult to detect — was it just that sometimes people are rich and sometimes they aren't and it's harder for the latter to find love? The character's choices didn't make sense to her. 'I guess it is accurate because some women are psychos,' Boni joked. 'It's not even modern, because the most unrealistic part is when they went on a first [official] date and [Pascal's character] gives [Lucy] a key the next day. I was like, 'What the f*** are you guys doing? He's gonna murder you in your sleep. And he probably would have because he had like no personality.' I asked her if dating now really feels like turning yourself into a commodity and weighing the qualities of others to calculate who a good match might be. Do people really look for love like they look for houses or groceries, with certain stipulations and nonnegotiables? Does she? Absolutely not. The 'Man in Finance' song is satire, she said. The list of qualities in the song was intended to make fun of the people who do that, and even more so, making fun of how it's easy to detect which men work in finance because of how they dress and carry themselves. (See: Light blue oxford shirt, black vest, brown loafers) 'I made the video because my goal at the time was to go viral whenever I could,' Boni said. 'I think it was, unfortunately, really relatable for women who only care about what their partner looks like on paper.' Lucy, obviously, cared a lot. Perhaps that was because of how her parents fought, raised her and talked about money — criteria that are mentioned in the movie as qualities that help matchmakers measure how compatible two people might be. Is Lucy even supposed to be relatable, or just an example of how thinking about dating all the time for work can drive someone crazy? Boni won't be seeking out Lucy's services, obviously, because she's fictional. But Boni said the popularity of her song has turned her off dating completely. People ask her if she's still looking for a man in finance all the time, and her answer is an emphatic 'No.' She never was. 'I mean, listen. Everyone agrees. If a man is hot, loaded, works in finance or is a lawyer or a doctor or has some other good job — that's hot. But that's a fantasy,' she said, starting to laugh. She was thinking about how Pascal's character, who lived in a $12 million Tribeca penthouse, only had one silk sheet on his bed. In many ways, Boni meets the criteria that a lot of men are most likely searching for. She's beautiful with perfectly highlighted blond hair, ridiculously funny and down to meet up with a stranger and see a movie on a Friday afternoon. She knows what she wants: She quit her office job when her social media profiles took off, she's taking the steps necessary to succeed as a comedian and she's congenial when questioned by a reporter about a viral post from last year. 'My parents are like, 'Well, don't you want to share your life with someone?' And I'm like, 'Yeah, I do, but I'm not one of those girls,'' Boni said. 'There are two types of girls: Those who make it their life's mission, and they're constantly let down. Psycho girls who go on dates every week. Then there's people like me who don't make that a priority.' Though she's not much of a dater at the moment, I couldn't shake the fact that commodifying yourself to become the most appealing possible package for someone else is still something that people do all the time online. Especially if you're trying to keep the followers you gained from a moment of peak virality and convert them to people who could sustain your work as a comedian. 'You want to appeal to everyone … but there's repercussions for being you sometimes,' Boni said. 'It's not just a dating problem. I think the internet's to blame … but I'm always trying to present myself in different ways in different places. I'm trying to be hot on Instagram. On TikTok, I'm trying to be a freak. I'm trying to get people's attention.' To be a modern woman is to be constantly thinking about what you have to offer and how other people might want to utilize that — not just in dating, but in everyday life.
Yahoo
23-05-2025
- Health
- Yahoo
RFK Jr.'s Worst Nightmare
Photographs by Evan Jenkins A Wednesday morning in May is a strange time to be trick-or-treating—especially if you're an adult wearing business casual. The Indiana Convention Center had just opened to visitors for the second day of Sweets & Snacks, the largest gathering of the candy and snack industry in North America. Along with nearly 15,000 other attendees, I went from booth to booth trying samples. By 10:40, I was sipping a complimentary blue-raspberry-watermelon Icee while a woman to my right took a selfie with Mr. Jelly Belly. At the Slim Jim booth a few feet away, a bunch of people in blazers gathered around a smorgasbord of meat sticks. The only thing that could get between attendees and their snacks was the occasional free beer or run-in with a mascot. At one point, the Jack Link's sasquatch attempted to steal my Entenmann's mini muffins. I had come to Sweets & Snacks to taste the future of junk food. The annual conference is the industry's most prominent venue to show off its new products. Judging by my three days in Indianapolis, the hot new trends are freeze-dried candy and anything that tastes vaguely East Asian: think 'matcha latte' popcorn. But right now, that future looks shaky, particularly for confections. Candy embodies everything that Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. believes is wrong with the American diet. It's mainly sugar (which Kennedy has called 'poison'), counts as an ultra-processed food (which Kennedy has called 'poison'), and is often colored with synthetic food dyes (which Kennedy has called 'poison'). Last month, RFK Jr. announced a goal of eliminating synthetic food dyes by the end of 2026, a major threat to an industry predicated on making bright, eye-catching treats. In an email, an HHS spokesperson said that 'Secretary Kennedy has been clear: we must build a healthier future by making smarter choices about what goes into our food.' The spokesperson added that 'the secretary is committed to working with industry to prioritize public health.' At Sweets & Snacks, I did not encounter an industry that was gearing up for change. Instead, it was RFK Jr.'s worst nightmare: an unabashed celebration of all things sugary, artificial, and indulgent. On the convention floor, it was hard to find a single product—beyond the litany of meat sticks and the occasional mixed nut—that would get RFK Jr.'s stamp of approval. Even a finalist for the convention's annual salty-snack award, Vlasic Pickle Balls, contained tartrazine, a synthetic yellow dye that Kennedy has specifically bashed. As I stuffed my face with sugary treats, I began to wonder: Was the industry delusional about Kennedy, or the other way around? RFK Jr.'s presence was conspicuously absent from the moment I arrived in Candy Land. 'Anywhere over here is fine,' I told my Lyft driver as we pulled up to a hulking red M&M. Candy companies have already been investing in healthier options: Mars bought snack-bar maker Kind in 2020 and proudly displayed the bars in a booth alongside their more traditional M&Ms, Skittles, and Starburst. But the only vague mention of the looming RFK Jr. threat on the convention floor was a billboard posted by the conference's organizers, the National Confectioners Association (NCA). It reiterated the candy lobby's longstanding message: Candy shouldn't be lumped together with other ultra-processed foods, because it is an occasional indulgence. It's hardly surprising that candy companies aren't abruptly changing their products in response to pressure, even when it's coming from the country's top health regulator. Americans bought $54 billion worth of these treats last year. In April, the health secretary boasted that the U.S. food industry had 'voluntarily agreed' to remove synthetic dyes from their products, but judging from the items on display at Sweets & Snacks, the candy industry has little interest in fulfilling that promise anytime soon. When I asked Christopher Gindlesperger, NCA's senior vice president of public affairs and communication, if the candy industry had an understanding with RFK Jr. to eliminate synthetic dyes voluntarily, his response was simple: 'No.' Some of the discussions around dyes are understandably frustrating for the industry. Federal regulators haven't done the sort of thorough academic evaluation of these dyes that's typically expected before trying to push them out of the food supply. (The state of California released its own evaluation in 2021 and found that 'synthetic food dyes are associated with adverse neurobehavioral outcomes in some children.') At the same time, the candy industry isn't doing much to signal that it recognizes the growing concern over these ingredients. It's hard to be sympathetic toward companies that purposefully market unhealthy products to children through the use of mascots and funky colors. I was taken aback when I stumbled upon a Despicable Me–branded coloring set that let kids color in a cookie with a marker filled with tartrazine. The industry's efforts to uphold the status quo is risky. If Kennedy is intent on enforcing an actual ban on synthetic food coloring, it could have a monumental impact. Making the switch to natural colors is not as simple as FDA Commissioner Marty Makary let on when he told food makers during a press conference last month to just start coloring their products with fruit and vegetable juices. Natural colors are typically more expensive, and they're far more finicky than their synthetic alternatives. Moisture, pH, and even light can cause the dyes to degrade. A naturally colored M&M might be red when it leaves the factory, but if it sits in your pantry too long, it could take on a not-so-appetizing color. There's a question, too, of whether there are even enough fruits and vegetables in the world to supply the food industry with enough natural dye to serve the massive U.S. market. 'The amount of crops that go into some of these dyes is just so high that we don't necessarily have these crops planted,' Renee Leber, a food scientist at the Institute of Food Technologists, told me. Here's yet another concern: Natural dyes may alter the taste of certain treats. The company behind Dum-Dums lollipops has suggested that replacing artificial red dye with beet juice could make its red lollipops taste like beets. (That doesn't mean it can't be done. Many companies already sell products in Europe without synthetic dyes. And Katjes, a German company sandwiched between Jack Link's and Harvest Snaps, was giving away its rainbow unicorn gummies, which looked plenty eye-catching to me, despite being colored solely with fruit and vegetable juices.) Food dyes are only one part of the RFK Jr. threat that the candy industry faces right now. Yesterday, the Trump administration's 'MAHA Commission' released a much-touted report on childhood health, calling out sugar and ultra-processed foods as a major contributor to the youth chronic-disease problem. When I spoke with Gindlesperger, he was quick to point out that candy is far from the biggest cause of America's sugar problem. (Sweetened drinks are.) 'People understand that chocolate and candy are treats, and consumers have carved out a special place for them in their lives,' he said. He cited an analysis of CDC survey data that received funding from the NCA, which showed that people in the United States eat roughly 40 calories a day of candy. But that analysis doesn't distinguish between kids and adults. Data are scant on children's consumption of candy, though if you've walked with a kid down a candy aisle, you can probably tell that most haven't fully grasped that gummy worms are meant to be an occasional indulgence. 'It's really difficult for a child who has access to candy to stop eating it,' Natalie Muth, a pediatrician and dietitian, told me. Candy consumption among kids, she added, is a 'big problem.' In a country where nearly 20 percent of children are obese, more needs to be done to protect people from the candy industry's worst tendencies. But mandating any such changes will be incredibly difficult for RFK Jr. To ban tartrazine alone, the FDA would need to compile a docket of information demonstrating its harm, issue a draft regulation, take public comments, and then finalize the regulation. Gindlesperger said the candy industry is waiting for the FDA to formally review the safety of the dyes it takes issue with: 'We support and would welcome that review.' Even after all those steps, the food industry can—and likely would—sue. There's even less precedent for cracking down on sugar. Kennedy has acknowledged that a sugar ban is unlikely, and instead has argued for more education about the risks of having a sweet tooth. If Kennedy succeeds in ushering in actual reform, the 'Make America Healthy Again' movement won't truly revolutionize the American diet until it figures out how to redefine our relationship with certain foods. Whether Kennedy likes it or not, candy is part of our national psyche. He can't simply wave a wand and ban trick-or-treating or candy canes. Over the course of three days, I saw grown adults fill multiple shopping bags with free treats. Candy companies displayed bags of their products to show retailers what they'd look like in a store, and the bags literally had to be taped down to avoid getting swiped. (Some still were.) I learned that attendees commonly bring a second suitcase just to haul their loot home. Nothing quite epitomized the affection for treats like the impromptu dance party that broke out near the close of the conference. Chester Cheetah, Ernie the Keebler Elf, the purple Nerd, the Lemonhead, Bazooka Joe, Clark Cheese Head, and Chewbie, the Hi-Chew mascot, all began to sway in unison to a marching band that was hired to entertain guests. Conference attendees clamored to get a video of the spectacle and snap a selfie with their favorite mascot. The moment was absurd, and funny, and more than a little embarrassing. Still, I couldn't help but pull out my own phone and crack a smile. Perhaps it was nostalgia for bygone Halloween nights, or maybe all the sugar was just getting to my head. Article originally published at The Atlantic
Atlantic
23-05-2025
- Health
- Atlantic
RFK Jr.'s Worst Nightmare
A Wednesday morning in May is a strange time to be trick-or-treating—especially if you're an adult wearing business casual. The Indiana Convention Center had just opened to visitors for the second day of Sweets & Snacks, the largest gathering of the candy and snack industry in North America. Along with nearly 15,000 other attendees, I went from booth to booth trying samples. By 10:40, I was sipping a complimentary blue-raspberry-watermelon Icee while a woman to my right took a selfie with Mr. Jelly Belly. At the Slim Jim booth a few feet away, a bunch of people in blazers gathered around a smorgasbord of meat sticks. The only thing that could get between attendees and their snacks was the occasional free beer or run-in with a mascot. At one point, the Jack Link's sasquatch attempted to steal my Entenmann's mini muffins. I had come to Sweets & Snacks to taste the future of junk food. The annual conference is the industry's most prominent venue to show off its new products. Judging by my three days in Indianapolis, the hot new trends are freeze-dried candy and anything that tastes vaguely East Asian: think 'matcha latte' popcorn. But right now, that future looks shaky, particularly for confections. Candy embodies everything that Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. believes is wrong with the American diet. It's mainly sugar (which Kennedy has called 'poison'), counts as an ultra-processed food (which Kennedy has called 'poison'), and is often colored with synthetic food dyes (which Kennedy has called 'poison'). Last month, RFK Jr. announced a goal of eliminating synthetic food dyes by the end of 2026, a major threat to an industry predicated on making bright, eye-catching treats. In an email, an HHS spokesperson said that 'Secretary Kennedy has been clear: we must build a healthier future by making smarter choices about what goes into our food.' The spokesperson added that 'the secretary is committed to working with industry to prioritize public health.' At Sweets & Snacks, I did not encounter an industry that was gearing up for change. Instead, it was RFK Jr.'s worst nightmare: an unabashed celebration of all things sugary, artificial, and indulgent. On the convention floor, it was hard to find a single product—beyond the litany of meat sticks and the occasional mixed nut—that would get RFK Jr.'s stamp of approval. Even a finalist for the convention's annual salty-snack award, Vlasic Pickle Balls, contained tartrazine, a synthetic yellow dye that Kennedy has specifically bashed. As I stuffed my face with sugary treats, I began to wonder: Was the industry delusional about Kennedy, or the other way around? RFK Jr.'s presence was conspicuously absent from the moment I arrived in Candy Land. 'Anywhere over here is fine,' I told my Lyft driver as we pulled up to a hulking red M&M. Candy companies have already been investing in healthier options: Mars bought snack-bar maker Kind in 2020 and proudly displayed the bars in a booth alongside their more traditional M&Ms, Skittles, and Starburst. But the only vague mention of the looming RFK Jr. threat on the convention floor was a billboard posted by the conference's organizers, the National Confectioners Association (NCA). It reiterated the candy lobby's longstanding message: Candy shouldn't be lumped together with other ultra-processed foods, because it is an occasional indulgence. It's hardly surprising that candy companies aren't abruptly changing their products in response to pressure, even when it's coming from the country's top health regulator. Americans bought $54 billion worth of these treats last year. In April, the health secretary boasted that the U.S. food industry had 'voluntarily agreed' to remove synthetic dyes from their products, but judging from the items on display at Sweets & Snacks, the candy industry has little interest in fulfilling that promise anytime soon. When I asked Christopher Gindlesperger, NCA's senior vice president of public affairs and communication, if the candy industry had an understanding with RFK Jr. to eliminate synthetic dyes voluntarily, his response was simple: 'No.' Some of the discussions around dyes are understandably frustrating for the industry. Federal regulators haven't done the sort of thorough academic evaluation of these dyes that's typically expected before trying to push them out of the food supply. (The state of California released its own evaluation in 2021 and found that 'synthetic food dyes are associated with adverse neurobehavioral outcomes in some children.') At the same time, the candy industry isn't doing much to signal that it recognizes the growing concern over these ingredients. It's hard to be sympathetic toward companies that purposefully market unhealthy products to children through the use of mascots and funky colors. I was taken aback when I stumbled upon a Despicable Me– branded coloring set that let kids color in a cookie with a marker filled with tartrazine. The industry's efforts to uphold the status quo is risky. If Kennedy is intent on enforcing an actual ban on synthetic food coloring, it could have a monumental impact. Making the switch to natural colors is not as simple as FDA Commissioner Marty Makary let on when he told food makers during a press conference last month to just start coloring their products with fruit and vegetable juices. Natural colors are typically more expensive, and they're far more finicky than their synthetic alternatives. Moisture, pH, and even light can cause the dyes to degrade. A naturally colored M&M might be red when it leaves the factory, but if it sits in your pantry too long, it could take on a not-so-appetizing color. There's a question, too, of whether there are even enough fruits and vegetables in the world to supply the food industry with enough natural dye to serve the massive U.S. market. 'The amount of crops that go into some of these dyes is just so high that we don't necessarily have these crops planted,' Renee Leber, a food scientist at the Institute of Food Technologists, told me. Here's yet another concern: Natural dyes may alter the taste of certain treats. The company behind Dum-Dums lollipops has suggested that replacing artificial red dye with beet juice could make its red lollipops taste like beets. (That doesn't mean it can't be done. Many companies already sell products in Europe without synthetic dyes. And Katjes, a German company sandwiched between Jack Link's and Harvest Snaps, was giving away its rainbow unicorn gummies, which looked plenty eye-catching to me, despite being colored solely with fruit and vegetable juices.) Food dyes are only one part of the RFK Jr. threat that the candy industry faces right now. Yesterday, the Trump administration's 'MAHA Commission' released a much-touted report on childhood health, calling out sugar and ultra-processed foods as a major contributor to the youth chronic-disease problem. When I spoke with Gindlesperger, he was quick to point out that candy is far from the biggest cause of America's sugar problem. (Sweetened drinks are.) 'People understand that chocolate and candy are treats, and consumers have carved out a special place for them in their lives,' he said. He cited an analysis of CDC survey data that received funding from the NCA, which showed that people in the United States eat roughly 40 calories a day of candy. But that analysis doesn't distinguish between kids and adults. Data are scant on children's consumption of candy, though if you've walked with a kid down a candy aisle, you can probably tell that most haven't fully grasped that gummy worms are meant to be an occasional indulgence. 'It's really difficult for a child who has access to candy to stop eating it,' Natalie Muth, a pediatrician and dietitian, told me. Candy consumption among kids, she added, is a 'big problem.' In a country where nearly 20 percent of children are obese, more needs to be done to protect people from the candy industry's worst tendencies. But mandating any such changes will be incredibly difficult for RFK Jr. To ban tartrazine alone, the FDA would need to compile a docket of information demonstrating its harm, issue a draft regulation, take public comments, and then finalize the regulation. Gindlesperger said the candy industry is waiting for the FDA to formally review the safety of the dyes it takes issue with: 'We support and would welcome that review.' Even after all those steps, the food industry can—and likely would—sue. There's even less precedent for cracking down on sugar. Kennedy has acknowledged that a sugar ban is unlikely, and instead has argued for more education about the risks of having a sweet tooth. If Kennedy succeeds in ushering in actual reform, the 'Make America Healthy Again' movement won't truly revolutionize the American diet until it figures out how to redefine our relationship with certain foods. Whether Kennedy likes it or not, candy is part of our national psyche. He can't simply wave a wand and ban trick-or-treating or candy canes. Over the course of three days, I saw grown adults fill multiple shopping bags with free treats. Candy companies displayed bags of their products to show retailers what they'd look like in a store, and the bags literally had to be taped down to avoid getting swiped. (Some still were.) I learned that attendees commonly bring a second suitcase just to haul their loot home. Nothing quite epitomized the affection for treats like the impromptu dance party that broke out near the close of the conference. Chester Cheetah, Ernie the Keebler Elf, the purple Nerd, the Lemonhead, Bazooka Joe, Clark Cheese Head, and Chewbie, the Hi-Chew mascot, all began to sway in unison to a marching band that was hired to entertain guests. Conference attendees clamored to get a video of the spectacle and snap a selfie with their favorite mascot. The moment was absurd, and funny, and more than a little embarrassing. Still, I couldn't help but pull out my own phone and crack a smile. Perhaps it was nostalgia for bygone Halloween nights, or maybe all the sugar was just getting to my head.
Buzz Feed
15-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Buzz Feed
25 Nostalgic Places That No Longer Exist
It's true what they say — you can never really go home. And not just because as we get older, it's harder to recapture the joyful feelings of our youth, sometimes there's literally not a place to go back to. Recently, Reddit user MonkeysDaddy2012 prompted the Ask Reddit community with this question: Where's a place you've been that no longer exists? The answers had me digging deep into my nostalgia wells, and unlocked more than a few forgotten mems. "DZ Discovery Zone, where I can be a kid ON MY OWN. I had several birthday parties there." "Does anyone remember the little cafeteria they had inside of K-Marts? I remember going shopping with my Mom while my siblings were at school, and we stopped there for lunch a couple of times. Then they remodeled and put in a counter to buy popcorn and an Icee." "I worked at KB Toys when Razor scooters first came out. They were insanely popular, and people would fight for them. Pretty sure I was wearing JNCO jeans to work at the time, really dating myself with that comment. I remember getting to know some of the Barbie Doll, Matchbox, and Star Wars figurine collectors after a while, too. Lots of good memories." "The Wendy's salad bar. As a teen, I ate this almost every week." "Action Park in New Jersey. An 'amusement park' so dangerous they made a documentary about it!" "Waldenbooks. I used to love going there to get the monthly Sweet Valley High and Babysitters Club books. Afterwards, I'd walk to Thrifty to get my triple scoop chocolate ice cream." "Ponderosa and its mirror image, Bonanza! Wouldn't touch 'em with a 9-ft fork now, but boy did I love a buffet with pudding on it as a child." "I loved the old-school Radio Shack. Not the one that was trying to compete with modern electronics stores, but when they were like an electronics hardware store. So many interesting components that I had no clue what they were used for." "Candlestick Park! Coldest I have ever been was at a daytime Giants game in June. I was wearing a ski parka that was too warm to actually ski in, and it was so miserable we had to leave before the game was over. So many great memories of Candlestick." "Pleasure Island at Walt Disney World!" "I loved me some Showbiz Pizza! I hated Chuck E. Cheese. When I was a kid, the Showbiz in town was supposed to close temporarily for a remodel or something and never reopened. It then opened as a Chuck E. Cheese. I will be 46 in a couple of weeks and still don't like Chuck E. Cheese!" "Circuit City! Where service is (was) state of the art!" "Flintstone's Bedrock City. Only went once as a little. Seemed cool." "Sears. I used to wander off and sit on the John Deere riding mower and pretend to drive until my Mother spotted me." "Tower Records was the coolest place in the world. The kids need to know." "Farrell's Ice Cream Parlour. Still traumatized from the full marching band for my childhood birthday parties." "I grew up in Nashville. Our family had season tickets to Opryland for years and years — so many out-of-town relatives and friends came to stay with us and go there. It was a fun place, with shows, food, rides, all kinds of entertainment, and it was beautiful, too — trees, flowers, all sorts of landscaped splendor. And it really celebrated Nashville's musical heritage. I got married and we moved away from Nashville for my husband's job, so we were gone for several years. Imagine my horror when I heard that they had torn down Opryland, only to replace it with a big, ugly outlet mall in the middle of a big, ugly parking lot. Kind of emblematic of America as a whole: music shows, games, rides, scenery, all sorts of family fun, replaced by shopping." "I went to CBGB many times, even played there back when I was in a band. Still such a shame that it's gone." "I grew up in the middle of nowhere, so on Friday nights, the drive-in movie theater was the place to be. Our parents would all put lawn chairs in the back of their trucks or out next to the cars, and us kids would run around and hit the snack shack for pizzas and popcorn." "Ben Franklin Five and Dimes. RIP musty smelling aisles of wonder :(" "Leapin' Lizards. An indoor amusement center in the Chicago suburbs. Man, I miss the '90s :(" "The old Yankee Stadium. They should have kept the original. The history that place had was so significant, and it was one of the few original baseball stadiums still standing. It should have been restored and preserved." "Astroworld in Houston, TX. Went there when I was a kid the last summer it was open." "Fry's Electronics! Loved that they all had different themes." And finally, every '90s kid's favorite weekend pastime: "My fam would go to Blockbuster on Friday and pick out some movies for the evening, or for the week for us kids. We rented so much in my later years, we'd go in during the day, watch our picks with dinner, and then my parents would get bored and go back to the store around 10 pm to rent more, haha. They were always getting freebies, too. Also buying used DVDs and Blu-rays. It's how I got some of my more obscure titles." Were any long-lost memories unlocked for you? Or were any of your favorite former go-tos not mentioned in this list? Let me know in the comments!
