Latest news with #WillyWonka&theChocolateFactory
Buzz Feed
04-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Buzz Feed
'70s Child Actors, Then And Now
Sorry if this sounds odd, but I could spend hours looking at old celebrity photos from the good ol' days. And one particular genre of celebs I've become super interested in researching lately are CHILD STARS — specifically, the ones many of us have probably forgotten about. And we've spoken about the more recent child stars who have grown up in the blink of an eye, but what about the ones from several decades ago? You know, the kids who starred in our fave movies and TV shows? Well, we're about find out what they look like now. And some of these are big shockers. First, here is Peter Ostrum from Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory, age 12: And here he is now, age 67: Here is Jodie Foster from Taxi Driver, age 14: And here she is now, age 62: Here is Linda Blair from The Exorcist, age 16: And here she is now: Here is Tatum O'Neal from Paper Moon and The Bad News Bears, age 14: And here she is now, age 61: Here is Ron Howard from The Andy Griffith Show and Happy Days, age 9: And here he is now, age 71: Here is Kristy McNichol from Family, age 15: And here she is now, age 62: Here is Henry Thomas from E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, age 11: And here he is now, age 53: Here is Kim Richards from Escape to Witch Mountain, age 6: And here she is now, age 60: Here is Megan Follows from Anne of Green Gables, age 14: And here she is now, age 57: Here is Danny Lloyd from The Shining, age 6: And here he is now, age 52: Here is Danny Bonaduce from The Partridge Family, age 14: And here he is now, age 65: Here is Melissa Gilbert from Little House on the Prairie, age 13: And here she is now, age 61: Here is Todd Bridges from Diff'rent Strokes, age 14: And here he is now, age 59: Here is Angela Cartwright from The Sound of Music and Lost In Space, age 13: And here she is now, age 72: Here is Lisa Whelchel from The Facts of Life, age 16: And here she is now, age 61: Here is Bonnie Langford from Just William, age 13: And here she is now, age 60: Here is Christopher Knight from The Brady Bunch, age 13: Here is Mackenzie Phillips from One Day At A Time and American Graffiti, age 12: Here is Johnny Whitaker from Family Affair and Sigmund and the Sea Monsters, age 13: And here he is now, age 65: Here is Harvey Stephens from The Omen, age 5: And here he is now, age 54: Here is Noah Hathaway from Battlestar Galactica, age 5: Who's your favourite child star from the '70s, '80s, or '90s? Tell me in the comments below! And for more celeb content, follow BuzzFeed Canada on Instagram and TikTok!
The Advertiser
01-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Advertiser
Protein all the rage for (Mr) men and women of a certain age
One Saturday afternoon 40-odd years ago, my sister and I were watching Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory on TV when struck by the genius idea that eating lollies could only enhance the experience. Luckily, the Hill Street shop was just across the road, so we knew could make it there and back by the time Augustus Gloop would be landing in the fudge room. Being the early '80s, however, it was a largely cashless society for kids (the only children who had their own money back then were psychopaths), so in fiscal emergencies such as these we'd have to scrounge around the couch for coins like Tom and Barbara did that time in The Good Life to pay the council rates. If the sofa was a bust, we'd be forced to brave the toxic detritus of the Kingswood ashtray in the hope a 20-cent piece might being lying somewhere at the bottom of the cursed receptacle, fully aware such an endeavour could be as life-limiting as rolling up for work armed with a shovel and alacrity the day after Chernobyl blew up. I recall we were able to raise a little less than $2 - only sufficient to buy about three kilos of jelly babies, teeth, strawberry and creams, bullets, milk bottles, freckles, bananas, pineapples, and pythons - but almost enough to get us to the great glass elevator denouement. Decades of dying tastebuds since then, I've been resigned to thinking the only Pavlovian response TV could get out of me was drooling over home-shopping ads for garden hoses. Turns out I was wrong. Dead wrong. TV is making me hungry again. For the special stuff. TV wants to feed this man meat. And I'm on board. And so is, it feels, everyone else in their 50s trying to, if not turn back time, at least limit those elements which can make ageing any uglier than it necessarily needs to be - such as carbs and bike shorts. But living in this insufferable new age of online enlightenment means we're too clever to just say "meat". These days we must say "protein". Protein, as far as I can tell, is meat and eggs and fish. And maybe mushrooms? I'm not sure. I love mushrooms and would very much like for them to be part of this discussion, but sub judice constraints prevent me from going there (and believe me, I'm desperate to go there). Anyway, watching one of those American barbecue competitions the other day, I noticed all the contestants referred to the ribs, briskets and drumsticks they intended to slow cook for three to four weeks in their locomotive-sized offset smokers as "protein", not "meat". "And far mah proe-teeeyen, ahh'll be cukeen this mowse I done gone hit with mah peek-arp just this mah-nen" (for translation, pretend you're Parker Posey). READ MORE: This protein-washing of the dietary conversation seems to give us a green light to throw off the oppressive chains of colon care and just go nuts (more protein, I believe, but don't understand how). And talking of chains and nuts, I've also been watching Untold: The Liver King on Netflix. While this, ahem, "documentary" peters out quickly, revealing itself to be a bit of a one-trick pony (that one trick being to eat the pony), learning about testicle-chomping internet phenomenon Brian Johnson and his odd Texas family has been mildly entertaining, if not entirely predictable. Despite his hulking and ridiculously shredded physique that screams steroid abuse, Johnson was apparently able to hoodwink millions of followers into believing his extraordinary appearance was down to nothing more than an offal-rich diet and several million daily push-ups. Even though I'm not on the social medias and am coming in late to the Liver King and his "nine ancestral tenets" and associated supplements empire, it was hardly a shock to learn he's been plugging himself with enough human growth hormone to make a bikie blush. What was genuinely shocking, however, was the number of eggs his family eats. They eat almost as many as our lot. Lately, we've gone the full goog, yolk around the clock, and loving it. Eggs are delicious, plentiful (we live in a village lousy with chooks) and can be cooked at least two different ways. It's difficult to stay across the health status of eggs - it seems to change from week to week - but all the science I need to convince me we're on the right track can be found in the Mr. Men TV series where Mr Strong eats, like, a lot of eggs - a regime which enables him to turn an entire barn upside down, fill it with water and use it to extinguish a blazing corn field. Given Mr Strong's suspiciously square jaw, it's hard not to wonder if he isn't dabbling in a little HGH himself, but what is beyond any shadow of a doubt is his gym mate, Mr Noisy, is roid-raging his brogues off when he walks into Wobbletown and terrorises the main street traders. I'D LIKE A LOAF OF BREAD! I'D LIKE A PIECE OF MEAT! Which, as it happens, is precisely the refrain ringing through the light-headed heads of every contestant in this year's Alone Australia over on SBS - a show which puts protein on a pedestal like no other. Meat is the whole point of the Alone franchise; obtaining it equals victory. You can fiddle about with all the fiddlehead ferns you want, but unless you secure protein, you're barely in the game (hibernators should be banned, by the way). The knowing grin on Corinne's lovely blood-smeared face after she gutted that wallaby was worth $250,000 alone. Unless Quentin the evil quoll suffocates the 39-year-old in her sleep, Corinne may win, like Gina Chick, off the back of a single marsupial. But as much as the highlands hunter-gatherer deserves to take the cash (we should also spare a thought for poor old Ben, whose 40 days of Christ-like torture was more harrowing than anything Mel Gibson could subject him to), I - being in the pale, male and stale camp myself - can't help but root for Murray. Yes, 63-year-old "Muzza" is a bogan who swears too much, but he's a brilliant lateral thinker, can literally catch fish in his sleep and has consumed so much eel flesh his gout flared up (he should definitely steer clear of the Liver King's product range). Muzza may not be fashionable, but he gets the job done and surely the sheer frequency of his protein procurement makes him more than worthy to carry the torch? And the tongs. One Saturday afternoon 40-odd years ago, my sister and I were watching Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory on TV when struck by the genius idea that eating lollies could only enhance the experience. Luckily, the Hill Street shop was just across the road, so we knew could make it there and back by the time Augustus Gloop would be landing in the fudge room. Being the early '80s, however, it was a largely cashless society for kids (the only children who had their own money back then were psychopaths), so in fiscal emergencies such as these we'd have to scrounge around the couch for coins like Tom and Barbara did that time in The Good Life to pay the council rates. If the sofa was a bust, we'd be forced to brave the toxic detritus of the Kingswood ashtray in the hope a 20-cent piece might being lying somewhere at the bottom of the cursed receptacle, fully aware such an endeavour could be as life-limiting as rolling up for work armed with a shovel and alacrity the day after Chernobyl blew up. I recall we were able to raise a little less than $2 - only sufficient to buy about three kilos of jelly babies, teeth, strawberry and creams, bullets, milk bottles, freckles, bananas, pineapples, and pythons - but almost enough to get us to the great glass elevator denouement. Decades of dying tastebuds since then, I've been resigned to thinking the only Pavlovian response TV could get out of me was drooling over home-shopping ads for garden hoses. Turns out I was wrong. Dead wrong. TV is making me hungry again. For the special stuff. TV wants to feed this man meat. And I'm on board. And so is, it feels, everyone else in their 50s trying to, if not turn back time, at least limit those elements which can make ageing any uglier than it necessarily needs to be - such as carbs and bike shorts. But living in this insufferable new age of online enlightenment means we're too clever to just say "meat". These days we must say "protein". Protein, as far as I can tell, is meat and eggs and fish. And maybe mushrooms? I'm not sure. I love mushrooms and would very much like for them to be part of this discussion, but sub judice constraints prevent me from going there (and believe me, I'm desperate to go there). Anyway, watching one of those American barbecue competitions the other day, I noticed all the contestants referred to the ribs, briskets and drumsticks they intended to slow cook for three to four weeks in their locomotive-sized offset smokers as "protein", not "meat". "And far mah proe-teeeyen, ahh'll be cukeen this mowse I done gone hit with mah peek-arp just this mah-nen" (for translation, pretend you're Parker Posey). READ MORE: This protein-washing of the dietary conversation seems to give us a green light to throw off the oppressive chains of colon care and just go nuts (more protein, I believe, but don't understand how). And talking of chains and nuts, I've also been watching Untold: The Liver King on Netflix. While this, ahem, "documentary" peters out quickly, revealing itself to be a bit of a one-trick pony (that one trick being to eat the pony), learning about testicle-chomping internet phenomenon Brian Johnson and his odd Texas family has been mildly entertaining, if not entirely predictable. Despite his hulking and ridiculously shredded physique that screams steroid abuse, Johnson was apparently able to hoodwink millions of followers into believing his extraordinary appearance was down to nothing more than an offal-rich diet and several million daily push-ups. Even though I'm not on the social medias and am coming in late to the Liver King and his "nine ancestral tenets" and associated supplements empire, it was hardly a shock to learn he's been plugging himself with enough human growth hormone to make a bikie blush. What was genuinely shocking, however, was the number of eggs his family eats. They eat almost as many as our lot. Lately, we've gone the full goog, yolk around the clock, and loving it. Eggs are delicious, plentiful (we live in a village lousy with chooks) and can be cooked at least two different ways. It's difficult to stay across the health status of eggs - it seems to change from week to week - but all the science I need to convince me we're on the right track can be found in the Mr. Men TV series where Mr Strong eats, like, a lot of eggs - a regime which enables him to turn an entire barn upside down, fill it with water and use it to extinguish a blazing corn field. Given Mr Strong's suspiciously square jaw, it's hard not to wonder if he isn't dabbling in a little HGH himself, but what is beyond any shadow of a doubt is his gym mate, Mr Noisy, is roid-raging his brogues off when he walks into Wobbletown and terrorises the main street traders. I'D LIKE A LOAF OF BREAD! I'D LIKE A PIECE OF MEAT! Which, as it happens, is precisely the refrain ringing through the light-headed heads of every contestant in this year's Alone Australia over on SBS - a show which puts protein on a pedestal like no other. Meat is the whole point of the Alone franchise; obtaining it equals victory. You can fiddle about with all the fiddlehead ferns you want, but unless you secure protein, you're barely in the game (hibernators should be banned, by the way). The knowing grin on Corinne's lovely blood-smeared face after she gutted that wallaby was worth $250,000 alone. Unless Quentin the evil quoll suffocates the 39-year-old in her sleep, Corinne may win, like Gina Chick, off the back of a single marsupial. But as much as the highlands hunter-gatherer deserves to take the cash (we should also spare a thought for poor old Ben, whose 40 days of Christ-like torture was more harrowing than anything Mel Gibson could subject him to), I - being in the pale, male and stale camp myself - can't help but root for Murray. Yes, 63-year-old "Muzza" is a bogan who swears too much, but he's a brilliant lateral thinker, can literally catch fish in his sleep and has consumed so much eel flesh his gout flared up (he should definitely steer clear of the Liver King's product range). Muzza may not be fashionable, but he gets the job done and surely the sheer frequency of his protein procurement makes him more than worthy to carry the torch? And the tongs. One Saturday afternoon 40-odd years ago, my sister and I were watching Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory on TV when struck by the genius idea that eating lollies could only enhance the experience. Luckily, the Hill Street shop was just across the road, so we knew could make it there and back by the time Augustus Gloop would be landing in the fudge room. Being the early '80s, however, it was a largely cashless society for kids (the only children who had their own money back then were psychopaths), so in fiscal emergencies such as these we'd have to scrounge around the couch for coins like Tom and Barbara did that time in The Good Life to pay the council rates. If the sofa was a bust, we'd be forced to brave the toxic detritus of the Kingswood ashtray in the hope a 20-cent piece might being lying somewhere at the bottom of the cursed receptacle, fully aware such an endeavour could be as life-limiting as rolling up for work armed with a shovel and alacrity the day after Chernobyl blew up. I recall we were able to raise a little less than $2 - only sufficient to buy about three kilos of jelly babies, teeth, strawberry and creams, bullets, milk bottles, freckles, bananas, pineapples, and pythons - but almost enough to get us to the great glass elevator denouement. Decades of dying tastebuds since then, I've been resigned to thinking the only Pavlovian response TV could get out of me was drooling over home-shopping ads for garden hoses. Turns out I was wrong. Dead wrong. TV is making me hungry again. For the special stuff. TV wants to feed this man meat. And I'm on board. And so is, it feels, everyone else in their 50s trying to, if not turn back time, at least limit those elements which can make ageing any uglier than it necessarily needs to be - such as carbs and bike shorts. But living in this insufferable new age of online enlightenment means we're too clever to just say "meat". These days we must say "protein". Protein, as far as I can tell, is meat and eggs and fish. And maybe mushrooms? I'm not sure. I love mushrooms and would very much like for them to be part of this discussion, but sub judice constraints prevent me from going there (and believe me, I'm desperate to go there). Anyway, watching one of those American barbecue competitions the other day, I noticed all the contestants referred to the ribs, briskets and drumsticks they intended to slow cook for three to four weeks in their locomotive-sized offset smokers as "protein", not "meat". "And far mah proe-teeeyen, ahh'll be cukeen this mowse I done gone hit with mah peek-arp just this mah-nen" (for translation, pretend you're Parker Posey). READ MORE: This protein-washing of the dietary conversation seems to give us a green light to throw off the oppressive chains of colon care and just go nuts (more protein, I believe, but don't understand how). And talking of chains and nuts, I've also been watching Untold: The Liver King on Netflix. While this, ahem, "documentary" peters out quickly, revealing itself to be a bit of a one-trick pony (that one trick being to eat the pony), learning about testicle-chomping internet phenomenon Brian Johnson and his odd Texas family has been mildly entertaining, if not entirely predictable. Despite his hulking and ridiculously shredded physique that screams steroid abuse, Johnson was apparently able to hoodwink millions of followers into believing his extraordinary appearance was down to nothing more than an offal-rich diet and several million daily push-ups. Even though I'm not on the social medias and am coming in late to the Liver King and his "nine ancestral tenets" and associated supplements empire, it was hardly a shock to learn he's been plugging himself with enough human growth hormone to make a bikie blush. What was genuinely shocking, however, was the number of eggs his family eats. They eat almost as many as our lot. Lately, we've gone the full goog, yolk around the clock, and loving it. Eggs are delicious, plentiful (we live in a village lousy with chooks) and can be cooked at least two different ways. It's difficult to stay across the health status of eggs - it seems to change from week to week - but all the science I need to convince me we're on the right track can be found in the Mr. Men TV series where Mr Strong eats, like, a lot of eggs - a regime which enables him to turn an entire barn upside down, fill it with water and use it to extinguish a blazing corn field. Given Mr Strong's suspiciously square jaw, it's hard not to wonder if he isn't dabbling in a little HGH himself, but what is beyond any shadow of a doubt is his gym mate, Mr Noisy, is roid-raging his brogues off when he walks into Wobbletown and terrorises the main street traders. I'D LIKE A LOAF OF BREAD! I'D LIKE A PIECE OF MEAT! Which, as it happens, is precisely the refrain ringing through the light-headed heads of every contestant in this year's Alone Australia over on SBS - a show which puts protein on a pedestal like no other. Meat is the whole point of the Alone franchise; obtaining it equals victory. You can fiddle about with all the fiddlehead ferns you want, but unless you secure protein, you're barely in the game (hibernators should be banned, by the way). The knowing grin on Corinne's lovely blood-smeared face after she gutted that wallaby was worth $250,000 alone. Unless Quentin the evil quoll suffocates the 39-year-old in her sleep, Corinne may win, like Gina Chick, off the back of a single marsupial. But as much as the highlands hunter-gatherer deserves to take the cash (we should also spare a thought for poor old Ben, whose 40 days of Christ-like torture was more harrowing than anything Mel Gibson could subject him to), I - being in the pale, male and stale camp myself - can't help but root for Murray. Yes, 63-year-old "Muzza" is a bogan who swears too much, but he's a brilliant lateral thinker, can literally catch fish in his sleep and has consumed so much eel flesh his gout flared up (he should definitely steer clear of the Liver King's product range). Muzza may not be fashionable, but he gets the job done and surely the sheer frequency of his protein procurement makes him more than worthy to carry the torch? And the tongs. One Saturday afternoon 40-odd years ago, my sister and I were watching Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory on TV when struck by the genius idea that eating lollies could only enhance the experience. Luckily, the Hill Street shop was just across the road, so we knew could make it there and back by the time Augustus Gloop would be landing in the fudge room. Being the early '80s, however, it was a largely cashless society for kids (the only children who had their own money back then were psychopaths), so in fiscal emergencies such as these we'd have to scrounge around the couch for coins like Tom and Barbara did that time in The Good Life to pay the council rates. If the sofa was a bust, we'd be forced to brave the toxic detritus of the Kingswood ashtray in the hope a 20-cent piece might being lying somewhere at the bottom of the cursed receptacle, fully aware such an endeavour could be as life-limiting as rolling up for work armed with a shovel and alacrity the day after Chernobyl blew up. I recall we were able to raise a little less than $2 - only sufficient to buy about three kilos of jelly babies, teeth, strawberry and creams, bullets, milk bottles, freckles, bananas, pineapples, and pythons - but almost enough to get us to the great glass elevator denouement. Decades of dying tastebuds since then, I've been resigned to thinking the only Pavlovian response TV could get out of me was drooling over home-shopping ads for garden hoses. Turns out I was wrong. Dead wrong. TV is making me hungry again. For the special stuff. TV wants to feed this man meat. And I'm on board. And so is, it feels, everyone else in their 50s trying to, if not turn back time, at least limit those elements which can make ageing any uglier than it necessarily needs to be - such as carbs and bike shorts. But living in this insufferable new age of online enlightenment means we're too clever to just say "meat". These days we must say "protein". Protein, as far as I can tell, is meat and eggs and fish. And maybe mushrooms? I'm not sure. I love mushrooms and would very much like for them to be part of this discussion, but sub judice constraints prevent me from going there (and believe me, I'm desperate to go there). Anyway, watching one of those American barbecue competitions the other day, I noticed all the contestants referred to the ribs, briskets and drumsticks they intended to slow cook for three to four weeks in their locomotive-sized offset smokers as "protein", not "meat". "And far mah proe-teeeyen, ahh'll be cukeen this mowse I done gone hit with mah peek-arp just this mah-nen" (for translation, pretend you're Parker Posey). READ MORE: This protein-washing of the dietary conversation seems to give us a green light to throw off the oppressive chains of colon care and just go nuts (more protein, I believe, but don't understand how). And talking of chains and nuts, I've also been watching Untold: The Liver King on Netflix. While this, ahem, "documentary" peters out quickly, revealing itself to be a bit of a one-trick pony (that one trick being to eat the pony), learning about testicle-chomping internet phenomenon Brian Johnson and his odd Texas family has been mildly entertaining, if not entirely predictable. Despite his hulking and ridiculously shredded physique that screams steroid abuse, Johnson was apparently able to hoodwink millions of followers into believing his extraordinary appearance was down to nothing more than an offal-rich diet and several million daily push-ups. Even though I'm not on the social medias and am coming in late to the Liver King and his "nine ancestral tenets" and associated supplements empire, it was hardly a shock to learn he's been plugging himself with enough human growth hormone to make a bikie blush. What was genuinely shocking, however, was the number of eggs his family eats. They eat almost as many as our lot. Lately, we've gone the full goog, yolk around the clock, and loving it. Eggs are delicious, plentiful (we live in a village lousy with chooks) and can be cooked at least two different ways. It's difficult to stay across the health status of eggs - it seems to change from week to week - but all the science I need to convince me we're on the right track can be found in the Mr. Men TV series where Mr Strong eats, like, a lot of eggs - a regime which enables him to turn an entire barn upside down, fill it with water and use it to extinguish a blazing corn field. Given Mr Strong's suspiciously square jaw, it's hard not to wonder if he isn't dabbling in a little HGH himself, but what is beyond any shadow of a doubt is his gym mate, Mr Noisy, is roid-raging his brogues off when he walks into Wobbletown and terrorises the main street traders. I'D LIKE A LOAF OF BREAD! I'D LIKE A PIECE OF MEAT! Which, as it happens, is precisely the refrain ringing through the light-headed heads of every contestant in this year's Alone Australia over on SBS - a show which puts protein on a pedestal like no other. Meat is the whole point of the Alone franchise; obtaining it equals victory. You can fiddle about with all the fiddlehead ferns you want, but unless you secure protein, you're barely in the game (hibernators should be banned, by the way). The knowing grin on Corinne's lovely blood-smeared face after she gutted that wallaby was worth $250,000 alone. Unless Quentin the evil quoll suffocates the 39-year-old in her sleep, Corinne may win, like Gina Chick, off the back of a single marsupial. But as much as the highlands hunter-gatherer deserves to take the cash (we should also spare a thought for poor old Ben, whose 40 days of Christ-like torture was more harrowing than anything Mel Gibson could subject him to), I - being in the pale, male and stale camp myself - can't help but root for Murray. Yes, 63-year-old "Muzza" is a bogan who swears too much, but he's a brilliant lateral thinker, can literally catch fish in his sleep and has consumed so much eel flesh his gout flared up (he should definitely steer clear of the Liver King's product range). Muzza may not be fashionable, but he gets the job done and surely the sheer frequency of his protein procurement makes him more than worthy to carry the torch? And the tongs.
Forbes
16-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Forbes
Missouri Weed Brand Illicit Gardens Holds Willy Wonka-Inspired 420 Contest
Actor Gene Wilder as Willy Wonka on the set of the film 'Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory', based ... More on the novel by Roald Dahl, 1971. (Photo by Silver) Illicit Gardens, a Missouri-based cannabis brand is living up to the title of 'You Gotta Get a Gimmick,' a song from the classic musical 'Gypsy' by holding a Willy Wonka-inspired 420 contest, which incidentally coincides with Easter Weekend. The whimsical contest involves all Missouri From the Earth dispensary locations in which 10 winners will discover a 'golden ticket' on the inside lid of randomly selected jars of Illicit products: 3.5g Flower, 5g Ready2Roll, 7g Popcorn, Gummies, and Gemstones. Anyone who purchases these aforementioned products can win. The winners will receive $1,000 worth of free Illicit products and exclusive merchandise. Also, included in the prize package is a VIP tour of Illicit's weed factory for the winner and a guest. 'We're always looking at unique ways to cross promote our brands and dispensaries, and this allows us to accomplish that,' said David Craig, vice president of marketing at Illicit Gardens, when asked how the idea of this contest came about. 'The 'golden ticket' idea is one we've talked over since day one, but just never have been able to do it effectively until now.' The goal for the contest is to build hype around the new products released by Illicit the last six months, added Craig. This includes their infused hard candies Gemstones and diamond infused pre-rolls. Illicit Gardens' promotional photo advertising its Willy Wonka-inspired 420 contest. Yet, as fun as this contest may seem to outsiders, the logistics were not easy. Craig admitted it was a challenge but one that the Illicit team were more than equipped to handle. "Coordinating an effort like this across all stores during what is essentially the Super Bowl of cannabis is no easy feat,' he admitted, 'but we've been working out the kinks for the last few months and our cultivation, manufacturing, and retail teams have been working closely together to make sure this goes off smoothly.' The contest starts on Friday April 18 and ends on Sunday April 20. For further information, visit this link.
Yahoo
03-04-2025
- General
- Yahoo
Both her home and school burned down during the LA fires. She's just one of 700,000 uprooted kids
The Eaton fire that devastated Altadena in early January burned down Juan Carlos Perez's family home and the school where his younger daughter attended sixth grade. Losing both anchors at once, Perez said, has been traumatizing for the 12-year-old. As the family moved from hotel to Airbnb, his daughter has become increasingly withdrawn and too anxious to return to school, asking to finish the semester online. The only time she interacted with friends was during soccer practice, Perez said, but that routine was suspended last month when the family moved this month to a friend's house in Connecticut. 'Some days are much harder than others,' Perez said. 'She has days where she just isolates herself and doesn't want to talk to anybody.' Related: After LA fires destroyed places of worship, Methodist, Muslim and Jewish congregations form 'an island of grace' Perez said the Aveson charter school, where he's also a board member, embraced gender-fluid and neurodivergent children who didn't always thrive in the traditional public school system. With a hillside campus that boasted a chicken coop and orchard trees, the school offered innovative project-based, socio-emotional learning that Perez said brought his daughter out of her comfort zone. She fell in love with theater and acted in productions of Shrek and Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory. 'It was a strikingly beautiful place,' Perez said. 'Our daughter really got the support and comfort she needed.' When wildfires swept across Los Angeles county in January, thousands of children lost their homes and schools overnight, a traumatic and unprecedented disruption to their education and social lives. In the Palisades and Altadena, about 700,000 students were displaced as a dozen public and charter schools suffered extensive damages; at least five sites were completely destroyed. As students resumed classes online and at new campuses the past couple of months, parents and educators worry that long-term displacement and uncertainty about the schools' future could have wide-ranging consequences on their children's mental health. *** When smoke and toxins rendered her home unlivable, Veena Fox Parekh made the difficult decision to leave Altadena, withdrawing her son from Aveson and resettling in Arizona, where a friend helped her secure housing. The abrupt uprooting of their life has been overwhelming for the nine-year-old who missed his friends and struggled to adjust to the culture at the new school, Parekh said. He didn't cry or seem depressed but became easily angered and irritated. 'It was as if he became a teenager overnight,' Parekh said, noting that the outbursts made him unrecognizable. 'He's not making the association between his behavior and the trauma of the move.' At the same time, Parekh has noticed her son's mood improving during video chats with friends from Aveson. Though the boys never talked about the fire, she said, just catching up and putting filters on each other's faces has been therapeutic. Jen Wang, president of Aveson's parent-teacher association, said more than 70 families lost their homes in the Eaton fire; dozens more, like Parekh, moved away because they lost their jobs or were worried about toxic pollutants and smoke damage. David J Schonfeld, the director of the National Center for School Crisis and Bereavement at Children's Hospital Los Angeles, said most children will experience two categories of reactions after disasters like wildfires: anxiety and bereavement. 'The first is fear, the lingering reaction to the event itself,' he said. 'The other is the traumatic aspect and the absence of something for the rest of your life.' Schonfeld said nightmares and sleep problems are other trauma symptoms, as well as appetite changes and depression and irritability. School avoidance, he said, is a common reaction caused by separation anxiety, which explains the decline in enrollment. (Enrollment losses have broader consequences for districts, as it determines how much funding schools receive. Both LA Unified and Pasadena Unified school districts announced impending layoffs after losing thousands of students and funding over the past several years.) These so-called 'adjustment reactions' can linger long after a traumatic event, Schonfeld said. He cited a study which found that, more than a half year after the 9/11 terrorist attacks, 87% of children in New York City still had adjustment issues. *** LA is home to the largest charter school system in the country, and at least a half dozen school sites were severely damaged in the fires. Fueled by falling enrollment, tensions between charters and district schools have escalated in recent years – some of which were on display over the past months. Perez, the board member at Aveson, said the district school board has not been particularly cooperative about meeting the unique needs of charters or promising to help them rebuild. LA Unified has directed $2.2bn toward efforts to repair and rebuild three schools damaged in the Palisades fire – Palisades charter and Marquez charter elementary schools and the Palisades charter high school – and renovate all campuses to be more 'natural disaster resilient'. The district predicted that students will be able to return to the newly constructed campuses by 2028. For the remainder of the school year, students at Palisades and Marquez elementary schools will study at two public elementary schools, Brentwood Science Magnet and Nora Sterry elementary. The Palisades charter high school, which has been offering online instruction to roughly 3,000 students for more than two months, is in the process of securing a temporary campus at the vacant Sears building in Santa Monica. Nina Belden, a parent at the Palisades charter elementary school who lost her home in the fire, said school has provided a sense of normalcy for her son Deacon, who's six. He loved going to class at Brentwood, which Belden said was bigger and more open than the old campus. But she isn't sure where the school would relocate in the fall and how far it would be from her rental home in West LA. She's worried that all the moving may have a destabilizing effect on her son, who isn't old enough to fully process all that they've lost. Belden recalled a few instances when he asked for a toy he'd forgotten about, and she'd had to remind him that it was in the house that burned down. 'It's very scary as a parent that we don't know what the options are,' Belden said. The Odyssey South charter school, a K-8th grade public charter in Altadena, lost four buildings and 80% of its classrooms in the fire, said its executive director, Carlos Garcia Saldaña. About 175 middle school students were temporarily moved to the ArtCenter College of Design, while 230 younger students resumed their studies at two Boys and Girls Club facilities. About a third of the student body, about 300 people, have yet to return to school – a result of displaced families moving out of the city, Saldaña said. 'Our students are feeling the change,' Saldaña said. 'But they're tremendously adaptable and flexible with less than ideal situations.' In early February, nearly a month after the fire, Aveson secured six classrooms at Cleveland elementary school – a campus five miles west in Pasadena – for 200 middle and high school students, said Ian McFeat, the school's executive director. More students will relocate to the nearby Washington elementary school. The classes are crowded, McFeat said, and operating on two campuses could fracture the community, separating siblings and friends in a way that may be overwhelming for students, parents and faculty. 'The hard thing is just we don't have enough space,' McFeat said. 'Nobody wants things to be where they are right now, but we're just excited because the kids are back in school.' Charter schools lease campuses owned by districts, and McFeat said that unlike the LA school district, Pasadena Unified hasn't yet agreed to help rebuild Aveson. It has, meanwhile, committed to rebuilding Eliot Arts Magnet middle school. McFeat said the school applied for grants to provide more counseling and other mental health resources, but the process could take months. 'The support needed is overwhelming,' he said, adding that the trauma symptoms students are reporting now might be drastically different from what they experience in half a year's time. 'We recognize this is a marathon,' McFeat said, 'a long road to healing.' *** Burnt-down towns can take many years to revive. One year after the 2018 Camp fire, which scorched the northern California town of Paradise, enrollment in the Paradise Unified school district plummeted from 3,500 students to 1,500. The current student population hovers at about 1,700. Two public high schools destroyed in the blaze took nearly five years and more than $100m to rebuild. Schonfeld recommended that schools provide 'universal support' to all students instead of searching for specific individuals with symptoms of mental illness, and then offer additional academic and learning support for those who are distressed. The National Center for School Crisis and Bereavement at Children's Hospital Los Angeles, he said, has also been providing teachers with psychological first aid training. Schonfeld said surviving a wildfire can permanently alter a child's personality or behavior, but not always in a negative way. 'People can emerge with stronger coping skills and a desire to help others,' he said. 'These events are life changing, but they don't necessarily damage you.'
The Guardian
03-04-2025
- General
- The Guardian
Both her home and school burned down during the LA fires. She's just one of 700,000 uprooted kids
The Eaton fire that devastated Altadena in early January burned down Juan Carlos Perez's family home and the school where his younger daughter attended sixth grade. Losing both anchors at once, Perez said, has been traumatizing for the 12-year-old. As the family moved from hotel to Airbnb, his daughter has become increasingly withdrawn and too anxious to return to school, asking to finish the semester online. The only time she interacted with friends was during soccer practice, Perez said, but that routine was suspended last month when the family moved this month to a friend's house in Connecticut. 'Some days are much harder than others,' Perez said. 'She has days where she just isolates herself and doesn't want to talk to anybody.' Perez said the Aveson charter school, where he's also a board member, embraced gender-fluid and neurodivergent children who didn't always thrive in the traditional public school system. With a hillside campus that boasted a chicken coop and orchard trees, the school offered innovative project-based, socio-emotional learning that Perez said brought his daughter out of her comfort zone. She fell in love with theater and acted in productions of Shrek and Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory. 'It was a strikingly beautiful place,' Perez said. 'Our daughter really got the support and comfort she needed.' When wildfires swept across Los Angeles county in January, thousands of children lost their homes and schools overnight, a traumatic and unprecedented disruption to their education and social lives. In the Palisades and Altadena, about 700,000 students were displaced as a dozen public and charter schools suffered extensive damages; at least five sites were completely destroyed. As students resumed classes online and at new campuses the past couple of months, parents and educators worry that long-term displacement and uncertainty about the schools' future could have wide-ranging consequences on their children's mental health. When smoke and toxins rendered her home unlivable, Veena Fox Parekh made the difficult decision to leave Altadena, withdrawing her son from Aveson and resettling in Arizona, where a friend helped her secure housing. The abrupt uprooting of their life has been overwhelming for the nine-year-old who missed his friends and struggled to adjust to the culture at the new school, Parekh said. He didn't cry or seem depressed but became easily angered and irritated. 'It was as if he became a teenager overnight,' Parekh said, noting that the outbursts made him unrecognizable. 'He's not making the association between his behavior and the trauma of the move.' At the same time, Parekh has noticed her son's mood improving during video chats with friends from Aveson. Though the boys never talked about the fire, she said, just catching up and putting filters on each other's faces has been therapeutic. Jen Wang, president of Aveson's parent-teacher association, said more than 70 families lost their homes in the Eaton fire; dozens more, like Parekh, moved away because they lost their jobs or were worried about toxic pollutants and smoke damage. David J Schonfeld, the director of the National Center for School Crisis and Bereavement at Children's Hospital Los Angeles, said most children will experience two categories of reactions after disasters like wildfires: anxiety and bereavement. 'The first is fear, the lingering reaction to the event itself,' he said. 'The other is the traumatic aspect and the absence of something for the rest of your life.' Schonfeld said nightmares and sleep problems are other trauma symptoms, as well as appetite changes and depression and irritability. School avoidance, he said, is a common reaction caused by separation anxiety, which explains the decline in enrollment. (Enrollment losses have broader consequences for districts, as it determines how much funding schools receive. Both LA Unified and Pasadena Unified school districts announced impending layoffs after losing thousands of students and funding over the past several years.) These so-called 'adjustment reactions' can linger long after a traumatic event, Schonfeld said. He cited a study which found that, more than a half year after the 9/11 terrorist attacks, 87% of children in New York City still had adjustment issues. LA is home to the largest charter school system in the country, and at least a half dozen school sites were severely damaged in the fires. Fueled by falling enrollment, tensions between charters and district schools have escalated in recent years – some of which were on display over the past months. Perez, the board member at Aveson, said the district school board has not been particularly cooperative about meeting the unique needs of charters or promising to help them rebuild. LA Unified has directed $2.2bn toward efforts to repair and rebuild three schools damaged in the Palisades fire – Palisades charter and Marquez charter elementary schools and the Palisades charter high school – and renovate all campuses to be more 'natural disaster resilient'. The district predicted that students will be able to return to the newly constructed campuses by 2028. For the remainder of the school year, students at Palisades and Marquez elementary schools will study at two public elementary schools, Brentwood Science Magnet and Nora Sterry elementary. The Palisades charter high school, which has been offering online instruction to roughly 3,000 students for more than two months, is in the process of securing a temporary campus at the vacant Sears building in Santa Monica. Nina Belden, a parent at the Palisades charter elementary school who lost her home in the fire, said school has provided a sense of normalcy for her son Deacon, who's six. He loved going to class at Brentwood, which Belden said was bigger and more open than the old campus. But she isn't sure where the school would relocate in the fall and how far it would be from her rental home in West LA. She's worried that all the moving may have a destabilizing effect on her son, who isn't old enough to fully process all that they've lost. Belden recalled a few instances when he asked for a toy he'd forgotten about, and she'd had to remind him that it was in the house that burned down. 'It's very scary as a parent that we don't know what the options are,' Belden said. The Odyssey South charter school, a K-8th grade public charter in Altadena, lost four buildings and 80% of its classrooms in the fire, said its executive director, Carlos Garcia Saldaña. About 175 middle school students were temporarily moved to the ArtCenter College of Design, while 230 younger students resumed their studies at two Boys and Girls Club facilities. About a third of the student body, about 300 people, have yet to return to school – a result of displaced families moving out of the city, Saldaña said. 'Our students are feeling the change,' Saldaña said. 'But they're tremendously adaptable and flexible with less than ideal situations.' In early February, nearly a month after the fire, Aveson secured six classrooms at Cleveland elementary school – a campus five miles west in Pasadena – for 200 middle and high school students, said Ian McFeat, the school's executive director. More students will relocate to the nearby Washington elementary school. The classes are crowded, McFeat said, and operating on two campuses could fracture the community, separating siblings and friends in a way that may be overwhelming for students, parents and faculty. 'The hard thing is just we don't have enough space,' McFeat said. 'Nobody wants things to be where they are right now, but we're just excited because the kids are back in school.' Charter schools lease campuses owned by districts, and McFeat said that unlike the LA school district, Pasadena Unified hasn't yet agreed to help rebuild Aveson. It has, meanwhile, committed to rebuilding Eliot Arts Magnet middle school. McFeat said the school applied for grants to provide more counseling and other mental health resources, but the process could take months. 'The support needed is overwhelming,' he said, adding that the trauma symptoms students are reporting now might be drastically different from what they experience in half a year's time. 'We recognize this is a marathon,' McFeat said, 'a long road to healing.' Burnt-down towns can take many years to revive. One year after the 2018 Camp fire, which scorched the northern California town of Paradise, enrollment in the Paradise Unified school district plummeted from 3,500 students to 1,500. The current student population hovers at about 1,700. Two public high schools destroyed in the blaze took nearly five years and more than $100m to rebuild. Schonfeld recommended that schools provide 'universal support' to all students instead of searching for specific individuals with symptoms of mental illness, and then offer additional academic and learning support for those who are distressed. The National Center for School Crisis and Bereavement at Children's Hospital Los Angeles, he said, has also been providing teachers with psychological first aid training. Schonfeld said surviving a wildfire can permanently alter a child's personality or behavior, but not always in a negative way. 'People can emerge with stronger coping skills and a desire to help others,' he said. 'These events are life changing, but they don't necessarily damage you.'
