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Articles by Sally Friedman
Stories From the Trenches: The Difference Disability Makes in the Campaign Experiences of Candidates With Disabilities
Objective Persons with disabilities are a large and significant segment of the American public, yet Americans with disabilities are only beginning to be considered as political candidates or officeholders. Methods This paper reports on in-depth interviews with 21 individuals with physical disabilities who have stood for office in recent election cycles. The interviews focused on candidates’ reasons for running, their campaign experiences, and how their disabilities affected their campaigns.
Polarization May Phase Out Of American Politics As Younger Generations Shift Into Power
The sharp increase in political polarization in America over the past 50 years has been driven in part by how different generations think about politics. But the rise of younger generations to political power may actually erase the deep social divisions associated with polarization.
Polarization May End With Younger Generations in Power
The sharp increase in political polarization in America over the past 50 years has been driven in part by how different generations think about politics. But the rise of younger generations to political power may actually erase the deep social divisions associated with polarization.
Polarization May Phase Out Of American Politics As Younger Generations Shift Into Power
Earlier generations — the Silents, baby boomers and Gen X — are more divided than millennials and Gen Z. The sharp increase in political polarization in America over the past 50 years has been driven in part by how different generations think about politics. But the rise of younger generations to political power may actually erase the deep social divisions associated with polarization.
David Schultz
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Polarization may phase out of American politics as younger generations shift into power
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Polarization may phase out of American politics as younger generations shift into power
The sharp increase in political polarization in America over the past 50 years has been driven in part by how different generations think about politics. But the rise of younger generations to political power may actually erase the deep social divisions associated with polarization.
Polarization may phase out of American politics as younger generations shift into power
The sharp increase in political polarization in America over the past 50 years has been driven in part by how different generations think about politics. But the rise of younger generations to political power may actually erase the deep social divisions associated with polarization.
Polarization may phase out of American politics as younger generations shift into power
The sharp increase in political polarization in America over the past 50 years has been driven in part by how different generations think about politics. But the rise of younger generations to political power may actually erase the deep social divisions associated with polarization.
Polarization may phase out of American politics as younger generations shift into power
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Polarization may phase out of American politics as younger generations shift into power
(The Conversation is an independent and nonprofit source of news, analysis and commentary from academic experts.) kAmW%wt r~}'t#$p%x~}X %96 D92CA :?4C62D6 :? A@=:E:42= A@=2C:K2E:@? :? p>6C:42 @G6C E96 A2DE d_ J62CD 92D 366? 5C:G6? :?
Polarization may phase out of American politics as younger generations shift into power
(The Conversation is an independent and nonprofit source of news, analysis and commentary from academic experts.) Sally Friedman, University at Albany, State University of New York and David Schultz, Hamline University (THE CONVERSATION) The sharp increase in political polarization in America over the past 50 years has been driven in part by how different generations think about politics.
New legal project aims to protect rights of Kentuckians with substance use disorder | Opinion
Almost every Kentuckian knows someone who has died of an overdose. The crisis is so acute that Kentucky claims the 4th highest overdose death rate in the country, with the rate among Black Kentuckians more than doubling in recent years. While 2022 data shows a slight in overdose deaths, much more must be done.
Fighting discrimination in healthcare is crucial to ending the overdose crisis
by Sara Harrington, NC Newsline February 26, 2024 Overdose deaths in North Carolina have more than doubled in the past decade, with the most current numbers showing a from 2020 to 2021 alone. Data from 2019-2021 shows the extreme increase in overdose deaths disproportionately shouldered by communities of color, with Black, American Indian/Indigenous North Carolinians experiencing double the rate of increase as white residents.
Polarization may phase out of American politics as younger generations shift into power
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Friedman: Hopes for the new year
Don’t let me be the grinch who stole New Year’s, especially this year, when so much has been stolen from us already. And pay me no mind if I seem melancholy instead of ebullient about the launch of 2022. It’s just that I’m always a bit overwhelmed by a new year. It’s so loaded with mystery. It must be a feeling that comes with increasing age, this sense of being a pawn of the fates. But somewhere towards the middle of my life, I began getting nervous about the caprices and randomness of life.
Friedman: When daughters become mothers
“Just wait until you have children of your own.” How many times I’d uttered that famous line when one or the other of my daughters tested me to my limits, when I honestly thought the only answer for me was to walk away and let them fend for themselves. If you’re a mother, you know exactly what I mean. I never did run off and join the circus, as I threatened to do when I thought one more cry of “I hate her!” was one too many.
Friedman: A young immigrant’s story
The older I get, the more I think about roots. The kind that entwine us with the past and define our heritage. Growing up as a second generation American, I didn’t give much thought to all of that. The basic mantra was to assimilate. To move past, but not forget, our Eastern European roots. The most visible reminder of those roots were my two living grandmothers, little ladies with foreign accents who prepared food that my sister and I hated, and that often had ideas that made me wince.
Friedman: A son-in-law comes late to fatherhood
An image comes rushing back to me from years ago. I am watching a tall man with broad shoulders as he leans down to hold the back of a little girl’s bicycle, a two-wheeler, to be precise. She is terrified. He is steady and sure. Suddenly, she gets it. She lets him let go of the back of that bicycle and she sails off into the wind with a look on her face that’s difficult to describe. It’s one of awe, relief, apprehension and deep pleasure. The same look is on the man’s face.
Friedman: In praise of living fully
There’s a joke in our family that goes something like this: If you want to make Mom happy, bring her your problems, your secrets or at the very least, your experiences. And like most jokes, there’s underlying truth in this one. I confess I tend to approach life with a bit too much curiosity and life tends to shout at me, not whisper.
There are no do-overs, but it's not too late to learn
By ohtadmin | on November 17, 2021 How many times did we say, as kids, that it was sometimes possible to try again in a game or a sport? But by the time you reach my stage of life, there are no do-overs—sigh—just plenty of regrets. On sleepless nights, they line up like soldiers in the field of battle, demanding attention.
Taking time during a stressful week to savor the moment
By ohtadmin | on October 20, 2021 So there I was, pacing in front of the microwave, waiting for the familiar little chime that would announce that the chicken thighs had defrosted. Then I would know that I could throw them into the oven in some prepared sauce in time for dinner, which, in turn, had to be in time for our 7:30 p.m. departure for a meeting.
Friedman: A college reunion across the years
Two nights before the scheduled mini reunion of the women of University of Pennsylvania’s class of l960, I was positive that I had made a horrible mistake by saying I would be there. I was terrified about re-connecting with these “girls,” as we had been back then. What would they make of me? What would I make of them? How could we leap across the years and find common ground, decades after we’d come of age at Penn, when the big push was to get the degree, grab the husband, and live happily ever?
Friedman: Endless shopping and decorating wars
We are standing in a rug store where all around us, couples are happily shopping. Some are actually smiling. We are not. We are, in fact, glaring at one another. We’ve been standing and staring at the same Kilim rug for long enough that now, the salesman is starting to stare at us. “I love it!” I say through clenched teeth. “I hate it!” my husband says in the same seething tone. There we are, deadlocked again in the great home furnishing debate in which there are no winners and it’s such familiar turf.
Think and reflect to live a full and passionate life
By ohtadmin | on October 06, 2021 There’s a joke in our family that goes something like this: If you want to make Mom happy, bring her your problems, your secrets, or, at the very least, your experiences. And like most jokes, there’s underlying truth in this one. I confess I tend to approach life with a bit too much curiosity. And life tends to shout at me, not to whisper.
Friedman: Vacations and insomnia don't mix
Next to me, a man is blissfully sleeping. He has probably had three instances of insomnia in his entire, non-sleep-deprived existence. He boasts that he can fall asleep standing up, and he can. Next to him lies a woman who has spent more than half the nights of her life battling sleeplessness. That woman has been told that even as a baby, she resisted naps, snoozed only briefly, and wailed at the mere notion of being put in her crib.
Friedman: Stalled at the fall fashion starting gate
Following some primal instinct, I find myself looking at the pastels and stark whites in my closet and drawers and think it’s time to move on. It’s an immediate response to the word autumn. Suddenly, I’m awash in my own images of heathers and mosses, burnt oranges and crimsons. It all reaches a crescendo when the magazine ads start and the New York Times delivers its “Style” section with the Sunday paper.
A college reunion echoes across the years
By ohtadmin | on September 22, 2021 Two nights before the scheduled mini reunion of the women of Penn’s class of 1960, I was positive that I had made a horrible mistake by saying I would be there. I was terrified about reconnecting with these “girls,” as we had been back then. What would they make of me? What would I make of them?
Friedman: End of summer beach farewell
A trip to the beach is a dramatically different experience from those of yesteryear. Back then, there was a station wagon loaded down with kids, buckets and shovels, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, endless towels, and three little girls asking "How much longer?" I always insisted on one last pilgrimage to Long Beach Island in early fall to say goodbye to the beach. As much as I loved that ritual, it was not a hit with Jill, Amy and Nancy, and their father was less of an enthusiast, too.
A necessary talk on a very difficult subject
By ohtadmin | on September 08, 2021 Let me share this: I have had difficult conversations with my own children and more recently my grandchildren, but perhaps nothing has been quite as difficult as explaining to them what it means to be Jewish. One of my grandchildren asked me recently, “What is ‘anti-semism’?” After I told her the correct term was “anti-Semitism,” I explained that it’s about having negative thoughts—or making negative remarks—about people who are Jewish, like us.
Friedman: New beginnings for students, teachers and parents
I'm thinking of those of you who are parents of school-age youngsters and looking toward September with mixed emotions. Back to school is at once wonderful, difficult, heartbreaking, absolutely delightful, or a combination of all of those emotions. My heart goes out to those of you sending off a firstborn into that big world out there without you. And unexpectedly I find tears in my eyes, even though this mother is way, way past first day of school tears.
A son-in-law who came late to fatherhood turns into a natural
An image comes rushing back to me from years ago. I am watching a tall man with broad shoulders as he leans down to hold the back of a little girl’s bicycle—a two-wheeler, to be precise. She is terrified. He is steady and sure. Suddenly, she gets it. Suddenly, she lets him let go of the back of that bicycle and she sails off into the wind with a look on her face that’s difficult to describe. It’s one of awe, relief, apprehension and deep pleasure. The same look is on the man’s face.
The mementos and memories of mom's apartment
The first time I walked into my mother’s apartment after she died, I turned and bolted. The fragrance of her perfume, the sight of her eyeglasses, her magazines, her comb—and her absence—was just too much. I couldn’t go back for days. But no matter how much I tried to avoid it, there was the inevitable sad work of cleaning out the home where she had lived for 37 years. And nobody can prepare you for going through the personal effects of a parent you have loved and lost.
Friedman: Abandoning nature’s coloration
The first time I saw the gray in our oldest daughter’s hair, I almost fainted. How could this be? Jill was only in her 30’s, a mere child. Her life experience, as far as I was concerned, was almost non-existent. She had years before middle age. All of this spoken by a mother who cannot even remember her three daughters’ ages at any given moment, let alone factor in that these “girls” my husband and I raised are women now.
Life goes on after retirement—and can be even better | Jewish Community Voice
I was nervous. Make that terrified. When my husband announced his intention to retire 19 years ago, after a long and fulfilling career in law, I wondered, “What now?” After all, we were a two-career couple for three decades—and it had worked quite well. So to some extent we both felt defined by what we did out there. I was a freelance writer. My husband had his law practice, and then his years as a Superior Court judge. Both careers brought us enormous satisfaction. But one career was about to end.
Friedman: You can go home again
We keep hearing that you can’t go home again, that it’s unhealthy to live in the past, or to try to recapture it. I dare to disagree. On a recent birthday, after a wonderful celebration with our extended family at our favorite restaurant, my husband and I suddenly hit on a complicated idea: we would lead our children and grandchildren, who were in four separate cars, back to our first home.
Friedman on vacation
Editor's note: Columnist Sally Friedman is on vacation. Her column will return next week. Sally Friedman is a freelance writer. Contact her at pinegander@aol.com.
A 'honeymoon for one' doesn't have that magic
I slather cold cream all over my face, and carry a bowl of mushy mocha ice cream to my night table. I slip into my most unenchanting flannel shirt and knee socks. I heap the papers by my side and grip any item that strikes my fancy. I am alone in a king size bed without my king. I have waved him off to an overnight conference in a flurry of wifely warnings to watch what he eats, watch how he drives, and remember to call. Now I am settling in to seize the moment.
Friedman: Sisters growing up and growing old together
My sister, myself. She got the pink bedroom, and I got the blue. I, of course, wanted the pink. She didn’t much care. I was, after all, the hysterical sister, the one who sobbed at sad movies. She was the one who explained the endings to me. The differences were stark. Her homework assignments were completed at the kitchen table, neatly, in pen, and with a confidence that matched her studiousness, determination and punctuality.
Friedman: A father's tale on Father's Day
It was the middle of a March night when my husband heard words that he never could have imagined. “The baby's coming!" Those three words turned my sleeping husband into a traumatized, wide-awake one. I was overdue with our second baby and feeling strange. Right around then, I knew that this baby was not waiting long to enter our lives. The rest of that night went from panic to terror to blur. My husband Victor was trained in the law but certainly not in obstetrics.
A daughter's overdue 'thank you' on Father's Day
I called him “Daddy” until I was married and a mother myself. I loved my father’s formality— and I never ever forgot the lessons he taught me, some of which seemed abstract at the time. I was so embarrassed to have a father who quoted Shakespeare, and who lectured me on my need to “thine own self be true.” In my teens, being true to myself was a mystical concept. Frankly, I was more interested in being true to Ned, the handsome kid I sat beside in Social Studies.
Friedman: The glamorous adventure of lipstick
The very first lipstick I ever wore was dabbed on my lips by my best friend. We were in sixth grade, and Jane Lee, who was always taller and more confident than I was, already knew how to outline her lips perfectly with Pixie Pink. The bonus was it smelled and tasted vaguely like bubble gum. I felt incredibly grown up and sensational in that lipstick until my mother noticed its remnants on my lips and read me the riot act. Absolutely no lipstick until eighth grade and she meant it.
Friedman: The glamorous adventure of lipstick
The very first lipstick I ever wore was dabbed on my lips by my best friend. We were in sixth grade, and Jane Lee, who was always taller and more confident than I was, already knew how to outline her lips perfectly with Pixie Pink. The bonus was it smelled and tasted vaguely like bubble gum. I felt incredibly grown up and sensational in that lipstick until my mother noticed its remnants on my lips and read me the riot act. Absolutely no lipstick until eighth grade and she meant it.
Friedman: Three bears, Anderson Cooper and chocolate pudding
Most of the women I know simply can’t believe it. “You mean you still cook?” they ask me in amazement, as if I’ve just proclaimed that I’ve swam the English Channel. Cooking, it seems, is on the endangered list. The simple answer is yes, I cook. Almost every night. Let me explain at the outset that cooking is still a matter of definition. For some, it means preparing meals that are elegant, elaborate and presented in multi-courses.
Friedman: Three bears, Anderson Cooper and chocolate pudding
Most of the women I know simply can’t believe it. “You mean you still cook?” they ask me in amazement, as if I’ve just proclaimed that I’ve swam the English Channel. Cooking, it seems, is on the endangered list. The simple answer is yes, I cook. Almost every night. Let me explain at the outset that cooking is still a matter of definition. For some, it means preparing meals that are elegant, elaborate and presented in multi-courses.
Friedman: Three bears, Anderson Cooper and chocolate pudding
Most of the women I know simply can’t believe it. “You mean you still cook?” they ask me in amazement, as if I’ve just proclaimed that I’ve swam the English Channel. Cooking, it seems, is on the endangered list. The simple answer is yes, I cook. Almost every night. Let me explain at the outset that cooking is still a matter of definition. For some, it means preparing meals that are elegant, elaborate and presented in multi-courses.
A mother of girls learns about boys
Those of you who have read this column, know that I am the mother of daughters and have been for the last 50-some years. But boys? Barely known early on, and then came, yes, grandSONS. Four of them. Close in age, bafflingly different from each other and from their girl cousins, it was a learning experience that took years for me to absorb. I remember the long ago first weekend sleepover with the boys. “You’re not the boss of me!” said Danny to his brother Jonah.
Friedman: Breakfast not at Tiffany's
My late mother was a firm believer in a good, hot breakfast. She was also the sort who rose with the dawn, chirped her way through simmering oatmeal and toast, and expected nothing less from her family. My sister and I protested our way through those hearty breakfasts all of our childhood years. Frankly, we couldn’t wait to establish our autonomy, and once married, Ruthie and I opted for scalding coffee and spare slices of whole wheat toast to launch ourselves into life.
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