@mariashriver
Mama & Mama G • Open Hearted Journalist, The Sunday Paper & NBC News • Co-Founder MOSH • Founder Women's Alzheimer's Movement • Publisher The Open Field
David Henrie @DavidHenrieMaria and I have been waiting a long time to throw this your way. 📚 Preorder our debut children’s book, “Is God Bigger Than a Dragon?”, now at @AscensionPress
The Washington Post @washingtonpostMost Americans are confident that next month’s midterm elections will be conducted fairly, but 7 in 10 lack confidence that President Trump will accept the results if Republicans lose, according to a poll by The Post, ABC News and Ipsos.
JFK Library Foundation @JFKLibraryFdnEunice Kennedy Shriver, the 5th of 9 in President Kennedy’s family, is not as well known as her brothers, John, Robert, and Ted. But author and journalist Eileen McNamara highlights Eunice Kennedy for her work behind the scenes that changed the world. #womenshistorymonth
The Patriot Oasis™ @ThePatriotOasis🔥🚨 JUST IN — President Trump says he was SHOCKED that the Government didnt have a HEALTH division for WOMEN! "The executive order I'll sign in just a moment will direct the Department of Health and Human Services to establish a new women's health division within the National Institutes of Health." "I don't know why they haven't done things. There's so many things that would seem so basic. Think of it—a women's health division, and it hasn't been done, but it's been done under Trump."
Christopher Hale @ChristopherHaleNEW: A Catholic nun pressed Vice President JD Vance on Saturday to justify ICE’s conduct to people of faith at a CBS News town hall in Michigan. Sister Nancy Sylvester asked how the behavior of ICE agents “can constantly be justified in terms of the kind of values we want to live by.” Vance never answered. She is the latest Catholic sister to challenge him on immigration. Last fall, ICE turned away Sister JoAnn Persch, 91, when she tried to bring the Eucharist to detainees outside Chicago. She died two weeks later.
Democratic Wins Media @DemocraticWinsBREAKING: The Dallas Morning News just announced they are endorsing James Talarico over Ken Paxton. The Dallas Morning News had previously endorsed Senator John Cornyn in every race he ever ran. This is amazing.
Jake Sherman @JakeShermanNew Talarico ad running statewide: "Ken Paxton says, I don't have his experience, and he's right. "I've never been indicted for fraud. I've never been reported to the FBI for bribery. I've never been impeached by my own party, and I've never given a sweetheart deal to a pedophile. "I have a different kind of experience. I've worked with both parties to cap the cost of insulin and pass the largest property tax cut in Texas history. I'm James Tallarico and I approve this message because we need a different kind of experience in Washington."
Michael & Rebecca @Michaeljos92972THE HORROR OF BEING LONELY AT SEVENTY. by Michael Whelan The cruelest part of growing old isn't knowing that life is getting shorter. It's wondering how much of it you'll have to spend without being loved the way you once were. At seventy, loneliness is not simply an empty house. It is a body that still remembers what it feels like to be loved. God, how I miss being held. I miss holding Rebecca's hand. The beautiful simplicity of our fingers finding each other without either of us giving it a thought. I miss cuddling in bed after a long day, feeling her warmth against me, knowing that whatever horrors the world had waiting, for that one precious moment, we were safe. I miss someone telling me I look handsome. I miss hearing those three ordinary, extraordinary words: "I love you." And perhaps most heartbreaking of all, I miss saying them to someone who could whisper them back. These are the little things we take for granted until death comes along and steals them. For years, I cared for Rebecca as Parkinson's and dementia slowly took possession of the woman I adored. Cancer had already ravaged my own body. I was exhausted, frightened, and sometimes so overwhelmed that I prayed for one afternoon when nobody needed me. Now I have more afternoons than I know what to do with. What a cruel joke. People think loneliness is about having nobody to talk to. They're wrong. I can talk to friends. I can laugh. I can attend a gathering and appear perfectly happy. Then I return home. Nobody asks how my day went. Nobody reaches across the couch to touch my arm. Nobody notices that I've put on a nice shirt or that I'm unusually quiet. And the bed. Dear God, the bed. There is something almost unbearable about having an entire side of a mattress available when you'd surrender everything you own to feel someone breathing beside you again. At seventy, society seems to assume our need for tenderness has somehow expired. It hasn't. My heart is seventy. My need to be loved is ageless. I still want affection, companionship, laughter, romance, and the glorious comfort of knowing someone is genuinely happy that I walked through the door. I don't want to spend my remaining years merely remembering what love felt like. I want to feel it again. And perhaps that is what makes loneliness at seventy so terrifying. I am not finished loving. I am simply living in a world where the person who knew how to love me best is gone. But love does not vanish just because the person who awakened it is gone. It remains in the hand that still reaches across the sheets, in the words that rise to my lips with nowhere to land, in the part of me that still believes tenderness is worth wanting. So every night, when I turn out the light, my hand finds the place where hers used to be. I always tell her how my day went. And for one aching moment, in the darkness, I am not only remembering what I lost. I am remembering that I am still capable of love. And perhaps that is not the loneliest truth of all. Perhaps it is a promise. The heart that can grieve this deeply has not gone empty. It is still open. It is still reaching. Somewhere beyond the silence of this house, there may be another hand waiting to find mine—not to replace Rebecca, because no one could, but to meet the love that remains. Until then, I will keep getting up. I will put on the nice shirt. I will answer the phone, accept the invitation, sit beside someone who needs company, help other caregivers how to get through another day and let the world surprise me when it can. I have lost the life I knew. But I have not lost my capacity to live. And as long as I can still love, still hope, still reach toward another human being, my story is not over. The bed may be empty tonight. But I am still here. And here, even at seventy, is not the end.
Michael & Rebecca @Michaeljos92972THE HORROR OF BEING LONELY AT SEVENTY. by Michael Whelan The cruelest part of growing old isn't knowing that life is getting shorter. It's wondering how much of it you'll have to spend without being loved the way you once were. At seventy, loneliness is not simply an empty house. It is a body that still remembers what it feels like to be loved. God, how I miss being held. I miss holding Rebecca's hand. The beautiful simplicity of our fingers finding each other without either of us giving it a thought. I miss cuddling in bed after a long day, feeling her warmth against me, knowing that whatever horrors the world had waiting, for that one precious moment, we were safe. I miss someone telling me I look handsome. I miss hearing those three ordinary, extraordinary words: "I love you." And perhaps most heartbreaking of all, I miss saying them to someone who could whisper them back. These are the little things we take for granted until death comes along and steals them. For years, I cared for Rebecca as Parkinson's and dementia slowly took possession of the woman I adored. Cancer had already ravaged my own body. I was exhausted, frightened, and sometimes so overwhelmed that I prayed for one afternoon when nobody needed me. Now I have more afternoons than I know what to do with. What a cruel joke. People think loneliness is about having nobody to talk to. They're wrong. I can talk to friends. I can laugh. I can attend a gathering and appear perfectly happy. Then I return home. Nobody asks how my day went. Nobody reaches across the couch to touch my arm. Nobody notices that I've put on a nice shirt or that I'm unusually quiet. And the bed. Dear God, the bed. There is something almost unbearable about having an entire side of a mattress available when you'd surrender everything you own to feel someone breathing beside you again. At seventy, society seems to assume our need for tenderness has somehow expired. It hasn't. My heart is seventy. My need to be loved is ageless. I still want affection, companionship, laughter, romance, and the glorious comfort of knowing someone is genuinely happy that I walked through the door. I don't want to spend my remaining years merely remembering what love felt like. I want to feel it again. And perhaps that is what makes loneliness at seventy so terrifying. I am not finished loving. I am simply living in a world where the person who knew how to love me best is gone. But love does not vanish just because the person who awakened it is gone. It remains in the hand that still reaches across the sheets, in the words that rise to my lips with nowhere to land, in the part of me that still believes tenderness is worth wanting. So every night, when I turn out the light, my hand finds the place where hers used to be. I always tell her how my day went. And for one aching moment, in the darkness, I am not only remembering what I lost. I am remembering that I am still capable of love. And perhaps that is not the loneliest truth of all. Perhaps it is a promise. The heart that can grieve this deeply has not gone empty. It is still open. It is still reaching. Somewhere beyond the silence of this house, there may be another hand waiting to find mine—not to replace Rebecca, because no one could, but to meet the love that remains. Until then, I will keep getting up. I will put on the nice shirt. I will answer the phone, accept the invitation, sit beside someone who needs company, help other caregivers how to get through another day and let the world surprise me when it can. I have lost the life I knew. But I have not lost my capacity to live. And as long as I can still love, still hope, still reach toward another human being, my story is not over. The bed may be empty tonight. But I am still here. And here, even at seventy, is not the end.
Andrea Mitchell @mitchellreportsChristiane Amanpour is the gold standard of foreign correspondents. She is one of a kind - admired worldwide for piercing intellect, courage and integrity. Whatever she does next will be consequential
ABC News @ABCActress Christina Applegate says she was misdiagnosed with multiple sclerosis (MS), a neurological and autoimmune disorder. "It's hard to say that [my doctor] came into my room and she said, 'Congratulations! You don't have MS,'" she said. Read more:
Dr. Catharine Young @DrCatharineYIf you follow me, you know I strongly support women’s health and greater funding investment in science. So a few thoughts on yesterday’s White House announcement. icymi, Trump unveiled a new women’s health division at NIH as though the federal government had never prioritized this work before. In fact NIH’s Office of Research on Women’s Health has existed since 1990. His executive order also revokes President Biden’s 2023 women’s health research initiative and his 2024 order advancing it. I was serving in the White House when those efforts began and can say that there was - and remains - an enormous amount to do. Biden called on Congress to invest $12 billion in women’s health research and made concrete funding announcements: in October 2024, ARPA-H announced more than $110 million for 23 teams tackling neglected conditions affecting women. Let’s not forget that this same administration has done incredible damage to the scientific systems over the past year and a half which has included terminating grants supporting women’s health research, including work on uterine fibroids and pregnancy risks. But most notably this announcement comes without specifying any NEW research funding commitment, which is what women’s health so desperately needs. I am absolutely supportive of a spotlight on women’s health but not another rebrand 😭
Kyle Griffin @kylegriffin1BREAKING NYT: Trump's new press secretary, Katie Zacharia, was fired Friday, after less than a week on the job, according to three people familiar with the matter.
