Opinion

It’s hard to know what I’m waiting for, but I’m waiting for something. Spring is late.

Eighty years ago, Europe was finally quiet. Planes no longer dropped bombs, tanks sat stationary, rattling machine guns fell silent. After six bloody years, World War II was at last over on the continent.

Every day I see how low-income patients struggle to access even the most basic medical care. Many of my patients don’t have a regular doctor. Some can’t take time off work for an appointment. Others simply can’t afford to wait weeks for care when they need treatment now. These challenges aren’t just frustrating; they’re dangerous. As a pharmacist, I know that delayed treatment leads to worsening conditions, costly emergency room visits, and, in some cases, life-threatening complications.

Only after you’ve had a day like yesterday do you really know you married the right person. The day started out fine.

Springtime in Washington is famous for two things: the Japanese cherry blossoms and the annual White House Correspondents’ Association dinner. It’s one of D.C.’s biggest bashes of the year when the paparazzi and the glitterati come together for an evening of laughter.

Fourteen years ago, the legislature passed vital protections for freedom of speech in the Texas Citizens Participation Act. This week, they’re looking to gut it.