Month: September 2022

“I’ve lived in both very red and very blue places,” says Sally Hudson. “But I never felt my vote really mattered—until 2016.” Donald Trump’s election spurred Hudson into politics—and to being elected the first woman to represent Charlottesville in the Virginia House of Delegates.

Public service came naturally to Hudson. Her father had a law degree but became a Unitarian minister, moving from assignment to assignment around the Midwest and Plains states; her journalist mother worked with community education programs. “I grew up very oriented to community service—helping at soup kitchens and shelters,” Hudson says. “But I wasn’t politically engaged until post-Trump. I was 27, I had always voted, but for the first time I thought my vote could be pivotal.”

By this time, Hudson, who earned an economics degree from Stanford University and a Ph.D. from MIT, had accepted a teaching post at UVA’s Batten School of Leadership and Public Policy. The Trump backlash, the events of August 2017, and the growing push for racial reckoning led many people who hadn’t been politically active into the fray. 

“I wasn’t part of that first anti-Trump wave,” Hudson says. “I was just becoming politically awakened. But a whole new wave of people got active, and changed the face of politics in Virginia.” In her view, the old guard “didn’t know how to use all that young energy—classic party politics didn’t find a home for them.” 

The result was a surge in grassroots activist groups advocating for single-issue changes or a more progressive agenda. Redistricting reform became Hudson’s launching pad. “I’m a sincere believer in small-‘d’ democracy,” she says, “and that only works if we have real elections and real races.” Gerrymandering’s negative impact isn’t only racial or party segmentation, in her view. “It creates confusion [about who represents who], and lack of accountability. And when people don’t feel their vote matters, they stop voting.”

Through her organizing work with FairVote and OneVirginia, Hudson got to know a lot of politically committed and activist locals—especially women. “I started nudging these women to run for office, but many couldn’t.” A Delegate’s $17,640 salary isn’t much if it’s your only income, she notes, and the job requires attending the two-month legislative session full-time. “So they began urging me to run.” 

Hudson’s announcement in December 2018 that she was challenging long-time incumbent David Toscano for the 57th District’s Democratic candidacy surprised (and put off) some people. When Toscano decided to retire, Hudson ended up running against two-term city councilor Kathy Galvin and winning with 65 percent of the vote.

As a political novice, why didn’t she start with a run for a city or county office? “Much of what inspired me was deep democracy work, and that’s [addressed] at the state level,” Hudson says. “Politics is not a ladder—you don’t have to work your way up. Each of the roles has a very different job to do, so you go where your skills are the best fit.” 

Hudson’s first term just happened to be a Democratic “trifecta”—the party held the governor’s office and majorities in both legislatures for the first time in 28 years. Those were heady times. “We made progress in rolling back a lot of bad laws,” from abortion restrictions to voter suppression measures. “What we passed [gun safety measures; a higher minimum wage; Medicaid expansion; pay increases for teachers; clean energy measures] was popular with many Virginians, but had been [held back] due to gerrymandering.” 

Her first legislative session ended in February 2020—and then the pandemic hit. Hudson’s reaction was “to grab an oar” and make sure her constituents got what they needed in this upended world, whether that meant PPE for health care works or unemployment checks for the newly out of work. Getting their unemployment insurance was “the No. 1 reason people called my office,” she says.

As a workforce economist, Hudson’s skills were an asset in taking on the state’s archaic unemployment compensation system—something she cites as one of her major accomplishments. But, with the House’s new Republican majority, she lost her seat on the Commission on Unemployment Compensation, set up to oversee system reforms. In an August article on richmond.com, the oversight panel’s chair, Senator Adam Ebbin (D-Alexandria), commented: “That’s too bad, [Hudson’s] the one with the most knowledge on this stuff.”

Another issue Hudson pushed hard was a bill she sponsored to allow local governments to vote on tax increases to fund school improvements. The bill passed the Senate, but died in the House Finance Committee. “It’s one of those issues where I knew there was no more that I could have done,” she admits, vowing to keep working on loosening the Dillon Rule restricting the autonomy of localities like Charlottesville.

This term, Hudson sees “protecting the progress we made” as a top priority—which is not to say she doesn’t see more work that needs to be done. Before the recent teacher pay increases, she notes, “Virginia was dead last [nationwide] on teacher salaries, and we’re really behind on school construction and upgrades. The Medicaid reimbursement is still too low, and we’re in a maternity health crisis, especially for women of color.”

How does this agenda fit with what she hears from her constituents? “Schools, housing, and health care—those are their concerns,” Hudson says—even in a district she describes as having deep inequalities. On a positive note, she thinks recent issues ranging from reproductive rights to voting access and education have raised awareness of the importance of representation at the state level. 

“More people are coming to see how much state government matters,” she says. “The Federal government can [fund initiatives], but it’s the state that makes sure that [help] gets to your door at a price you can afford.”

Well into her second term, how does Hudson feel about this new career she’s taken on? “It’s really fulfilling work,” she says emphatically. She sees a huge part of her job as “triage—connecting constituents with the people who can solve their problem.” An example she cites was the threatened evictions at Mallside Forest Apartments this past summer—not a state issue, but when a constituent facing eviction called Hudson’s office, she connected them with both the appropriate county supervisor and with Legal Aid Justice Center. 

“A big part of the job is to be visible and accessible,” Hudson says. “There’s no substitute for showing up in person—it gives people a chance to talk to you. I can be on any constituent’s doorstep in 15 minutes.” 

To Hudson, her two jobs are complementary: “As a teacher and as a public servant, I believe government works better when people know how government works.” And then she heads off to yet another constituent meeting.

Down the street from the medieval cathedral at the stony heart of Valladolid, Spain, sits the Millennium Dome, a geodesic igloo made out of neon-edged hexagons that slot together like jigsaw puzzle pieces.

Inside the dome, thousands more jigsaw puzzle pieces wait in sealed boxes. Contestants from 40 different countries sit at white tables, poised to rip open their box when the timer starts the qualifying round of the 2022 World Jigsaw Puzzle Championships.

A Spanish competitor readies his puzzling fingers. A Turkish puzzler eyes the timer. A Ukrainian contestant nods to her blue-and-yellow supporters.

Behind her American flag, Charlottesville preschool teacher Stephanie Owen waits. She has traveled almost 4,000 miles from Virginia to race against the fastest jigsaw puzzlers in the world.

As a child, when she was home sick from middle school, Owen used to spend her days putting together jigsaw puzzles. As an adult, a positive COVID-19 test renewed her childhood puzzling habits.

“Our family has always been a jigsaw puzzle family,” Owen says. “My grandparents always have a puzzle out on the table when we go. We always do a puzzle with our friends on New Year’s Eve.”

One pandemic night, out of curiosity, Owen set up a clock and time-lapse camera, then watched herself move through a 500-piece puzzle in under one and a half hours.

That’s when she began to wonder if there was such a thing as a jigsaw puzzle race.

When the timer starts, the 60 contestants in Owen’s qualifying round unwrap an image of black dog sitting before a wall of paintings of black dogs. 

The sound of cardboard on plastic reverberates through the quiet dome as contestants begin sorting pieces. Each one wants to be the fastest to put all 500 into place.

Some competitors flip over each piece before categorization. Others create color-based piles. The bravest start assembly with most pieces still untouched. Owen begins shaping the border. Officials patrol the aisles in bright yellow World Jigsaw Puzzle Federation vests with cameras and watchful eyes.

Owen methodically spirals inward until all that is left is every puzzler’s nightmare: A wide expanse of fur, one of the most difficult textures in jigsaw.

Her mouth is dry. She cannot waste the moment it would take to sip water, nor can she spare a glance upward when a burst of audience applause signals the first puzzle has been completed. She can only stare intently at her remaining pieces.

“I tried to just stay in the moment, doing the thing that I was there to do, which is putting the pieces together,” Owen says.

With one hand she shoves the 500th piece of black fur into place. With the other, she slams her palm upon the table, signaling her victory to the judge.

Owen is the second American and 15th competitor to finish her qualifier. She has registered the best time of her puzzling career, and earned a spot in the final round of the 2022 World Jigsaw Puzzle Championship. 

Day one is over, and for the first time in 58 minutes and 41 seconds, Owen has enough time to unscrew the cap of her water bottle.

In late 2021, Owen’s Google search for jigsaw puzzle races turned up an upcoming Zoom-based competition. She wondered if it could possibly be real. 

Days after she signed up, a puzzle wrapped in unmarked paper arrived in Owen’s mailbox. A sticker warned her not to open the package until the timer started for her first-ever speed puzzling competition.

Under the watchful gaze of her laptop camera, Owen crushes her previous times when she completes the 500-piece puzzle in one hour and 30 seconds, giving her a win and the confidence to register for the world championships.

“I think something about the atmosphere and the pressure of it pushes me to think less, and take less time on things, and make faster decisions,” Owen says. “Knowing that I’m competing against other people, not just myself, gives me a thrill.”

Owen’s friends are fascinated by her home puzzle library. They’re stunned when they learn she has an official JPAR score, the puzzling statistic based on the difficulty of competitors’ puzzles.

In contrast, by day two, Valladolid is no stranger to puzzle fever. In cafés and bars around the dome, patrons ignore drinks in favor of practice jigsaws.

A visitor can find puzzles everywhere, from the stones of the cathedral to the hexagons of the Millennium Dome to the rows of white tables where Owen and her nearly 200 fellow competitors wait for the final round to begin.

Ravensburger, the German company that manufactures the puzzles used by World Jigsaw Puzzle Championships, presents finalists with the world premiere of a brand-new puzzle. When the timer starts and Owen opens her bag, she is greeted with a never-before-seen 500-piece rendition of a row of pastel-colored doors.

As always, Owen begins with the border.

When Owen slots her final piece into place, just over one hour has passed. She has officially ranked among the top 50 fastest jigsaw puzzlers in the world.

When she first began competing, Owen worried too much puzzling would burn out her love for her favorite hobby.

But it only took one day after her return to Charlottesville before she was back at Shenanigans, selecting her next jigsaw puzzle.

“I would love to do more competitions,” Owen says. “I don’t have any more on my schedule at the moment, but I’m hoping to find more in-person competitions, along with virtual ones. … It’s a mental exercise for me. It’s meditative. It makes me feel good about myself.”

Two years ago, Brian Lindgren got hit by a car. He broke several bones, but the most important was his left pinky. Lindgren is a violist. He needs his left pinky. 

This was the summer of 2020, the height of the pandemic shutdown. Musicians were already struggling. Lindgren was heading into the final year of an M.F.A. at Brooklyn College in New York, and he wasn’t sure what would be waiting for him on the other side. In some desperation, he took a step he never thought he’d take: He applied to Ph.D. programs.

As a master’s student, Lindgren’s main project was to design and build an electronic viola. He’d first had the idea as an undergraduate at the Eastman School of Music in Rochester, New York, but it had lain forgotten for over a decade, as Lindgren made a life for himself writing, performing, and producing music in New York City. He grew up playing the viola; he studied viola at Eastman; he loved the viola. But Eastman also introduced him to the world of electronic music. With electronic music, he says, you get to work with an “infinite sonic palette.” The world of electronic music also seemed more accessible, more open to experimentation, than the sometimes rarefied world of classical strings. But back then, he didn’t yet know how to combine these things he loved. 

At Brooklyn College, he found a way. “I was a hybrid person,” Lindgren says, “which can be very challenging in our assembly-line kind of world. But this program”—an M.F.A. in Sonic Arts—“was really geared towards musical explorers.” He took a class with Doug Geers, famous for his own technologically charged compositions, all about building electronic musical instruments. That first semester, he hacked together the first prototype of his new instrument. It was an a heavily modded acoustic viola, all black, with heavy white cables snaking out from the fingerboard and the new pickups he had constructed. Orange, green, blue, and white wires tangled around the tuning pegs. Lindgren describes it as “Borg-like.” This was EV 1, and it worked.

But he wasn’t satisfied, and he spent several semesters more in independent study with Geers, refining the concept. Another of his teachers challenged him: The music he was creating with his new instrument sounded just like something he could have created without the instrument, he said. What was he really trying to do here? (That teacher was Morton Subotnick, a pioneer in the world of electronic music and a co-inventor of one of the earliest analog synthesizers, so the challenge was one to take seriously.) He re-envisioned the instrument from the ground up. He learned CAD and circuit design. He experimented with ways of combining analog and digital sounds. He joined a long line of composers who invented instruments to achieve a sound no existing instrument could produce. In a mad dash at the end of his degree program, he finished EV 2, a sleek black wedge, like a viola’s fingerboard without a body, built from scratch on a 3D printer. 

Then he put it in a drawer. As he began his Ph.D. in composition and computer technologies at the University of Virginia last fall, he wanted to start with a blank slate. It was time to figure out what was next, and he wanted to open himself up to the opportunities the new environment would offer. But his passion for the instrument has continued to smolder. 

Lindgren’s pinky healed, thankfully, though it now has a permanent bend to it. The Telemetry Music Series, which showcases experimental sounds, provided Lindgren a few opportunities to perform this year—at The Bridge, at Old Cabell Hall, and even outside on the Downtown Mall. He’s slated to play this fall at a conference in North Carolina and a festival in Connecticut. He’s bursting with new ideas for composition.

As we talked, Lindgren sat in one of UVA’s makerspaces and the 3D printer hummed away behind him. EV 2.5 would be ready in three more days.

For such a small city, Charlottesville sure has an insane amount of celebrity connections. Ask any townie and you’ll hear so many conflicting tales it can be hard to sort fact from fiction. Take the late playwright Sam Shepard, who lived in Scottsville with Jessica Lange in the mid-’80s. Rumor has it he did his writing at The Virginian, got banned from Miller’s, and had a standing squad car ride home from Dürty Nelly’s. Here’s a breakdown of some more of our favorite celeb rumors buzzing around town.

Does Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson live in Charlottesville? 

Well, not quite. The wrestler-turned-actor actually owns a large farm in Orange County, about 30 minutes outside the city—and he’s there more often than you’d think. In 2019, Johnson tweeted that “the great state of Virginia has quietly become my home for years now,” and he and his family frequently visit the farm to “recharge, recalibrate, and reset.” Social media posts show Johnson fishing for bass, hanging with thoroughbreds, and working out in perhaps the greatest home gym to ever exist—talk about a staycation. Back in 2017, before Johnson’s home gym, aka the Iron Paradise, was built, he could be found pumping iron at the old Gold’s Gym, where he recorded a viral video of himself chatting with a few lucky fans who spotted him post-workout. 

Did Jennifer Aniston get married at Pippin Hill? 

In 2013, rumors began swirling on celeb gossip sites that Jennifer Aniston got married on the DL to then-fiancé Justin Theroux in a quickie wedding at Pippin Hill Farm & Winery. An elusive comment from a Pippin Hill employee at the time that neither confirmed nor denied the claim fueled gossip, and the unnamed tipster even claimed to know who the caterer was. Though the picturesque vineyard is certainly the perfect place for a private and exclusive celebrity wedding, turns out there’s no truth to this rumor. Jen and Justin actually tied the knot two years later in an intimate Malibu ceremony ordained by Jimmy Kimmel.

Russian royalty?

Does the name Anastasia Romanov sound familiar? You probably know the Russian Grand Duchess from the Disneyfied version of her story, as told in the 1997 film, Anastasia. Her real life is far more tragic. The youngest daughter of the last Tsar and Tsarina of Imperial Russia, Anastasia was murdered, along with her entire family, by a group of Bolshevik revolutionaries in 1918. Rumors immediately began circulating that Anastasia had actually escaped the murder attempt and was in hiding. Two years later, a woman now known by the name Anna Anderson came forward and declared herself the lost grand duchess. Long story short, Anderson was actually a Polish woman who was institutionalized in a mental hospital in Berlin at the time she made her claims, and she would go on to become the world’s most notorious Anastasia imposter. With the help of her supporters, Anderson made her way to America, and in 1968 settled down in Charlottesville, where she married history professor J.E. “Jack” Manahan, and lived until her death in 1984. You can still visit her grave at the University of Virginia Cemetery and Columbarium—just look for the tombstone labeled H.I.H. Anastasia of Russia.

Did Tina Fey write Mean Girls about Western Albemarle High School? 

It’s common knowledge that the comedian and actress was at least partly inspired by her alma mater, UVA, when she wrote the Mean Girls script—the name Cady comes from her college roommate, Cady Garey. There’s also a lesser-known rumor that one of Fey’s old roommates (who still lives in Charlottesville) went to Western Albemarle, and the roommate’s tales of cliques at the local school are what partly inspired Fey. We’re not sure how well this word-of-mouth whisper holds up, especially when Fey has admitted to drawing from her own experiences as a mean girl, and from the nonfiction book Queen Bees and Wannabes. It would be so fetch if it were true, though.

John Freeman has found his home in the booth. 

The career play-by-play announcer and UVA grad returned to Charlottesville to become the “voice of the Cavaliers” for the men’s football and basketball teams last November. He’d been the primary commentator for several university sports—lacrosse and even some men’s basketball—years ago, but he’d never spoken for the football team.

Before coming back to Charlottesville, Freeman spent five years calling games for Nashville’s pro soccer club. This year will mark his first full season as UVA sports’ top broadcaster. Freeman recently talked to 434 about the move and what’s next.

434: How did you find out you’d gotten the biggest broadcasting gig at your alma mater?

John Freeman: It started rather chaotically. I got a call from my predecessor, Dave Koehn, on a Tuesday, and that Saturday I was calling a football game. I grew up in Crozet and listened to the Virginia Sports Radio Network my whole life, and in a four-day span, I would be calling a game on the network at Louisville. It all started with a one-game contract.

You’ve called a lot of sports over the years but not much football. Is it a challenge going to a new sport?

I guess. My career philosophy has been to never say no to anything. I called the Charlottesville Ten Miler one time from the back of a moving vehicle. We were just trying not to fall out. You really do learn broadcasting best when you’re doing it under pressure.

Do you have a favorite sport to call? 

I always say my favorite sport to call is the one in front of me. When I’m in football mode, my favorite sport is football. I just love broadcasting. If UVA wanted me to call tiddlywinks, I would enjoy it. As far as football and basketball, they are distinct. Football is a marathon—almost six hours of broadcasting when it’s said and done. And the booth for football is outdoors; if it’s going to be 95 degrees for the first game, that’s a physical toll when you‘re sitting there and talking loudly for five hours. Basketball, you can really lock in and get lost.

But football is a little slower, right?

You’d be surprised. There’s more to describe. If I have downtime, I talk about what song the band is playing, what color the sky is, what the cheerleaders are doing, the smell of grilled hot dogs in the air.

What does being the “voice of the Cavaliers” mean to you?

Growing up here, we would go to games and listen to the broadcast on the way home, so I’ve been listening to the Virginia Sports Radio Network ever since I was kid. I used to call games off friends’ video game systems. I would make little prep boards. Then in high school, I interned with [former “voice of the Cavaliers”] Mac McDonald the second I got my driver’s license. I went to Western Albemarle, and I would get up at 5 in the morning, when Mac hosted the sports report. I would be cutting audio by 6am.

What’s made you successful in this line of work?

I wasn’t born with golden pipes—nor do I have them now—and I’ve always been jealous of people that just have them. I would like to think my voice is palatable enough, but I think it’s meant I’ve had to rely more on vocabulary and pace, description and inflection. I‘ve had to work harder at those things.

Is there another step up for your career after this?

I don’t see anything that would be better than this. I get to call a national championship-caliber basketball team and an FBS football team. I don’t need another rung—I’m not sure if there is another rung. I’m not going to go to the Commanders in the NFL. This job is rewarding, and I’m part of the community. I get to represent a school that my parents went to, and the reward to me personally is so much greater.

What’s the outlook for the football and basketball teams this year?

Man, I’m completely biased. Two national championships and a Heisman Trophy? Honestly, I think for football, there are a lot of unknowns and a lot of knowns. The offense is going to be record-breaking when it comes to our quarterback [Brennan Armstrong]. If they can find themselves 2-0 or 3-0 and get some momentum under Tony Elliott, it could be a surprise season. The basketball team should be much-improved. I see no reason why they shouldn’t make the NCAA tournament. After growing up watching 15 and 15 UVA basketball teams, I’m still in a state of shock that we are now consistently ranked in the top 10.

Late last summer, four Crozet-based friends found themselves discussing the upcoming fall season—prepping for a new school year, planning autumnal activities, and cozying up their home décor. For Alexis Macias, Kristen Craig, Kathleen Ross, and Marilyn Speight, the latter always starts with the porch. 

“We had seen on Instagram a mom out of Texas who started offering a fall porch-decorating service for her neighborhood,” Speight says. And then they wondered: Why couldn’t they do the same thing in Charlottesville? A morning meeting at Mudhouse, and Porch Patch was launched shortly thereafter. 

Here’s how it works: The group has three packages (petite for $200, classic for $300, and grand for $450) that offer varying numbers and types of pumpkins, scaled to the size of your porch. Plus, you can add on other items like mums, kale, and hay bales, and the ladies will work with your own décor to mix in pieces you already have.

Since launching, Porch Patch has made connections with local farms and nurseries like Highbrighton and Middle River, and Speight says they sold out of their limited number of spots last season—more than 40 homes in the Crozet, Charlottesville, and Richmond areas. 

“People are incredibly busy and may not have the time to procure pumpkins for their porches personally, or perhaps they love the look but prefer to outsource to someone who has an eye for styling,” Speight says. “Our goal with this project was to offer any area resident the chance to bring the patch right to their front door.”

Preorders are underway (find them on Instagram @porchpatch), and installations will run through the month of October.