Detroit Pistons have agreed to a sign-and-trade deal that would land them Milwaukee Bucks guard Brandon Jennings, a restricted free agent. The new contract is for three years and worth a little over $25 million.In return for the guard, the Bucks will receive guard Brandon Knight, forward Khris Middleton and center Viacheslav Kravtsov, according to sources.Jennings was originally going to return to the Bucks for a one-year qualifying deal. The offer would have made him an unrestricted free agent, but the Pistons showed major interest in having the trade completed.Detroit has picked up a lot of talented players this offseason. The team acquired former Atlanta Hawks player Josh Smith, former Piston Chauncey Billups and Luigi Datome.The Bucks on the other hand, signed their first-round draft pick Giannis Antetokounmpo and free-agent guard Gary Neal on Tuesday.
Email Marilyn Manson Founding Guitarist Daisy Berkowitz Dies Twitter Facebook Marilyn Manson Founding Guitarist Dead At 49 marilyn-manson-founding-guitarist-daisy-berkowitz-dies News Scott Putesky, aka Daisy Berkowitz, succumbs to colon cancerBrian HaackGRAMMYs Oct 23, 2017 – 2:39 pm Guitarist Scott Putesky has died at the age of 49, after a protracted battle with colon cancer, Rolling Stone reports.Under the pseudonym Daisy Berkowitz, Putesky helped co-found Marilyn Manson’s band, originally named Marilyn Manson And The Spooky Kids, in 1989, whereupon he acted as the band’s chief composer and guitarist on their debut album, 1994’s The Portrait Of An American Family. Putseky also played lead guitar on the band’s 1995 cover of the Eurythmics’ “Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This),” the group’s first hit.Putesky parted ways with the group during the recording of 1996’s Antichrist Superstar, which peaked at No. 3 on the Billboard 200. The album became a breakthrough hit for the group, despite an irreconcilable personality conflict with album co-producer Trent Reznor, who had helped sign the band to Interscope.Manson took to Instagram to comment on his former bandmate’s passing, saying, “We had our differences over the years, but I will always remember the good times more.”Marilyn Manson Hospitalized In Stage Accident
As the number of motorcycles has doubled in the capital city over the past eight years, experts recommend controlling the two-wheeler as it is a ‘very risky mode of vehicle’.The number of registered motorcycles increased to 4,69,888 in April 2018 from 2,10,081 in 2010, according to statistics provided by the Bangladesh Road Transport Authority (BRTA).Around 75,251 motorcycles were registered with the BRTA in 2017, a year when different ride-sharing companies, including Uber and Pathao introduced their bike services in the mega city.Urban and transport experts said if the number of the motorcycles continues to grow in the city, it will create an anarchy in the traffic system and thus worsen the traffic management.Saying that the rate of motorbike accident is very high, they suggested the government should streamline the public transport system to control motorbikes in the city right now.Professor Nazrul Islam, himself an urban expert and former chairman of University Grants Commission (UGC), shared his own bitter experience of falling victim to motorcycle accident in the city in May.”When I was crossing a road through the zebra crossing in front of Oxford School in Dhanmondi-27 on 31 May, a speedy bike hit me. Since I jumped to escape any serious injury, I sustained wounds in my legs and hands falling on the ground,” he said.”The motorbike rider didn’t stop the bike and fled the scene. And even no one came forward to help me during the accident,” he added.He suspected that the motorbike was of any ridesharing service provider as both the riders were seen having helmets.The urban expert said the motorbike riders are desperate and hardly follow the traffic rules. “If the number of motorbikes goes up and the number of its alternative mode of transport doesn’t decrease, it’ll create anarchy in traffic system.”He said there should be separate lanes for motorbikes in the city as in cities of the developed nations.Prof Islam, however, said car services of different ridesharing companies is traffic-friendly ones and particularly good for middle-class people.Transport expert professor Shamsul Haque of Civil Engineering department of Bangladesh University of Engineering and Technology (Buet), said motorbike is a commuter-friendly transport but not healthy for the city’s traffic system as it is ‘very risky’ both for the biker and passenger.”If the number of motorbikes goes up commercially, it’ll intensify the risk of commuters,” he said.Professor Haque said the motorcycles are not recognised as public transport in the developed countries. “But, the two-wheeler vehicles are used on narrow roads or lanes as a component of integrated public transport system in some countries.”He said the rise of motorcycle use should be stopped soon for the sake of commuters’ safety and traffic disciple.Professor Moazzem Hossain, director of Accident Research Institute (ARI) of BUET, said the number of motorbikes is going up sharply on the city streets due to its substandard public transport system. “The rate of motorcycle accident is greater among all motorised vehicles.”Mentioning that the speed of the city’s buses is very low, the ARI director suggested allowing public buses to be operated by a single company to address traffic congestions in the city.Though the ridesharing companies claim that their motorcycle services are getting good response in the city, service recipients accused them of being too commercial and providing substandard services.Priyanka Kundu, 24, a working woman, said she frequently avail of the ridesharing service on her way to and from the office, but she found the high speed of bikes very risky.She also claimed that bikers refuse to go to her desired destinations in some cases.When contacted through email, the Uber spokesperson refused to reveal the number of bikes registered with the company.But Uber said, “We were incredibly excited with the launch of UberMOTO given how this product can help serve the need to navigate–faster and cheaper. UberMOTO has received encouraging response from our riders and partners since its launch.””The safety of riders and driver-partners is of paramount importance to us. We encourage bikers using the Uber app to act in compliance with all relevant local laws and the rules of the road at all times. Breaking the local laws can lead to bikers losing access to their account,” the Uber spokesperson said.“In case of any incident or unpleasant experience, we urge riders to use the in-app feedback method to inform us of actions that threaten the safety of driver-partners and riders.”
In this photo taken on 4 November in 2018, Sister Josephine Villoonnickal, left, Sister Alphy Pallasseril, centre, and Sister Anupama Kelamangalathu, who have supported the accusation of rape against Bishop Franco Mulakkal, talk at St Francis Mission Home, in Kuravilangad in southern Indian state of Kerala. Photo: APThe stories spill out in the sitting rooms of Catholic convents, where portraits of Jesus keep watch and fans spin quietly overhead. They spill out in church meeting halls bathed in fluorescent lights, and over cups of cheap instant coffee in convent kitchens. Always, the stories come haltingly, quietly. Sometimes, the nuns speak at little more than a whisper.Across India, the nuns talk of priests who pushed into their bedrooms and of priests who pressured them to turn close friendships into sex. They talk about being groped and kissed, of hands pressed against them by men they were raised to believe were representatives of Jesus Christ.”He was drunk,” said one nun, beginning her story. “You don’t know how to say no,” said another.At its most grim, the nuns speak of repeated rapes, and of a Catholic hierarchy that did little to protect them.The Vatican has long been aware of nuns sexually abused by priests and bishops in Asia, Europe, South America and Africa, but it has done very little to stop it, The Associated Press reported last year.Now, the AP has investigated the situation in a single country — India — and uncovered a decades-long history of nuns enduring sexual abuse from within the church. Nuns described in detail the sexual pressure they endured from priests, and nearly two dozen other people — nuns, former nuns and priests, and others — said they had direct knowledge of such incidents.Still, the scale of the problem in India remains unclear, cloaked by a powerful culture of silence. Many nuns believe abuse is commonplace, insisting most sisters can at least tell of fending off a priest’s sexual advances. Some believe it is rare. Almost none, though, talk about it readily, and most speak only on the condition they not be identified.But this summer, one Indian nun forced the issue into the open.When repeated complaints to church officials brought no response, the 44-year-old nun filed a police complaint against the bishop who oversees her religious order, accusing him of raping her 13 times over two years. Soon after, a group of her fellow nuns launched a two-week public protest in India’s Catholic heartland, demanding the bishop’s arrest.It was an unprecedented action, dividing India’s Catholic community. Inside the accuser’s convent in rural Kerala state, she and the nuns who support her are now pariahs, isolated from the other sisters, many of whom insist the bishop is innocent. The protesting nuns get hate mail and avoid going out.”Some people are accusing us of working against the church, of being against the church. They say, ‘You are worshipping Satan,'” said one supporter, Sister Josephine Villoonnickal. “But we need to stand up for the truth.”Villoonnickal has been a nun for 23 years, joining when she was a teenager. She scoffs at the idea that she wants to harm the church.”We want to die as sisters,” she said.Some nuns’ accounts date back decades — like that of the sister, barely out of her teens, who was teaching in a Catholic school in the early 1990s.It was exhausting work, and she was looking forward to the chance to reflect on what had led her — happily — to convent life.”We have kind of a retreat before we renew our vows,” she said, sitting in the painfully neat sitting room of her big-city convent, where doilies cover most every surface, chairs are lined up in rows and the blare of horns drifts in through open windows. “We take one week off and we go for prayers and silence.”She had travelled to a New Delhi retreat centre, a collection of concrete buildings where she gathered with other young nuns. A priest was there to lead the sisters in reflection.The nun, who like others interviewed for this story spoke on condition she not be identified, is a strong and forceful woman who has spent years working with India’s poor and dispossessed, from battered wives to evicted families.But when she talks about the retreat her voice grows quiet, as if she’s afraid to be overheard in the empty room: “I felt this person, maybe he had some thoughts, some attraction.”He was in his 60s. She was four decades younger.One night, the priest went to a neighbourhood party. He came back late, after 9:30 pm, and knocked at her room.”‘I need to meet you,'” he said when she cracked open the door, insisting he wanted to discuss her spiritual life. She could smell the alcohol.”You’re not stable. I’m not ready to meet you,” she told him.But the priest forced open the door. He tried to kiss her. He grabbed at her body, groping wherever he could.Weeping, she pushed him back enough to slam the door and lock it.It wasn’t rape. She knows it could have been so much worse. But decades later she still reels at the memory, and this tough woman, for a few moments, looks like a scared young girl: “It was such a terrifying experience.”Afterward she quietly told her mother superior, who allowed her to avoid other meetings with the priest. She also wrote an anonymous letter to church officials, which she thinks may have led to the priest being re-assigned.But nothing was said aloud. There were no public reprimands, no warnings to the many nuns the priest would work with through his long career.She was too afraid to challenge him openly.”I couldn’t imagine taking that stand. It was too scary,” she said. “For me it was risking my own vocation.”So the fierce nun remained silent.Catholic history is filled with women who became martyrs to their own purity: Saint Agatha had her breasts torn off for refusing to marry; Saint Lucy was burned alive and stabbed in the throat for defending her virginity; Saint Maria Goretti was 11 years old when she was killed by a man who tried to rape her.”It is a sin!” Maria is said to have cried out. “God does not want it!”But for a nun, fighting off a priest’s advances means pinballing through centuries-old sexual and clerical traditions. Celibacy is a cornerstone of Catholic religious life, as is sexual purity among nuns. Many nuns say a sister who admits to a sexual experience — even if it’s forced — faces the risk of isolation within her order, and possibly even expulsion.”You’re not sure if you’ll be kept in your congregation, because so much is about your vow of chastity,” said Sister Shalini Mulackal, a New Delhi-based theologian. “That fear is there for the young ones to disclose what has happened to them.”At the same time, priests are seen as living representatives of Christ, with obedience to them another Catholic cornerstone.Then there is the isolation of young women struggling to find their way in new communities after leaving their homes.Caught at this intersection of sexual taboo, Catholic hierarchy and loneliness, sisters can be left at the mercy of predatory priests.”There’s a lot of emotion bottled up and when a little tenderness is shown by somebody it can be so easy for you to cross boundaries,” said Sister Dorothy Fernandes, who has spent years working with the urban poor in eastern India. “It can be hard to tell what is love and what is exploitation.”It’s particularly hard for sisters from Kerala, a deeply conservative region long the birthplace of most Indian nuns. Sex is rarely mentioned openly in small-town Kerala, boys and girls are largely kept apart, and a visible bra strap can be a minor crisis for a young woman.”Once you grow up, once you get your first menstruation, you are not encouraged to speak normally to a boy. And the boys also vice-versa,” said a nun from Kerala, a cheerful woman with sparkly glass earrings and an easy smile. She remembers the misery of Sunday mass as an adolescent, when boys would stand outside the church to watch girls filing in, eyes crawling over their young figures. “We have a terrible taboo about sex.”That naivety, she said, can be costly.Like the time she was a novice nun, still in her teens, and an older priest came to the Catholic centre where she worked. He was from Goa, a coastal region and former Portuguese colony.She shook her head: “I was in charge of visitors, and we had this bad habit of being hospitable.”At one point, she brought the priest’s laundry to his small room, where he was sitting. As she set down the clothes, he grabbed her and began to kiss her.At first, she had no idea what was happening.”The kissing was all coming here,” she said, gesturing at her chest.The confusion of that day is still clear on her face: “I was young. He was from Goa. I am from Kerala. In my mind I was trying to figure out: ‘Is this the way that Goans kiss?'”She quickly understood what was happening but couldn’t escape his fierce grip. She also could not call out for help: “I cannot shout! He’s a priest.””I didn’t want to offend him. I didn’t want to make him feel bad,” she said.So she pushed herself away from him until she could slip out the door.She quietly told a senior nun to not send novices to the priest’s room. But, like the nun who fought the drunken priest, she made no official complaint.A complaint against a priest means leveling an accusation against someone higher in the church hierarchy. It can mean getting pulled into a tangle of malicious rumors and church politics. It means risking your reputation, and the reputation of your order.In the church, even some of those who doubt there is widespread abuse of nuns say the silence can be enveloping.Archbishop Kuriakose Bharanikulangara, a New Delhi-based church leader, calls incidents of abuse “kind of sporadic. Once here, once there.”But “many people don’t want to talk,” he continued. “They may talk in the community, but they don’t want to bring it to the public, to the court.”Speaking up can also risk financial troubles, since many congregations of nuns are financially subservient to priests and bishops.The silence is magnified in India by demographics, religious politics and a deep-seated belief that women have little value.There are roughly 18 million Catholics in India, but that’s a small minority in this largely Hindu nation of 1.3 billion. Speaking up could tarnish the image of their church, many nuns worry, and feed criticism by Hindu hardliners.”Even we, as religious sisters, even we try to keep it quiet,” said Mulackal, the theologian. “A woman who goes through this experience, she just wants to hide it and pretend everything is OK.”The rapes, the nun says, happened in Room 20 of a small convent at the end of a one-lane road in rural Kerala.Set amid rows of banana and rubber trees near the little town of Kuravilangad, the sisters at the St Francis Mission Home spend their days in prayer or caring for the aged. In the garden, a statue of the Virgin Mary overlooks a decorative fish pond the size of a child’s wading pool. The pond is covered in green scum.The rapist, she says, was the most powerful man in this tiny small world: Bishop Franco Mulakkal.Smart and ambitious, Mulakkal had risen from small-town Kerala to become a bishop in north India, overseeing a sprawling Catholic community. He was also the official patron of her community of 81 sisters, the Missionaries of Jesus, wielding immense influence over its budgets and job assignments.The nun is a friendly woman with jet black hair known for her quiet confidence. Every few months, she says, Mulakkal would visit the St. Francis convent and summon her. Then, according to a letter she wrote to church officials, he raped her.The letter says the first rape happened on 5 May, 2014. The last time was on 23 September, 2016. The dates are recorded in the convent’s visitor logs.Mulakkal angrily denies the accusations, telling reporters the charges were “baseless and concocted” and accusing the sister of trying to blackmail him into giving her a better job.”I am going through painful agony,” said Mulakkal, who was jailed for three weeks and released on bail in October. “I tell everyone to pray to God: Let the truth prevail.”Catholicism envelopes this part of Kerala. Towns are marked by their cathedrals, convents and roadside shrines, where the Virgin watches passing traffic or St George slays the dragon. Businesses proclaim their owners’ faith: St Mary’s Furniture and Bed Center; Ave Maria Electronics; Jesus Oil Industries.Around here, many see Mulakkal as a martyr.A string of supporters visited him in jail, and crowds greeted him when he returned home, a ring of policemen holding back people who showered him with flower petals. “Hearty Welcome!” a banner proclaimed.But at the St Francis convent, one group of nuns watched news reports about that welcome with dismay. While the sister leveling the accusations against Mulakkal does not speak publicly, a half-dozen nuns cluster around her, offering support and speaking on her behalf.”Nobody came to see sister, but so many people came to wait in line to meet Bishop Franco in jail,” said Villoonnickal, the nun, who moved back to Kerala to support the woman she calls “our survivor sister.”That sister was the second of five children in a Kerala family. Her father was in the army. Her mother died when she was in high school. Wracked with grief, she was sent to stay with a cousin – a priest – living in north India. Inspired by her time with him, she became a nun in 1994, working in her early years as a teacher.She knew Mulakkal, of course. Everyone in the Missionaries of Jesus knows him. But the two were never close, the accuser’s friends say, and had no consensual sexual relationship.It was about fear.”The bishop is such a powerful person and standing against him, where will she go?” asked Villoonnickal. “If she went home what will happen to her?””Many times she was telling him to stop. But each time he was forcing himself on her,” she continued.Eventually, they say, she told some sisters what was happening. Then she says she repeatedly complained to church authorities. When nothing happened, she went to the police.She also went to confession.There, according to the other nuns, she was told she had to resist the bishop.”‘Even if you have to die, don’t submit yourself.'” the priest told her in confession, according to Villoonnickal. “‘Be courageous.'”Catholic authorities have said little about the case, with India’s Catholic Bishops’ Conference saying in an October statement that it has no jurisdiction over individual bishops, and that the investigation and court case, which could take many years, must run their course.”Silence should in no way be construed as siding with either of the two parties,” the group said. “We request prayers for the Church at this difficult time.”In Malayalam, the language of Kerala, sisters who leave the convent are sometimes marked as “Madhilu Chadi” — Wall Jumpers. It’s a mocking term for the sexually frustrated and is often used for nuns and priests who have fled religious life.Those who stay get respect. They have communities that embrace them. Their lives have direction, purpose. Those who leave often find themselves adrift in India, searching for new identities and spurned by families and friends. The events that knit families together — weddings, funerals, reunions — are suddenly off-limits. The emotional toll can be immense.Speaking up about the church’s troubles, many nuns say, could end with them forced from their convents, cut off in many ways from what they’ve always known.”It’s a fear of being isolated if I speak the truth,” said the nun who fought off the drunken priest. “If you do that, you have to go against your own community, your own religious superiors.”The result is an engulfing silence. Silence is the armor that sisters use to protect themselves and the lives they have created, even if it also means struggling with their memories, and protecting the men who abused them.In the end, most say nothing.”I didn’t tell anybody,” said the nun who escaped the priest kissing her chest, and who waited many years to talk about what had happened to her. “So you understand how these things are covered up.”
Share 00:00 /01:20 X To embed this piece of audio in your site, please use this code: Listen Amy BishopFrench-Tunisian artist eL Seed in front of his 60 X 40 sq. ft. “calligraffiti” on UH’s social work building. Amy BishopBy Thursday, about a third of the mural was complete. eL Seed chose translated a quote by Sam Houston into Arabic: “Knowledge is the food of genius, and my son, let no opportunity escape you to treasure up knowledge.”Shielding their eyes from the sun, students passing through the University of Houston campus stop to look up at the four-story social work building. Through the tree branches, hues of tangerine orange and baby blue seem to pop off what was once a brown brick wall. The 60 X 40 square ft. mural is the work of eL Seed, a French-Tunisian artist known for his calligraffiti, a fusion of graffiti and Arabic calligraphy. He chose a quote by Sam Houston and translated it into Arabic text. “I always do some research before I go to a place,” eL Seed says. “This is important to me to make work that is relevant to the place and to the community.”eL Seed’s calligraffiti has drawn attention around the world, specifically for his enormous paintings on the sides of buildings. Reactions were mixed when he used a mosque as one of his canvases. But his works convey messages of peace and humanity, which caught the eye of the staff at UH’s Cynthia Woods Mitchell Center for the Arts. He was a natural fit for their “Intersections” initiative, an effort to build bridges between Houston’s Muslim and non-Muslim communities.“We’re really thrilled that eL Seed chose to come to Houston because he’s highly in demand everywhere,” says Karen Farber, the center’s Executive Director. “He just did a gigantic project in Cairo, Egypt, on 50 buildings.”The large-scale work is a component of this year’s Counter Current Festival, a week-long event of experimental art in pop-up locations across the city. It’s set to stay on display for two years, but there’s no word yet if anything will replace it.
For the third time in three years, Baltimore has experienced 300 homicides.According to the Baltimore Police Department, three homicides on Nov. 2, occurring in the span of two hours, brought the city’s murder rate to 300. The city is on pace to surpass the record number of 344 homicides set in 2015, the year of the uprising following the death of Freddie Gray.Baltimore police say a 31-year-old man died at an area hospital after being found with gunshot wounds in the 5400 block of Moores Run Road at about 7:20 p.m. on Thursday evening.After that call, officers responded to another shooting on the 200 block of South Collins Ave., where they found another 31-year-old man suffering from gunshot wounds. He was pronounced dead at an area hospital.The third shooting occurred an hour later. Detectives found a woman inside a vacant house on the 700 block of Mura St., with a gunshot wound to her upper body. The woman was transported and later died at the hospital.On Nov. 4, Tony Mason Jr., 40, an off-duty officer with the Washington, D.C. Metropolitan Police Department (MPD), became Baltimore’s 301st homicide victim. Mason, a sergeant with MPD was killed during a double shooting during the early hours of Nov. 4, on the 2800 block of Elgin Ave. in West Baltimore. A 43-year-old woman, who also was shot in the leg in the incident, was transported to an area hospital for treatment, according to Baltimore police.Anyone with information on these shootings and homicides is asked to call detectives at 410-396-2100 or Metro Crime Stoppers at 1-866-7Lockup. You can also text tips to 443-902-4824.
Washingtonians are mourning the loss of Peggy Cooper Cafritz, a prominent philanthropist, art collector, activist, and arts education figure who helped found the famed high school, Duke Ellington School of the Arts.Cafritz, 70, died Feb. 18 at a local hospital. The Washington Post reported that she died after suffering complications from pneumonia.Peggy Cooper Cafritz, activist, educator, art collector, and founder of Duke Ellington School of the Arts, died Feb. 18.In 1974, Cafritz helped found the Duke Ellington School of the Arts, the only performing arts high school in the city that focuses on professional arts training and academic enrichment. The school serves as an incubator for college and careers in the arts and attracts students from all over the city who are gifted in the arts. Notable graduates include comedian Dave Chappelle and opera singer Denyce Graves.D.C. Mayor Muriel Bowser called Cafritz one of the city’s most inspiring and generous visionaries and activists. “Her belief in our young people and her dogged determination to break down barriers was matched by the extraordinary persistence and leadership needed to bring her vision to life,” Bowser said in a written statement. “Because of Peggy, we have the Duke Ellington School of the Arts. And because of Peggy, thousands of students have had, and will continue to have, the opportunity to grow and develop in an educational environment that supports their unique talents and aspirations. Her legacy will be felt by generations to come.”Cafritz took a hands-on approach at the school and gave her personal cell phone number to students, said Jalen Coleman, an Ellington graduate now attending Julliard.He remembers Cafritz as a mentor and a friend. When his family fell on hard times, Cafritz gave him money to pay hospital bills, buy supplies and other necessities, Coleman said. Another time, he was battling the flu and Cafritz invited him to her house because his mother was out of town.“She made sure I was fed, had medicine and rested for three days until I recovered,” Coleman recalled. “That’s who she was. Sometimes she would have multiple kids over at a time to help our individual situations. She loved to help.”Cafritz was born Pearl Alice Cooper on April 7, 1947 in Mobile, Ala. to a prominent Catholic family, and later changed her name to Peggy, according to USA Today. She attended George Washington University, earning an undergraduate degree in political science and later, a law degree.She got acquainted with the Washington arts and education scene while attending law school and co-created a summer arts workshop for low-income children in 1968. That program eventually became Duke Ellington School of the Arts, which D.C. Public Schools accepted in 1974, giving local students a path to pursue an education and career in the arts.Cafritz remained active in D.C.’s education circles. She took various positions at the school and served on the Ellington Fund, the school’s fundraising arm. From 1972 to 1976, she was on the executive committee of the D.C. Board of Higher Education that implemented a merger between the Federal City College and Washington Teachers College, which formed the University of the District of Columbia. She became president of the D.C. Board of Education in 2000 and stepped down after a rocky [WHY WERE THEY ROCKY?] six years.Cafritz’s mansion resembled a museum, thanks to her massive collection of African and African-American art, one of the largest private collections of such work. A 2009 fire destroyed more than 300 pieces of her collection, including pieces by Romare Bearden and Jacob Lawrence, according to the Washington Post.Her public service continued as chairwoman of the D.C. Commission on the Arts and Humanities from 1979 to 1987. In 1993, President Bill Clinton tapped her to serve as vice chair of the President’s Committee on the Arts and the Humanities. Her social circle included Clinton, Gloria Steinem, Quincy Jones, Vernon Jordan, and Alma Powell, wife of retired Gen. Colin Powell, according to the Post.Cafritz embarked on a career in broadcast, working as a programming executive for Post-Newsweek and a documentary producer for WTOP-TV from 1974 to 1977, winning an Emmy and Peabody Awards for her pieces. She won another Emmy as an arts reviewer for WETA-TV.She is survived by her children Zach Cafritz and Cooper Cafritz of Washington, and Arcelie Reyes of Newark, Vt.; a sister, Dominique Cooper of Silver Spring, Md.; two brothers, A.J. Cooper of Fairhope, Ala., and Jerome G. Cooper, former assistant secretary of the Air Force and ambassador to Jamaica, of Mobile; and three grandchildren.