NEW YORK (AP) — For the eighth time in the last two and a half months, a movie starring Tom Holland is No. 1 at the box office. &nbsp;

Studio estimates released Sunday say the Sony Pictures videogame adaptation “Uncharted” that stars Holland and Mark Wahlberg led ticket sales for its second weekend of release with $23.3 million. “Uncharted” held well and dropped a modest 46% from its $44 million debut. 

In two weeks, it’s made $83.4 million in U.S. and Canadian theaters. 

The Channing Tatum-led “Dog” remained at the number two spot. It declined just 32% with $10.1 million in its second weekend of release.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2022/2/1646009366159.png" alt="" />
 <figcaption></figcaption>
 </figure>By THE ASSOCIATED PRESSNEW YORK (AP) — For the eighth time in the last two and a half months, a movie starring Tom Holland is No. 1 at the box office. &nbsp;Studio estimates released Sunday say the Sony Pictures videogame adaptation “Uncharted” that stars Holland and Mark Wahlberg led ticket sales for its second weekend of release with $23.3 million. “Uncharted” held well and dropped a modest 46% from its $44 million debut. In two weeks, it’s made $83.4 million in U.S. and Canadian theaters. The Channing Tatum-led “Dog” remained at the number two spot. It declined just 32% with $10.1 million in its second weekend of release.

Tom Holland and 'Uncharted' stay No. 1 at box office

OMAHA, Neb. (AP) — The new skyscraper Mutual of Omaha plans to build in downtown Omaha will cost roughly $433 million.

 Documents filed with the city's Planning Department revealed several new details about the project although some of the figures could change because the building is still being designed. 

The tower the company wants to complete by early 2026 will have about 800,000 square feet of office space, which would be smaller than Mutual’s current headquarters in midtown Omaha which has more than 1 million square feet.

 The company also plans to request up to $68.6 million in tax-increment financing to help pay for the project.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2022/2/1646009102408.png" alt="" />
 <figcaption></figcaption>
 </figure>By THE ASSOCIATED PRESSOMAHA, Neb. (AP) — The new skyscraper Mutual of Omaha plans to build in downtown Omaha will cost roughly $433 million. Documents filed with the city's Planning Department revealed several new details about the project although some of the figures could change because the building is still being designed. The tower the company wants to complete by early 2026 will have about 800,000 square feet of office space, which would be smaller than Mutual’s current headquarters in midtown Omaha which has more than 1 million square feet. The company also plans to request up to $68.6 million in tax-increment financing to help pay for the project.

Mutual of Omaha's new headquarters tower to cost $433M

OMAHA, Neb. (AP) — An Omaha police officer is facing two more federal child pornography charges, and the department has moved to fire him. Officer Christopher Groth was originally charged with transporting child pornography. Now he is also charged with producing and possessing child pornography. 

Court documents say that Groth coerced a minor to engage in sexually explicit conduct between September and December of 2020 for the purpose of producing a visual depiction. 

An Omaha police spokesman said department officials started the process of firing the 15-year veteran shortly after his arrest earlier this month. 

He made his initial appearance in federal court on Feb. 16 and waived his right to a preliminary hearing.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2022/2/1646008948307.png" alt="Groth" />
 <figcaption>Groth</figcaption>
 </figure>By THE ASSOCIATED PRESSOMAHA, Neb. (AP) — An Omaha police officer is facing two more federal child pornography charges, and the department has moved to fire him. Officer Christopher Groth was originally charged with transporting child pornography. Now he is also charged with producing and possessing child pornography. Court documents say that Groth coerced a minor to engage in sexually explicit conduct between September and December of 2020 for the purpose of producing a visual depiction. An Omaha police spokesman said department officials started the process of firing the 15-year veteran shortly after his arrest earlier this month. He made his initial appearance in federal court on Feb. 16 and waived his right to a preliminary hearing.

Omaha police officer faces more child pornography charges

LENEXA, Kan. (AP) — Three people died after a shooting in a Kansas City suburb on Sunday. Lenexa Police Department spokesman Officer Danny Chavez said the shooting was reported around 1:20 a.m. Sunday inside a home in the 8400 block of Laurelwood Street in Lenexa. 

The Kansas City Star reports that three people with gunshot wounds were found inside the house. Chavez said one person died at the house. The other two victims were taken to a hospital where they later died. The victims’ names and ages were not immediately released. This is the first homicide reported in Lenexa since last May.

LENEXA, Kan. (AP) — Two people died and a third person was injured after a shooting in a Kansas City suburb on Sunday. 

Lenexa Police Department spokesman Officer Danny Chavez said the shooting was reported around 1:20 a.m. Sunday inside a home in the 8400 block of Laurelwood Street in Lenexa. 

The Kansas City Star reports that three people with gunshot wounds were found inside the house. Chavez said one person died at the house. The other two victims were taken to a hospital where one later died. The victims’ names and ages were not immediately released. And the condition of the victim that survived the shooting also wasn’t released Sunday morning.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2022/2/1645993256652.png" alt="Police at a home in the 8400 block of Laurelwood Street in Lenexa -photo courtesy KCTV" />
 <figcaption>Police at a home in the 8400 block of Laurelwood Street in Lenexa -photo courtesy KCTV</figcaption>
 </figure>LENEXA, Kan. (AP) — Three people died after a shooting in a Kansas City suburb on Sunday. Lenexa Police Department spokesman Officer Danny Chavez said the shooting was reported around 1:20 a.m. Sunday inside a home in the 8400 block of Laurelwood Street in Lenexa. The Kansas City Star reports that three people with gunshot wounds were found inside the house. Chavez said one person died at the house. The other two victims were taken to a hospital where they later died. The victims’ names and ages were not immediately released. This is the first homicide reported in Lenexa since last May.--------LENEXA, Kan. (AP) — Two people died and a third person was injured after a shooting in a Kansas City suburb on Sunday. Lenexa Police Department spokesman Officer Danny Chavez said the shooting was reported around 1:20 a.m. Sunday inside a home in the 8400 block of Laurelwood Street in Lenexa. The Kansas City Star reports that three people with gunshot wounds were found inside the house. Chavez said one person died at the house. The other two victims were taken to a hospital where one later died. The victims’ names and ages were not immediately released. And the condition of the victim that survived the shooting also wasn’t released Sunday morning.

Police: 3rd victim has died after shooting at Kansas home 

By DAVID CONDOS <a href="https://www.hppr.org/hppr-news/2022-02-21/a-hotter-drier-climate-and-dwindling-water-has-more-kansas-farmers-taking-a-chance-on-cotton">Kansas News Service</a>

MOSCOW — Across the state, small-town grain elevators 
painted with corn ears and wheat heads stand as monuments to the crops’ 
economic and cultural significance in rural Kansas.

Cotton gins? They’re a bit harder to come by.

Farmers have grown cotton in Kansas for more than <a href="https://www.rd.usda.gov/sites/default/files/CoopMag-mar07.pdf" target="_blank">100 years</a>.
 But in a state better known for grain and beef, it’s been a challenge 
for the fluffy fiber to break into the agricultural mainstream.

Yet
 cotton might be taking hold in southwest Kansas and other parts of the 
Midwest where temperatures keep climbing and irrigation sources keep 
declining.

It could help farmers conserve water, weather drought 
and adapt to a changing climate. And with the arrival of more 
infrastructure to help people grow it here, cotton’s time in Kansas 
might finally be coming.

At the only cotton gin in western Kansas, the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/nwcg2008/" target="_blank">Northwest Cotton Growers Co-op</a>
 processed nearly 25,000 bales this past year. With room to grow, 
operations manager Michael Cutchins said the facility can handle as much
 cotton as Kansas farmers could possibly throw at it.

“Everything’s there,” Cutchins said. “We’re just waiting on the acres.”

The
 cavernous warehouse opened on the outskirts of Moscow in southwest 
Kansas three years ago. That’s when the producers who run the co-op 
invested roughly $13 million to upgrade from their smaller, older gin in
 the hopes of preparing for the industry’s upward trend.

Inside, 
metal cylinders covered in spikes spin at a rate of 1,200 rotations per 
minute. A maze of industrial dryers and saw blades tear, heat and clean 
the cotton until only the white lint remains.

Cutchins opens the casing of a towering gin stand and rests his hand 
on an agitator roller that helps remove the cottonseed from the fiber.

“It’s good at losing your fingers,” he said, “and it’s good at mulching stuff up.”

Everything’s
 managed from the central control station — a half-moon-shaped desk 
covered in screens, knobs and buttons that looks like it could launch a 
space shuttle.

With a snaking network of vacuum-powered tubes 
whooshing cotton from one machine to the next, the entire ginning 
process can take less than a minute … “when everything’s running like it
 should.”

“It’s the pretty part to sit back and watch,” Cutchins said.

In the cotton business, even the trash isn’t really trash. Every part of the plant that gets processed here turns into profits.

The sticks and leaves the machinery separates from the lint are sold to feed yards where they add roughage to cattle diets.

And
 the tiny seed that Eli Whitney invented the first cotton gin to remove 
more than 200 years ago is in high demand. Dairies feed it to milk cows 
because it's packed with protein. Mills crush it to make lip balms and 
cooking oils.

Under a shelter outside the warehouse, Cutchins and 
co-op office manager Jennifer Hewitt gaze up at a mountain of seeds that
 resembles a highway department’s stash of road salt.

Selling the 
seeds now makes up a majority of the gin’s income. But no matter which 
part of the plant the co-op’s revenue comes from, Hewitt said it all 
helps make cotton farming a viable option for farmers in this region.

“That’s
 the whole point of a co-op, so it’s not an individual owner that’s 
getting to pocket the money,” Hewitt said. “At the end of the day, the 
profit goes back to the producers.”

Kansas cotton fields covered just <a href="https://www.agriculture.ks.gov/docs/default-source/ag-growth-summit/january-2018-documents/cotton-sector.pdf?sfvrsn=f03d80c1_16" target="_blank">16,000 acres</a> in 2015. By 2020, that number had grown more than 12-fold to <a href="https://www.agriculture.ks.gov/docs/default-source/ag-growth-summit/2021-growth-documents/cotton.pdf?sfvrsn=37dc96c1_4" target="_blank">195,000 acres</a>. While that’s still only a fraction of the nearly <a href="https://kscorn.com/2021/01/12/kansas-farmers-harvest-second-largest-corn-crop/" target="_blank">6 million acres</a> growing Kansas corn, cotton farming now contributes a statewide economic impact of more than <a href="https://www.agriculture.ks.gov/docs/default-source/ag-marketing/county-ag-stats/2021-state-of-kansas.pdf?sfvrsn=467097c1_0" target="_blank">$100 million</a>.

So why hasn’t the cotton industry been booming in Kansas all along?

One reason is cotton plants need heat. Lots of it.

“As
 you go farther north,” Jonathan Aguilar, a water resources engineer 
with Kansas State University, said, “we are considered what we call 
‘thermal limited.’”

That’s why it’s more commonly planted in 
places like Texas and the Southeast. The areas along U.S. 50 in western 
Kansas are generally considered the northernmost reaches of cotton’s 
growing range here.

But as climate change brings more heat to 
Kansas, that borderline could continue inching north. And drought, which
 can be a death knell for other crops, might give cotton the heat it 
needs to make more lint.

“You might think about drought as 
(something that’s) going to be devastating,” Aguilar said. “But 
actually, it may improve the production of cotton here.”

At his research plots near Garden City, Aguilar studies exactly how 
much water might be the right amount for cotton in this region. He’s 
found that irrigating these plants too much can actually <a href="https://www.ksre.k-state.edu/news/stories/2021/11/cotton-research-in-southwest-kansas.html" target="_blank">decrease</a> their productivity.

Other K-State <a href="https://webapp.agron.ksu.edu/agr_social/m_eu_article.throck?article_id=2572" target="_blank">research</a>
 shows even just one inch of irrigation, if applied at the right time, 
could significantly boost cotton harvests. In order to get that same 
type of increase in a corn crop, Aguilar said farmers would have to use 
at least five inches of water.

That’s a big deal in this part of Kansas, which depends heavily on the <a href="https://www.hppr.org/hppr-news/2021-05-05/farmers-trying-to-save-the-ogallala-aquifer-face-tension-from-peers-but-their-profits-are-improving" target="_blank">dwindling Ogallala Aquifer</a> for both irrigation and drinking water.

Another
 barrier that kept cotton from catching on in Kansas is herbicide drift,
 when chemicals intended for grain fields cause havoc on nearby cotton. 
For example, the wind can carry vapor of the herbicide 2,4-D for miles, 
unintentionally causing <a href="https://agrilifetoday.tamu.edu/2001/05/25/cotton-and-24-d-drift-dont-mix/" target="_blank">severe harm</a> to cotton plants within that range.

But
 Aguilar said new cotton varieties have recently been developed to 
withstand those herbicides, opening the door for more farmers to give it
 a try in their crop rotations alongside those grains.

Even with the potential upside cotton has shown in the region, people
 like Jayce Winters, communications manager for the Plains Cotton 
Cooperative Association, or PCCA, often find that convincing Kansas 
farmers to give it a try can be tough.

“Cotton is a big learning 
curve,” Winters said. “It involves different machinery, different 
technology, different growing systems. The marketing process is entirely
 different.”

And it doesn’t help that Kansas hasn’t historically 
had much cotton infrastructure — things like the cotton gins that turn 
harvests into bales and the warehouses that store those bales while they
 wait to be shipped off to textile mills around the globe.

“It 
doesn’t matter what your commodity is,” Winters said. “If you don't have
 a system in place to be able to help you handle what comes next … 
there’s really no sense in growing it.”

Winters
 said the state’s four gins have made significant improvements over the 
past few years to to handle bigger harvests. PCCA’s cotton warehouse in 
Liberal can hold up to 150,000 bales, and the group recently opened a <a href="https://pcca.com/article/growing-and-going-pccas-kansas-warehouse-expansion/" target="_blank">$12.5 million</a> warehouse — the state’s second — southwest of Wichita.

When Andy Moser started 
growing cotton on his land in Stevens County southwest of Moscow five 
years ago, it might have taken five months to get his crop processed. 
That meant he had to wait five months after harvest to get paid.

This season, it only took a couple of weeks.

“As
 more people get comfortable with it, I do think acres will steadily 
increase,” he said. “Some of that will be out of necessity, and some of 
it will be out of economics.”

That’s because farmers have to worry
 about which combination of crops will give them the best chance to keep
 their operations afloat in a given season. Moser said the cotton market
 can still be “boom or bust,” and the number of acres Kansas farmers 
planted with cotton <a href="https://www.nass.usda.gov/Statistics_by_State/Kansas/Publications/Crops_Releases/Crop_Production/2021/KS-croppr2111.pdf" target="_blank">dipped</a> down again this past year.

But
 as the availability of water on Moser’s farm has dropped, the number of
 acres he’s planted with cotton has gone up. Right now, cotton takes up 
about a quarter of his land. That leaves him with enough water to 
irrigate the corn he grows on his other fields.

And with <a href="https://www.macrotrends.net/2533/cotton-prices-historical-chart-data" target="_blank">cotton prices higher</a>
 than they’ve been in a decade, Moser said the chance he took on growing
 cotton this year is paying off — he just wishes he had planted more of 
it.

“The profitability of it can really be pretty eye-opening,” 
Moser said. “The old guys just want to grow corn or just want to grow 
milo or grow what they're used to, and young guys, sometimes we gotta 
take some risks to get ahead.”

That generational divide may represent one of the last remaining hurdles to cotton’s growth in Kansas.

For
 producers who have grown grain for generations, planting this 
unfamiliar crop for the first time can still feel like a big risk. And 
Jennifer Hewitt with the Moscow cotton gin said she doesn’t blame anyone
 for being hesitant.

“It’s not just, ‘Oh, let’s sow some seed in 
the ground,’” Hewitt said. “You’re going to spend hundreds and thousands
 of dollars to try something new, and it’s extremely scary.”

She plans to hold pop-up meetings around the state this year to help more producers get familiar with cotton. 

But she knows that changing the culture among farmers here will take time. Maybe even generations.

“It
 seems like the number one reason we hear is, ‘Well, Grandpa says no,’” 
she said. “But as the younger generation takes over and starts realizing
 they need other options, I think it’ll become more and more popular.”

And as grain <a href="https://www.hppr.org/hppr-news/2022-02-14/midwest-farmers-are-struggling-with-higher-fertilizer-prices" target="_blank">fertilizer costs</a> rise and <a href="https://www.hppr.org/hppr-news/2021-05-05/farmers-trying-to-save-the-ogallala-aquifer-face-tension-from-peers-but-their-profits-are-improving" target="_blank">water levels</a> drop, she expects southwest Kansas attitudes — and acres — to keep shifting in cotton’s direction.

“That's why we've built what we've built.”

David Condos covers western Kansas for High Plains Public Radio and the Kansas News Service. You can follow him on Twitter<a href="http://twitter.com/davidcondos" target="_blank"> @davidcondos</a>.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2022/2/1645539036150.png" alt="Michael Cutchins stands in front of a mountain of cottonseeds that have been removed by the gin at the Northwest Cotton Growers Co-op. David Condos / Kansas News Service" />
 <figcaption>Michael Cutchins stands in front of a mountain of cottonseeds that have been removed by the gin at the Northwest Cotton Growers Co-op. David Condos / Kansas News Service</figcaption>
 </figure>By DAVID CONDOS <a href="https://www.hppr.org/hppr-news/2022-02-21/a-hotter-drier-climate-and-dwindling-water-has-more-kansas-farmers-taking-a-chance-on-cotton">Kansas News Service</a>MOSCOW — Across the state, small-town grain elevators 
painted with corn ears and wheat heads stand as monuments to the crops’ 
economic and cultural significance in rural Kansas.Cotton gins? They’re a bit harder to come by.Farmers have grown cotton in Kansas for more than <a href="https://www.rd.usda.gov/sites/default/files/CoopMag-mar07.pdf" target="_blank">100 years</a>.
 But in a state better known for grain and beef, it’s been a challenge 
for the fluffy fiber to break into the agricultural mainstream.Yet
 cotton might be taking hold in southwest Kansas and other parts of the 
Midwest where temperatures keep climbing and irrigation sources keep 
declining.It could help farmers conserve water, weather drought 
and adapt to a changing climate. And with the arrival of more 
infrastructure to help people grow it here, cotton’s time in Kansas 
might finally be coming.<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2022/2/1645539118420.png" alt="Small scraps of cotton dot the landscape on the side of the road leading to the Northwest Cotton Growers Co-op in Moscow, Kansas. David Condos / Kansas News Service" />
 <figcaption>Small scraps of cotton dot the landscape on the side of the road leading to the Northwest Cotton Growers Co-op in Moscow, Kansas. David Condos / Kansas News Service</figcaption>
 </figure>At the only cotton gin in western Kansas, the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/nwcg2008/" target="_blank">Northwest Cotton Growers Co-op</a>
 processed nearly 25,000 bales this past year. With room to grow, 
operations manager Michael Cutchins said the facility can handle as much
 cotton as Kansas farmers could possibly throw at it.“Everything’s there,” Cutchins said. “We’re just waiting on the acres.”The
 cavernous warehouse opened on the outskirts of Moscow in southwest 
Kansas three years ago. That’s when the producers who run the co-op 
invested roughly $13 million to upgrade from their smaller, older gin in
 the hopes of preparing for the industry’s upward trend.Inside, 
metal cylinders covered in spikes spin at a rate of 1,200 rotations per 
minute. A maze of industrial dryers and saw blades tear, heat and clean 
the cotton until only the white lint remains.<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2022/2/1645539161779.png" alt="This agitator in one of Northwest Cotton Growers Co-op's gin stands removes the cottonseed from the lint. David Condos / Kansas News Service" />
 <figcaption>This agitator in one of Northwest Cotton Growers Co-op's gin stands removes the cottonseed from the lint. David Condos / Kansas News Service</figcaption>
 </figure>Cutchins opens the casing of a towering gin stand and rests his hand 
on an agitator roller that helps remove the cottonseed from the fiber.“It’s good at losing your fingers,” he said, “and it’s good at mulching stuff up.”Everything’s
 managed from the central control station — a half-moon-shaped desk 
covered in screens, knobs and buttons that looks like it could launch a 
space shuttle.With a snaking network of vacuum-powered tubes 
whooshing cotton from one machine to the next, the entire ginning 
process can take less than a minute … “when everything’s running like it
 should.”“It’s the pretty part to sit back and watch,” Cutchins said.<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2022/2/1645539203822.png" alt="Jennifer Hewitt, left, and Michael Cutchins stand in front of the Northwest Cotton Growers Co-op's upgraded gin, which opened in 2019. David Condos / Kansas News Service" />
 <figcaption>Jennifer Hewitt, left, and Michael Cutchins stand in front of the Northwest Cotton Growers Co-op's upgraded gin, which opened in 2019. David Condos / Kansas News Service</figcaption>
 </figure>In the cotton business, even the trash isn’t really trash. Every part of the plant that gets processed here turns into profits.The sticks and leaves the machinery separates from the lint are sold to feed yards where they add roughage to cattle diets.And
 the tiny seed that Eli Whitney invented the first cotton gin to remove 
more than 200 years ago is in high demand. Dairies feed it to milk cows 
because it's packed with protein. Mills crush it to make lip balms and 
cooking oils.Under a shelter outside the warehouse, Cutchins and 
co-op office manager Jennifer Hewitt gaze up at a mountain of seeds that
 resembles a highway department’s stash of road salt.Selling the 
seeds now makes up a majority of the gin’s income. But no matter which 
part of the plant the co-op’s revenue comes from, Hewitt said it all 
helps make cotton farming a viable option for farmers in this region.“That’s
 the whole point of a co-op, so it’s not an individual owner that’s 
getting to pocket the money,” Hewitt said. “At the end of the day, the 
profit goes back to the producers.”<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2022/2/1645539232911.png" alt="" />
 <figcaption></figcaption>
 </figure>On the borderlineKansas cotton fields covered just <a href="https://www.agriculture.ks.gov/docs/default-source/ag-growth-summit/january-2018-documents/cotton-sector.pdf?sfvrsn=f03d80c1_16" target="_blank">16,000 acres</a> in 2015. By 2020, that number had grown more than 12-fold to <a href="https://www.agriculture.ks.gov/docs/default-source/ag-growth-summit/2021-growth-documents/cotton.pdf?sfvrsn=37dc96c1_4" target="_blank">195,000 acres</a>. While that’s still only a fraction of the nearly <a href="https://kscorn.com/2021/01/12/kansas-farmers-harvest-second-largest-corn-crop/" target="_blank">6 million acres</a> growing Kansas corn, cotton farming now contributes a statewide economic impact of more than <a href="https://www.agriculture.ks.gov/docs/default-source/ag-marketing/county-ag-stats/2021-state-of-kansas.pdf?sfvrsn=467097c1_0" target="_blank">$100 million</a>.So why hasn’t the cotton industry been booming in Kansas all along?One reason is cotton plants need heat. Lots of it.“As
 you go farther north,” Jonathan Aguilar, a water resources engineer 
with Kansas State University, said, “we are considered what we call 
‘thermal limited.’”That’s why it’s more commonly planted in 
places like Texas and the Southeast. The areas along U.S. 50 in western 
Kansas are generally considered the northernmost reaches of cotton’s 
growing range here.But as climate change brings more heat to 
Kansas, that borderline could continue inching north. And drought, which
 can be a death knell for other crops, might give cotton the heat it 
needs to make more lint.“You might think about drought as 
(something that’s) going to be devastating,” Aguilar said. “But 
actually, it may improve the production of cotton here.”<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2022/2/1645539279765.png" alt="" />
 <figcaption></figcaption>
 </figure>At his research plots near Garden City, Aguilar studies exactly how 
much water might be the right amount for cotton in this region. He’s 
found that irrigating these plants too much can actually <a href="https://www.ksre.k-state.edu/news/stories/2021/11/cotton-research-in-southwest-kansas.html" target="_blank">decrease</a> their productivity.Other K-State <a href="https://webapp.agron.ksu.edu/agr_social/m_eu_article.throck?article_id=2572" target="_blank">research</a>
 shows even just one inch of irrigation, if applied at the right time, 
could significantly boost cotton harvests. In order to get that same 
type of increase in a corn crop, Aguilar said farmers would have to use 
at least five inches of water.That’s a big deal in this part of Kansas, which depends heavily on the <a href="https://www.hppr.org/hppr-news/2021-05-05/farmers-trying-to-save-the-ogallala-aquifer-face-tension-from-peers-but-their-profits-are-improving" target="_blank">dwindling Ogallala Aquifer</a> for both irrigation and drinking water.Another
 barrier that kept cotton from catching on in Kansas is herbicide drift,
 when chemicals intended for grain fields cause havoc on nearby cotton. 
For example, the wind can carry vapor of the herbicide 2,4-D for miles, 
unintentionally causing <a href="https://agrilifetoday.tamu.edu/2001/05/25/cotton-and-24-d-drift-dont-mix/" target="_blank">severe harm</a> to cotton plants within that range.But
 Aguilar said new cotton varieties have recently been developed to 
withstand those herbicides, opening the door for more farmers to give it
 a try in their crop rotations alongside those grains.<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2022/2/1645539326049.png" alt="At the PCCA warehouse in Liberal, Kansas, tens of thousands of cotton bales wait to be shipped out. David Condos / Kansas News Service" />
 <figcaption>At the PCCA warehouse in Liberal, Kansas, tens of thousands of cotton bales wait to be shipped out. David Condos / Kansas News Service</figcaption>
 </figure>Even with the potential upside cotton has shown in the region, people
 like Jayce Winters, communications manager for the Plains Cotton 
Cooperative Association, or PCCA, often find that convincing Kansas 
farmers to give it a try can be tough.“Cotton is a big learning 
curve,” Winters said. “It involves different machinery, different 
technology, different growing systems. The marketing process is entirely
 different.”And it doesn’t help that Kansas hasn’t historically 
had much cotton infrastructure — things like the cotton gins that turn 
harvests into bales and the warehouses that store those bales while they
 wait to be shipped off to textile mills around the globe.“It 
doesn’t matter what your commodity is,” Winters said. “If you don't have
 a system in place to be able to help you handle what comes next … 
there’s really no sense in growing it.”But that’s starting to change.Winters
 said the state’s four gins have made significant improvements over the 
past few years to to handle bigger harvests. PCCA’s cotton warehouse in 
Liberal can hold up to 150,000 bales, and the group recently opened a <a href="https://pcca.com/article/growing-and-going-pccas-kansas-warehouse-expansion/" target="_blank">$12.5 million</a> warehouse — the state’s second — southwest of Wichita.<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2022/2/1645539353093.png" alt="" />
 <figcaption></figcaption>
 </figure>‘We gotta take some risks’When Andy Moser started 
growing cotton on his land in Stevens County southwest of Moscow five 
years ago, it might have taken five months to get his crop processed. 
That meant he had to wait five months after harvest to get paid.This season, it only took a couple of weeks.“As
 more people get comfortable with it, I do think acres will steadily 
increase,” he said. “Some of that will be out of necessity, and some of 
it will be out of economics.”That’s because farmers have to worry
 about which combination of crops will give them the best chance to keep
 their operations afloat in a given season. Moser said the cotton market
 can still be “boom or bust,” and the number of acres Kansas farmers 
planted with cotton <a href="https://www.nass.usda.gov/Statistics_by_State/Kansas/Publications/Crops_Releases/Crop_Production/2021/KS-croppr2111.pdf" target="_blank">dipped</a> down again this past year.But
 as the availability of water on Moser’s farm has dropped, the number of
 acres he’s planted with cotton has gone up. Right now, cotton takes up 
about a quarter of his land. That leaves him with enough water to 
irrigate the corn he grows on his other fields.And with <a href="https://www.macrotrends.net/2533/cotton-prices-historical-chart-data" target="_blank">cotton prices higher</a>
 than they’ve been in a decade, Moser said the chance he took on growing
 cotton this year is paying off — he just wishes he had planted more of 
it.“The profitability of it can really be pretty eye-opening,” 
Moser said. “The old guys just want to grow corn or just want to grow 
milo or grow what they're used to, and young guys, sometimes we gotta 
take some risks to get ahead.”That generational divide may represent one of the last remaining hurdles to cotton’s growth in Kansas.For
 producers who have grown grain for generations, planting this 
unfamiliar crop for the first time can still feel like a big risk. And 
Jennifer Hewitt with the Moscow cotton gin said she doesn’t blame anyone
 for being hesitant.“It’s not just, ‘Oh, let’s sow some seed in 
the ground,’” Hewitt said. “You’re going to spend hundreds and thousands
 of dollars to try something new, and it’s extremely scary.”<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2022/2/1645539408112.png" alt="This control station manages the gin operation at the Northwest Cotton Growers Co-op. Here, Jennifer Hewitt points through the glass that separates the station from the machinery. David Condos / Kansas News Service" />
 <figcaption>This control station manages the gin operation at the Northwest Cotton Growers Co-op. Here, Jennifer Hewitt points through the glass that separates the station from the machinery. David Condos / Kansas News Service</figcaption>
 </figure>She plans to hold pop-up meetings around the state this year to help more producers get familiar with cotton. But she knows that changing the culture among farmers here will take time. Maybe even generations.“It
 seems like the number one reason we hear is, ‘Well, Grandpa says no,’” 
she said. “But as the younger generation takes over and starts realizing
 they need other options, I think it’ll become more and more popular.”And as grain <a href="https://www.hppr.org/hppr-news/2022-02-14/midwest-farmers-are-struggling-with-higher-fertilizer-prices" target="_blank">fertilizer costs</a> rise and <a href="https://www.hppr.org/hppr-news/2021-05-05/farmers-trying-to-save-the-ogallala-aquifer-face-tension-from-peers-but-their-profits-are-improving" target="_blank">water levels</a> drop, she expects southwest Kansas attitudes — and acres — to keep shifting in cotton’s direction.“That's why we've built what we've built.”David Condos covers western Kansas for High Plains Public Radio and the Kansas News Service. You can follow him on Twitter<a href="http://twitter.com/davidcondos" target="_blank"> @davidcondos</a>.

More Kan. farmers take a chance on cotton in hotter, drier climate

(AP)-The United States and Europe are slapping official sanctions on Russian banks and tech companies. &nbsp;

But bars and liquor stores across America and Canada have found another way to punish Russia for invading Ukraine: They’re pulling Russian vodka off their shelves and promoting Ukrainian brands instead. 

“I woke up yesterday morning, and I saw that Russia had invaded Ukraine. You wonder what you can do,’’ said Bob Quay, owner of Bob’s Bar in Grand Rapids, Michigan. “The U.S. obviously is putting on sanctions. I thought I would put on sanctions as well.’’

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2022/2/1645964856456.jpg" alt="Image courtesy of Pixabay" />
 <figcaption>Image courtesy of Pixabay</figcaption>
 </figure>By THE ASSOCIATED PRESS(AP)-The United States and Europe are slapping official sanctions on Russian banks and tech companies. &nbsp;But bars and liquor stores across America and Canada have found another way to punish Russia for invading Ukraine: They’re pulling Russian vodka off their shelves and promoting Ukrainian brands instead. “I woke up yesterday morning, and I saw that Russia had invaded Ukraine. You wonder what you can do,’’ said Bob Quay, owner of Bob’s Bar in Grand Rapids, Michigan. “The U.S. obviously is putting on sanctions. I thought I would put on sanctions as well.’’

Potent protest: Bars drop Russian vodka, promote Ukraine's

For transgender Catholics across the United States, retaining their faith can entail complex calculations. They face rebukes from some fellow Catholics, including many bishops, yet find full acceptance in some premises of the church.

A small but growing number of parishes have formed LGBTQ ministries or support groups and warmly welcome transgender people on their own terms. Yet within the past two years, at least six Catholic dioceses have issued guidelines targeting trans people with restrictions and refusing to recognize their gender identity.

“Many of our bishops are anti-science. ... They are cold and cruel,” said Sister Luisa Derouen, a retired nun who has ministered to transgender people. “You can’t respect people and deny their existence at the same time.”

The latest policy targeting trans Catholics was issued by the Archdiocese of Milwaukee in January. It bars church personnel from using trans people’s preferred pronouns that reflect their gender identity.

Objecting to trans-supportive “gender theory,”&nbsp;<a href="https://www.archmil.org/ArchMil/attachments/2022GenderTheoryfinal.pdf" target="_blank">the policy</a>&nbsp;stipulates that “all interactions and policies, parishes, organizations, and institutions are to recognize only a person’s biological sex.”

Among other measures, it says parishes, schools and other Catholic organizations in the archdiocese must require people to use bathrooms associated with their birth gender and adhere to dress codes on the same basis.

And a broader&nbsp;<a href="https://www.dioceseofmarquette.org/images/files/07-29-21%20Instruction-Created%20in%20the%20Image%20and%20Likeness%20of%20God%281%29.pdf" target="_blank">policy</a>&nbsp;issued in July by the Diocese of Marquette, which encompasses Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, said pastors should deny trans, gay and nonbinary Catholics the sacraments — such as baptism and Communion — “unless the person has repented.” It was signed by Bishop John Doerfler.

But in some other parishes around the country, a different, more welcoming face of the church is on display.

Just a few weeks before the Marquette policy was issued, the Church of Our Lady of Grace in Hoboken, New Jersey, celebrated its annual&nbsp;<a href="http://www.olghoboken.com/index.php/ministries/lgbtq-grace" target="_blank">Pride Mass</a>&nbsp;in support of the LGBTQ community. Delivering part of the homily at the invitation of the priest, Alexander Santora, was Christine Zuba, a transgender woman from New Jersey.

“We are not disordered, confused or a fad,” Zuba said, sharing with other worshippers the decades-long journey that led her to come out six years earlier at age 58. “We are not trying to defy God, nor to play God.”

“By staying visible, not only outside these walls but inside our churches, we change hearts and minds, one person at a time,” she concluded. “Once in a while we may get thrown out, but if that happens, we’re not going away. We’re coming right back in.”

Santora, a priest for 40 years, said the other worshippers rose and applauded.

“Our church was opened in 1878,” Santora said. “I wanted Christine to be on that pulpit.”

A lifelong Catholic, Zuba said she knew from age 4 that she was different. When she finally decided to come out five decades later, she was grateful that a nearby parish, Saints Peter and Paul in Turnersville, New Jersey, welcomed her. She serves there as a eucharistic minister.

Yet she knows that much of the Catholic hierarchy, including the&nbsp;<a href="https://www.usccb.org/equality-act" target="_blank">U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops</a>, rejects the concept of gender transition.

“These bishops and priests don’t understand that when they turn someone away, they’re losing parents, children, groups of friends who say this is not the church we want to belong to,” Zuba said.

Lynn Discenza, a 64-year-old transgender woman, grew up in a churchgoing Italian American family in West Hartford, Connecticut, and gave seminary a try before pursuing a career in aerospace design.

She considers herself fortunate, after transitioning two years ago, to be part of a welcoming Catholic church in the area — Saint Patrick-Saint Anthony Church in Hartford. She is a co-leader of its LGBTQ ministry.

Particularly moving, Discenza said, was a Nov. 21 observance marking the annual Transgender Day of Remembrance, which commemorates people killed due to anti-trans violence. She thanked the other worshippers for their support, and they responded with applause.

The pastor, Timothy Shreenan, highlighted the commemoration in the church bulletin.

“We must always stand up against hatred in all its forms, and not allow others’ fears (or phobias) to be a reason for hatred,” he wrote. “Rather, we must continue to learn more about the experience of others and to become more tolerant and accepting of one another.”

Discenza hopes that grassroots activism on behalf of greater inclusivity will accelerate as more parishes add LGBTQ ministries.

“The change is going to come from the ground up, and some of the old bishops will die away,” she said.

For young transgender Catholics, the conflicting approaches of individual churches and clergy can pose challenges to both them and their parents.

Eli Musselman of Philadelphia, who turns 19 in March and came out as transgender almost four years ago, said he felt a strong connection with his faith as a boy and many of his friends supported him.

But the pastor of the family’s longtime parish declined to refer to him with masculine pronouns and he had anxiety attacks in church due to some parishioners’ “nasty looks,” prompting the family to switch to a parish that made them feel at home.

“A place that had once been a safe haven for me had become a place of dangers,” said Musselman, now a freshman at the Jesuit-run St. Josephs University, where students and most professors, with one hurtful exception, have been supportive.

“But since coming out,” he added, “my spirituality has grown. ... I feel whole for the first time in my life.”

“I lost some really good friends,” said his mother, JoEllen Musselman. “I felt I was constantly making apologies to people, and I got tired of that.”

After embracing Catholicism as a convert after her marriage, she now has mixed feelings. Though determined to remain active in the church and advocate for greater inclusivity, she remains skeptical about the topmost Catholic leaders.

“They’re flawed,” she said. “If it wasn’t for Christ, the church would collapse, because we humans screw everything up.”

At the highest level of Catholic leadership, Pope Francis’ position can best be described as two-sided.

On one hand, he has personally ministered to trans Catholics, receiving them in the Vatican and encountering them as an archbishop in Argentina, and he has said the Catholic Church must accompany them. However, he has repeatedly denounced “gender theory” and what he calls the “ideological colonization” in some schools that teaches children they can change their biological sex at will.

Francis spoke at length on the issue during a 2016 press conference, stressing the need to avoid “gender ideology” but reasserting the need to minister to trans Catholics. “But please don’t say ‘The pope sanctifies trans!’ Please!”

Luisa Derouen, the retired nun who has ministered to more than 250 transgender people since 1999, received permission from her superiors in 2014 to write about that work. But that was on condition she not identify herself or her congregation, the Dominican Sisters of Peace. She did so under a pseudonym, which she ultimately abandoned in 2018 to&nbsp;<a href="https://lgbtqreligiousarchives.org/profiles/luisa-derouen" target="_blank">publicly speak out</a>&nbsp;on behalf of trans people and “give witness to their dignity and worth as human beings.”

In a recent interview, Derouen said friction over transgender inclusion is likely to intensify.

“There has never been a time in the American church when Catholic hierarchy has had less moral credibility,” she said. “The people in the pews are taking responsibility for doing their own homework and recognizing that we are all God’s people.”

Michael Sennett, a 26-year-old transgender man, sees that happening at the Church of St. Ignatius of Loyola in Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts, where he is communications director.

The unwelcoming attitude of some bishops discourages him, but he’s heartened by advances, including the formation of a support group called LGBTQ+ Catholics.

“Overall I marvel at the progress,” Sennett said. “People are speaking up as never before, joining forces. … The laity is finding more power.”

By DAVID CRARY, Associated PressFor transgender Catholics across the United States, retaining their faith can entail complex calculations. They face rebukes from some fellow Catholics, including many bishops, yet find full acceptance in some premises of the church.A small but growing number of parishes have formed LGBTQ ministries or support groups and warmly welcome transgender people on their own terms. Yet within the past two years, at least six Catholic dioceses have issued guidelines targeting trans people with restrictions and refusing to recognize their gender identity.“Many of our bishops are anti-science. ... They are cold and cruel,” said Sister Luisa Derouen, a retired nun who has ministered to transgender people. “You can’t respect people and deny their existence at the same time.”The latest policy targeting trans Catholics was issued by the Archdiocese of Milwaukee in January. It bars church personnel from using trans people’s preferred pronouns that reflect their gender identity.Objecting to trans-supportive “gender theory,”&nbsp;<a href="https://www.archmil.org/ArchMil/attachments/2022GenderTheoryfinal.pdf" target="_blank">the policy</a>&nbsp;stipulates that “all interactions and policies, parishes, organizations, and institutions are to recognize only a person’s biological sex.”Among other measures, it says parishes, schools and other Catholic organizations in the archdiocese must require people to use bathrooms associated with their birth gender and adhere to dress codes on the same basis.And a broader&nbsp;<a href="https://www.dioceseofmarquette.org/images/files/07-29-21%20Instruction-Created%20in%20the%20Image%20and%20Likeness%20of%20God%281%29.pdf" target="_blank">policy</a>&nbsp;issued in July by the Diocese of Marquette, which encompasses Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, said pastors should deny trans, gay and nonbinary Catholics the sacraments — such as baptism and Communion — “unless the person has repented.” It was signed by Bishop John Doerfler.But in some other parishes around the country, a different, more welcoming face of the church is on display.Just a few weeks before the Marquette policy was issued, the Church of Our Lady of Grace in Hoboken, New Jersey, celebrated its annual&nbsp;<a href="http://www.olghoboken.com/index.php/ministries/lgbtq-grace" target="_blank">Pride Mass</a>&nbsp;in support of the LGBTQ community. Delivering part of the homily at the invitation of the priest, Alexander Santora, was Christine Zuba, a transgender woman from New Jersey.“We are not disordered, confused or a fad,” Zuba said, sharing with other worshippers the decades-long journey that led her to come out six years earlier at age 58. “We are not trying to defy God, nor to play God.”“By staying visible, not only outside these walls but inside our churches, we change hearts and minds, one person at a time,” she concluded. “Once in a while we may get thrown out, but if that happens, we’re not going away. We’re coming right back in.”Santora, a priest for 40 years, said the other worshippers rose and applauded.“Our church was opened in 1878,” Santora said. “I wanted Christine to be on that pulpit.”A lifelong Catholic, Zuba said she knew from age 4 that she was different. When she finally decided to come out five decades later, she was grateful that a nearby parish, Saints Peter and Paul in Turnersville, New Jersey, welcomed her. She serves there as a eucharistic minister.Yet she knows that much of the Catholic hierarchy, including the&nbsp;<a href="https://www.usccb.org/equality-act" target="_blank">U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops</a>, rejects the concept of gender transition.“These bishops and priests don’t understand that when they turn someone away, they’re losing parents, children, groups of friends who say this is not the church we want to belong to,” Zuba said.Lynn Discenza, a 64-year-old transgender woman, grew up in a churchgoing Italian American family in West Hartford, Connecticut, and gave seminary a try before pursuing a career in aerospace design.She considers herself fortunate, after transitioning two years ago, to be part of a welcoming Catholic church in the area — Saint Patrick-Saint Anthony Church in Hartford. She is a co-leader of its LGBTQ ministry.Particularly moving, Discenza said, was a Nov. 21 observance marking the annual Transgender Day of Remembrance, which commemorates people killed due to anti-trans violence. She thanked the other worshippers for their support, and they responded with applause.The pastor, Timothy Shreenan, highlighted the commemoration in the church bulletin.“We must always stand up against hatred in all its forms, and not allow others’ fears (or phobias) to be a reason for hatred,” he wrote. “Rather, we must continue to learn more about the experience of others and to become more tolerant and accepting of one another.”Discenza hopes that grassroots activism on behalf of greater inclusivity will accelerate as more parishes add LGBTQ ministries.“The change is going to come from the ground up, and some of the old bishops will die away,” she said.For young transgender Catholics, the conflicting approaches of individual churches and clergy can pose challenges to both them and their parents.Eli Musselman of Philadelphia, who turns 19 in March and came out as transgender almost four years ago, said he felt a strong connection with his faith as a boy and many of his friends supported him.But the pastor of the family’s longtime parish declined to refer to him with masculine pronouns and he had anxiety attacks in church due to some parishioners’ “nasty looks,” prompting the family to switch to a parish that made them feel at home.“A place that had once been a safe haven for me had become a place of dangers,” said Musselman, now a freshman at the Jesuit-run St. Josephs University, where students and most professors, with one hurtful exception, have been supportive.“But since coming out,” he added, “my spirituality has grown. ... I feel whole for the first time in my life.”“I lost some really good friends,” said his mother, JoEllen Musselman. “I felt I was constantly making apologies to people, and I got tired of that.”After embracing Catholicism as a convert after her marriage, she now has mixed feelings. Though determined to remain active in the church and advocate for greater inclusivity, she remains skeptical about the topmost Catholic leaders.“They’re flawed,” she said. “If it wasn’t for Christ, the church would collapse, because we humans screw everything up.”At the highest level of Catholic leadership, Pope Francis’ position can best be described as two-sided.On one hand, he has personally ministered to trans Catholics, receiving them in the Vatican and encountering them as an archbishop in Argentina, and he has said the Catholic Church must accompany them. However, he has repeatedly denounced “gender theory” and what he calls the “ideological colonization” in some schools that teaches children they can change their biological sex at will.Francis spoke at length on the issue during a 2016 press conference, stressing the need to avoid “gender ideology” but reasserting the need to minister to trans Catholics. “But please don’t say ‘The pope sanctifies trans!’ Please!”Luisa Derouen, the retired nun who has ministered to more than 250 transgender people since 1999, received permission from her superiors in 2014 to write about that work. But that was on condition she not identify herself or her congregation, the Dominican Sisters of Peace. She did so under a pseudonym, which she ultimately abandoned in 2018 to&nbsp;<a href="https://lgbtqreligiousarchives.org/profiles/luisa-derouen" target="_blank">publicly speak out</a>&nbsp;on behalf of trans people and “give witness to their dignity and worth as human beings.”In a recent interview, Derouen said friction over transgender inclusion is likely to intensify.“There has never been a time in the American church when Catholic hierarchy has had less moral credibility,” she said. “The people in the pews are taking responsibility for doing their own homework and recognizing that we are all God’s people.”Michael Sennett, a 26-year-old transgender man, sees that happening at the Church of St. Ignatius of Loyola in Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts, where he is communications director.The unwelcoming attitude of some bishops discourages him, but he’s heartened by advances, including the formation of a support group called LGBTQ+ Catholics.“Overall I marvel at the progress,” Sennett said. “People are speaking up as never before, joining forces. … The laity is finding more power.”___

Rejection or welcome: Transgender Catholics encounter both

KANSAS CITY (AP) — A handwritten log kept by nurses tells the story of the losing battle to get more people vaccinated against&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/hub/coronavirus-pandemic">COVID-19</a>&nbsp;in this corner of Alabama: Just 14 people showed up at the Marion County Health Department for their initial shot during the first six weeks of the year.

That was true even as hospitals in and around the county of roughly 30,000 people filled with virus patients and the death toll climbed. On many days, no one got a first shot at all, while a Mexican restaurant up the street, Los Amigos, was full of unmasked diners at lunchtime.

The vaccination drive in the U.S. is grinding to a halt, and demand has all but collapsed in places like this deeply conservative manufacturing town where many weren’t interested in&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/coronavirus-pandemic-science-health-centers-for-disease-control-and-prevention-347bc79469ffed5f5b163ca41cf0f1c0">the shots</a>&nbsp;to begin with.

The average number of Americans getting their first shot is down to about 90,000 a day, the lowest point since the first few days of the U.S. vaccination campaign, in December 2020. And hopes of any substantial improvement in the immediate future have largely evaporated.

About 76% of the U.S. population has received at least one shot. Less than 65% of all Americans are fully vaccinated.

Vaccination incentive programs that gave away cash, sports tickets, beer and other prizes have largely gone away. Government and employer vaccine mandates have faced court challenges and may have gone as far as they ever will.

And with&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/coronavirus-pandemic-health-lifestyle-public-health-c64f8ba0e7885e4686e13a4d76ff49b9">COVID-19 cases, hospitalizations and deaths subsiding</a>&nbsp;across the U.S., people who are against getting vaccinated don’t see much reason to change their minds.

“People are just over it. They’re tired of it,” said Judy Smith, administrator for a 12-county public health district in northwestern Alabama.

The bottoming-out of demand for the first round of vaccinations is especially evident in conservative areas around the country.

On most days in Idaho, the number of people statewide getting their first shot rarely surpasses 500.

In Wyoming, a total of about 280 people statewide got their first shot in the past week, and the waiting area at the Cheyenne-Laramie County Health Department stood empty Tuesday morning. The head of the department fondly recalled just a few months ago, when the lobby was bustling on Friday afternoons after school with children getting their doses. But they aren’t showing up anymore either.

“People heard more stories about, well, the omicron’s not that bad,” Executive Director Kathy Emmons said. “I think a lot of people just kind of rolled the dice and decided, ‘Well, if it’s not that bad, I’m just going to kind of wait it out and see what happens.’”

Marion County, along the Mississippi line, is part of a band of Alabama counties where most people aren’t fully vaccinated more than a year after shots were rolled out. Just to the east, Winston County has the state’s lowest share of fully vaccinated residents, at 26%, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. About 42% are fully immunized in Marion County.

The digital sign outside First National Bank flashes Bible verses along with the temperature, and many Marion County residents work in small plants that make mobile homes and components for prefab housing. Most area jobs are blue-collar, and TVs are typically turned to Fox News. A conservative, working-class ethic runs deep.

The area went heavily for President Donald Trump in the 2020 election. And yet resistance to the vaccine is so strong that two counties over, in Cullman, some booed Trump when he encouraged vaccinations during a rally that drew thousands last summer.

COVID-19 has killed almost 18,000 people in Alabama, giving the state the nation’s fourth-highest rate of deaths relative to population. Marion County’s rate exceeds the state average at 1.78%, with more than 140 deaths, according to data from Johns Hopkins University.

Health officials expected to have a hard time persuading Black people to get government-sponsored vaccines in Alabama, home of the infamous&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/coronavirus-vaccine-skepticism-us-eae3315d2dfecd6443b56a2dc7bcb887">Tuskegee syphilis study</a>&nbsp;and a place where distrust of Washington runs deep. They started work on public education campaigns weeks early in mostly Black areas, which now have some of the state’s highest vaccination rates, at 60% or more.

But they didn’t expect the stiff resistance among rural whites that has kept vaccination numbers stubbornly low in places like Marion County, which is 94% white. While rural transportation difficulties, confusion over vaccine costs — they’re free — and a lack of health care access have also been factors, the partisan divide in America killed the vaccine drive for some before it really got started, officials said.

“Rural white men who identify as conservative are just not interested in this. That caught us off guard,” said Dr. Scott Harris, head of the Alabama Department of Public Health. “By the first or second month of the vaccine campaign, it became clear that those folks just weren’t going to come in.”

Richard Kitchens is among that group. The owner of a clothing and sports shoe shop on the square in Hamilton, Kitchens said he isn’t interested in the vaccine after getting COVID-19 in 2020 before vaccines were available and having relatives who contracted the illness, developed only minor symptoms and recovered.

Short of a proven guarantee against illness — which no vaccine provides — he doesn’t see the point.

“I guess if I knew I could go out and get a shot and wouldn’t get it or spread it, I would go get it, and they say it helps,” Kitchens said. “But I think that will be determined sometime down the road maybe.”

Doris Peterson is fully vaccinated, but she said she didn’t get a booster on the advice of her two adult daughters, neither of whom is vaccinated. Peterson said she is used to being one of the few people around still wearing a mask in public.

“Most of the time I am it,” she said.

Kelly Moore, a former Tennessee health official who now heads a CDC-funded vaccination advocacy organization named Immunize.org, recalled seeing data from a recent survey that hit her like a punch to the gut.

The results were presented at a CDC meeting of vaccine experts earlier this month. The January survey of about 1,000 adults asked unvaccinated participants what, if anything, would change their mind and persuade them to get a shot. Half said “nothing.”

“It was quite demoralizing to see those results, frankly,” Moore said.

With the pandemic still a mortal threat, public health workers haven’t given up on getting more people vaccinated, even if it feels like an uphill slog.

Jordan Ledbetter, a nurse who works at the Marion County Health Department, was thrilled when two people came in for first-time shots on the same day recently.

“That was exciting,” she said. “There are days when I haven’t given any vaccines.”

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/11/1637329411498.png" alt="Drive through vaccination drive-photo courtesy Lawrence-Douglas County Health Department" />
 <figcaption>Drive through vaccination drive-photo courtesy Lawrence-Douglas County Health Department</figcaption>
 </figure>KANSAS CITY (AP) — A handwritten log kept by nurses tells the story of the losing battle to get more people vaccinated against&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/hub/coronavirus-pandemic">COVID-19</a>&nbsp;in this corner of Alabama: Just 14 people showed up at the Marion County Health Department for their initial shot during the first six weeks of the year.That was true even as hospitals in and around the county of roughly 30,000 people filled with virus patients and the death toll climbed. On many days, no one got a first shot at all, while a Mexican restaurant up the street, Los Amigos, was full of unmasked diners at lunchtime.The vaccination drive in the U.S. is grinding to a halt, and demand has all but collapsed in places like this deeply conservative manufacturing town where many weren’t interested in&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/coronavirus-pandemic-science-health-centers-for-disease-control-and-prevention-347bc79469ffed5f5b163ca41cf0f1c0">the shots</a>&nbsp;to begin with.The average number of Americans getting their first shot is down to about 90,000 a day, the lowest point since the first few days of the U.S. vaccination campaign, in December 2020. And hopes of any substantial improvement in the immediate future have largely evaporated.About 76% of the U.S. population has received at least one shot. Less than 65% of all Americans are fully vaccinated.Vaccination incentive programs that gave away cash, sports tickets, beer and other prizes have largely gone away. Government and employer vaccine mandates have faced court challenges and may have gone as far as they ever will.And with&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/coronavirus-pandemic-health-lifestyle-public-health-c64f8ba0e7885e4686e13a4d76ff49b9">COVID-19 cases, hospitalizations and deaths subsiding</a>&nbsp;across the U.S., people who are against getting vaccinated don’t see much reason to change their minds.“People are just over it. They’re tired of it,” said Judy Smith, administrator for a 12-county public health district in northwestern Alabama.The bottoming-out of demand for the first round of vaccinations is especially evident in conservative areas around the country.On most days in Idaho, the number of people statewide getting their first shot rarely surpasses 500.In Wyoming, a total of about 280 people statewide got their first shot in the past week, and the waiting area at the Cheyenne-Laramie County Health Department stood empty Tuesday morning. The head of the department fondly recalled just a few months ago, when the lobby was bustling on Friday afternoons after school with children getting their doses. But they aren’t showing up anymore either.“People heard more stories about, well, the omicron’s not that bad,” Executive Director Kathy Emmons said. “I think a lot of people just kind of rolled the dice and decided, ‘Well, if it’s not that bad, I’m just going to kind of wait it out and see what happens.’”Marion County, along the Mississippi line, is part of a band of Alabama counties where most people aren’t fully vaccinated more than a year after shots were rolled out. Just to the east, Winston County has the state’s lowest share of fully vaccinated residents, at 26%, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. About 42% are fully immunized in Marion County.The digital sign outside First National Bank flashes Bible verses along with the temperature, and many Marion County residents work in small plants that make mobile homes and components for prefab housing. Most area jobs are blue-collar, and TVs are typically turned to Fox News. A conservative, working-class ethic runs deep.The area went heavily for President Donald Trump in the 2020 election. And yet resistance to the vaccine is so strong that two counties over, in Cullman, some booed Trump when he encouraged vaccinations during a rally that drew thousands last summer.COVID-19 has killed almost 18,000 people in Alabama, giving the state the nation’s fourth-highest rate of deaths relative to population. Marion County’s rate exceeds the state average at 1.78%, with more than 140 deaths, according to data from Johns Hopkins University.Health officials expected to have a hard time persuading Black people to get government-sponsored vaccines in Alabama, home of the infamous&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/coronavirus-vaccine-skepticism-us-eae3315d2dfecd6443b56a2dc7bcb887">Tuskegee syphilis study</a>&nbsp;and a place where distrust of Washington runs deep. They started work on public education campaigns weeks early in mostly Black areas, which now have some of the state’s highest vaccination rates, at 60% or more.But they didn’t expect the stiff resistance among rural whites that has kept vaccination numbers stubbornly low in places like Marion County, which is 94% white. While rural transportation difficulties, confusion over vaccine costs — they’re free — and a lack of health care access have also been factors, the partisan divide in America killed the vaccine drive for some before it really got started, officials said.“Rural white men who identify as conservative are just not interested in this. That caught us off guard,” said Dr. Scott Harris, head of the Alabama Department of Public Health. “By the first or second month of the vaccine campaign, it became clear that those folks just weren’t going to come in.”Richard Kitchens is among that group. The owner of a clothing and sports shoe shop on the square in Hamilton, Kitchens said he isn’t interested in the vaccine after getting COVID-19 in 2020 before vaccines were available and having relatives who contracted the illness, developed only minor symptoms and recovered.Short of a proven guarantee against illness — which no vaccine provides — he doesn’t see the point.“I guess if I knew I could go out and get a shot and wouldn’t get it or spread it, I would go get it, and they say it helps,” Kitchens said. “But I think that will be determined sometime down the road maybe.”Doris Peterson is fully vaccinated, but she said she didn’t get a booster on the advice of her two adult daughters, neither of whom is vaccinated. Peterson said she is used to being one of the few people around still wearing a mask in public.“Most of the time I am it,” she said.Kelly Moore, a former Tennessee health official who now heads a CDC-funded vaccination advocacy organization named Immunize.org, recalled seeing data from a recent survey that hit her like a punch to the gut.The results were presented at a CDC meeting of vaccine experts earlier this month. The January survey of about 1,000 adults asked unvaccinated participants what, if anything, would change their mind and persuade them to get a shot. Half said “nothing.”“It was quite demoralizing to see those results, frankly,” Moore said.With the pandemic still a mortal threat, public health workers haven’t given up on getting more people vaccinated, even if it feels like an uphill slog.Jordan Ledbetter, a nurse who works at the Marion County Health Department, was thrilled when two people came in for first-time shots on the same day recently.“That was exciting,” she said. “There are days when I haven’t given any vaccines.”___

US vaccination drive is bottoming out as omicron subsides

OMAHA, Neb. (AP) — Billionaire Warren Buffett says his company has benefited from some “extraordinary luck” in finding acquisitions, but he hasn’t had much of that in recent years as Berkshire Hathaway’s cash pile has grown to nearly $147 billion. 

Buffett sought to reassure shareholders with his annual letter Saturday that he retains a strong appetite for acquisitions and stock investments, but he hasn’t found many of either that interest him at today’s inflated prices. 

So Berkshire has focused on growing the 90-odd businesses it already owns and repurchasing its own shares — something Buffett has invested $51.7 billion in over the last two years. 

Berkshire plans to revive its annual meeting, but this year COVID-19 vaccinations will be required.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2019/7/1562016004593.png" alt="" />
 <figcaption></figcaption>
 </figure>By THE ASSOCIATED PRESSOMAHA, Neb. (AP) — Billionaire Warren Buffett says his company has benefited from some “extraordinary luck” in finding acquisitions, but he hasn’t had much of that in recent years as Berkshire Hathaway’s cash pile has grown to nearly $147 billion. Buffett sought to reassure shareholders with his annual letter Saturday that he retains a strong appetite for acquisitions and stock investments, but he hasn’t found many of either that interest him at today’s inflated prices. So Berkshire has focused on growing the 90-odd businesses it already owns and repurchasing its own shares — something Buffett has invested $51.7 billion in over the last two years. Berkshire plans to revive its annual meeting, but this year COVID-19 vaccinations will be required.

Buffett still wants deals but can't find any attractive ones

SAN DIEGO (AP) — Authorities have seized nearly $3 million worth of methamphetamine, hidden among a shipment of onions, during a tractor-trailer’s inspection at a federal facility in San Diego.

 A K-9 unit for the U.S. Customs and Border Protection alerted to the trailer’s shipment of onions on Sunday and officers found nearly 1,200 small packages of meth. 

The agency announced the seizure Friday in a news release. The 46-year-old driver, a Mexican national who was not named, was arrested for the alleged narcotic smuggling attempt at the Otay Mesa port-of-entry commercial vehicle facility. 

The packages of meth were shaped into small globes with a white covering and meant to blend into the onions.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2019/10/1571398574177.png" alt="" />
 <figcaption></figcaption>
 </figure>From the Associated PressSAN DIEGO (AP) — Authorities have seized nearly $3 million worth of methamphetamine, hidden among a shipment of onions, during a tractor-trailer’s inspection at a federal facility in San Diego. A K-9 unit for the U.S. Customs and Border Protection alerted to the trailer’s shipment of onions on Sunday and officers found nearly 1,200 small packages of meth. The agency announced the seizure Friday in a news release. The 46-year-old driver, a Mexican national who was not named, was arrested for the alleged narcotic smuggling attempt at the Otay Mesa port-of-entry commercial vehicle facility. The packages of meth were shaped into small globes with a white covering and meant to blend into the onions.

Authorities seize nearly $3M worth of meth in onion shipment

By CARLA K. JOHNSON and MIKE STOBBE, Associated Press

Most Americans live in places where healthy people, including students in schools, can safely take a break from wearing masks under new U.S. guidelines released Friday.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention&nbsp;<a href="https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/2019-ncov/your-health/covid-by-county.html" target="_blank">outlined</a>&nbsp;the new set of measures for communities where COVID-19 is easing its grip, with less of a focus on positive test results and more on what’s happening at hospitals.

The new system greatly changes the look of the CDC’s risk map and puts more than 70% of the U.S. population in counties where the coronavirus is posing a low or medium threat to hospitals. Those are the people who can stop wearing masks, the agency said.

The agency is still advising people, including schoolchildren, to wear masks where the risk of COVID-19 is high. That’s the situation in about 37% of U.S. counties, where about 28% of Americans live.

The new recommendations do not change the requirement to wear masks on public transportation and indoors in airports, train stations and bus stations. The CDC guidelines for other indoor spaces aren’t binding, meaning cities and institutions even in areas of low risk may set their own rules. And the agency says people with COVID-19 symptoms or who test positive shouldn’t stop wearing masks.

But with&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/coronavirus-pandemic-science-health-united-states-3e7ab3f74080bac8480aa6de3e65ecce">protection from immunity</a>&nbsp;rising — both from vaccination and infection — the overall risk of severe disease is now generally lower, the CDC said.

“Anybody is certainly welcome to wear a mask at any time if they feel safer wearing a mask,” CDC Director Dr. Rochelle Walensky said in a news briefing. “We want to make sure our hospitals are OK and people are not coming in with severe disease. ... Anyone can go to the CDC website, find out the volume of disease in their community and make that decision.”

Some states, including Massachusetts, Connecticut and New Jersey, are at low to medium risk while others such as West Virginia, Kentucky, Florida and Arizona still have wide areas at high levels of concern.

CDC’s previous transmission-prevention guidance to communities focused on two measures — the rate of new COVID-19 cases and the percentage of positive test results over the previous week.

Based on those measures, agency officials advised people to wear masks indoors in counties where spread of the virus was deemed substantial or high. As of this week, more than 3,000 of the nation’s more than 3,200 counties — greater than 95% — were listed as having substantial or high transmission under those measures.

That guidance has increasingly been ignored, however, with states, cities, counties and school districts across the U.S. announcing plans to drop mask mandates amid declining COVID-19 cases, hospitalizations and deaths.

With many Americans already taking off their masks, the CDC’s shift won’t make much practical difference for now, said Andrew Noymer, a public health professor at the University of California, Irvine. But it will help when the next wave of infection — a likelihood in the fall or winter — starts threatening hospital capacity again, he said.

“There will be more waves of COVID. And so I think it makes sense to give people a break from masking,” Noymer said. “If we have continual masking orders, they might become a total joke by the time we really need them again.”

The CDC is offering a color-coded map — with counties designated as orange, yellow or green — to help guide local officials and residents. In green counties, local officials can drop any indoor masking rules. Yellow means people at high risk for severe disease should be cautious. Orange designates places where the CDC suggests masking should be universal.

How a county comes to be designated green, yellow or orange will depend on its rate of new COVID-19 hospital admissions, the share of staffed hospital beds occupied by COVID-19 patients and the rate of new cases in the community.

Taking hospital data into account has turned some counties — such as Boulder County, Colorado — from high risk to low.

Mask requirements already have ended in most of the U.S. in recent weeks. Los Angeles on Friday began allowing people to remove their masks while indoors if they are vaccinated, and indoor mask mandates in Washington state and Oregon will be lifted in late March.

In a sign of the political divisions over masks, Florida’s governor on Thursday announced new recommendations called “Buck the CDC” that actually discourage mask wearing.

In Pennsylvania, acting health secretary Keara Klinepeter urged “patience and grace” for people who choose to continue masking in public, including those with weakened immune systems. She said she’ll keep wearing a mask because she’s pregnant.

State health officials are generally pleased with the new guidance and “excited with how this is being rolled out,” said Dr. Marcus Plescia of the Association of State and Territorial Health Officials.

“This is the way we need to go. I think this is taking us forward with a new direction going on in the pandemic,” Plescia said. “But we’re still focusing on safety. We’re still focusing on preventing death and illness.”

The CDC said the new system will be useful in predicting future surges and urged communities with wastewater surveillance systems to use that data too.

“If or when new variants emerge or the virus surges, we have more ways to protect ourselves and our communities than ever before,” Walensky said.

By CARLA K. JOHNSON and MIKE STOBBE, Associated PressMost Americans live in places where healthy people, including students in schools, can safely take a break from wearing masks under new U.S. guidelines released Friday.The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention&nbsp;<a href="https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/2019-ncov/your-health/covid-by-county.html" target="_blank">outlined</a>&nbsp;the new set of measures for communities where COVID-19 is easing its grip, with less of a focus on positive test results and more on what’s happening at hospitals.The new system greatly changes the look of the CDC’s risk map and puts more than 70% of the U.S. population in counties where the coronavirus is posing a low or medium threat to hospitals. Those are the people who can stop wearing masks, the agency said.The agency is still advising people, including schoolchildren, to wear masks where the risk of COVID-19 is high. That’s the situation in about 37% of U.S. counties, where about 28% of Americans live.The new recommendations do not change the requirement to wear masks on public transportation and indoors in airports, train stations and bus stations. The CDC guidelines for other indoor spaces aren’t binding, meaning cities and institutions even in areas of low risk may set their own rules. And the agency says people with COVID-19 symptoms or who test positive shouldn’t stop wearing masks.But with&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/coronavirus-pandemic-science-health-united-states-3e7ab3f74080bac8480aa6de3e65ecce">protection from immunity</a>&nbsp;rising — both from vaccination and infection — the overall risk of severe disease is now generally lower, the CDC said.“Anybody is certainly welcome to wear a mask at any time if they feel safer wearing a mask,” CDC Director Dr. Rochelle Walensky said in a news briefing. “We want to make sure our hospitals are OK and people are not coming in with severe disease. ... Anyone can go to the CDC website, find out the volume of disease in their community and make that decision.”Some states, including Massachusetts, Connecticut and New Jersey, are at low to medium risk while others such as West Virginia, Kentucky, Florida and Arizona still have wide areas at high levels of concern.CDC’s previous transmission-prevention guidance to communities focused on two measures — the rate of new COVID-19 cases and the percentage of positive test results over the previous week.Based on those measures, agency officials advised people to wear masks indoors in counties where spread of the virus was deemed substantial or high. As of this week, more than 3,000 of the nation’s more than 3,200 counties — greater than 95% — were listed as having substantial or high transmission under those measures.That guidance has increasingly been ignored, however, with states, cities, counties and school districts across the U.S. announcing plans to drop mask mandates amid declining COVID-19 cases, hospitalizations and deaths.With many Americans already taking off their masks, the CDC’s shift won’t make much practical difference for now, said Andrew Noymer, a public health professor at the University of California, Irvine. But it will help when the next wave of infection — a likelihood in the fall or winter — starts threatening hospital capacity again, he said.“There will be more waves of COVID. And so I think it makes sense to give people a break from masking,” Noymer said. “If we have continual masking orders, they might become a total joke by the time we really need them again.”The CDC is offering a color-coded map — with counties designated as orange, yellow or green — to help guide local officials and residents. In green counties, local officials can drop any indoor masking rules. Yellow means people at high risk for severe disease should be cautious. Orange designates places where the CDC suggests masking should be universal.How a county comes to be designated green, yellow or orange will depend on its rate of new COVID-19 hospital admissions, the share of staffed hospital beds occupied by COVID-19 patients and the rate of new cases in the community.Taking hospital data into account has turned some counties — such as Boulder County, Colorado — from high risk to low.Mask requirements already have ended in most of the U.S. in recent weeks. Los Angeles on Friday began allowing people to remove their masks while indoors if they are vaccinated, and indoor mask mandates in Washington state and Oregon will be lifted in late March.In a sign of the political divisions over masks, Florida’s governor on Thursday announced new recommendations called “Buck the CDC” that actually discourage mask wearing.In Pennsylvania, acting health secretary Keara Klinepeter urged “patience and grace” for people who choose to continue masking in public, including those with weakened immune systems. She said she’ll keep wearing a mask because she’s pregnant.State health officials are generally pleased with the new guidance and “excited with how this is being rolled out,” said Dr. Marcus Plescia of the Association of State and Territorial Health Officials.“This is the way we need to go. I think this is taking us forward with a new direction going on in the pandemic,” Plescia said. “But we’re still focusing on safety. We’re still focusing on preventing death and illness.”The CDC said the new system will be useful in predicting future surges and urged communities with wastewater surveillance systems to use that data too.“If or when new variants emerge or the virus surges, we have more ways to protect ourselves and our communities than ever before,” Walensky said.___

CDC: Many healthy Americans can take a break from masks

KANSAS CITY (AP) — A Kansas City-area man who killed four family members and burned their bodies was sentenced Friday to four life sentences without parole plus 115 years, Platte County authorities said.

Grayden Denham, 30, was convicted in December of shooting and killing his grandfather, his grandmother, his sister and her 3-month-old son at their home near Edgerton on Feb. 19, 2016.

He was arrested two days later when he was found walking naked near Seligman, Arizona, police said.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/12/1639604794631.png" alt="Denham-photo Platte Co." />
 <figcaption>Denham-photo Platte Co.</figcaption>
 </figure>KANSAS CITY (AP) — A Kansas City-area man who killed four family members and burned their bodies was sentenced Friday to four life sentences without parole plus 115 years, Platte County authorities said.Grayden Denham, 30, was convicted in December of shooting and killing his grandfather, his grandmother, his sister and her 3-month-old son at their home near Edgerton on Feb. 19, 2016.He was arrested two days later when he was found walking naked near Seligman, Arizona, police said.Firefighters&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/e7079be18f184ac9accd09010ae1c489">found the bodies</a>&nbsp;of Russell Denham, 82; Shirley Denham, 81; Heather Ager, 31; and her son, Mason Schiavoni, all of whom had been shot and set on fire, Platte County prosecutors said. A family dog was also killed and burned, authorities said.Denham stole his grandparents' car and drove to Arizona.Witnesses testified during the trial about increased tension between Denham and his family before the murders. He was seen arguing with his grandfather the day before the killings and evidence also showed he was using methamphetamine, the Platte County Prosecutor's office said in a news release.The jury convicted Denham of four counts of first degree murder, four counts of armed criminal action, animal abuse, second degree arson, and stealing.