On the morning that Trump posted the tweet, Linda Bean appeared on Fox News to protest an L. L. Bean boycott proposed by a nascent group called Grab Your Wallet, which targeted the company because Linda Bean had personally donated tens of thousands of dollars toward electing Trump. (Trump’s tweet was probably prompted by this “Fox & Friends” segment; the President-elect has a habit of reacting on Twitter to what’s on cable news.) On Fox, the questioning was sympathetic and passed quickly over an ongoing dispute over the legality of Linda Bean’s donations. Bean looked grandmotherly with her gray hair and holiday-red sweater and sounded a common Maine refrain by decrying interference and “bullying” by outsiders. She said she has held shares in L. L. Bean since “the day I was born,” pronouncing it “bohn,” in classic Maine fashion, and generally allied herself with her small state and the family business.
But Linda Bean has been a lightning rod in Maine for years. Four days before Trump’s tweet, in response to the proposed boycott, L. L. Bean’s executive chairman, Shawn Gorman, took pains to point out in a statement that Linda Bean is only one of ten people on the board of directors and one of more than fifty family members involved in the business. (L. L. Bean did not respond to requests for comment.) Gorman portrayed L. L. Bean as an apolitical big tent, noting that it makes no endorsements or political contributions. His statement also read, though, as an attempt to put Linda Bean at arm’s length. “No individual alone speaks on behalf of the business or represents the values of the company,” he said.
So much of Redzepi’s drive is born of it: the fear that – whether abruptly in the form of a terrible review, or agonisingly, as the food world’s attention turns to the next big thing – it could all disappear. It is there, palpable, when he chews out a stagiaire for being anything less than perfect, and there too when he squirms over a blogger’s negative comment. In 2013, the fear almost, in his mind, became reality. So he did the only thing he could do: he unleashed his restlessness.
In the past year the climate in the Arctic has at times bordered on the absurd. Temperatures were 30 to 50 degrees Fahrenheit above average in some places during the recent Christmas week. Through November the area of ice-covered ocean in the region reached a record low in seven of 11 months—an unprecedented stretch. More important, perhaps, the difference between Arctic temperatures and those across the midlatitudes of North America, Europe and Asia during 2016 was the smallest ever seen.
That narrowing gap is important to note because it seems to be driving extreme weather in the midlatitudes, from heat waves and droughts to heavy snowfalls. Why is the Arctic so crazy lately, and how strong is the connection to bad weather to its south, where so many people live? Scientific American asked Jennifer Francis, who is a research professor at the Institute of Marine and Coastal Sciences at Rutgers University and has investigated Arctic climate change and its links to weather worldwide since 1994.