The museum closed first. As in many states, New Mexico’s small towns bear the brunt of the pandemic

LORDSBURG, N.M.  —  The whispers around town started this spring during the early days of the shutdown. Something felt off, even here in this windswept crossroads far from most troubles. Dean Link had a hunch about what was to come, but when the mail arrived in August, despair overwhelmed him.

“You will be laid off effective September 7, 2020,” stated the letter from the mayor of Lordsburg informing Link that his part-time job at the museum was over.

In that moment, Link joined the growing ranks of some 20 million other Americans — many employed by corporations, industries and mom-and-pop shops, but also public sector employees like him — who have lost their livelihoods during the punishing economy wrought by the COVID-19 pandemic.

The museum’s only paid employee, Link, a gregarious man with a drawl that immediately gives away his Southern roots, appreciated the paycheck from the $9-an-hour gig. But it was serving as the gatekeeper to the deep and at times uneasy history of this town — home to both a Japanese internment camp and a landmark aviation mission — that gave him true purpose.

“In life, I try not to harp on the bad things,” the 61-year-old said on a recent afternoon, while standing outside the A-framed museum, which now has a chain-link fence blocking the driveway.

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Armed and Black. How a group of men licensed to carry guns say they are seeking racial justice

MINNEAPOLIS — Before he drove to the grocery store parking lot, Romeal Taylor did the same thing he’s done every day this summer — he holstered his9-millimeter handgunto the waistband of his gym shorts until he could feel it hug his right hip.

When he arrived at the store in north Minneapolis he spotted six other Blackmen, some in tactical gear, armed with Glock 23s and Smith & Wesson M&Ps. One of them beamed when he spotted Taylor and hugged him.

“Bro, good to see you,” Taylor said, muffled through a face mask.

They had come together for a meet-and-greet to introduce themselves to the community, marking one of the first public gatherings of the Minnesota Freedom Fighters.

The ad hoc groupof about two dozen men — including a retired firefighter, a healthcare worker and a veteran — formed in the days after George Floyd’s killing in response to the local NAACP chapter putting out a call for residents in predominantly Black north Minneapolis to protect small businesses from destruction as fires and unrest engulfed the city.

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