Tuesday, September 01, 2026
For over 100 years, travelers have checked into US motel rooms and found the Gideon Bible
The Gideon Bible has become a symbol of America's roadside culture and Protestant tradition
Luis Andres Henao
Wednesday 26 August 2026 17:08 BST
“Rocky Raccoon checked into his room, only to find Gideon’s Bible.”
Paul McCartney explained those famous lines in the song by The Beatles, saying these Bibles “were in every hotel in America.” He’d never seen something like that in England.
For more than a century, countless have found it in the bedside drawers of American hotel and motel rooms. It has become a symbol of America’s roadside culture and Protestant tradition. It’s mentioned in lyrics, films, Broadway shows.
“The Gideon Bible is a peculiarly and amazingly American object,” says Lori Anne Ferrell, author of “The Bible and the People.”
It began with Gideons International, an organization of evangelical business and professional men founded in 1899.
One of its members, working on a railroad expansion project, gets off the train in the town of Superior in western Montana, and checks into a hotel. He asks the owner if he can place a Bible at the front desk. She responds with a more ambitious proposal: Place a Bible in each of the hotel rooms.
The group says that it has distributed more than 2.5 billion Bibles worldwide since that day in 1908. It was the year that Ford Motor Co. began manufacturing the Model T, the first low-priced car that introduced motoring to the masses.
Luis Andres Henao
Wednesday 26 August 2026 17:08 BST
“Rocky Raccoon checked into his room, only to find Gideon’s Bible.”
Paul McCartney explained those famous lines in the song by The Beatles, saying these Bibles “were in every hotel in America.” He’d never seen something like that in England.
For more than a century, countless have found it in the bedside drawers of American hotel and motel rooms. It has become a symbol of America’s roadside culture and Protestant tradition. It’s mentioned in lyrics, films, Broadway shows.
“The Gideon Bible is a peculiarly and amazingly American object,” says Lori Anne Ferrell, author of “The Bible and the People.”
It began with Gideons International, an organization of evangelical business and professional men founded in 1899.
One of its members, working on a railroad expansion project, gets off the train in the town of Superior in western Montana, and checks into a hotel. He asks the owner if he can place a Bible at the front desk. She responds with a more ambitious proposal: Place a Bible in each of the hotel rooms.
The group says that it has distributed more than 2.5 billion Bibles worldwide since that day in 1908. It was the year that Ford Motor Co. began manufacturing the Model T, the first low-priced car that introduced motoring to the masses.
The ‘new era’ of Latino socialists in New York: ‘If the Democratic Party wants to lead, it must create a solution to the immigration problem’
Several of these politicians have joined the call to abolish ICE and to demand immigration reform that protects undocumented people in the US
CARLA GLORIA COLOMÉ
New York - AUG 31, 2026 - 07:41 EDT
On the cover of issue number 304 of The Indypendent, a “free and progressive” paper printed on gray stock that New Yorkers pick up in libraries, laundromats, conference rooms and subway stations, Claire Valdez and Darializa Ávila Chevalier appeared back to back, both with broad smiles, in those June days when Mayor Zohran Mamdani endorsed them in the state Democratic primaries. When they finally became the nominees for the November congressional elections, Valdez and Chevalier grabbed the issue of The Indypendent, recreated their poses from the cover in person—victorious and amazed that the future had been sketched out for them in advance. One striking detail: both were Latina, the former of Mexican roots; the latter a daughter of Dominican parents. Both alternated Spanish and English on the campaign trail, self-identify as socialists, and worry about the things that concern people like themselves these days: that immigration enforcement might take a neighbor, or that paychecks won’t stretch to the end of the month.
Shortly after the primaries, the Instagram page DSA Latinos Socialistas invited everyone to a conversation where they would sell Venezuelan empanadas and, at the same time, raise funds to help Venezuelans who survived the earthquakes. Four panelists were scheduled for the talk: Ecuadorian Diana Moreno, who had filled Mamdani’s vacated seat as state assembly member for Queens’s 36th District; Illapa Sairitupac, the son of indigenous Peruvian immigrants whom Mamdani also backed and who won the Democratic primary for Assembly District 65; Claire Valdez, running for the 7th Congressional District seat; and Darializa Ávila Chevalier, the candidate for the 13th. A poster in large letters read: “Latina socialist politics in New York: a new era.” They were coining the idea that times had changed.
They were all fresh faces, people in their thirties; none yet had the look or cadence of a conventional politician. They came from roles as community organizers, artists, PhD students, political science graduates and social workers. Politics had not yet left its mark on them, they had not promised anything they hadn’t delivered, and so people went out to vote for them to get rid of the old establishment players. They were part of—and also a product of—the aura Mamdani left in an election that revived the American left, and therefore shared what, as a generation and as members of the Democratic Socialists of America (DSA), others also defended: rejecting any money from the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC), condemning the genocide in Gaza, and pushing for more affordable cities.
But one thing set Latino politicians apart from their colleagues: when they talked about abolishing the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency, or ICE, they did not see the idea only as a necessary political stance but as the possibility of ending an agency that detains and deports migrants; migrants were, and are, their own families, friends or neighbors. “At parties or at the dinner table we talked about how much it costs to change immigration status, whether the neighbor was having trouble with immigration authorities. That’s how politics was talked about in my house,” Chevalier told EL PAÍS, recalling the days when she was still a girl born in Miami.
When these candidates talk about labor rights, they do so after having been employed and paid very little themselves: “I’ve had to work since I was 14,” Valdez says; she grew up in Lubbock, in northwest Texas. “I worked in fast-food restaurants and supermarkets. Once, at a Taco Bell, I messed up an order and my manager put those tacos in front of my face and said: you just wasted seven dollars of our product. He threw them in the trash in a very dramatic way to make me feel bad. I was paid $7.25 an hour, so those three tacos were worth an hour of my life.”
These new Latino politicians come from families that invested time and money so their children could study; they later moved, came to New York, and are now holding or seeking federal or state office. It’s not that they were the first Latinos in local or national politics: by then there were already names like Tiffany Cabán, Alexa Avilés, Marcela Mitaynes, Jessica González-Rojas, Kristen González, and the prominent figure Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, but more were joining at a moment they described as very particular.
Claire Valdéz, Diana Moreno and Darializa Ávila Chevalier.GETTY / EL PAÍS
CARLA GLORIA COLOMÉ
New York - AUG 31, 2026 - 07:41 EDT
On the cover of issue number 304 of The Indypendent, a “free and progressive” paper printed on gray stock that New Yorkers pick up in libraries, laundromats, conference rooms and subway stations, Claire Valdez and Darializa Ávila Chevalier appeared back to back, both with broad smiles, in those June days when Mayor Zohran Mamdani endorsed them in the state Democratic primaries. When they finally became the nominees for the November congressional elections, Valdez and Chevalier grabbed the issue of The Indypendent, recreated their poses from the cover in person—victorious and amazed that the future had been sketched out for them in advance. One striking detail: both were Latina, the former of Mexican roots; the latter a daughter of Dominican parents. Both alternated Spanish and English on the campaign trail, self-identify as socialists, and worry about the things that concern people like themselves these days: that immigration enforcement might take a neighbor, or that paychecks won’t stretch to the end of the month.
Shortly after the primaries, the Instagram page DSA Latinos Socialistas invited everyone to a conversation where they would sell Venezuelan empanadas and, at the same time, raise funds to help Venezuelans who survived the earthquakes. Four panelists were scheduled for the talk: Ecuadorian Diana Moreno, who had filled Mamdani’s vacated seat as state assembly member for Queens’s 36th District; Illapa Sairitupac, the son of indigenous Peruvian immigrants whom Mamdani also backed and who won the Democratic primary for Assembly District 65; Claire Valdez, running for the 7th Congressional District seat; and Darializa Ávila Chevalier, the candidate for the 13th. A poster in large letters read: “Latina socialist politics in New York: a new era.” They were coining the idea that times had changed.
They were all fresh faces, people in their thirties; none yet had the look or cadence of a conventional politician. They came from roles as community organizers, artists, PhD students, political science graduates and social workers. Politics had not yet left its mark on them, they had not promised anything they hadn’t delivered, and so people went out to vote for them to get rid of the old establishment players. They were part of—and also a product of—the aura Mamdani left in an election that revived the American left, and therefore shared what, as a generation and as members of the Democratic Socialists of America (DSA), others also defended: rejecting any money from the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC), condemning the genocide in Gaza, and pushing for more affordable cities.
But one thing set Latino politicians apart from their colleagues: when they talked about abolishing the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency, or ICE, they did not see the idea only as a necessary political stance but as the possibility of ending an agency that detains and deports migrants; migrants were, and are, their own families, friends or neighbors. “At parties or at the dinner table we talked about how much it costs to change immigration status, whether the neighbor was having trouble with immigration authorities. That’s how politics was talked about in my house,” Chevalier told EL PAÍS, recalling the days when she was still a girl born in Miami.
When these candidates talk about labor rights, they do so after having been employed and paid very little themselves: “I’ve had to work since I was 14,” Valdez says; she grew up in Lubbock, in northwest Texas. “I worked in fast-food restaurants and supermarkets. Once, at a Taco Bell, I messed up an order and my manager put those tacos in front of my face and said: you just wasted seven dollars of our product. He threw them in the trash in a very dramatic way to make me feel bad. I was paid $7.25 an hour, so those three tacos were worth an hour of my life.”
These new Latino politicians come from families that invested time and money so their children could study; they later moved, came to New York, and are now holding or seeking federal or state office. It’s not that they were the first Latinos in local or national politics: by then there were already names like Tiffany Cabán, Alexa Avilés, Marcela Mitaynes, Jessica González-Rojas, Kristen González, and the prominent figure Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, but more were joining at a moment they described as very particular.
Inhaler Overuse Linked to Heart Risks
(Adobe Stock) j
Friday, 28 August 2026 10:17 AM EDT
For people with asthma or COPD, reaching for a rescue inhaler too often may be a warning sign — not just for their lungs, but for their heart.
It's estimated nearly 1 in 5 asthma patients and 1 in 3 COPD patients overuse these products.
Researchers analyzed real-world health data from more than 280,000 asthma and COPD patients in Belgium.
They found frequent use of short-acting reliever inhalers, also called bronchodilators, was associated with a higher risk of cardiovascular disease and death, including heart failure, heart attack and ischemic stroke.
Compared with no use, the increased risk of death ranged from 12% to 73% depending on the type of inhaler and whether patients had asthma or COPD.
Using three or more reliever inhalers a year was also associated with a higher risk of death compared with using two or fewer.
Researchers say these inhalers briefly relax airway muscles, but can also cause faster, irregular heart rates. And relying on them too heavily may be a sign that the underlying asthma or COPD isn't well controlled.
"Overuse of short-acting bronchodilators is an alarm signal which indicates uncontrolled airway inflammation and requires a medical review of treatment," said lead author Lies Lahousse from Ghent University in Belgium.
Researchers say overuse should prompt patients to have their lungs checked and healthcare providers to review patients’ treatment, inhaler technique and adherence.
The study was published in the journal ERJ Open Research.
© HealthDay
Friday, 28 August 2026 10:17 AM EDT
For people with asthma or COPD, reaching for a rescue inhaler too often may be a warning sign — not just for their lungs, but for their heart.
It's estimated nearly 1 in 5 asthma patients and 1 in 3 COPD patients overuse these products.
Researchers analyzed real-world health data from more than 280,000 asthma and COPD patients in Belgium.
They found frequent use of short-acting reliever inhalers, also called bronchodilators, was associated with a higher risk of cardiovascular disease and death, including heart failure, heart attack and ischemic stroke.
Compared with no use, the increased risk of death ranged from 12% to 73% depending on the type of inhaler and whether patients had asthma or COPD.
Using three or more reliever inhalers a year was also associated with a higher risk of death compared with using two or fewer.
Researchers say these inhalers briefly relax airway muscles, but can also cause faster, irregular heart rates. And relying on them too heavily may be a sign that the underlying asthma or COPD isn't well controlled.
"Overuse of short-acting bronchodilators is an alarm signal which indicates uncontrolled airway inflammation and requires a medical review of treatment," said lead author Lies Lahousse from Ghent University in Belgium.
Researchers say overuse should prompt patients to have their lungs checked and healthcare providers to review patients’ treatment, inhaler technique and adherence.
The study was published in the journal ERJ Open Research.
© HealthDay