by William Heath I remember Aunt Hazel’s two-story wooden farmhouse by the roadside, the flat fields of northwestern Ohio stretching out in all directions until they hit a tree line left on purpose to cut down on the wind. The barns are a short walk from the house, and a rooster commands the area where we…
by John R. Murray The worst thing about arriving at the food coalition’s kitchen was getting one of the other volunteers to come downstairs to let me in. It was on the second floor of a church on a busy corner of Pico Boulevard, and even though the kitchen windows…
