By five years old, I knew what I wanted to do with my life. It started with a poem. Then I wrote a play. By ten years old, I was writing “books” on the typewriter in my room, and a stack of papers rose higher and higher on the corner of the desk. I had typed Chapter One at the top of every ...
The Cost of Fear
I can't stop thinking about the smell in that parking lot. A few months ago, a driver for Dixie River Freight, Inc. was hauling raw chicken in a refrigerated semi trailer when he stopped at a Montana truck stop to rethink his compensation. He wanted more, and he decided to ask for it. He let ...