By EBK Riley
"How about Maine?" Mike asked
"That's in the upper right corner, right?"
"The what? You mean is it in the Northeast, in New England?" He laughed
"Yeah, that's on the upper right when you look at the map, like we're on the lower left."
"You mean the Southwest, because Arizona is in the Southwest, not the lower left."
Even though we hadn't been on a car trip longer than an hour, we were seriously considering moving across the country together. We were both going to grad school, partly because I was finally finishing my bachelor's degree after many false starts and big gaps, and partly because we were both ready for a change--together-- which was a change in itself. Mike was considering lots of options and had sent for applications from universities all over the country. I saw brochures coming in the mail from the University of Michigan and Notre Dame. When we talked about grad school again, I said, "I don't want to live in the middle."
By Trina Moyles
The mother who wrote these words is Susan Godwin, a Nigerian farmer. Susan has five children, and farms seven hectares of yams, groundnuts, and maize. She uses a hand-hoe to crack open the earth and plant the seeds that pay for her children’s school fees. All children have left for the city to work, study and live – all but one remaining daughter who wants to become a farmer. And for that, Susan is fearful.
Susan’s essay, “My Daughter Wants to Be a Farmer” was recently published by Oxfam in a series entitled: The Future of Agriculture (2013). Oxfam published 23 essays in total, which were solicited from high-level policy analysts, leaders from non-profit organizations, CEOs from seed companies, and international activists. Of the 23 contributors, Susan was the only farmer.
By Shani Gilchrist
“It’s a nice place. Come on, you’ll like it.”
I’d spent the previous 30 minutes primping in our bedroom on the third floor of a row house my husband and I had rented for part of the summer in London. It was the first time I’d felt excited all week, as I hadn’t had many opportunities to speak to another adult.
By Catherine Close
Last night, I got together with a friend for dinner. I ate a greasy taco and washed it down with a beer. Tacos — in fact, almost any kind of Mexican food — are my happy food when I need a little culinary comfort. While crunching on my taco, my thoughts ran to my grandmother Frannie, as they so often do. Frannie introduced me to Mexico, and at the end of her life, I supplied her with tacos.
By Molly McIntyre
I wanted to share some behind the scenes shots from the animation I am currently working on, a video for the song “Shatter” by Distant Correspondent.
I love working with narration, like I did with the book trailers, but after doing so for the past few projects it’s kind of nice to take a break. In this case the storyline is up to me. The lyrics and music provide a guide, but there is a lot of room for interpretation.
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