Hands and Feet

Hands and Feet

  People say I talk with my hands. They come up out of nowhere sometimes, bearing down like a summer thunderstorm. Raised to affirm a point and shaken to deny an accusation.  They slide up when I say hello and usually take a final bow when it’s time to say...
Food Tells Our Stories and Gives Us Hope

Food Tells Our Stories and Gives Us Hope

I am a pessimist by design. My eyes fix in an upward glance, scanning the horizon for the other shoe to drop—a true believer in Murphy’s Law. Over the years, this has produced a mantra that can, like the prophets’ message, burn inside me at such an...