Calvin Washington agonized over the letter he was writing to his local politician. John Calhoon was a life-long friend, but Cal was really furious with him these days. The guy’s cronies in the capital were allowing his neighbors to sell off prime agricultural land for housing developments.
They were ruining his county, his home, the only place he’d lived for the past 67 years. He’d watched most of his neighbors lose their farms to the banks or sell their properties to mega-farm corporations.
He was damned tired of it.
“Marg? What’s another way to say ‘shoveling manure’?”