WOO PIG

Walking in is like entering a hornets nest. Thousands of screaming people all crowded into one central location is almost overwhelming. Even though every person is an individual all you can make out is the collective or the whole. There is a very noticeable color scheme of red and white as if 70,000 people called each other to coordinate what to wear. There is a strong smell of beer, liquor, and sweat. This "hive" of people seems to have their own language to find some connection in this mass of existance. "Go Hogs, Go Razorbacks, Woo Pig" is heard as these red herds pass by each other. With this many people talking at once it almost seems to be an undecipherable roar. Suddenly all 70,000 people stand up, start raising their arms, and collectively yelling "Woooo Pig Soooie". Once, then twice, and then a third time they do this but on the third try end it with a loud "Razorbacks!". Suddenly a wild eruption of cheering and music goes off as a small group of large men in strange clothes runs onto the field. Then as if on cue another group of men in different colors takes the field to a chorus of boo's. These men are apparently about to battle in the center of this arena as this enormous crowd looks on.

Somewhere between Anthony Michal Hall and Judd Nelson

As a student, it becomes difficult to look past the high heels and briefcases that define teachers. Young or old, teachers seem to be in such a vastly different world than the one I live in. I’ve never had the teacher notorious for cancelling classes. Instead, I have the ones who are adamant about coming to class even when bad weather hits or who schedules an assignment over Spring Break. My teachers also never seem to be sick, and even if they are sick, they are excited to come and teach while spreading their lovely germs to the rest of the class. All in all, my teachers have never come across as all-human. For the most part, they appear the same, with 4 limbs and 5 digits on each of those limbs, a nose for breathing, and eyes for winking. Their ears probably get waxy build up and they probably get blisters on their feet. Yet, there is always something off, something missing, something making them a little not human.

That changed today, a little bit. We were given a creative interview assignment for a creative class. As three distinct groups, the class was supposed to ask questions based on “family,” “job and education,” and “personal” towards the teacher. The questions were rather predictable, with a few curveballs along the way, so it wasn’t the interviewers that led to my humanistic revelation. Instead, it was the honesty of the answers. Mrs. Megan Robertson-Hurley entered the classroom and was able to show the students that teachers have lives, with pasts and futures. After questions about how she met her husband, and what schools she attended, and the worst experience as a teacher, she began to tangent off into stories of her life She offered up the story of how one of her students began to believe she and he were Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, and admits, with a nervous laugh, how “that was pretty uncomfortable”. It was the ending to her stalker-student narrative that finally made something click. ‘I was sitting on a stoop waiting for a doctor’s appointment,’ which triggered in my brain that teachers got sick and had check-ups, ‘when I saw this tall shadow.’ A tall shadow stalker. She had to explain to him how this was “not working” for her, which resulted in a framed, personal eulogy being shipped to her mother’s address. Then it hit. The eulogy mattered because it freaked her the fuck out, because she’s gonna have one too.

Teachers have parents they’re born to; teachers have graves they’re buried into. Teachers are people too. From that moment forth, I listened intently as she explained that in her marriage with Brian there have “been lots of good parts. I like him. He’s my friend,” but that she hates splitting holidays between Oregon and New Jersey. How she is “nervous about little towns,” but doesn’t want to raise her kids in a big city like New York or Chicago. How she was too scared to get a nose piercing herself in college, but after clever convincing, she managed to get her little sister, Sarah, to partake. “Yes!” she exclaimed with an “alright, I kicked butt” type motion of her elbow. She even has faults to admit. After a “click, click, click” sound of her tongue, she proudly announces “I’m really bad about being on time. My mom is an exceptionally timely person” so for her 18th birthday, she got a HUGE clock as a replacement. I could no longer see the teacher, but instead saw the person who had a childhood’s worth of memories and a future full of plans. An interview process assignment led to a teacher becoming a daughter who chose to become a wife who is an interesting older sister who would, if she had to choose, “position myself somewhere between the brain and the criminal”.

The Union Heartbeat

This part of the Student Union used to be an open-air bridge. Cars with students, passerby's and locals travelled under it to make their way from Maple to Dickson, vice versa. Now, enclosed area has the appeal of a subway station and much of the same smell. Doors open and close, occasionally catching a foot, or a backpack, and rattling. 

Laughter from a loud conversation echoes through the brick and glass chamber. A hand rustling for breakfast inside a plastic sack muffles the sound of quick rubber-treaded footsteps. Across the span, beeps erupt from an ATM as a user prompts its keys for cash. click, Click, CLick, CLIck, CLICk, CLICK...the unmistakeable sound of hard high heels supporting a pair of sexy legs, sometimes not so sexy legs...CLICK, cLICK, clICK, scuff, cliCK, clicK, click...

The average age is 35, I'd say, as campus workers, students and professors all pass through. The feeling of the subway station makes me wish for larger crowds who come and go in waves as the trains beat through.

Swish, swish. Are wind suits still legal? They rub on the thighs of wearers and emit a sound similar to lashings in the rice fields. Clang! A hard punch on the panic bar of one of the doors. And every time, a hard punch and Clang! And everyone jolts. "I guess it's time to go to work." The man's voice deepens and softens during his phone conversation. "Yeah, got yer little to do list." 

He rubs his hand slowly over his bald head. He turns a quarter-circle about every 30 seconds, until he is looking out the window again - were he tends to linger a little bit longer. His belly is enormous, especially when he is on one-quarter and three-quarter position. A yellow highlighter protrudes from his front pocket - waiting either to fall out or to push itself into his belly the next time bends over. He picks up a heavy pile of books and attempts to walk outside. His conversation brings him back to his original turning point and he resumes his rotation, sans books. 

"503 or 509 or something like that." An older man with a white goatee and lovely wool trench coat passes by with his companion - perhaps his wife. She glances at me. Click, click, click...

Then from another corner of the room, "How's it going, Damon?" "What's up?"

Scuffing feet. A cough. A handful of pocket change falls to the floor far behind me. 

A girl passes with her ipod cord around her neck like a stethoscope. A seasoned janitor in a tight knit cap appears from one of the vestibules. He stands by an exit door and looks out, then back into the room. He looks out again, then quietly pushes the door open and lights a cigarette as he steps onto the patio.  

Thump thump thump thump - heavy heels hurriedly pass. "No actually," mumbles another one-sided conversation. "I think, yeah." Click, click, click. A squeak then whoosh of an air brake from a bus below...

What are they thinking?

"Kallie, what color do you think I should choose as the base for our wedding?" I look up dazed and have to remind myself I'm surrounded by my sister and all of her friends while she is trying to plan her no longer existing wedding. "Um, well I'm not sure, whatever you want Shaina." She wasn't very happy with my answer. She knows how I feel about getting married at a young age, and deep down she agrees. She made a decision not many people would even consider after accepting a marriage proposal. Lately, almost all of my friends have gotten married or engaged. I sit and listen as they plan their weddings, picking out colors, flowers, the dress and so many other small details my head starts to spin thinking about it. Every now and then someone will ask my opinion on something I could care less about but I'll give them my opinion anyway. The questions become repetitive, "What color should the bridesmaid dress be, what kind of flower should I choose, should the dinner be big or small?" I always answer with a "I really think it's whatever you want, it is your wedding, not mine." It seems a little mean but like I said i don't really know. Whenever I'm around them, I feel out of place. I'm the only one that thinks getting married right away is insane. Who wants to be married as soon as they finish college? I can't ever really voice my actual opinion because I think it is smarter to be independent for a while after graduation. Listening to the conversations, the time seems to go slower and slower but then I realize I've been listening to them talk for an hour or more.

Intense Dialogue Action

Pieces to an evening conversation with my BFF Kim, her boyfriend Chris, and Kim's 5th grade sister Kayla.

[Kim's House] 5:11 p.m.:

“Ugh I really need to start packing.” – Kim
“Well, you know you’re not going to get anything done with me here, and certainly not with Chris here.” – Me (I'm lollygagging on her futon)
“Yeah, I know. Ugh I need to go to Wal-Mart before I leave too.” – Kim
“I hate Wal-Mart.” – Me
“Me too. Mm, no, I just hate Springdale Wal-Mart.” – Kim
“Yeah, it’s gross.” – Me
“Yeah, it smells like fried chicken and puke.” – Kim
"Are you guys talking about Wal-Mart?!" - Kayla

[watching Max Payne] 6:57 p.m. Chris is over now

“I’M MAX PAYNE!” – Me
“BIIIITCH!” – Chris
“What just happened?” – Kim
“Those things are pterodactyls and they just killed that guy.” – Chris
“They are not! They’re flying demons that kill people.” – Me
“Pterodactyls kill people…” - Chris

[at Rogers Wal-Mart] 8:47 p.m. The store is immaculately clean and there are about 6 other people in it

"I can't find any 16 inch rims." - Me (I'm looking at a Wheel & Tire magazine)
"Woah! That's like 26 inches right there!" - Kim
"Ten whole inches bigger than mine. You imagine that on my car?" - Me
"That's fucking huge." - Kim
"That's what SHE said!!" - Chris
"Umm, I highly doubt that." - Kim

“You’re gonna buy that magazine? It’s like 7 dollars!” – Kim
“But it’s an annual. Of course it’s over priced.” – Me (I don't really know what I'm talking about)
“Let her get her rim on.” – Chris
“Ew. Please don’t say that.” – Me
“You know that magazine does stuff for you.” – Chris
“You’re gross. …But mildly right.” – Me
“Guys, they’re car rims. It’s page to page rims, like 200 pages. What the fuck?” – Kim
“It does kind of do things to me Kim. You know my car is going to look freakin’ sweet.” – Me
“Deidre, I love your car.” – Kayla
“Picture it with these black rims, Kayla.” – Me
“I would steal your car if I had the chance.” – Kayla
“That's so sweet.” – Me

[using self-checkout] 9:01 p.m.

“EMPLOYEE APPROVAL NEEDED. THANK YOU FOR SHOPPING AT WALMART.” (so loud, you can hear it clear across the store. We all look at Kim like she's buying illegal drugs and carrying drug paraphernalia and will soon be tackled by non-existant Wal-Mart security.)
“Employee approval? What? Why?” – Kim (she's freaking out like she's buying illegal drugs and carrying drug paraphernalia and will soon be tackled by non-existant Wal-Mart security.)
“Nyquil. You bought Nyquil.” – Chris
“So?” – Kim’s little sister
“Kids get crunk off that stuff.” – Me (I can't say I even know what that means exactly.)
“Oh yeah, they run around like oh em gee let’s go buy Nyquil.” – Kayla
“How do YOU know?!” – Me
“Kids need to grow some balls and get hard liquor like the rest of us.” – Chris
“CHRISTOPHER!” – Kim
“EMPLOYEE APPROVAL NEEDED. THANK YOU FOR SHOPPING AT WALMART.”
“What the crap? It’s a freakin’ magazine!” – Me
“It has half naked women in it.” – Chris
“Ugh. True. I’m not buying it for the women. I’m buying it for the rims.” – Me
“Whatever. We all know you’re a lesbian, Deidre.” – Chris
“Yeah, okay. Might explain my inability to keep a boyfriend.” – Me
“And you are “dating” my girlfriend.” – Chris
“Only ‘cause you’re not enough for her.” – Me
“OHHHH!” - Kim and Kayla
“Whatever.” – Chris
“Jealous.” – Me

A Budding Romance or a Forbidden Affair?

I sat at a table near one of the exits of the union’s food court, close enough to hear but far enough away that no one suspected that I was listening. As I watched, a man dressed in khaki shorts and a navy blue sweatshirt came through the line with a plate full of four biscuits drowned in white gravy and some sizzling bacon. It made my mouth water. As he checked out he said something witty to the pretty blonde cashier and she rewarded him with a wide smile. He walked away from the cash register and sat down at a table that was only a few feet away from me and started eating. I tried to observe him without being noticed and he ever detected me watching him. He was too intent on eating. He kept picking up his gravy-drenched biscuits with his fingers and then licking his fingers with loud smacks. It was disgusting. He also kept making gaga eyes at the cashier that had smiled at him earlier. At first I just thought he was being creepy but then I noticed that every once and a while she would turn around and flash a smile in his direction. The first time she did this I thought she was smiling at me. I finally caught on the second or third time she turned that she was actually looking at him. I noticed a wedding ring on her left hand and it made me wonder. Could this be her husband? Her brother? A secret lover? After he finished eating the man got up and threw away his trash at the trashcan right next to her register (even though there were other trashcans that were closer to the table he was sitting at) and he said something else to her while he was there and she laughed. When he walked back to his seat he was so distracted by her that he sat at the wrong table! He didn’t even notice his mistake because he just kept watching her. He eventually got up to leave and after a bit of searching he went and picked up his backpack from the table he was originally sitting and walked up to talk to the cashier again. I guess he must have told her that he was leaving because she came out from behind her register and gave him a hug and he gently kissed the lips. I guess it wasn’t her brother. Then he waved and walked out the door.

Brough

Walking through the door labeled with the Brough dining hall hours, I stood in the entry way with an obvious look of confusion. Unaware of where to swipe my meal plan card, I quickly felt embarassed by my lack of awareness as a set of stairs displayed the quite apparent answer. We trudged up the stairs. My legs felt like lead as I used the railing to pull myself up one stair at a time. Ten. Eleven. Twelve- we seemed to climb forever. The amount of stairs to reach the dining area seemed kind of ridiculous. Really, what college student wants to begin their morning having to drag his or herself out of bed and climb a mountain of stairs to eat a breakfast that will most likely have to be enhaled to make it to class on time? I would say majority of the students prefer not to begin the morning with any sort of physical exertion. This fact seemed to prove itself as each student I saw moved at a rate similar to my snail pace.

Upon reaching the top of the stairs and the entrance to the cafeteria, the woman swiping meal cards seemed surprisingly perky considering the early morning hour. Wishing us a good morning and enjoyable meal, she went back to her newspaper reading. Not much to my surprise, the cafeteria lacked any large amount of people eating, and the few there were dispersed throughout the eating area. With the exception of a few workers loudly voicing their opinions about what needed to be done for the lighting fixture that seemed slightly dimmer than the rest, the cafeteria lacked any real amount of noise.

Taking a spot by the window, we observed a number of students rushing hurridly to class. Considering the cold weather and strong winds, I didn't blame them. Most wore hoods tightly tied around their necks-any attempt to keep warm. One girl walked more slowly to class, dressed in apparel that seemed more fit for a funeral in Alaska than a school day in Arkansas. Black shoes and pants covered by a black trench coat with a hood of fur. She atleast appeared to be retaining some of the warmth within her heavy jacket that the various other students had lacked.

Eventually a table across from us became occupied with three guys who were deep in coversation. Curious to the subject at hand that seemed to be inticing all three boys, I realized the topic of debate was the importance of marshmellows in cereal. Not exactly solving world hunger or curing cancer but to give them the benefit of the doubt, it was quite early in the morning. Oddly enough, the guy that so greatly argued the importance of marshmellows in cereal as key for a good morning was eating fruit loops. No marshmellows there-ironic.

The intensity of livlihood within Brough cafeteria didn't really pick up, and when 9:10 rolled around and we journied back to the wonderful world of essay writing, we were left with an appreciation for warm winter clothes, knowledge on how possibly to fix a light fixture, and a new perception on cereal marshmellows.

Coffee, random comments, and quietness

Arsaga's is a comfortable atmosphere. Books line the walls when you first walk in, but the other walls were all windows. Its a nice day outside, sort of cold so but really pretty. Around the room there are a few people reading or studying or just trying to stay warm. There are a few couches, leather chairs, a counter with computers, and smaller tables. The guy behind the counter was a little strange but really friendly. I ordered my coffee and had a seat. I began trying to blend in by reading to begin with and started listening to the conversations around me. Two men seem to be talking by the window, but I couldn't really understand them. They both seemed to have a very think Indian accent. In the background, there was some strange music playing. I'm not really sure what kind but it was almost like reggae music. Everytime someone order coffee the woman would grind the beans and it was a very loud, distracting sound almost like a train going over a bridge. You would think that would get very annoying to some people trying to study but it didn't really seem to bother anyone. Outside, campus is pretty quiet, I guess most people are in class at this point. The few people who are walking around seem to be walking quickly to get inside because it is a little cold. I'm listening to the guy behind the counter and he's talking to the other woman working with him. She seems to be very uninterested in whatever he is saying. "We've sold a lot of soup this morning, this new kind seems to be a big hit." She responded by going "Uh huh." I was like geez give the guy a break its so quiet in here the guy needs someone to talk to. Whenever people come in to order coffee, they stare at the menu and finally order something but most people are so quiet you can't even hear what they are saying. The register opens and you hear the sound of change clanking around or the credit card machine printing out a receipt. I really like this area, it seems like all the students in the building come here quite often just to relax or study in between their classes.

Lattes, Reggae, and Chocolate Chip Somethings

Bookshelves line up along one wall in Arsaga's. Another wall is windows overlooking students walking from the Union to the library and back. Some of the piping in the ceiling is visible, but painted, with light fixtures hanging. There are parts of a ceiling jutting out from various corners, held up by a column. It's fairly bright, being so early in the morning. The few students here are reading the newspaper, studying, or eating breakfast. It's silent as everybody drinks their coffee in an attempt to be energized. The coffee grinder is the only thing to interrupt the silence. I order a latte and the guy behind the counter mumbles back at me. He's wearing overalls and his shaggy hair is a mess. He mumbles to the girl behind the counter and I think she starts fixing my drink. I have to ask him to repeat himself a few times to understand my total. They start playing some kind of funky, reggae music behind the counter. I'm wondering if the law students are enjoying the music while they try to study. I would think I would want silence if I were trying to study law. I take my latte and sit down in a leather chair, trying to capture conversations without being noticed. I feel a little creepy. There are a couple of men by the windows talking over coffee. They are talking quietly and it's hard to understand them. The reggae music stops. The coffee grinder continues to make its annoying noise. I hate annoying noises so early in the morning. I hear a female voice ordering a bagel with cream cheese. A man tries to convince her to let him buy her a chocolate chip something. She comments, "this is the last week." Whatever that means. Coffee guy in overalls actually speaks up to tell coffee girl a story. "So she starts following the guy and the guy pulls over on the side of the road and is like 'why are you following me?!' and she's like 'because you have my tire!'" He speaks clearly and with a lot of enthusiasm in this story. Far cry from the mumbles I got before. The girl laughs, "that's crazy..." He starts mumbling again and the coffee grinder interrupts. Once again, they start playing music. This time it has a much slower tempo. It's a girl singing "do you have someone to hang out with...do you have someone to hug and kiss you...are you alright...are you alright...is there something bothering you...are you alright..."

Coffee Chuckles

“Good Morning, What would you like?” says the older lady behind the glowing display of morning treats. “Café Mocha, please” replies the half asleep student. “Medium or Large?” “Large,” says the student with a yawn. (It must be an especially rough morning.) The line automatically shifts to the left. The cashier lady says, “That’ll be 2.95.” The chi ching of the register soon follows. This robotic line continued for a good while with students constantly filing in. Then a sudden lull set in. (Class must have started.) RZ’s sets into a hushed calm. Students sit one at each table in the room as if the presence of another person at the four person tables would be an invasion of personal space. All is calm. The students do one of three things: type, read, or nap with only the exception of the occasional cross-word puzzle solver. (He is either lucky with no homework or just a lazy student.) The ladies behind the counter carry-on their normal conversations as if they aren’t disturbing the diligent studiers, or possibly they think people actually care that they wished they lived in Australia. No one seems to be listening but I’m sure they are all commenting to themselves. They’re probably thinking what I’m thinking, “What’s the difference between working in a coffee shop here and one in Australia? Sand?”

Your A Dick! I mean Really!!

Michael Phelps shocked the world when he won 8 gold medals in the 2008 Olympics than shocked the world again when pictures were leaked of him smoking pot.  Give him a break people!  If the guy who is probably one of the greatest athletes of all time wants to have a little fun and take a bong hit every once in awhile let him.  He is only 23, and probably never really got a chance to go crazy since he as been, oh I don't know, winning more gold medals than anyone in history!  Almost every college student, or person around his age, has made a stupid mistake but only a hand full of them have had to do it in front of the whole world.  I am not condoning him smoking pot but I am not crucifying him either. And the guys who took the picture have officially marked themselves for the rest of their lives as the jerks who tired to ruin Michael Phelps' reputation.  They had the choice of sitting back and hanging out with Michael Phelps, possibly make friends with a national hero, but instead they decided to be a jerk.  Well I am sure they were having a good laugh until they had the police on their front porch ready to raid their house.  I think Seth Rogan from SNL put it best, "Your a dick! I mean Really!"

http://www.nbc.com/Saturday_Night_Live/video/clips/really-michael-phelps/999101/

Big Red Baby!!

"Good morning," says an older man as he walks through the tall glass door. "Cream cheese bagel please." An empty store that sees one or two customers at a time. The only sounds being made in the store consist of a working cash register and a faucet that doesn't stop dripping. The self-serve soda machine makes 'that noise' as a customer/student fills his 24 ounce cup with Coca-Cola.

"Just a couple more weeks," says the older lady working the register. I assume she's talking about spring break. The people that have come into the store so far are either getting coffee, soda or breakfast food. The women behind the register watch as students walk by. There's really nothing else to do. The full-size windows of the store catch the eye of who-ever is in it. You can't help but look out the window every time someone walks by.

"Do you need a receipt," says the older lady behind the register. As I look in front of me, I see bagels, muffins, a large bowl of fresh fruit and a half-empty large bowl of 'fresh' garden salad. The dripping sound doesn't stop. It's starting to annoy me at this point.

People come and go very quickly. When the store doesn't have any customers, the people inside it can't help but constantly look at one another. Again, there's not really anything else to do. The potato chip and candy bar section of the store is unoccupied. It's too early for that kind of food.

"It's too cold outside for me," says a student to the register lady as he walks in. "I'm from Arizona so I'm used to the warmer weather." Not a lot is going on in the store at this hour, but the flow is very steady and consistent. As soon as someone walks out of the store, someone else walks in. The service and convenience strongly resemble that of a gas station-type of environment.

"We need more coffee," says one of the female employees. Finally some action. As one employee prepares more coffee, the other stares me down s I write. To take my mind off her eavesdropping, I shift my eyes to the only sign on the deli counter. It reads, "Today's Fresh Salad: Asparagus and Grilled Chicken Spring Salad with Roasted Red Peppers, Bowtie Pasta and a Dijon Cider Vinaigrette. Only $2.99"

"That looks gross," says one customer/student. "I might get that for lunch," says another. That might be the only option by lunch. The bagels and donuts are almost gone. "We need more coffee," says the register lady again.

Arsaga's

The coffee shop Arsaga’s, in the Law Building on campus, is a destination of solitude. The scent of coffee instantly enters your nose as you walk in, for a sweet aroma of beans. The coffee machine grinds giving off a loud roar of crackles. The streamer gurgles silencing the sound of people turning on their daily papers. There is mixture of sounds, loud ones and even the distasteful ones, that still give off a calming essence. The lay out of the shop gives for both group and single seating areas. The seats are a mesh of different colors the golden beige to olive green to the black leather ones that surround a cylinder wooden table, with notches cut out at the bottom to put one’s feet up. The wall of windows allows for maximum amount of light to be let in and an on going amusement of a vast variety of different people pass by clueless of the people looking at them from the window.
The people in this little coffee shop are as different as the people walking outside of it. They sip their coffee usually entrenched in what ever tale they are reading about, or whatever song they are listening to on their iPod/MP3 players. The delight of a morning snack and a burst of energy from a cup swallows away the sleep in their minds. In this place people get a break from the stress of the night before and the day to come. It doesn’t matter the distractions the mood stays constant and uplifting. Argaga’s coffee shop seems to be a place of serenity for the Law students of the University of Arkansas.

Hunger...

When the Twin Towers in New York collapsed on September 11, there was a great commotion in the nation. Every day, hunger crumbles the equivalent of 10 twin towers full of children and nobody gets upset. Why? It’s estimated that every 24 hours about 100, 000 people die from hunger in the world and 16, 000 of them are children under the age of five (Bread for the World, 2007).
I’m a member of St. Vincent De Paul Church in Rogers. At my church there’s a food pantry where I have the privilege to be a volunteer. Since last summer we have seen a rise in the number of people who come for food. We usually serve people four days a week and now with the economic problems that every body is facing right now more and more people are comming everyday to our facility for food. For thais reason there have been some weeks where we would not have enough food for the whole week and there still a lot to people to be fed. It’s scary and sad at the same time! A lot of people are hungry, especially children!

I feel frustrated when I cannot do enough to alleviate this agony…

I feel very frustrated when I see that our government is not doing enough for our people...

I feel frustrated when our government has focused on a stupid war and forgotten the essential spirit of this country…our people, our children...

It is very alarming to see that there are still a lot of people living in hunger, especially children, who despite the great effort from people to end this problem, it is still happening to them more and more every day. By having programs like WIC, Food Stamps, etc., many people may be alleviated from hunger conditions. But unfortunately, not everybody has the opportunity to participate; this happens even though many families may qualify for the program like those who don’t have transportation, or work full time and don’t have time to participate in nutrition classes and to receive food from certain institutions like ours. There are many families that every single day struggle, worrying if they are going to have enough or any food at all for the next day.
That is why we need to see changes on a number of levels including individual, community and governmental that would help remediate hunger in our communities.

Everybody deserves to be happy. ..

Nobody deserves to be hungry.

How can you help to end this agony?


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RNK5pcoeA3o