By Matt Stansberry In The Death and Life of the [...]
I was born in Akron. My deathbed request for a final meal would be a Swenson’s Galley Boy, and I’d wash it down with a California. My grandfather retired from the Firestone Tire Factory and as a kid I worked for Goodyear ...
I became obsessed with wildflowers last spring. One April morning I had been slumped on my couch with my laptop, and suddenly panicked as if I was on a plane falling out of the sky.
It was the kind of morning I would never spend outside: 46-degrees Fahrenheit, rain running down the bare trees and pooling up on the muddy ground. Nothing looked alive.