By Jim Campain, Guest Writer Rusty’s unruly shock of red hair was responsible for his nickname. We met him while consulting with a community organization in one of the most impoverished counties in Appalachia. He was fifteen, tall and gangly, with a ready grin, and uncommonly at ease around adults and strangers. We were both. Rusty was munching on a leftover donut, and had to be prodded by st...
To access content, please login or purchase a subscription.
