By SEAN DIETRICH It was late. Her name was Lacy. She jumped out of her car and walked into work, wearing her food-service uniform. Visor on her head. Tired eyes. Slumped posture. Lacy had been working herself silly to support her two children. This was her second job....

By SEAN DIETRICH I was driving. I was hungry. I had to pull over because I was about to eat my own steering wheel. The Tennessee autumn was in full swing. I had a long way left to go. I found a meat and three in a strip mall. Lots of trucks in the parking area. You...

By SEAN DIETRICH Lessons from my blind rescue dog: — Wherever you are, find the dog-people. — The only things in life that matter are people and food. Although not necessarily in that order. — You learn everything you need to know about a person by the way they talk...

By SEAN DIETRICH Sunrise in middle Tennessee. It was four in the morning. I left my hotel early to get on the road. I had a long way to go. There was a light dusting of frost on the Smoky Mountains. I could see my breath. I turned on the radio and found a station...