Spoiled, Rotten, and Left Behind

  • Ken Foster


Back in the 1960s when I was a kid in rural Indiana, we lined up at the end of lunch period to dump our leftovers into a big plywood box with three holes cut in the top. One by one we filed past, scraping the uneaten items into this contraption before running off to recess. It was just what we did. Who knew or cared where all that gross slop went, anyway?

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© Jessica Eise and Ken Foster 2018

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  • Ken Foster

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