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Throughout my life I’ve spent countless summer weekends at my parents’ cabin in the Uinta Mountains, where in the early days there was no electricity or indoor plumbing and almost every evening was spent playing games around the kitchen table until the generator would run out of gas.
Cameras flashed as reporters jostled for position. This was the biggest story of the year: Kenneth Lay was surrendering to the FBI. Slapped with a slew of charges alleging he falsified statements to hide billions in losses, Lay’s arrest marked the end of Enron’s empire.
Last August I was at a landfill site in So Paulo, Brazil. It had been a dump where people sorted through garbage looking for valuable items so they could put food on their tables.