In her storage room-turned-office, Jennifer Baum works under an expanding leak that is causing the ceiling to turn brown and crumble. Mold grows in the buckets positioned to catch the water. She shrugs it off. Outside her office she has taped up a clear plastic suit, and a sign that reads, "All employees must don protective gear before coming in." Such is life in limbo. Nearly a year after Sept. 11, the Legal Aid Society-the lawyers for New York's poor and homeless-remains, well, homeless. The nonprofit has been barred from returning to its 90 Church St. headquarters, across from the World Trade Center site, because of environmental concerns. Legal Aid has uncomfortable company. More than 11,500 New Yorkers continue to work out of temporary space, according to analysis by Manhattan-based real estate brokerage TenantWise.com Inc. and Crain's New York Business. That's 8% of the 137,000 workers who lost their offices or access to them when the Twin Towers collapsed. Legal Aid's 450 displaced attorneys and staffers have spent the past 12 months spread among previously unused spaces-some unused for good reason-in the nonprofit's other offices. It could be another year and a half before they return to their old desks. They have contended with difficult working conditions as demand for Legal Aid's services is on the rise because of Sept. 11 and the deteriorating economy. The civil division is spread among a few boroughs. Their papers and documents, some 20,000 boxes worth, are stuck in a storage facility in Linden, N.J. "I am counting the days till we can have all the parts back in one place," says Steven Banks, Legal Aid's associate attorney in chief. In the memories of the exiled workers, the old office has achieved mythical proportions. They say the wood paneling and rugs had the ability to cool emotions and lift spirits. The Legal Aid office on Montague Street in Brooklyn Heights, where 65 displaced workers have cobbled together space amid the faded and scratched walls, looks more like a bargain basement.
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QUESTION: What is the name of the non profit and where is it located?

One look at Fred Rooney, and you just know he's the good guy. A trace of childish innocence in his face gives the lanky Bethlehem lawyer a Jimmy Stewart-like quality of quiet trust. In black jeans and button-down shirt, he's a kind of folk hero in the south Bethlehem melting pot where he's crafted a law practice catering to working-class families - mostly Latino - in the shadow of the hulkish remnants of Bethlehem Steel. A two-hour drive away, at City University of New York Law School in Queens, Rooney spends several days a week helping upstart lawyers develop storefront practices that, like his, provide legal representation to folks who can't afford a $250-an-hour legal counselor. Kristin Booth Glen, the law school's dean, took one look at Rooney and knew he was the right person to head the innovative Community Legal Resources Network. ''Fred's so low-key, he's Midwestern in effect,'' says Glen, a former New York Supreme Court judge. ''He captivates people, he inspires loyalty.'' For bringing legal representation to the poor and a host of other social causes, including finding medical care for seriously ill children in Latin America, the Moravian College Alumni Association has chosen Rooney for its prestigious Haupert Humanitarian Award. The award, given to only a select few alumni, will be presented at 7:30 tonight at a reception on Moravian's Priscilla Payne Hurd campus. Moravian, where he was an undergraduate in the early 1970s, inspired Rooney's deep sense of social justice. The son of a Bethlehem Steel executive in New York, he came to the Bethlehem campus from an affluent upbringing on Long Island. The young Rooney might have set his sights on Washington, D.C., like his uncle, former U.S. Rep. Fred Rooney of Bethlehem. After all, politics run in the Rooney family. His brother, state Rep. T.J. Rooney of Bethlehem, is a power in the state Legislature and the Democratic Party. But on a trip to Colombia when he was a junior at Moravian, the child of privilege saw human suffering, malnutrition and poverty the likes of which he had never imagined. ''I couldn't understand why we live this way and they live that way,'' Rooney recalled. ''It's been the guiding light of my life ever since.'' After graduating in CUNY Law School's first class in 1986, he took a job with Lehigh Valley Legal Services.
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QUESTION: How did Fred Rooney physically look?

Victims of domestic violence will have access to quality legal representation through a campaign undertaken by Idaho Supreme Court Chief Justice Linda Copple Trout and corporate leaders. "Thousands of times a year, Idahoans are victims of domestic violence. The victims are often women and their children and they frequently have few resources with which to pursue their legal rights," Trout said Tuesday. "This campaign helps fill that gap in legal services for women who need the help at a time when they are in crisis." The Idaho Partners for Justice Project has already secured pledges of more than $35,000 from law firms, attorneys, corporations and individuals. The goal is $100,000. The drive to pay for free legal services will continue for the next two months. The money goes to Idaho Legal Aid Services and the Idaho Volunteer Lawyers Program. Last year, more than 5,000 petitions were filed in Idaho for protection orders in domestic violence cases. More than 12,000 victims contacted shelters or crisis hotlines. Joining Trout in the announcement was Idaho Bar Association President Fred Hoopes of Idaho Falls and Ida-West Energy Co. Chief Executive Officer Randy Hill, members of the project's executive committee. Also on hand were some women who were victims of such violence, but benefited from free legal services. Last year's campaign generated enough money and resources to help more than 450 victims. The help ranged from representation in protection order hearings to legal assistance in divorce, visitation and child support cases. The donations are tax deductible.
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QUESTION: Who is on the Idaho Project for Justice Committee?

When land is cleared, habitats are lost. It may be cleared for agriculture. It may also be used for building new homes or businesses. Within the past 100 years, the amount of land used for agriculture has almost doubled. Land used for grazing cattle has more than doubled. Many wetlands have also been lost to agriculture. The U.S. has lost almost all the natural tall-grass prairies. Thee areas of tall thick grass have virtually disappeared. These areas of land had thick fertile soil. Their grasses had very deep root systems. These deep and thick roots reduced the amount of soil erosion. They also were home to many plants and animals. Prairies were wonderful places. They were home to colorful flowers, prairie dogs, and herds of bison.
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QUESTION:
What types of land have been lost to agriculture?