{"title":"June 25","authors":"Christina Ward-Niven","doi":"10.31826/9781463241384-026","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.31826/9781463241384-026","url":null,"abstract":"T twelve months passed and once again: the company picnic. A day greeted with joy, with dread, with stoic indifference, depending on who you were. It was Tess’s company, where she’d worked since college graduation. The whole family attended every year—a late-June weekend that was inevitably hotter than average, the sun proud and ablaze in its new summer glory, temperatures of 85 to 90 that felt like 115, whorling clouds of insects above the weathered tables. The children loved it. It was held at a place in Maryland called Misty Glen Farm, which was not a farm at all but a sprawling outdoor corporate-event facility, staffed with dozens of young hourly workers manning massive grills and bounce houses and pony rides. The picnic was practically an all-day affair, noon to seven. Barbeque, pies, horseshoes. Old-fashioned family fun. They lived in northern Virginia, thirty miles southwest of DC. They climbed into the car just before noon. The usual skirmish broke out between the three children—ages thirteen, ten, and eight—about who got the windows, who was stuck in the miserable middle. Long ago the thirteen-year-old devised a schedule, a complicated rotation system based on their weekly hours in the car—which ultimately gave her the least number of center-seat minutes, though no one could prove it—and while the schedule now annoyed her (she was far too old for such stupidity), she reminded her siblings of it, dusted off the parameters of the system, hinted at its complex rules and implications for this daytrip. Her sister and brother, utterly confused but unwilling to admit it, conceded.","PeriodicalId":42372,"journal":{"name":"VIRGINIA QUARTERLY REVIEW","volume":"53 1","pages":"123 - 130"},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2017-04-19","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"87092277","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
{"title":"Natural Disasters","authors":"K. Oyedeji","doi":"10.18356/064ce6df-en","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.18356/064ce6df-en","url":null,"abstract":"Y clutching your left side when you arrive home late Friday evening. You bring some of the outside cold with you into the living area of the house. Small traces of snow run along the creases and folds in your coat, and flakes thaw along the fur trim on your hood. Your dress pants are soaked beneath the knee, snow lines the space between your shoes and your socks. Your toes burn and the inch-wide gash on the left side of your forehead continues to bleed. Alexa is making her way down the stairs as you enter. She stops at the sight of you. You think about what you have left out there, the dark-haired Latina woman propped behind her air bag who was motionless for what seemed like a long time but then began to groan and call out for someone—or something—in Spanish. The front of her vehicle was mangled, like a crushed soda can, and the entire passenger side of your Honda Accord had caved in on impact, the frame twisted into savage metal tentacles that clawed toward you as though summoning you to your death. You had climbed out of the car and cast your eyes over the pieces of shattered glass, spangled in the road’s track marks, iridescent under the streetlights. Having something to focus on had helped the shock subside, and your heart rate had begun to slow as oncoming headlights approached. That’s when you felt a sense of urgency and the need to be home. That’s when you shuffled toward the sidewalk, away from the wreck and its debris, and started on the quarter of a mile left between yourself and the house. Now that you are home, you remove your gloves. You feel pins and needles at your fingertips as you pull a Swiss Army knife from your","PeriodicalId":42372,"journal":{"name":"VIRGINIA QUARTERLY REVIEW","volume":"1 1","pages":"159 - 166"},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2017-01-12","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"89299659","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
{"title":"Galicia","authors":"Paul Yoon","doi":"10.1163/2589-7993_eeco_sim_00001370","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1163/2589-7993_eeco_sim_00001370","url":null,"abstract":": Territories or regions, as a coherent set of places, highlight the fact that a geogra- phical space is distinguished from its neighbors by a series of differential characteristics. Therefore, we can differentiate within the same region certain natural areas, homogeneous areas or polarized areas that delimit the singular notes and the own internal ambiguities of each region. This work tries to reflect the contrasts within the natural framework of Galicia around its economic organization. Drawing on it conclusions such as the predominance of micro-enterprise agglomerations and survival.","PeriodicalId":42372,"journal":{"name":"VIRGINIA QUARTERLY REVIEW","volume":"15 1","pages":"111 - 119"},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2016-10-15","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"81817733","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
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