The holiday party
The soft flannel sheets cling to me as I wrest my way out of my bed. I groggily glance at my clock which proclaims it to be 8:02 a.m., Dec. 17, 2072. Dec. 17, really? And in a flash, I am transported back to that fateful day nearly 25 years ago… I burst out of the door and rush to the car, which mom is already in and I plop into the seat and we pull o toward school.
I glance out the window and relax with a contented sigh. The sun throws its rays over the hills, and the early morning light streams down, striking the fields of brown grasses, now covered in snow-white frost. The sky to the west glows dark blue, with a few stars still glimmering faintly in the ever-reddening sky.
Soon we roll up to school and I walk down the hall to Mrs. Stahlians class. In our schools district, there is no upper or lower school building – the entire school is in the former lower school building. As I pass the principal’s o ce, I hear the principal with Molly’s dad discussing in whispered voices. Intrigued, I stop and listen at the door. A voice makes its way to my ear with barely contained fury.
“You know that we have the highest operating deficit in the county, because the County Council, under County Ordinance 218, says that we have to upkeep both school buildings when we only use less than a quarter of one building! And for three years now, we have had the least number of kids in the country with a grand total of 10, and no playground because it didn’t comply with County Viewshed Regulations, so it was torn down.”
“I know it’s ridiculous, but…” said the calming voice of Molly’s dad, and I walked down the hall.
When you only have one child in your class, which Mrs. Stahlians does, you would notice something was wrong with one of your students, so that day she asked me kindly, “What’s wrong, Benedict?” I shake myself and say, “Nothing, nothing, except… what is County Ordinance 218?”
She says, slightly stiffly, “County Ordinance 218? Well, County Ordinance 218 states that no new buildings may be built, nor may old ones be torn down unless they do not meet other standards, and it was created when the Data Center and Substation Lines went in at Clevenger’s Corner. But anyway, let’s get back to preparing for the holiday party.” I sat bolt upright in my chair – the holiday party! I had completely forgotten! The entire county was invited! I was so excited!
It was just thirty minutes before the holiday party and we were all in a frenzy. All our parents were helping with the food, we had the game booths set up and the principal was going to start greeting guests. That was it, it was four o’clock! Then it was 4:05 p.m., guests would be arriving soon! It was 4:10, where was everyone? It was 4:30, but… no one was there. Then, as the reality of nobody coming sunk in, I cried. Finally, the principal spoke.
“No one has come,” her voice cracked, “But we can have a nice party on our own!” I could hear the lie in it.
Then I shouted, “We have to do something!” My voice echoed around the empty gym. “This county is pathetic! Our school has 10 people in it, it has the highest operating deficit in the country and we do not have a playground. Little Washington in the census this year has officially reached a population of 0 and has unbecome a town. The only restaurants in the county are for tourists on weekend trips or cost $1,000 a visit! This county is a lifeless husk of what it was even 30 years ago. This county is the weekend bedroom for the rich of Washington, D.C.. You know why nobody is here today? Because 96% of the county’s residents only arrive here on Saturday and today is Friday. Let’s Face it: this beautiful county is for the rich’s eyes only. You cannot live here unless you own 15 acres of property. This county is a plutocracy. This county is dying!”
My voice echoed around the complete silence of the gym. “But, it is not dead yet, and I will do everything I can to save it. Everyone should be able to enjoy the beauty that is Rappahannock and I will try my hardest to make my dream come true.” Then Marcy’s mom said, “I will too.” Then the whole gym chanted, “We all will!”
From that day on the people that had been at that fateful holiday party fought against the layers of bureaucracy that had turned Rappahannock into Richohannock. And we gained attention and slowly there was change until a breakthrough: a revision of County Ordinance 218.
As a result of this revision there would be four green, sustainable villages (Amissville, Flint Hill, Little Washington and Sperryville) exempt from County Ordinance 218 with affordable and highdensity housing in the form of swiss-style halftimbered townhouses. The villages would have walkable streets, public squares and playgrounds. There would be room for shops, meeting spaces and a bike trail connecting all of the villages. And slowly, slowly the plan worked!
People began moving back into Rappahannock, into the villages, the only places they could live without a fortune, without a car. They moved into the villages where they could be one
with humans and nature. And with them came the first real shops. Little Washington had people in it again!
And that brings me back to today, Dec. 17, 2072, after all those things have happened. I draw the curtains and look out over the village square, further, out over Flint Hill, over the pristine countryside, preserved perfectly, where nature and humans co-exist, and where the dawn is stretching across the hillsides of my dream: Rappahannock County, where there are enough people to enjoy it.