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December came quietly that year, not blinding us with a blanket of snow, but creeping
through the landscape with a cold that ached in the bones. Every blade of grass was held
captive by a sheath of frost, as were the glacial branches that scraped at my windows, begging to get in. It is indeed the coldest year I can remember, with winds like barbs that caught and pulled at my skin. People ceaselessly searched for warmth, but my family found that this year, the warmth was searching for us.
My family had collected in the basement, a testament to tacky décor with a dash of dank-
ness. Nevertheless, it was easily the warmest place in the house and all household activities were being conducted there that day. My dad was trying to conquer a video game with little success, and my brother and I toiled with our homework achieving an equal lack of accomplishment. The culprit of our distraction was undoubtedly the pot roast that waited upstairs for us, taunting our empty stomachs with its heavy smell which floated over the moldy air of the basement like oil on water. The aroma must have reminded my mother to afford the roast a checkup, for she had abandoned the laundry and was ascending the stairs.
Now, I don’t believe much in the extrasensory, but I distinctly remember having a bad, bad feeling when my mother traversed the last step. Whatever this premonition may have been, it had me at my feet and waiting at the bottom of the stairs for a scream I already knew was coming.
No foreshadowing could have prepared me for it, though. Her scream hit me like a cy-
clone, turning my legs to rubber and my innards to slush. Frantic yelling followed the first shrill cry, and my father had nearly flown upstairs before I could even chi...
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...the fire. My dolls were twisted and liquefied, broken and scorched, sprawled upon my shelves and floor as if my room was some elaborate death scene. Spectral pieces of shattered glass sparkled amongst the yellow glow of my flashlight, littering my bed and a great deal of the floor.
My family was reunited with no tears, but shared a common frustration that knotted in all
of our stomachs. The next four months would be equally hellish, spent in a cramped hotel
room, with a so-called kitchen and comfortable living space that included a sink, a microwave, and three beds for the four of us. The time away from the hotel was devoted to slaving over house repairs, or simply yearning for just a breath of spring. The cold was hideous and blistering, and people matched its bitterness with their complaints. My family stayed quiet; we had our share of warmth that winter.
Public housing complexes were seen as pleasurable places. When the boys’ mother, LaJoe, first moved to Horner she was thirteen. The homes had white, freshly painted walls, new linoleum floors, closets you could hide in, and brand new appliances. The children went to dances in the basement, belonged to the girl scouts, and played outside on the playground surrounded by freshly planted grass. This harmonious sight all came to an abrupt end. The housing authority did not have the money or interest to put into the projects. They did not have much concern for low-income families and, therefore, the projects were neglected. The smell in the apartments became so bad that people thought dead fetuses were being flushed down the toilets. The appliances in the apartments hardly ever worked, so cooking was limited. After an inspection of the basement, over 2000 new and used appliances were found covered with rats, animal carcasses and excrements. The dead animals, paraphernalia, and female undergarments explained the smell lingering throughout the apartments.
cold, harsh, wintry days, when my brothers and sister and I trudged home from school burdened down by the silence and frigidity of our long trek from the main road, down the hill to our shabby-looking house. More rundown than any of our classmates’ houses. In winter my mother’s riotous flowers would be absent, and the shack stood revealed for what it was. A gray, decaying...
An example of the cycle followed by her father, his father, and his father before him is told when Blunt recalls a major blizzard in December 1964 that trapped the family and some neighbors in their small homestead. She unemotionally describes how her father simply proceeded to go through the motions of keeping the pipes from freezing, calmly accepting the fact that he could do nothing as the storm progressed and he could not prevent loss of a of their livestock. Or how when he first ventured out to check on the animals in their nearby barn and nearly lost his way back in whiteout conditions. Later, when the storm passed, she told of playing amongst the frozen corpses of the cattle, jumping from ribcage to ribcage, daring her older brother and sister to cut off pieces of the animals, all with the calm acceptance that this was so normal, nothing strange about it.
(6) The suddenness of the winter storm caught people by surprise. A roar “like an approaching train” was all the warning the storm gave. (130) The roaring wind and snow brought darkness and dropping temperatures. The people who were inside when the blizzard struck faced a dilemma. Staying inside and doing nothing seemed “heartless,” but going into the storm “on a rescue mission was likely to be fatal to the rescuer and useless to the lost.” (143) The people who were unfortunate enough to be away from home, whether they were at school or working with their livestock, had to make a difficult decision. They could either risk trying to make it home or chance it out and stay where they were. Schoolteachers had to decide whether to send the children home or keep them at the school. If anyone ventured outside, he or she risked frostbite, hypothermia, and likely
“Winter Dreams.” Short Stories for Students. Ed. Carol Ullmann. Vol. 15. Detroit: Gale, 2002. N. pag. Gale Virtual Reference Library. Web. 23 Mar. 2011.
Prugl, E. (Director). (2013). Violence Against women [Lecture]. Switzerland: Institute of International and Development Studies.
Bjerke, Juel M. "Week 2 Lecture Notes - Achieving Business Process Excellence and Process Re-engineering." MFGO 601 - The Globally Integrated Manufacturing Company. 2 Nov. 2011.
Fitzgerald, F. Scott. "Winter Dreams." Print. Rpt. in English 102 Course Pack. By Megan Newell. Montreal: Eastman Systems, 2012. 33-40. Print.
Even some of the women who have been beaten say it is acceptable to beat women if they are disobedient (69). The book also demonstrates that many large organizations meaning to be helpful often make the problem worse. The people who oversee them often misunderstand the cultures and problems of the rural villages, where the people are most in need of help. The book explains that although these organizations are important for changing laws, the best way to solve the oppression of women is to go to the outlying villages, understand the local people, and then help
I stepped out of the chilly November air and into the warmth of my home. The first snowfall of the year had hit early in the morning, and the soft, powdery snow provided entertainment for hours. As I laid my furry mittens and warm hat on the bench to dry, I was immediately greeted with the rich scent of sweet apple pie, pumpkin pie, mashed potatoes, and the twenty-pound turkey my mother was preparing for our Thanksgiving feast.
At times, the snow was falling so heavily you could hardly see the streetlights that glistened like beacons in a sea of snow. With the landscape draped in white, the trees hanging over as to almost touch the ground, homes pillowed in a fluffy white shroud, winter had surely arrived and with a vengeance.
Hammer(1990) came up with the term Business Process Reengineering in his article, “Reengineering Work: Don’t automate, elaborate”. Hammer (1990) outlined that Business Process Reengineering was a business management strategy. He focuses on the designs of business processes within an organisation. His main aim is for companies implementing his strategies to become world-class competitors. The concept of BPR has developed over time with the advancement in technology.
B. Organizations of this kind in the UK believe they are capable of stopping violence and creating a better world. But violence in women seems to have been forgotten (it causes more deaths in women than cancer, malaria, traffic accidents and war). That’s the reason why numerous organizations in the UK focus on helping women worldwide with diverse kinds of programs. The UK organizations develop programs to deal with women’s inequality in the planet’s poorest places to show them to make decisions in their own life for them, for their families, community and eventually to lend a hand to other women with the same problems. The importance of these kinds of programs and institutions is that they provide motivation and are able to bring a social change to the international communities. These institutions had achieved great success teaching women how to overcome the taboos that society had created in them.
It was late summer. The weather was gradually changing to autumn, which was noticeably seen on the leaves that were starting to turn orange. The sun was out, but it wasn’t too hot or too cold outside. In fact, it was actually soothing; the cold wind blowing, paired with the warm sun shining above.
The rest of this chapter is organized as follows: Firstly, we introduce the origins and history of BPM in section 2.1. Secondly, we present a number of basic BPM concepts, definitions, and terminologies in section 2.2. Thirdly, we show the relation- ship between BPMS and other systems or applications, such as Enterprise Resource Planning (ERP), Groupware Systems or Computer Supported Cooperative Work (CSCW), and Workflow Management Systems (WfMS) in section