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<= Previous | September
Issues Index | Next => This day in 1752 was a bit odd in England and all her colonies. It was a Thursday. The day before had been a Wednesday, but the date had been 2 September - 11 days had vanished. There were riots as those who missed the chance to work those days realized they had to pay their landlords a full month's rent. And that wasn't the only problem with 1752. As always, the new year had started on 25 March, but the year would end on 31 December. Twenty percent of the days in the year vanished in changes to the calendar. If there's a point here, I think it's that we need to attend to each day for itself, lest the months and years be disappointing.
We do not remember days, we remember moments. If we would only give, just once, the same amount of reflection to what we want to get out of life that we give to the question of what to do with a two week's vacation, we would be startled at our false standards and the aimless procession of our busy days. The days you work are the best days. It was one of those perfect English autumnal days which occur more frequently in memory than in life. The days come and go but they say nothing, and if we do not use the gifts they bring, they carry them as silently away. Why are our days numbered and not, say, lettered?
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