It isn’t enough to talk about peace. One must believe in it. And it isn’t enough to believe in it. One must work at it.
~ Eleanor Roosevelt ~
Just twenty more days until we all should celebrate World Peace Day. The International Day of Peace is a United Nations-sanctioned holiday observed annually on September 21. Here’s a snippet of what Wikipedia has to say about the event:
It is dedicated to world peace, and specifically the absence of war and violence, such as might be occasioned by a temporary ceasefire in a combat zone for humanitarian aid access. The day was first celebrated in 1981, and is kept by many nations, political groups, military groups, and people. In 2013 the day was dedicated by the Secretary-General of the United Nations to peace education, the key preventive means to reduce war sustainably.
Consider the impact on people and the planet if every living human being spent the entire day, dedicated to the proposition that world peace is an immediately achievable objective. A single day, focused exclusively on declaring perpetual peace, could have enormously positive consequences. A single day, given adequate gravitas by every living person, could change the course of life on this planet. It could transform an ugly, bitter, dangerous place into a refuge in which everyone would, at least for a day, dedicate themselves to solving problems through cooperation instead of conflict.
But unless we all buy into (and insist on loudly proclaiming our support for) the UN’s quiet little announcements, the day will pass unnoticed. We own the UN; every one of us around the world. We can force the issue, if we want to. How badly do we want peace, though? Enough to risk ridicule for our naiveté? Enough to risk being labeled simpletons who do not understand the ways of the world?
Squamous cell carcinoma is the second most common form of skin cancer, according to an online resource that claims some degree of expertise on the matter. The most common form is basal cell carcinoma. My skin cancer is squamous cell carcinoma. That diagnosis calls for treatment with Mohs surgery, said to be the gold standard method of dealing with this common form of skin cancer. According to Wikipedia, the surgery obtains “complete margin control during removal of a skin cancer (complete circumferential peripheral and deep margin assessment, or CCPDMA)” using a frozen section procedure to perform rapid microscopic analysis of a skin specimen obtained during surgery. Basically, the doctors remove slices of skin until microscopic examination reveals that all the cancer has been removed. I was told I can drive myself to and from the procedure; it’s no biggie, in other words. I’m not amused by it; nor, though, am I afraid. It’s just another minor bump that interferes with my interest in having absolute freedom with my time. I’ll schedule the procedure within the next several weeks. Henceforth, I will avoid travel to Florida; simply a precautionary measure that, I hope, will kill two birds with one stone.
Florida’s number three industry, behind tourism and skin cancer, is voter fraud.
~ Dave Barry ~
The saga continues. Yesterday, we continued to fill the garage with assorted “stuff” from my IC’s former home. There’s very little left to move now, though. Most of the remainder of the work at her former home involves clean-up. Yesterday, I removed picture hangers, patched the holes with spackling compound, and painted over the patches with leftover matching paint. Except I did not realize the leftover paint did not match the walls in the bathrooms. Oops. I panicked, thinking I would have to hire someone to repaint the two bathrooms. But on the second trip over, we found leftover paint that matched the bathroom walls; now, it’s almost all finished. I only have a couple of larger patches to paint today (the spackling compound needed additional time to dry). We should finish everything at the old house today. Then, for the foreseeable future, we will spend all our waking hours attempting to find a place to put everything that now fills my house and my garage (the latter of which no longer has space for either of our two cars).
I went to bed very early last night—around nine o’clock—but did not sleep very well, again. I was awake, off and on, all night. I finally got out of bed around 4:40. I thought I was sufficiently worn out last night that I would sleep through the night. But, no. My damn sinuses and wheezing and aching joints kept me from sleeping much; I think I will need to stay up for 24 to 36 hours straight in order to be sufficiently tired to actually sleep for an extended period. I do not relish that, but I relish sleep more than I do not relish staying awake so long.
The first day of September is upon us. Eight months of this angry year have come and gone, leaving madness and disease in their wake. Perhaps we can change course during the final four months of this damaged and deranged calendar.