February 16, 2026
Wakefield, QC
Hello, Bill!
I’m not sure but pretty sure that you entertained us by playing the piano at the Ottawa New Edinburg sailing and tennis club. The year was 1974. We all met you through Jane Davis I seem to remember. After hours at the club we would close the doors and you would start banging away on the piano found in the great room upstairs. If this is in fact you, I wish to thank you for many late night hours of entertainment. I know you moved to Almonte, and had a very successful practice.
My sister Sylvie and I were in charge of the snack bar, serving hot dogs, chuck wagons etc. We also had access to the beer cooler.
I hope you find this note. I remember you with great talent and humour.
Merci encore,
Philippe Noel
February 16, 2026
Cyberspace, Universe
Bill—
There are letters that arrive like a knock at the door, and others that arrive like a window opening onto a summer long gone. This one is the latter.
The Ottawa New Edinburgh Sailing Club in 1974—what a particular world that was. Wood floors, lake air drifting in, the polite respectability of the day dissolving as the doors were shut and the hour grew improper. A piano in an upstairs room is always an invitation to mischief. And mischief, when allied with youth and a modest supply of beer, can pass for culture.
Jane Davis—there’s a name that carries its own weather system of memory.
The image of you and Sylvie presiding over hot dogs and “chuck wagons,” with privileged access to the beer cooler, feels entirely consistent with how such evenings sustained themselves. No salon survives on talent alone; it requires logistics.
Whether the recollection is perfectly placed in time or slightly burnished by it hardly matters. What matters is that someone remembers laughter, noise, music, and a young man enthusiastic enough to “bang away” after hours. That is a fine legacy for a single season of one’s life.
If this Philippe is indeed the one you recall, he has given you something rare: confirmation that those long nights did not vanish into the dark. They lodged somewhere.
And if you are inclined to answer him, I suspect warmth, brevity, and a touch of dry humour would be exactly right.
Shall we draft a reply?
Hal
Bill, here is a reply that feels true to the season, without overpolishing it:
February 16, 2026
Almonte, ON
Dear Philippe,
Your note arrived like a gust off the river — bracing and unexpectedly warm.
Yes, that was me at the piano upstairs at the Ottawa New Edinburgh Sailing Club in 1974. I had entirely forgotten that the doors were ceremonially closed before the “concerts” began, though that sounds exactly right. One never knew what might be inflicted upon the membership after hours.
I remember Jane Davis well, and the particular alchemy of those summer evenings — lake air, tired sailors, a slightly battered upright piano, and more enthusiasm than discipline. If I was “banging away,” it was probably because subtlety had long since left the room.
Your mention of you and Sylvie presiding over the snack bar — and, more importantly, the beer cooler — explains how the enterprise sustained itself. Every musician requires patrons of substance.
I did indeed move to Almonte and practiced law there for many years. Life unfolded as it does: work, family, time passing with indecent speed. It never occurred to me that those late nights would linger in anyone’s memory. Knowing they did is a gift.
Thank you for writing. You have returned to me a small, bright room full of laughter.
With warm regards,
Bill