Once we seven were comfortably seated at table this morning in the clubhouse, we reckoned upon brief recall that it has been six years since we last foregathered at Temple’s Sugar Bush on Ferguson Falls Road, Lanark. It was the identical crew then as today with the exception of the absence of Jennifer’s colleague who was otherwise engaged and the addition of Denis Secundus who has only lately meshed with the Town of Mississippi Mills. For young Wyatt (whose 12th birthday approaches on June 6th next) the abbreviation of time was nonetheless demonstrable (though I believe it is fair to account that I too surprised myself to have altered significantly within the short time period).

The confab this morning instantly kicked off with fertile intelligence – a further reminder that, in the hands of some, the features of daily preoccupation are inestimable. We heard of fully unanticipated ventures in corporate real estate, scandalous Landlord and Tenant dialogue, esoteric private enterprise, sustained youthful friendship and a succession of former professional relationships. It bears repeating that the canvas was initially painted with similar complexity for each of us listeners, particularly exemplified by the history of Jennifer and Marina as the first and last legal assistants in my erstwhile sole practitioner’s legal adventure. And this is before encountering the whistling report of Denis Secundus‘ broken neck and the associated paramedical recovery by Tyler and Marina on nearby ski slopes. In all, there were highly animated reports of unimagined application.

After having put on the nosebag, we retired to the patio on the front deck of the clubhouse overlooking the ninth tee. Naturally I repeated that it was in the former clubhouse (the one that burned) that I was engaged fifty years ago by Messrs. Galligan & Sheffield, Barrs. &c. to fill the hole left upon the retirement of R. A. Jamieson QC. And it was about two years afterwards that I aligned with Mrs. T to replace Mr. Jamieson’s former longtime assistant (Mrs. Evelyn Barker).

Metaphorically each of us has since endured a variety of persuasions and obstructions which – so it would seem – have lent a colourful and convoluted fabric to our individual and shared estimates. As I reacted to the on-going narratives, I kept hearing in my head a reminder that the measure of detail is not always what is said but also what is omitted. I have, for example, enormous pride concerning the manner in which each of us has manipulated the sinews of our private experience. It is easy for me to romanticize the sketches because I knew Marina before she was married; and, Denis and I attended their historic wedding on a glorious summer day in Playfairville.