A law school crony (now Counsel to a prestigious law firm and a retired judge of the British Columbia Supreme Court) lately emailed me and asked, among other things, “what are you doing now?” My immediate reaction was to disguise the truth.  The truth is that I am not doing anything. Nothing of consequence, that is.

In spite of my embarrassment, I told the blank truth.  He is one of those chaps to whom one feels inclined to say it as it is. His mellifluous voice, perhaps. Or those clear eyes and always an approaching smile. Obfuscation is an undisputed obstacle to communication and inventive crosstalk. From the moment I met him and his distinguished family (his father was a well known dental surgeon; one of the family relatives was a “man of the cloth”) I was provoked to a pragmatic view of the truth. To speak plainly, there were characteristics or elements of each of us within the family orbit that, while understood and accepted, didn’t require publication. Indeed the only nature which was material to our confabs was the participation and contribution.

Being as I am of unqualified antiquity, I often have occasion to chat with others about what they are doing. No matter their sex or age, the themes collectively involve exercise (including kayaking and cross-country skiing), grandchildren (birthdays and baseball or hockey games), hobbies (woodworking, train sets and model ships), charitable participation (boards and events), concerts (theatre and music) and of course travel.

It made me reflect upon the privilege we have to construct the relieving distractions of our lives. Certainly some of the so-called amusements reflect more valuable content than others. Yet each is designed to occupy us, to stabilize us  – and indirectly, to quantify and to qualify us. Even my modest wool-gathering is admittedly overlayed with a crack at dignity or achievement. The self-absorption, though sometimes wanting the advantage of social contribution, nonetheless fulfills the taints and majesty of colours on the horizon, the delicate touch of vigour and vividness which balances life.

It is impossible to escape the wallpaper that are our amusements. From the moment of our awakening each morning we expose ourselves to the complication of amusement.  Attacking the elaboration with regret or hesitation is itself a background pattern. Nor does it, in my opinion, assist the appropriation to manufacture some psychological device by which to ignore or sidestep the issue. I venture to say, dear Reader, that we calculate our success in life by what we do.  The measure of success is patently open to debate. I will not for example predict the necessity to undertake only certain “amusements” for their obsequious or otherwise palatable worth. One must recall that “a honeymoon in Cairo” is not de rigueur in order to sustain one’s inherent value. The recognition includes the reality that not everyone has either the capacity or opportunity to exhibit themselves so singularly. Just sitting under a tree, reading a book of poems, qualifies as worthwhile amusement. My own catalogue of amusements is no less pervasive or simple. The broad strokes of athletics or entertainment are meant to capture the scope of acquittance.