Author Archives: L. G. William Chapman, B.A., LL.B.

About L. G. William Chapman, B.A., LL.B.

Past President, Mississippi Masonic Hall Inc.; Past Master (by demit) of Mississippi Lodge No. 147, A.F. and A.M., G.R.C. (in Ontario) Chartered by the Grand Lodge of Canada July 20, 1861; Don, Devonshire House, University of Toronto, Toronto, Ontario; Juris Doctor, Dalhousie Law School, Halifax, Nova Scotia; Bachelor of Arts (Philosophy), Glendon Hall, York University, Toronto, Ontario; Old Boy (House Captain, Regimental Sgt. Major, Prefect and Head Boy), St. Andrew's College, Aurora, Ontario.

Tenerife in the Canary Islands

Editor’s Note:  Below is an email I received from Fiona whom I have known since I was 18 years old when we attended undergraduate studies at Glendon Hall, Toronto.  She has always distinguished herself as independent and unique. Her talents are numerous. In the event you are unfamiliar with the Canary Islands, below is a snap of the general location.  It is so small that one must adopt the astronomic view to get a remote sense of where it is. I felt this account by Fiona was too precious not to be shared.

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Maritime Sally

by L. G. William Chapman, B.A., LL.B.

Herewith a piece I wrote 4 years ago for the Millstone News. I felt the topic of a subtropical resort was useful medicine at this time of year!

It requires little in the way of ambition to lapse into utter lassitude in Key West. Certainly first acquainting oneself broadly with the territory helps. But once having scoped the grid and character of the Island – and perhaps after having elevated oneself by tottering about the botanical gardens (an intellectual expiation of the indolence that follows) – the door opens wide upon tireless evaporation. The mollification of life’s harshness is painlessly accomplished by the emerald sea, yellow sunshine in a cerulean sky, the soothing temperatures and blanket purposelessness. The amplitude of the lethargy is further broadened by the expansive open waters. Everything contrives to extenuate one’s erstwhile collywobbles. There is nothing here which doesn’t reek of sybaritism. Even as I learned today the botanical gardens on Stock Island are the only frost-free subtropical enclave in the whole of Florida! As proof of its singularity it is a paradise for the whimsy of butterflies (36 of the known 55 sub-species have been spotted here).

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New Year’s Eve (2023)

As is my custom in the late afternoon, I am seated at my desk overlooking the Mississippi River and the neighbouring farmlands, strengthening myself with a bowl of sliced green apple and a cup of chilled triple espresso coffee. I mention this in particular because it is likely an odd preoccupation on New Year’s Eve.  The explanation however – apart from the standard excuse of unforgiving habit and routine – is that we have just come off an exceedingly uplifting late morning and early afternoon agenda.  Several days ago we were invited to join a nephew and his children (and the sweetheart of one of the two boys) for coffee and a chat. It was an animated and highly nutritious conference.

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“The best mask for a treacherous heart is an honest face!”

Growing up I didn’t often watch television.  The common room was not for me a particularly favourable resort as dirty young boys sat about the television, sprawled upon the sofa and library chairs, throwing scraps of paper at one another, rudely joking, stewing (as my late father once so memorably observed) in their own juices. There was a reason I graduated Head Boy (a purely academic distinction). It was indisputably rubbed into me at a tender age that it was all about production and achievement, not idleness and camaraderie.  The latter social contact was for me reserved for those now emblematic dalliances upon the Lower Field on a brilliantly sunny day in chilly late autumn with my special school friend Max whose mother we later learned committed suicide by hanging herself with a school scarf at the Royal York Hotel when she was putatively frequenting a continuing learning medical course in Toronto.

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The Narrow View

As we critically approach New Year’s Eve I was by chance reminded of the importance of the narrow view of life. While you may think that such a perspective is unfavourable for its putative avoidance of the full picture, instead for me the direction is a reminder of the significance of that which is closest at hand, specifically family and friends.  I was prompted to this existential digression upon receipt this morning of charming photographs of members of a wonderful family of friends whom we met years ago on Longboat Key, Florida. They were then, and they remain so now, the model of perfection when it comes to family togetherness and noteworthiness. Indeed whatever may be said of the Americans, the one thing about which they are uncontradicted is their unqualified and oft-times remarkable devotion to family and friends. Meaningfully the lead character in our particular acquaintance is the mother of the family (who in turn is equally devoted to her own mother).

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Brush the tarnish!

Two days before New Year’s Eve! It’s rather late in the season to be thinking about cleaning off the grease and grime from the past.  But I have fortuitously received an exceptional alternative to wiping the history of my thoughts, for brightening the discolouration and smoothing the deterioration. I cannot enhance the smears but I can polish the stains!

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