“For men of that sort are so greedy after excitement that they far more readily forgive a commander who loses a battle than a commander who declines one. The politicians, who delivered their oracles from the thickest cloud of tobacco smoke at Garroway’s, confidently asked, without knowing any thing, either of war in general, or of Irish war in particular, why Schomberg did not fight. They could not venture to say that he did not understand his calling. No doubt he had been an excellent officer: but he was very old. He seemed to bear his years well: but his faculties were not what they had been: his memory was failing; and it was well known that he sometimes forgot in the afternoon what he had done in the morning. It may be doubted whether there ever existed a human being whose mind was quite as firmly toned at eighty as at forty. But that Schomberg’s intellectual powers had been little impaired by years is sufficiently proved by his despatches, which are still extant, and which are models of official writing, terse, perspicuous, full of important facts and weighty reasons, compressed into the smallest possible number of words.”

Excerpt From
The History of England, from the Accession of James II — Volume 3
Thomas Babington Macaulay

Continue reading →

October 17th, 2022
Mississippi Mills, Ontario

My dearest Deborah!

Thank-you for your note.

You’ve touched upon an undeniably heady subject; viz., frugality. While my late father and my sister (my only sibling) were/are provident, my late mother and I were by comparison profligate. The only thing that has lately dampened my prodigal behaviour is an exhaustion of my appetite for things. This is partly due to downsizing, basically getting rid of the tons of stuff one no longer needs or wants to take care of (much less insure). When we sold the house we jokingly insisted, “If it doesn’t go in the dishwasher, it’s out!”  Secondly, when one gets to be my age (73) it is never certain when the bomb will go off. Accordingly the utility of getting new stuff rapidly diminishes.  Finally there are very few (if indeed any) new things I wish to acquire. Least of them is real estate.  We openly penalize real estate as a money pit and a hoodwinking. It is a conviction recently made more compelling by the storms and environmental changes.

Buyer Beware!

Though a confessed voluptuary, material goods have never been an expression of status with me; rather they constitute an expression of art and metaphorical substance. When you mentioned the fluctuation of the market and its affect upon sales, it is a cycle applicable to the practice of law as well.  What I believe is a more cogent tide in any business is the alteration of it because of the internet.  People everywhere seemingly wish to do business from the privacy of their home; that is, without having to do so in person. I now find it exceedingly more convenient to buy what little clothes I need on-line not only because I can stay at home but because I can filter the precise size I wish to buy without either disappointment or accommodation. The narrative to which I have had some exposure is doing business of almost any nature on the internet with an unseen advocate located anywhere throughout the world (often in Asia). It will become a challenge for federal and provincial/state governments to control this burgeoning vernacular.  In the matter of a last Will and Testament for example (or even something more exotic such as an Inter Vivos Trust Agreement or Shareholders’ Agreement) there is nothing illegal about a client choosing a document on-line and employing it (though without the professional liability insurance attached).  Nor I venture to say is it assured that the quality of the documentation will be any worse than what local lawyers might produce. There is further the possibility that through the marvels of technology and its employment for thorough preliminary questions and answers, the resulting product may prove more acute than the office rendition.

Anyway, to get back to my “artistic” theme of materialism, it is a well-know adage in the art world that the last thing people traditionally buy when they have money to spare is art.  The inhibition arises not so much from the economy as the prior exhaustion of perceived necessity (an eventuality we all will face in my opinion). As I mentioned to you previously one of my favoured artistic expressions is jewellery. That’s where the metaphor arises for me (for example the durability and allure of certain metals like gold and platinum). For over 50 years I have had custom made jewellery (in addition to the usual brand name stuff). I have always distinguished jewellery from paintings by observing that the jewellery is portable (which, given my current immobility is both meaningful and irrelevant).

There are decidedly thresholds beyond which spendthrift habits are damaging. If however one constrains certain of those erstwhile bad habits, the accumulation of funds can I believe be as precipitous as the former pattern of loss. Clearly I am no one to talk about money management. The succinct Barnum book is a far more instructive look at the matter.  Paradoxically our familiarity with Longboat Key vitalized this book because it was Barnum who initially proposed the installation of certain vegetation (possibly the Australian Pine) which overtook the island and as recently as several years ago was the perpetual subject of removal.

There!  That bit of expiation is off my mind!  Sorry to be so tedious.

Cheers!

Billy

The autumn crush is upon us! It is a supremely fleeting moment, an evanescent season of life. I feel compelled to acknowledge it in spite of its annual recurrence. Soon a rush of cold north air heralding the looming Arctic snow will brush the fragile leaves and loosen their petiole from the branch to the ground. Everywhere we bicycled this morning the maple trees were resplendent with intoxicating grace.  The woody perennials, one after the other, were unparalleled artistic productions.  In the direct sunshine the tarnished yellow leaves were iridescent. Nature crushes it once again! After our brief but wholesome neighbourhood ride in the cool autumnal ether along the Ottawa Valley Trail through the middle of town past the Old Town Hall we punctuated our tour by driving to the other side of town to inspect the progress of construction of our new digs along the Mississippi River.

Continue reading →

As my late father bluntly disparaged when I told him of my intention as an 18-year old undergraduate at Glendon Hall to study philosophy rather than economics, “It’s your bed, you sleep in it!” Though his intention may not have been to deflate me (and it didn’t), the remark hardly encouraged fruitful discussion except to relate in demoralizing detail his view of the matter. It heralded the chilled nature of subsequent communications between us for the remainder of our mutual existence.

Continue reading →

For someone such as I who is so shamelessly irreligious it is a pitiful confession when I say that lately things have gone so remarkably well that I suspiciously wonder when the tide will turn! This conjecture that misfortune automatically follows beneficence is about as close as my mystical confrères get to the subject of spirituality. I haven’t yet undertaken the nervous habit of crossing my fingers or looking into the sky for descending saucers. I shall accordingly adopt the high road and carry on, not as though this is all perfectly natural and to be expected (which I don’t for minute think it is) but unelaborately as though the accomplishment is both gladdening and memorable (which it unquestionably is).

Continue reading →

My haircut appointment today was at 10:15 am.  I had made the appointment yesterday with the person whom I assumed was a new stylist at the salon notwithstanding at the time she was seated at the front desk. She had greeted me I thought rather abruptly when I entered the salon, asking “Do you have an appointment?” without so much as a “How-do-you do?”  Indeed I was at the time overwhelmed by the curtness of her so-called welcome. When I reported I was there to make an appointment, she asked “When?”,  to which I replied “Tomorrow”. She followed this mirthful repartée with, “Do you care who with?”  I said, “No” even though in all previous occasions at the salon I had been clipped by the male salon owner who at the time was engaged with a client. The new stylist did not say with whom I was scheduled but merely asked, “The name?” I replied, “Chapman”. She then interogated, “Is that your first name?”  I said “No”. This succinct response was insufficient for her. She pressed me further. I told her my first name. She then addressed me by my first name, adding the time of the appointment. As I struggled to record the appointment on my iPhone, standing at the front desk while manipulating my stick, she did not offer to provide a written endorsement of the appointment.

Continue reading →

Ours was today a formidable syllabus! It is now 3:59 pm and we have only just returned to the apartment for our 4:00 o’clock tea/coffee rendezvous with our neighbours.  The locally made chocolate is at hand; the chilled coffee is made; the Crown Derby tea cups, saucers and side plates are laid out; the tea basket, tea pot and tea leaves are at the ready. The Jane Austen Companion (various artists, The Philharmonia, Austro-Hungarian Haydn Orchestra) is connected.  The grandfather clock has just rung four times.

Continue reading →

The cocktail hour has long held its sway over me. I am always tickled to receive a dinner invitation with the words “six for seven” attached. It acknowledges the desideratum of tipping the highball or martini glass before putting on the nose bag. Nor is the attraction simply for the liquid scheme although that alone is indisputably at the fore. The cocktail hour is a union of intoxicants, crystal, conversation, music, furniture, fireplace and hors d’oeuvres. And at one time it was a chance to light up (and here I am not speaking of nefarious combustibles).

Continue reading →

I read somewhere today that the life expectancy of the average American male is 77 years of age; for women it is 81 years of age. It’s an inevitable dissolution, clearly.  Yet I prefer to approach the impending collapse with a sense of reason not a mournful disposition. Logic I find offers a far more axiomatic clarity than mere factual scrutiny. While I await the precipitous evaporation I am curious to recall what I have learned in the interim. Herewith is my ad hoc analysis of the subject segregated into decades for convenience (though I haven’t any basis to suggest the learning process is different from one decade to the other or indeed that any particular education is devoted to one fraction or the other).

Continue reading →

Family dinners are I find unfailingly singular. This I attribute in particular to the extraordinary absence of social reserve which normally attends and so often dilutes foregathering with less intimate people. While our congregation this evening with my sister and her husband at their place in Ottawa South along the Rideau Canal was unusually small (there were just the four of us at table) we were astonished to learn upon leaving that we had lingered there for a full four hours. Throughout the entire time we had jousted with one another to unfold the latest news and stories of reminiscence. Our only notable interruption was our attempted telephone call to my niece and her husband in Beverly Hills, CA and their subsequent return call to us.

Continue reading →