Around 4 o’clock this morning (when I disturbed my peaceful sleep to “check the children “) I noticed a message on my iPhone suggesting something involving Amazon was wrong with my credit card. I instinctively deleted the message. At the same time I ticked a box to confirm my suspicion that it was a scam. Six hours later when finally I decided to get up, I received an email from Bank of Montreal advising there may have been suspicious activity on my card, recommending I call the bank to discuss. I ended speaking with a woman stationed in the Philippines. Out of what I imagine to have been no more than an abundance of caution, she terminated my credit card with a replacement to follow by mail. I noted it on my electronic calendar.

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It would be inaccurate to say that the holiday is over. Although Canada Day (yesterday) spluttered to a necessary though unforeseen dénouement amidst the thunder and torrential rain, today is only Thursday, enabling a convenient mooring to Friday and the upcoming weekend. My suspicion is that many people have grasped onto this first week of July as a timely occasion to undertake a vacation. The heat wave so nicely identifies the cherished season in the Northern Hemisphere from June to August.

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Frankly I rather enjoy being in the audience of the world stage, watching major performers like China. China has increasingly become my primary interest and amusement – including public transport, bridges and automobiles. And of course technology. I accept too that China has progressively – and politely – overtaken the world, in particular the Caribbean and Africa. I first caught a glimpse of their commercial headway when I visited Jamaica in 1968. The Chinese noticeably represented a significant number of local businesses. Many of their unassuming commercial acquisitions resembled what once was the limited provenance of the Jews; that is, the tranquil assumption of day to day business without evidence of manipulation, struggle or intrusion into the local population. Like the repute of the Jews, the Chinese have opted to build their influence upon trust, durability, knowledge and plain hard work.

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With all the recent inimical talk surrounding Artificial Intelligence and how it is about to replace everything we do – relegating humanity to universal unemployment and a lifetime of diminished perspicacity – I find myself reflecting cautiously upon the tangible benefits of my own formal education. The paranoia is to a degree (pardon the pun) a reflection of the sometimes percolating awareness I have of my historic and unwitting submission to routine, repetition and reward which I confess was at the heart of my youthful upbringing and academic training. For the record (and quite honestly – and equally shamefully – for no other purpose) I graduated Upper VI from boarding school at St. Andrew’s College as Head Boy which was an academic distinction not a popularity contest. I conveniently view this questionable celebrity as authenticating the idle remarks that follow (a variation of the otherwise blunt though upgrading proclamation, “been there, done that”).

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There is no escaping the sweltering summer heat. It is after all the North American season. We’re drawn to it like the buzzing flies and the burbling birds in the bushes. Until a moment ago I languished uninterrupted in the blazing sunshine on the balcony, staring fixedly into the heavens (with my eyes closed, naturally), absorbing the radiance and Vitamin D, burnishing the exposed features of my decomposing corpus to an acceptable tan.

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Though we haven’t the advantage or requital of having attended worship service this sunny summer Sunday – and notwithstanding I chose a floral patterned shirt and yellow cotton shorts to adequately address the sudden balmy temperatures, all the other targets of reparation have been met.

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We awoke today to an ideal summer day. A glistening day for linen and shorts. The sounds of the crickets, birds and insects amplified the already magnificent clear blue sky. The glaring sunshine was so bright it was more white than yellow. The backdrop foliage across the fields and along the river was an exuberant green. Couples paddled on the water. The temperature rapidly mounted. The air was thick and warm.

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It forever astonishes and delights me that truly meaningful human relationships  – notwithstanding how ancient or how infrequently reinvigorated – appear to survive. When there is added to that distinction the further quality of having been invited into the home of the correspondent, the lingering alliance is all the more fruitful and cohesive.

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Today – after an early morning scheduled appointment at the hospital  – we sauntered southbound to the Thousand Islands Parkway to the Ivy Lea Club for luncheon along the St. Lawrence River.

The Thousand Islands Parkway (often written as 1000 Islands Parkway) is a scenic parkway in the Canadian province of Ontario. It extends easterly from an interchange with Highway 401in Gananoque for approximately 40 kilometres (25 mi) to rejoin Highway 401 near the community of Butternut Bay, west of Brockville. The parkway follows the north shore of the St. Lawrence River, and was formerly designated Highway 2S (S for Scenic) until 1970. It passes through the communities of Gray’s Beach, Halsteads Bay, Ivy Lea, Darlingside, Rockport, Narrows, La Rue Mills and Mallorytown Landing, as well as providing access to the three inland properties of the Thousand Islands National Park. Highway 137, which meets the parkway near its midpoint, provides access to the Interstate 81 in New York via the Thousand Islands Bridge.

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We all have a past. For many of us the past remains the harbour of extremely favourable memories. And make no mistake, that’s a good thing. The allure of the past is palpable.

Oddly it comes as an improving discovery that you cannot relive the past. I say discovery because, like a gem in the dark, it is both unexpected and bountiful. It is unexpected because we mistakenly assume everything will go on forever; bountiful because it curiously remedies any mournful regret for loss of the past. The past for all its imagery was as clouded then as it is now by indecisiveness and uncertainty. Apart from the plain utility of acknowledging the impact of natural and normal change, it is too a reminder that happiness comes from within.

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