Years ago when studying law at Dalhousie University in Halifax I heard it said that in Nova Scotia everyone knows everybody. In particular the example pointed to was the inevitable casual acquaintance of locals with their members of parliament and the provincial legislature. The comment was certainly not far off the mark. My late father for example told me stories about the late Eric Balcom whom I visited at his residence along the Atlantic Ocean in my second year at law school.
The dazzling sunshine this morning ensured I was showered, dressed and astride my bicycle shortly after abandoning the lair. It was noticeably chilly, near freezing. Accordingly in addition to donning a T-shirt, Polo shirt and hoody I outfitted myself with a silk scarf from my tired collection of a former régime. Once mechanized I nonchalantly munched a crisp Empire apple then discarded the core in a verdant cedar hedge adjoining the property of the late Bessie Smolkin, Land Registrar for Lanark County. In the background lingered my recollection of the trendy butter I had bought yesterday. And the awaiting baguette bagel for breakfast! Already I am contemplating how many days remain before snow falls. Because I have no intention of cycling in the snow I am wondering what I shall do for exercise and general distraction.
Trailing his rival Biden — in some national polls by double digits — the President seemed to be grasping at last-ditch attack lines, including implying the 77-year-old Biden would not last a full term in office.
“Biden won’t be president for two months,” he baselessly claimed. “He’s not mentally capable.”
By comparison, Trump portrayed himself a picture of health, even though he is the candidate who last week struggled to breathe and required supplemental oxygen.
“I’m back because I am a perfect physical specimen and I’m extremely young. And so I’m lucky in that way,” Trump said. Trump, at 74, is clinically obese and has known heart issues.
“I could’ve been out of the hospital in one day,” he added, attributing his recovery to the experimental monoclonal antibody therapy produced by Regeneron.
Let me understand. This is the man who blatantly lied repeatedly about the size of crowds at his presidential inauguration; who had his now imprisoned personal lawyer pay $130,000 to a porn star to quiet her; who told Americans that the COVID-19 pandemic would be gone by the summer; who denies knowing anyone in Russia (except if preceded by the code: “PP“); who has endured bankruptcy trusteeship on more than one occasion. Is this the guy? There is notably one common element to each of those accounts: the man himself! And I mean the one in the driver’s seat; the one driven by calculated self-interest.
Floyd had complained about being unable to breathe prior to being on the ground, but after being restrained he became more distressed, and continued to complain about breathing difficulties, the knee in his neck, and expressed the fear he was about to die and called for his mother. After several minutes passed Floyd stopped speaking. For a further two minutes, he lay motionless and officer Kueng found no pulse when urged to check. Despite this Chauvin refused pleas to lift his knee until medics told him to.
It isn’t often – if indeed ever – that I dwell upon the past as a vanished period of better times gone by. In fact a more accurate calculation of my hindsight is that while there may be lessons arising or agreeable memories percolating, the primary objective is always straight ahead with a view to anticipation and excitement. Admittedly it is a privilege to do so. Thankfully I haven’t yet descended to that level of old age where I whine that everything is on the decline. Nor in fact is that even remotely correct. Certainly I suffer my fair share of medical issues but I am actively pursuing the propositions that 1.) this is the concern of my physician; and, 2.) what did you expect!
Apparently after a certain age – say, whatever entitles you to “old fogey” status (and I am certain you can name endearing features of your own that qualify) – the political landscape becomes the sole focus of one’s being. Religious outings, restaurants and grandchildren fade by comparison. As always American politics are notably alluring. The diversion is especially prominent during the Trump realm (or should I say something like anno Trumpe UNO). There is little that has lately inspired such divide between a nation than the current government. In a nutshell everything memorable about Trump begins with him maligning someone, generally blaming the Democrats for everything, followed by behaving like an uncontrollable child with a psychological problem. Above all a heap of lies and vacuous assertions designed only to sustain his unwitting presidency. Meanwhile the bulk of the American public is in shame.
A not uncommon ejaculation is the enthusiasm devoted to the changing seasons – spring, summer, winter and fall. Naturally it is a gusto which notably survives among “snowbirds“. For the past many years we have spent 6 months alternately above and below the 49° parallel; specifically, Ontario in the summer and Florida in the winter. This means we have had to endure contaminated versions of both autumn and spring because it is during those seasons we customarily travel to and from our destination. The change of seasons occurs obviously at different times depending upon one’s latitude. Even tolerating the shifting nature of seasons at autumn and spring, there is a technical glitch with the winter scene because the vegetation is radically different from our own in Canada. This adds to the singularity of the winter experience which is primarily consigned to palm trees and other exotic sub-tropical plants.
The world awoke this morning to a reality check the likes of which erstwhile TV entertainer Donald J. Trump probably never imagined! That is, he probably never dreamt it would affect him. Now both he and his current wife from Slovenia are infected with COVID-19. I have to say the irony of Trump getting the disease was more than most could handle without a grimace! The addition of this further national and international confusion (just think how his friend Michael Pence must be writhing) does however raise to the point of alarm the very grave spectre of this plague. The only advantage I see arising from this turn of events – aside from the aforesaid vengeance – is a slight improvement in a similar reality check by those American citizens who previously argued a case of fake news, false medical reports and constitutional violation.
What is pride exactly? Pride is a lie we believe about ourselves, entitling us to more than we actually deserve, whether material or praise. Pride is the subconscious belief that you are in the place of God, the belief that you determine your own destiny and the conditions declaring how good you are.
Earlier this morning while fulfilling my daily athletic régime; which is to say, while bicycling in my fat-wheeled touring model complete with abundant seat and metal basket along the erstwhile railway right-of-way I marvelled at the singular delight of mine to have “that magic feeling, nowhere to go“.
Out of college, money spent
See no future, pay no rent
All the money’s gone, nowhere to go
Any jobber got the sack
Monday morning, turning back
Yellow lorry slow, nowhere to go
But oh, that magic feeling, nowhere to go
Oh, that magic feeling
Nowhere to go, nowhere to go
Songwriters: John Lennon / Paul McCartney
You Never Give Me Your Money