If I am asked “Where did you and Denis meet?” the answer is the Château Laurier Hotel in Ottawa. We were members of the Health Club. Though the official date of our alliance began on Saturday, February 24, 1996 when we arranged to go for a martini together after our swim and sauna, there is background leading up to the event. Upon reflection I have discovered that the Château Laurier Hotel insinuates many of the salient experiences of my life involving not only the obvious erstwhile health and current romantic features but also business, society, friends and family – even some curious happenings.

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The weather has been top notch lately; and the forecast for the coming week is similarly reassuring. The sunrise and sunset are about the same time at 7:38 which nicely extends the rapture. This meant a jaunt to Lido Key today was in order. Having done so I am not convinced I am in a rush to return.  The beach was extremely busy. We are at the height of the season and judging by the crowds there appears to be little concern about the current pandemic. The advantage was there was plenty to distract – young couples routinely embracing themselves and swimming as though engaged in synchronized cycles, attentive couples and grandparents with gleefully screaming children, male and female students sporting their new and sometimes lubricious bathing costumes and tossing footballs and frisbees, various visitors of different races and languages (notably French, German and Eastern European).  I was within hearing distance of several colloquies – though admittedly only smatterings of each but sufficient to intrigue me. What I dislike about the beach here in particular is that the water is too shallow for too far; it doesn’t gather depth quickly enough for me.  I shall return to Longboat Key instead. This didn’t stop me from swimming numerous times throughout my four-hour sojourn. Nor did it diminish the pleasure of the children and the supervising parents.

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After last evening’s inspiring congregation – and my subsequent catharsis of recording what had transpired – it was after 3:00 am this morning before I retired to my virginal lair.  Whatever our hosts had said or put into our food or drink last night appeared to have worked a small miracle.  I slept soundly without the usual interruptions until almost noon today. I felt so well upon awakening that I was unable to diminish my customary displeasure when having arisen so late in the day and having undeniably missed an important segment of the day.  Yet I wasn’t entirely convinced that I had either the capacity or the disposition to turn the shortened day into a meaningful result when it was already manifestly curtailed of its elemental foundation. I was wrong.  It has been a perfectly delightful day!

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Today was a single-minded beach venture. Shortly after 10:30 am this morning (having returned from my replenishing visit to Michael, my hair architect) I put on my bathing suit and rubber shoes, mounted my bicycle and headed south to Lido Key. There were fluffy white clouds in the predominantly blue sky but they appeared to be moving northward away from my destination. This proved to be correct though the transition was slow.  By the time I reached the beach and settled myself nearby the shore there was a dome of blue above me.

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“He would sometimes say that if life were made what it might be, by good government and good education, it would be worth having: but he never spoke with anything like enthusiasm even of that possibility.”

Excerpt From: John Stuart Mill. “Autobiography.”

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At Lido Key beach where I cycled this morning there were four young girls sunbathing nearby me where I lay in my shoreline demesne. I overheard them exclaim with exuberance how thrilled they were to be here.  It reminded me of my impressions long ago when in university and traveling for the March Break.  They were not the only young people on the beach.  There were routine parades along the shore of young friends, couples and children.

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“It would have been wholly inconsistent with my father’s ideas of duty, to allow me to acquire impressions contrary to his convictions and feelings respecting religion: and he impressed upon me from the first, that the manner in which the world came into existence was a subject on which nothing was known: that the question, “Who made me?” cannot be answered, because we have no experience or authentic information from which to answer it; and that any answer only throws the difficulty a step further back, since the question immediately presents itself, “Who made God?” He, at the same time, took care that I should be acquainted with what had been thought by mankind on these impenetrable problems.”

Excerpt From: John Stuart Mill. “Autobiography.”

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Being happy is as much about what you don’t do. Don’t eat so much; spend less; “say little but think much” (by late father’s favourite); avoid confrontation; don’t be accusatory of others; “flattery is a net before another man’s feet” (my personal favourite); “do what you do best, outsource the rest” (another one I have learned to live by – the hard way, naturally); if it doesn’t feel good, forget it (a variation on “trust your instincts“); let it go; accept that for the most part, nobody’s listening and nobody cares; don’t bother saving the world; know when to quit; don’t assume you know what they’re thinking; don’t care if they know what you’re thinking.

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Things here were activated by no later than 7:00 am this morning.  It was “spa day”, our routine three-week visit for manicures and pedicures. Frankly I am unaccustomed to seeing the sunrise.  It was a gleaming pink sky over Sarasota Bay. Except for a glass mug of chilled black coffee and the sliced green apple which I had, there was no breakfast at home today.  Instead we had planned as usual to go to the Blue Dolphin after our appointments. Not unexpectedly when we arrived there we ended having to wait at least thirty minutes for a table.  No matter, it is always worth the wait. While lingering we amused ourselves by shopping the windows of the little mall. I also sat on a bench and read more of the autobiography of John Stuart Mill (who interestingly was born 1806 not long after Thomas Paine’s writings were making the rounds).  While reading I curiously overheard the characteristic chatter between New Yorkers who were also waiting. They were unabashedly loud and intentionally self-congratulatory about all they accounted.

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