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.

The infallible secret to being rich

Set aside, if you will, Indiana Jones and Raiders of the Lost Ark.  This parley, my dear Reader, is not a cinematic pursuit; rather it is by far more pragmatic and strictly – dare I say almost punishingly – educational.

Raiders of the Lost Ark is a 1981 American action-adventure film directed by Steven Spielberg from a screenplay by Lawrence Kasdan, based on a story by George Lucas and Philip Kaufman. Set in 1936, the film stars Harrison Ford as Indiana Jones, a globetrotting archaeologist vying with Nazi German forces to recover the long-lost Ark of the Covenant which is said to make an army invincible.

As vitally as you may be inclined to believe that there is or that there is not a secret to being rich – and, be assured, there is – first one must address an even more potent discussion; namely, what is your objective in life? The priority of that dialogue subsists because, depending on the decision, all else flows therefrom. Foremost it encourages starting at the beginning not somewhere in the middle. The pursuit of one’s goals with the objective of success is a lifetime preoccupation, make no mistake; it is not a petty or ambivalent exercise. Furthermore, if nothing else, the logic of the debate (“You are what you think“) is a reminder that being rich – or. for that mater, sustaining wealth – is no accident. As Prof. Ronald J. Rolls, BA, LLB, QC. LSM of Messrs. Faskin Martineau dryly intimated at the end of his Bar Admission lectures to the eager law students at Osgoode Hall, “May you all get what you deserve“. Underlying this axiomatic deliberation is the equally apodeictic truth: You can’t have money and things. Nor parenthetically is it to be overlooked that the convincing nature of the principle derives from the expression “to show off” (an element which by no coincidence is frequently and unhappily aligned with an ignorance of the principle).

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Breakfast

As long ago as I can recall,  breakfast has been a signal start to my day. It still is. My earliest – though least expansive – recollection of breakfast is as a pre-adolescent child while living with my parents.  Curiously I cannot for the life of me remember anything my mother may have prepared for me for breakfast other than perhaps a bowl of oatmeal. My father on the other hand afforded a more memorable occasion. He was an avid fisherman.  He especially liked trout.  One morning he cooked several small trout in butter in a black iron pan (no doubt echoing his camping experience). It was a rudimentary culinary exploit. But it worked. The skin of the fish was crisp and the delicate meat was lightly cooked.

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10-day forecast

At last the weather has changed!  We’ve endured a cold spell for the past two weeks, making the climate seem oddly inadequate for late May. By contrast the 10-day forecast is predominantly sunny skies and seasonable temperatures 20°C and above. During my routine afternoon drive today in my little Cadillac XT4 along the Appleton Side Road I remarked the collection of skilfully harrowed fields awaiting the burst of summertime warmth before translating the barely perceptible greenery bumps to wavering corn stalks or other verdant growth.

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At the end of the week

What a mixture of enthralling events we’ve had today!  Awakening to the studied and prolonged cooking of spare ribs (a culinary enterprise and yearning temptation pursued since the early hours of the day), an invitation to a 9th decade initiation (with the customary attention to the celebratory gift), a local hunt for the perfect honey (and the unwitting discovery of a new and exotic nut butter), a tricycle ride in the late morning mist, a chance encounter with an ancient friend and business associate, the routine car wash and drive into and out of the urban veil, an afternoon drawing room chat with Bunny, and now the picturesque image of the still-burgeoning river glistening beneath the thin film of wispy grey cloud and the lingering enhancement of the vernal equinox.

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A day without complaint

As much as I – and no doubt as do many others – commonly feign complete delight in whatever is happening throughout the day, there is very often an undisclosed undercurrent of anxiety and perhaps even turmoil. It may be a leak of the oil pan of the car, or worry about upcoming moving plans, or having to attend upon yet another medical appointment. Or, maybe it’s just the refrain that follows having to deal with speeders on the highway – those types who are never content to observe either the speed limit or the perceived indignity of having to travel behind another vehicle (always of course in exceedingly close range to magnify the impurity and their impatience). In short, a day without at least some complaint is unusual.

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An irregular day

The day began as usual – ablutions, breakfast and puttering on the computer.  We had two plans.  One, go to the golf club for a lunch; and two, attend the Farewell to Bunny get together late afternoon.  The primary irregularity was naturally the farewell gathering.  Yet even the luncheon at the golf club had its element of uniqueness.  Because of the recent cool, cloudy and often rainy springtime weather we’ve lately endured, our attendance at the club has been diminished from what is our routine.

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What’s the point?

My design is to pass over easily, and not laboriously, the remainder of my life; there is nothing that I will cudgel my brains about; no, not even knowledge, of what value soever. I seek, in the reading of books, only to please myself by an honest diversion; or, if I study, ’tis for no other science than what treats of the knowledge of myself, and instructs me how to die and how to live well.

Excerpt From
Michel de Montaigne (1533 – 1592), “The Essays of Montaigne — Complete.”

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I went looking for you and found you on the internet

At 3:00 am this morning as I momentarily escaped from my lair to void my bladder, I saw on my iPhone an email from a former prep school colleague.  Even though it has been decades – perhaps as many as four or five – since we had last communicated with one another, I have never forgotten him. His name is Bobby and he stands out as one of the characters of my upbringing at school. Continue reading

Grandchildren

Living as we do in an apartment building which houses predominantly retired people – and because the smallish apartments are not conducive to families – one often hears references to grandchildren. The common remark is that the grandchildren are visiting, or the grandchildren are playing in a sports event or the grandchildren helped clarify a technology issue. Generally speaking the ages of the grandchildren vary from 1 month to 24 years, but mostly in the middle somewhere. And not surprisingly the residence of the grandchildren is commonly nearby – no doubt initially a reflection of the wish of the grandparent(s) to be close to his/her/their own child or children.

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