There are a number of things in life which I would readily characterize as ineffable. Two of those items are sunshine and a windy day, both of which distinguish this spectacular day on Hilton Head Island, March 17th, 2025. I am anxious to note the date because the occasion may later arise when, thumbing casually through this catalogue of codswallop, I am reminded of what it is about Hilton Head Island, South Carolina that for the past decade has so stimulated me. Today the sunshine exudes its untarnished brilliance from a perfectly clear azure sky which is continuously brushed clean off the North Atlantic Ocean by wind gusts of 38 km/h from the northwest, carrying with it a balmy 63°F.

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Most people are familiar with the post mortem trust encapsulated by the last will and testament; that is, an arrangement whereby money or things are entrusted to the care of an executor (manager) for the benefit of those called the beneficiaries (sometimes referred to as the cestui que trust or “person entitled to the advantage” short for “cestui a que use le trust est crée” of “person for whose benefit anything is given in trust to another”). The importance here is to distinguish an arrangement meant to occur after one’s death and an arrangement made with living people or “inter vivos”. In both instances the root of the arrangement is a trust; that is, something for the benefit of others not necessarily for the benefit of the person managing the property (money or things).

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It may be only my imagination, but as I caught a passing glimpse of those walking about this morning, it occurred to me that Sundays are all about dressing up. While I would like to attribute this characteristic primarily to the church-going crowd, our morning venues today included nothing of a presbyteral or ecclesiastic nature. Despite my sparing acceptance of devotion by others, my own loyalty to syllogistic reasoning compels me otherwise. Instead, the fashion display was born from our routine visit to Palmetto Bay Sunrise Café for breakfast, followed by a stop at Publix for groceries, before retreating home ahead of the Severe Weather and Tornado Watch poised to scour the Florida Panhandle and nearby regions, particularly Bluffton and Beaufort.

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Democracy has been a frequent topic in recent discourse. Its etymology traces back to the Greek dēmokratia, meaning “popular government,” derived from dēmos (“common people” or “district”) and kratos (“rule, strength”). By the 16th century, democracy was understood as a system where sovereign power rested with the people, either exercised directly or through elected officials. In 19th-century England, it could also denote the common class, those without hereditary rank.

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We are currently hosting our nephew from Canada here on Hilton Head Island. Shortly after his arrival this morning, while chatting in the sunshine on the deck overlooking Braddock Cove, he first shared with us that his son is traveling in Italy with his longtime girlfriend; then that his sister and her family are in Costa Rica, and finally that he himself will soon head to Florida to visit his father and stepmother. Coincidentally we received a midday message and photos from friends who just returned to Canada from Cancun. Earlier in the day, I had emailed my former physician in Australia, where he is celebrating his 70th birthday with his daughter, her family, and friends from British Columbia and South Africa.The energy of travel is palpable, especially with the influx of tourists enjoying their March Break.

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It is not uncommon these days to remark on how people of all ages—no longer children alone—are often glued to their smartphones, for one reason or another. The recent advent of Artificial Intelligence (AI) has added yet another layer to these devices, which were previously dominated by telephone calls, emails, text messages, photography, music, GPS, and documents (in roughly that order of preference). It’s astonishing that so much of what seems to drive current industry and attraction revolves around this one small piece of equipment.

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Traditionally, I have adhered to the strict social custom of avoiding open discussion of the politics of a nation of which I am not a citizen. This rigorous etiquette is particularly observed when I am in that country and among its inhabitants. However, recent developments in the days immediately following the inauguration of the new president of the United States have altered this perspective. Canadians are now unwittingly immersed in and entwined with American politics. The once-standard retort of “None of your business!” has been bluntly and shockingly set aside. Speaking as a Canadian, it is now very much our business. Americans have vicariously adopted the less-than-ambivalent insinuations of their president, which foment an invasion of Canadian sovereignty.

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Today – exactly 2 weeks prior to the monthly billing date of my initial subscription on February 25th last – I cancelled the Zips Car Wash card in anticipation of our departure from Hilton Head Island and return to Canada at the end of March. The cancellation signifies the commencement of our decline and withdrawal from Hilton Head Island for what I expect may be the last time. As you may surmise it is a transition not without its fervent import, a combination of the felicitous and the execrable, gratitude and remorse, refreshment and recollection. The shady corridors within Sea Pines plantation are at once exhilarating and repetitive, both welcoming and yet strangely all too familiar, the insinuating mystic depths competing with the lingering particles of commercial estrangement provoked especially by a new national American government reputedly dedicated to the expropriation of Canada as the 51st state, a battle apparently to be fought by instigating the economic ruin of Canada at the expense of the American people. It cannot be denied that Hilton Head Island in spite of its many favourable features is still not home.  It will forever be a vacation destination (as is the eponymous name of our much valued estate agency under the particular guidance of Mrs. Gail Edmonds and of late with the very capable assistance of Ms. Ashley Dyar).

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Narrative inspired by the elements:

In the quiet chambers of his study, an old man sat, his mind as sharp as the legal tomes that lined the walls around him. His hands, though aged, still carried the steady strength of a man accustomed to wielding both law and logic. Years had softened his voice, but the precision with which he spoke was no less commanding. He had spent a lifetime navigating the intricacies of the law, crafting arguments with the same care and deliberation a master craftsman might take in shaping a fine piece of furniture. Each case, a puzzle to solve, each contract, a story of power and consequence.

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Friday, November 10, 2017

About twenty-two years ago I travelled to Naples, Florida with a friend to interlope at his mother’s and step-father’s rental apartment on the Gulf coast for a week over the Christmas holiday. My recollection is that the apartment belonged to a Vice-president of Mobile Oil who planned to retire there ultimately but who in the meantime had arranged to rent it.  My friend’s mother explained to me that she and her husband routinely spent three months of the year over the winter in Florida; and that they always arranged their upcoming stay in the year prior to the visit while they were then currently in Florida. At the time I marveled at the planning which naturally exceeded anything I had ever undertaken for my comparatively shorter southern jaunts to the Caribbean or Mayan resorts. Now that I have graduated to the vernacular of a retired snowbird the planning routine is a familiar one.

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