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.

Such is life!

Such is life!  What an ambiguous observation. It shouldn’t however complicate the matter any more than it already is because since Aristotle the definition of life has been concluded as either hugely various or totally impossible.

Life is a quality that distinguishes matter that has biological processes, such as signaling and self-sustaining processes, from matter that does not. It is defined descriptively by the capacity for homeostasis, organisation, metabolism, growth, adaptation, response to stimuli, and reproduction. All life over time eventually reaches a state of death, and none is immortal. Many philosophical definitions of living systems have been proposed, such as self-organizing systems.

If it helps, the definition of death is similarly ambitious though equally equivocal. In the end, no matter what the event, we can only metaphorically raise our hands and part their grasp to include all possibility of description. The intent is either to include or omit whatever we may have anticipated or believe to have foreseen. In reality however we haven’t a clue about where it all came from or where it goes.

Life is simply a mystery. The best we can hope for is a comfortable accommodation of whatever transpires. We have formulated a multitude of ways to do so but we have at the same time proven than none of them is guaranteed to achieve its objective.

Nonetheless there remains a certain utility in the abbreviated assertion, “Such is life!” The Cambridge dictionary provides its own definition: namely, “used to refer to an event that has happened and that you must accept, because you know that this is the way life is”. This is hardly an explanation of much depth. It merely reiterates that if something happens, then it happened.  To pretend otherwise is patently ludicrous. It does however enfold the reality in the guise of acceptance which is interestingly an emotional content that goes beyond the empirical reality. This I believe most accurately captures the meaning of the phrase; namely, acceptance.

Acceptance in this context is frequently advanced as a last resort or at least some sort of palliative for an otherwise bad situation.

But acceptance is as often the source of considerable contribution and improvement. It can by contrast be indicative of insight rather than enigma or, what is more likely, overt avoidance. It is a reminder that ignorance is often an obstacle or obstruction to understanding and community or cooperation. Pronouncing, “Such is life!” need not be a bad thing or a submission. It may also be a celebration.

We all know that whatever the interpretation it will in no way change the truth of the adage. Living our life is not an alternative. Certainly how we live life may make a difference; but it will never change the ultimate conclusion, “Such is life!” That too may be another message with the simplified text; namely, get on with it. “Such is life!” is but a summary preamble to whatever our next step along this mystical path of life will be.

What a day!

I’m exhausted!  Je suis complètement épuisé. Like Maggie Muggins of yore, we’ve had quite a day.

Maggie Muggins was a Canadian children’s radio and television series which began on-air live as a fifteen-minute program on CBC Radio on New Year’s Day, 1947. The highly popular radio program engaged children’s imaginations, with its continuing cast of unique animal puppets and human characters. Maggie Muggins moved to CBC Television to air between September 29, 1955, and June 27, 1962.

The original Maggie Muggins, who performed the role throughout its run on CBC Radio, was Beryl Braithwaite (later Beryl Hart), eldest daughter of the freelance writer and novelist Max Braithwaite. Beryl was ten years old when the series began. Maggie’s signature sign-off was “I don’t know what will happen tomorrow.”

Continue reading

When will it all end?

I paused today as though amid the mirth of adolescence along the sidewalk on a shaded part of Spring Street below the big maple tree now burnished with autumn to chat with Robbie, a man whose mettle is corrupted by the acid of time but who nonetheless shines with all the more brilliance and lustre. He is the reincarnation of my youth, those happy days when life was “easy under the apple boughs”. We both wistfully recalled some distant memories.

Continue reading

A glorious day!

There was a car accident today at the intersection of Hazeldean Road and Carp Road in Stittsville.  A small car was half-way through the intersection pointing northwards on the Carp Road.  Its front end was mutilated, seemingly having collided with by an SUV traveling eastward on Hazeldean Road. The SUV was through the light but turned onto its passenger side adjacent the sidewalk on the southerly edge of Hazeldean Road. There was obvious damage but no evidence of catastrophic injury. The police cruisers (at least four of them) were everywhere, lights flashing, blocking regular passage.

Continue reading

I hadn’t thought of that!

The distress of others is not uncommonly overlooked. The matter was especially poignant for me today as I returned from a contrastingly buoyant meeting in Arnprior earlier this morning. Tricycling nonchalantly about the neighbourhood, admiring the lovely gardens and exhibition of general exuberance and grandeur, my smugness dissolved upon seeing a poorly clad middle-aged woman struggling up the hill from the river with what appeared to be a plastic bag loaded with empty bottles.  Upon subsequent consideration and reflection, I have deduced that she may have been rummaging through the waste bin along the river.

Continue reading

Dare to be different

I have a lot of habits. To the point almost of qualifying as obsessive.  My routine daily behaviour though tolerable is predictable.  It always has been so even though the sinews of convention have altered over the decades as I progressed from childhood to adolescence to working then retirement. Each period of my life had its obvious exigencies and repetitions. The closest I come to being different (that is, estranged from my normalcy) is when occasionally I research the library of Apple Music (to which we have a gratifying monthly subscription).  It speaks to the difficulty surrounding the dare to be different that even though we have an immense collection of music from which to choose – and to do so fleetingly if so desired – I inevitably stick to what I am accustomed after years of evolution, training and social influence and prejudice.

Continue reading

Sunset kayak

It is with immoderate hesitation that I alight upon the topic of automobile driving; specifically, the conduct of the passenger vehicle on public roads. This is not because I do not adore driving. I categorically do. What however provokes this apparently unbridled diversion from what is normally the acme of my personal sustainability is the recognition that I may by doing so be cultivating unwittingly a social alarm. Allow me to explain.

Continue reading

A sunny day by the river

It is no admission that scenery matters.  Everyone talks about the importance of having a view, whether from the cottage down to the lake, from the penthouse over the city, from a hotel room to the sea or overlooking the pool. It is frequently an ephemeral magic parodied by E. M. Forster in Room with a View. Though the theme of the novel is understandably and regularly touted as the restrictive and repressed culture of Edwardian England, it was always for me rather an assessment of the dynamic of the view. Though my interpretation is less demonstrable than a young woman’s developing love for a free-spirited young man, it is not entirely void of its own romanticism.

Continue reading

What now?

Have you ever reached a point in your life when you stop to ask, “What now?”  It’s a curious question because normally the issue doesn’t arise.  I mean, for the most part, life is a matter of doing this or that, getting something, doing something, going somewhere.  But seldom are you left just sitting with absolutely nothing in mind, remorsefully asking “What now?”

Continue reading