As part of the moving process – that is, shifting across town from one apartment to another – we’re obliged in accordance with our mandatory accommodation of the landlord to vacate our current premises on occasion to permit the estate agency to “show” the place and to create “virtual” showings available on-line for prospective buyers. We’re only too pleased to cooperate. Today for example the estate agents informed us they wished to take photos and videos in addition to showing the unit to an interested party.  The processes we were advised would take place from 11:00 am – 2:15 pm approximately. Accordingly we ensured that we first straightened the place then fully abandoned it in order to allow the uninterrupted transaction of business by the various commercial parties.

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Ce qui vient à propos, opportunément.

It would require a far more perspicacious individual than I to enlarge potently upon the many moments convenable which heightened today’s unhurried breakfast of family members at the Mississippi Golf Club on the bulging Mississippi River. Each of us was by some coil related to the other. One for example is renowned by the cumbersome description, “the son of the daughter of the brother of your mother”; another equally taxing, “the partner of the brother of your mother and of your cousin once removed”.  Or words to that effect.  I’ve probably got it wrong. I was never good identifying complicated lineage. It is an exceedingly trying sequence, one which naturally depends on one’s perspective.

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In spite of relentlessly climbing the mountain we never make it to the top. Or if we do, it’s either the end of the road or it’s downhill thereafter. The summit is the allure. It is the point from which all else is perceived. And from every angle, unshielded by no more than temporary cloud. It represents the acme of one’s effort; the sudden but expansive perspective enabling one to summarize a lifetime of effort and devotion to production.

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Reportedly the Russians are having a hard time of it lately. The economic sanctions are said to be extraordinarily punishing. Naturally the infection is likely most vivid among the common people not the oligarchs and criminals in the background from the perspective of their mountainous palaces or their vulgar marine floatations. I can’t imagine any amount of vodka sufficient to assuage the penalty. Just knowing that their so-called leader has intentionally caused the mutilation and death of thousands and the dissatisfaction of almost the entire world is I suspect sufficient to contaminate any feeling of national pride one might otherwise have. War is such an archaic and unforgivably childish resolve. While I acknowledge the artistic contribution of Russian writers and musicians to global improvement I am ignorant of any superiority of everyday life in Russia. Granted we most often hear only the abuses of a peculiar leader with a nefarious background in the KGB; and his offensive preoccupation with being shirtless while wrangling a fishing rod or riding a horse bareback.

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The clan led by Trump presents to Americans the same marauders and robbers as their chief and his dogs. Sustained by ignorance and perceived abuse, they are reminiscent of the Celtic brand that once inhabited the uncivilized Scottish highlands (of which I have little doubt Trump’s raw lineage descends in notable measure). Nor yet have we “forgotten that the ancient Gaelic polity had been found to be incompatible with the authority of law, had obstructed the progress of civilisation, had more than once brought on the empire the curse of civil war”.

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Shortly after I arrived in Almonte on a hot summer day in June of 1976 at the age of twenty-eight years I soon recaptured my passion for bicycling. It wasn’t however the idyllic outing I was accustomed to on the paved pathway along the Ottawa River in Ottawa or on the parkway through the Gatineaux Hills in Québec on the other side of the river. It was though as lonely a time as I had spent in Ottawa after my arrival there from law school in 1973 when I first accelerated my sporting enthusiasm for bicycling by buying (upon the recommendation of an aficionado whom I knew from undergraduate studies and who was then dating my sister) a Garlatti 18-speed racing bicycle with thin tyres and matching seat. If I hadn’t lost fifty pounds within months after graduation from law school I would never have sustained either my cycling ambition or application. Whether performing my articles or first year of practice at MacDonald, Affleck on Sparks Street I would not have perpetuated my bicycling routine without the contributing advantage of social isolation.

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We’re showing our age at every turn! We’re down to eating just two meals each day. I view this as a material aberration of the standard social behaviour in the western world. It plainly conflicts not only with ideal dietary recommendation but further contaminates the ageless business luncheon (which I readily admit was often propelled by an overriding ambition for a martini or similar midday analgesic). I recall as a young lawyer attending a noon hour meeting with senior lawyers at a downtown Toronto restaurant. I arrived mere seconds after noon. When I told the mâitre d’ for whom I was waiting, he informed me with a smirk that they were already at table. Enjoying their morning eye opener!

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It pains me to hear politicians and others with a public platform and some kind of exclusive agenda speak about equality and inclusion as though they were saving the world from something toxic.  The notion that “You too can be like me if you try “ is for me not compelling. For one thing there are too many artists from Matisse and Mozart to Frank Lloyd Wright who once offended popular culture and who are now considered classics that I hardly feel moved to adopt current themes as entirely persuasive.

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There are things we prefer not to talk about. Or if we do talk about them, it is in ways calculated to soothe or obstruct the details. Asking someone whom we know the casual question “How are things!” seldom provokes anything approaching an expansive composition. Ask them instead, “What’s the news?” and you’ll get a very different response. Guaranteed. Maybe even one you hadn’t expected. Or worse, one you didn’t want to know. More often than not however the news can be compelling. Not because it is bizarre or absurd but because it is usually meaningful and personal. Getting people to talk about themselves rarely requires more than listening. But you need an introduction to the intelligence more vital than a stock blurb which long ago lost its depth or authenticity.

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