Cabbagetown in Toronto has become an increasingly influential and sought after venue.  For many years now it has been the resource of a Parliament Street congregation which for our purposes has been highlighted by Gilles and Scott. It was among other salient moments the place of their late afternoon wedding dinner following completion of the ceremony at Casa Loma in which we had been privileged to contribute. Today we celebrated Gilles following his recent precipitous and unanticipated death. It was a hugely successful and uncommonly buoyant congregation.

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Initially my excitement about visiting Toronto this weekend was the train ride to get here. It turns out that travel by train isn’t far removed from travel by plane. It is but another example of public transportation. There is still the panic to get to the station on time; the lineup to board; the fuss to find one’s seat (and squeeze around those in the aisle trying to stow their bags in the overhead compartments); the babble about who wants the window seat; the gymnastics to get into the seat; and finally the manipulation of the seat to its best advantage.

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There is much hardship in the world. I direct this to disadvantaged people in particular. While the physical privation may not be as acute for those of us currently on the other side of fortuity, there is no assurance that any one of us will escape similar or worse difficulty. I have personally seen a young lawyer from a reputed “good “ family in the exclusive Village of Rockcliffe Park descend within a matter of a year from an awakening solicitor to an addlepated idiot. By complete coincidence months following our legal encounter on opposite sides of a commercial transaction, as I was walking on Rideau Street in downtown Ottawa where I had a condominium apartment, the young lawyer passed me. He did not acknowledge me. He was shabbily dressed. He was talking to himself. He kept circling his hands on either side of his head. I subsequently heard (perhaps through his former clients) that the young chap had completely decomposed.

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Whether legitimate or not the generic statement lately being circulated that we’re stressed out (presumably by popular social and political activity as opposed to our health and the weather) is not uncommon. There may indeed be supportable bases for the statement. It has however been observed that the universe is ultimately personal, an assertion from which derives acute foundations of anger. This arena of frustration is very often aligned with the prevention of progress or success. It frequently embraces an upset regarding others though most probably because the obstacle affects oneself; but as regularly includes obstruction of one’s devotion to and love of another.

Frustration:
The annoyance and disappointment arising from inability to achieve or change something.

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John Hawley Kerry was born August 5, 1929.  He will soon celebrate his 93rd birthday.

This morning as I accomplished my routine cycle throughout the neighbourhood and along the former B&O railway line I fortuitously passed by John’s private residence and saw him and his daughter Lisa sitting on the front porch enjoying the balmy summer air. They graciously invited me to join them.

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Listening to witnesses at the American Insurrection Investigation concerning the attack of January 6 on the Capitol is alarming. The first and foremost conclusion is that Donald J. Trump is unhinged from reality. Second that Trump is malicious. Third – and most importantly – that Trump was so obviously overwhelmed by his need for election approbation that he determined to continue spouting the “false narrative “ nationally.

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Those of us who ask the question, “What if?” are treading on delicate fabric. Very often the existential curiosity attaches not only passably to our own fortuity but also less acceptably to that of others especially those now gone and once close to us.  Wishful thinking is at best entertaining; at worst it is paralyzing. We all know nothing will change what has already transpired; and as frequently we fake or mistake the prediction of our own future with equal distortion and inutility.

Existentialism is a form of philosophical inquiry that explores the problem of human existence and centers on the subjective experience of thinking, feeling, and acting. For example, in the view of an existentialist, the individual’s starting point has been called “the existential angst”, a sense of dread, disorientation, confusion, or anxiety in the face of an apparently meaningless or absurd world. Existentialist thinkers frequently explore issues related to the meaning, purpose, and value of human existence.

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It is a languid summer day. The kind to rejoice! And Saturday! Blue sky between mixed folds of fluffy white and greyish clouds, a faint breeze and dazzling sunshine. The torrents of rain over the past several days – still wet in small places upon the roads and unseen upon the glass patio table in the garden – have swathed the entire carpet of the county in a luxurious and humming green. Bees are buzzing; birds are chirping; flowers have blossomed. The heat from the yellow sunshine is remarkable. The summer solstice is at hand! Life in the northern hemisphere is once again on the move!

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It has rained on and off all day. A slice of the morning was however clear for our short (6km) bike ride. It wasn’t until late this afternoon that things changed. Other than mercurially, I mean. Though as sprightly.

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My erstwhile physician this morning sent me an article from The Times directed at a putative analysis of the American love affair with guns.

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