It is a long time since I have had any particular ambition. At least, one that warrants celebrity. I have no remorse or misgiving about this dissolute state. It is no disguise that instead of looking forward, I define a good deal of my life by looking back. It’s too late for me to do anything new. Besides it can be so unbecoming to see an amateur attempt novelty late in life.
Though I haven’t a deck chair upon which to flop, I am nonetheless dead set upon taking it easy this afternoon. After navigating a frightfully organized late morning involving an ultrasound scan at the Almonte General Hospital – a search for invisible flaws preceded by fasting and prodigious water consumption, it is now a day devoted to elemental ingredients only. The high humidity out-of-doors recommends the air-conditioned coolness of the apartment. My irrigated carcass is fortified for filtering.
Lately there has been a current of events which have disturbed the resonance of normal activity – not the least of which as you know is the COVID-19 pandemic. Naturally there have been other more personal obstructions along the way, some important, others just irritating, but all engaging, time-consuming and disruptive. Regaining one’s balance and reverberation is at times a wearing enterprise. When stability is fortuitously restored, it’s heavenly! This stimulating environment is I am certain fed by a number of branches of a larger resource. It may be the weather, a lovely summer day. It may be turning the corner on trifling daily necessities. It may be a friendly banter with an acquaintance when out for a walk or a bicycle ride. It may be the start of a diet or the end of an era. We each have these milestones of one degree or another in our daily lives – and when we’ve reached one or more of them things begin to return to normal.
As each day of the pandemic straggles – and threatens at times to expand and ignite its virulence further abroad – we await, immobile and with increasing anticipation. The insufferable inertia hasn’t us yet talking to imagery friends but the imperturbability and frozen filming are palpable. Because Americans have – rightly or wrongly – succeeded to adjust more quickly than Canadians to social distancing, shut-downs and isolation, the Floridian winter resort market has already been sopped up. Availability for prolonged periods such as 3 – 6 months is gone. And prices are rocketing.
“How grateful we were to the BBC in the dark days of the war, when every night at 9 o’clock Alvar Lidell would bring us news of fresh disasters.“
Dudley Moore et al., “Beyond the Fringe”
News and social media are in my opinion tarsome to an Olympic degree. While there are elements of each which warrant attraction and approval, they have become less a means of communication and more an organ of instrumentality. Like toilet paper the presence and utility of news and social media persists but always at a cost.
The subject of diet has arisen on the heels of my surgery yesterday by an endodontist whose post-operative prescription includes a soft-food diet of water and apple sauce. The central theme of diet is always portion control. It appears however that even my nominal breakfast restriction to one bagel and two pieces of cheese and a sliced green apple with prunes exceeds the limits. Nor seemingly does my casual daily bicycling assist me to trim the calories. Similarly a dinner of raw salad (diced cabbage, broccoli florets, sweet peas, sliced tomatoes and green pepper) and boiled salmon filet is no assurance of dietary maintenance. I am however convinced (based upon historic detail) that the main problem is the bread and cheese. I formerly confined myself to steel-cut oats for breakfast and my weight was more favourable.
Though it may not justify itself as an adventure similar to that of Christopher Columbus as he set sail from Castile, Spain in 1492 towards what was to become the New World, nonetheless the venture of Pierre and Marie-France from Ontario to their new residence in Newfoundland has all the hallmarks of voyage and discovery. Particularly in this era of prolonged pandemic isolation the prospect of an outing of this capacity is both novel and inspiring. It is a reminder not only of our need for engagement and activity but also of our sublime pleasure in newness and curiosity.
When I went for my annual eye check-up today at Heritage Optometric Clinic in nearby Carleton Place I hadn’t anticipated the thrill of political activism. It turns out that quite unknown to me (admittedly a small confession of ignorance on my part of local public affairs) we old fogeys are about to become embroiled in what I understand to be a face-off between the Government of Ontario and the Ontario Association of Optometrists. If I catch the drift of the dilemma correctly it boils down to enforcement by the government of health service (eye care) at reduced and unsustainable prices to be absorbed by optometrists. It is a significant undercurrent of this congress between the public and the optometrists that a large portion of eye care patients are elderly. Thus sadly am I embroiled in this modern day usurpation.
Sometimes we see the real things more clearly without them. It’s about the application of clinical detail to the perspective – some might same chimera. Conjoining the noteworthy elements of a scene or issue characterizes and isolates the salient features. Let’s face it most of us haven’t the time for the nitty gritty unless it is retailed in a digestible manner. So we capture the strongest attributes and project them in a unique manner. Clarity is simplicity.
Until I was 28 years old moving into my first house in Almonte in 1976 (shortly after having been called to the Bar in March of 1975) I had little interest in household furnishings or accessories. Until then I had largely lived in furnished dwellings at boarding school, undergraduate university residence, law school fraternity house and shared student rentals, Pestalozzi College and Don’s residence at Devonshire House, University of Toronto while attending the Bar Admission course at Osgoode Hall. What little of my own I had until then was primarily discards from my parents’ basement – much of it essentially garden furniture (aluminium or plastic tables and wicker chairs). My first bed cost $80. It was a water bed (something by the way I don’t recommend at any price). I enlarged the expense by buying a wooden frame for it on the floor. At the time I was articling at Messrs. Macdonald, Affleck Barristers &c., 100 Sparks Street earning an annual salary of $4,000 – which also explains why Harvey’s was my idea of dining out. Thankfully the By Ward Market was at hand and I was able to purchase loads of fresh vegetables for a song. I weighed 155 pounds, cycled 100 miles per week and never drank alcohol.