Category Archives: General

Birthday Wish

Numerology intrigues me, the occult significance of numbers. More specifically the mystical relationship between numbers and events. Without engaging in pseudo science allow me merely to observe that I am fascinated by the gulf between 1955 and 2015, there is something solid about it, something round and fulfilling, as I suppose turning 60 years of age is.

The obvious peril in turning sixty is the hackneyed jest about becoming a senior citizen. This is plainly pig swill. A moment’s reflection illustrates my point. For example in 1986 when I first met you, Franz, you were a mere 31 years of age, handsome and tall as you are now. The only distinguishing feature was that you were then clad in a wolf fur coat. Quite honestly the imperceptible patina of life has done little or nothing to erode that lingering memory of you. In fact I prefer to say that time has rather imparted that gloss or sheen produced by polishing.

Franz, while there are features of living which I and many others share with you – for example, the pleasures of the table, literature and travel – there is one shared element which I feel may go unnoticed, and that is the attraction we have to people who are older and who by strength of their age are wise and cultivated. Our initial overlap of this quality was our mutual friendship with Louis de la Chesnaye Audette, QC, OC. Others include your Greek friend George, Mel Ralph, Tommy Cavanagh and of course the very dear and erudite Charles Fisher. In short you have unwittingly pronounced your approbation of age by courting the company of certain of those who possess it in abundance. You will no doubt be wont to observe that the driving force of those people is not their age but their personal richness. It is of this similar character that I now speak of you.

You have provided your family and friends with an abundance of compassion, genuine interest, beneficence, generosity, laughter and elevated intellectualism for as long as I can recall. You are at very real risk of becoming as irresistible as those octogenarians you so admire! Naturally you are many years from attaining that advanced age and a fortiori your prospects are thereby enlarged! Think of the opportunities yet to be afforded you! For the time being it is your privilege to relish the pungency of life, all that it has given you and all that you have given it. Many happy returns of the day!

L. G. William Chapman, B.A., LL.B.
Hilton Head Island, South Carolina

Home, Sweet Home

“Home! Sweet Home!” (also known as “Home, Sweet Home”) is a song that has remained well known for over 150 years. Adapted from American actor and dramatist John Howard Payne’s 1823 opera Clari, or the Maid of Milan, the song’s melody was composed by Englishman Sir Henry Bishop with lyrics by Payne. The words are as follows:

Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home;
A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there,
Which seek thro’ the world, is ne’er met elsewhere.
Home! Home!
Sweet, sweet home!
There’s no place like home
There’s no place like home!

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Exactly 48 hours ago (after a steady and thankfully uneventful three-day automobile drive from Hilton Head Island, SC via Amelia Island, FL) we at long last arrived home from our 4-month hibernation. As I walked into our little apartment it was an episode of unreserved pleasure! Instantly the deep colours of the Persian rugs, hardwood floors, dark green leather chairs, mahogany furniture, brass lamps and original artwork overwhelmed me! I knew in a flash that it was grand to be home! Whatever one may say about rental accommodations (whether hotel rooms, villas, houses or whatever, whether on the beach or in an historic plantation) their furnishings are characteristically not of the first order. Last year’s sale of my law office and our house involved critical downsizing but we purposively retained our prized possessions. As wont as I am to opine that material things are of fleeting interest only, there is no denying that it was uplifting suddenly to find myself reacquainted with quality stuff.

Our first stop on home turf was actually not our apartment but rather a quick visit with my elderly mother who remarkably greeted us as though we had never been away. Instead she couldn’t have been more enthusiastic to rid herself of months of collected “papers” as she calls them, essentially financial reports which of course are particularly prolific at this time of year (tax time). As her Power of Attorney I am likewise anxious to relieve her of these concerns and to put my own incremental apprehensiveness about the matter to rest. In the past two days I have collected “papers” from her on two occasions and have devotedly forwarded or delivered them to my mother’s accountant.

As far as due diligence goes, apart from a modest bit of accounting work for ourselves, the next item on the agenda was arranging a luncheon with our close and dear friend JCH with whom we had been in regular communication throughout our lengthy absence. In spite of the on-going remote communication it was nonetheless necessary to rally and to recapitulate to put the lid on the temporary estrangement. This tryst was preceded by a hurried in-and-out with my hair architect Simone from whose new emporium I emerged much revitalized. The combination of our recent endeavours and an exceedingly bright but cool sunny day contributed to a welcome bounciness which was reflected in our subsequent luncheon, characterized as always by lively repartee.

One needn’t but scratch the surface of my transparent personality to know that my automobile is very dear to me. Accordingly after a prolonged period of neglect it was but the work of a moment to organize a routine maintenance gander by the dealership. The check-up was scheduled for 7:00 a.m. this morning. In preparation we were seated at the breakfast table no later than 5:00 a.m. and I was on the road to the City by 6:30 a.m. After delivering the car and collecting a “loaner” of the latest Lincoln product I sped back home where we rallied to conduct a further routine attendance in nearby Carleton Place. Afterwards His Lordship was delivered to and later collected from his dentist who conducted a cleaning and examination.

Interspersed with the performance of these necessary duties we have shared the latest news with my sister; unpacked and restored our vacation accessories, miraculously found a harbour for my new electronic keyboard and bench, replugged all the electrical appliances, reinstalled and reconnected our various electronic devices and computers and shopped for groceries. The windows of the apartment were of course temporarily thrown wide open to ventilate the place. And there were the expected dalliances with neighbours in the building to share briefly the adventures and tragedies of the winter, yet another reminder to seize the day.

The completion of the winter absence signals the start of another fresh step in our lives. We have now closed the circle of our latest modifications and we thus begin what we hope will be the new routine for many years to come. On a more mundane level we also face the prospect of reorganizing the volume of stuff which we randomly stored in the apartment when we moved here one year ago. The time has arrived to do what we promised to do “one day”. We do however have a reprieve from such tedium; this evening we dine in the By Ward Market with my physician and his friends and family to celebrate his sixtieth birthday. We’ll park ourselves overnight at the Château Laurier Hotel and enjoy a preprandial swim. We’re home!

Sunrise

Whether you watch the sun rise over the pyramids, the Rocky Mountains, the Atlantic or Pacific Ocean or just your own back yard, the sensation is one of imperturbable tranquility.

The splendour is as fleeting as the moment of inception that creates the awe. Like birth itself, once the sunrise is accomplished the rest is up to you. It is pleasing to linger upon the regeneration spectacle, to monitor the aimless flight of birds or the changeable face of the sea. But eventually one must scale the wall, swim the sea or cross the field; we are not mere observers.

It was forty years ago almost to the day that I took up the trowel that was to be my instrument of professional expression for the rest of my life. With undaunted regularity I submitted to the mantle until it at last slipped from my shoulders like so many disintegrated pieces, wasted by tireless use, a worn and dilapidated harness. It was time. A new day had dawned.

I won’t pretend that my nights are now free from anxiety or that I can fathom nothing but phlegmatic contemplations. Yet there is certainly a new agenda, one which is strangely free of resolve other than to savour life. I amuse myself by conceding to fanciful designs (though I tactfully avoid anything that borders on routine). The awakening of each new day is paramountly an opportunity for pleasure and discovery without the burden of obligation or devotion. I own the liberation astounds me! It is a thrill carefully to be guarded.

It must equally be admitted that like the horizon upon which the sun rises there is now a formidable expanse of possibilities. Almost nothing is off-limits, the range of interests is virtually boundless. Yet grasping that opportunity is no easier than it was upon one’s first glimpse of a sunrise. To replace yearning with action, to translate birth to living, requires its own animation. I am yet grappling with the circumstances that make it possible. For now I content myself to watch the sun rise, an interloper without occupation.

“(Sittin’ On) The Dock Of The Bay”
Otis Redding

Sittin’ in the morning sun
I’ll be sittin’ when the evening comes
Watching the ships roll in
Then I watch them roll away again, yeah

Stormy Weather

Overnight the temperature dropped a discernible 30 degrees from yesterday’s near record high of 82ºF to this morning’s bracing 52ºF. The violent face of the grey and roiling Ocean says it all, winds from the North! Things will gradually turn around over the next five days to more seasonable temperatures but in the meantime we’re living something reminiscent of a blustery October day on the Maine coast.

Life at an oceanside resort is materially affected by inclement weather. Even though the infinity pool is heated it will not likely attract many takers today when the ambient temperature is so frigid. The nearby Racquet Club has an indoor pool and steam bath but even it has limited appeal on such a chilly day. If one were inclined to drink there is at least some temptation in that recreation though I cannot but think what a blight an afternoon indulgence is upon the cherished evening preprandial cocktail. It may however be a sacrifice worth performing given the general miserableness of the day. Perhaps a more sensible diversion is an improving book or maybe just the supreme intemperance of an afternoon nap.

We decided that the calculation of our week’s bicycle rental concludes today (Friday) having begun last Saturday when we arrived on the Island. We are not far from the bicycle rental shop Amelia Wheels so we rode them there and walked back to the main hotel along the cobblestone trail which was well marked by quaint postilions for visitors. We passed a surprising number of determined joggers along the way.

Back at the room I wasn’t long succumbing to an unprecedented morning snooze. I am uncertain whether the weather is soporific or the absence of dazzling sunshine drained my enthusiasm. I suspect it is neither, rather that I merely submitted to my natural inclination to relax after having spent the previous week here in the usual mad industry which so frequently accompanies arrival at a vacation destination. We have by now exhausted our curiosity about what this 1,350-acre resort has to offer. Yesterday’s brief cycling tour along the beach effectively capped our spirit of enquiry. We are now quite happy to relinquish our desire to learn in favour of wallowing repose especially as we are now counting the several days remaining before our departure from here and return to Canada after four months’ absence.

A hurried adventure upon the howling balcony to scrutinize the dull aspect of the beach and leaden Ocean turbulence reminded me of that dismal side of life upon which we must all ultimately reflect. What on the other hand are the sublime buoyancies of life but a variation upon its troughs? Sustaining a high-pitched excitement is inevitably wearing, a sure-fire recipe for monotony and an unfair diminution of the bright times of a sunny day. North Wind, do your best!

Breakfast al fresco

While resting our bones at the Omni Amelia Island Plantation Resort we have the advantage of taking our breakfast in the hotel at the appropriately named Sunrise Café on a third-floor terrace overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. Seasoned al fresco diners such as we know enough to wear sunglasses to endure the experience en plein air without annoyance; the dazzling morning sunshine is otherwise blinding. The seating is a series of three rows of spaciously situated tables and chairs extending from a line parallel to the outer balcony to the wall of the interior restaurant. The furnishings are attractive, durable and comfortable, certainly what I imagine would be suitable even on a windy day. Our immediate view is upon a highly manicured green of the golf course, then upon the white sand dunes, beach and vast open Ocean.

Most patrons of the restaurant choose to have the buffet not only because it is so extensive but also because the price difference between the same items à la carte or on the buffet is negligible. Besides it is a well-known tradition among us Colonials that a gentleman serves himself at breakfast. We are assisted in the pleasure of our dalliance by having collected the morning newspaper which was delivered to our room before we awoke.

I make a point of having the buffet because I have a passion for bacon and I am admittedly rather greedy when going to the trough. I begin my breakfast however with a bowl of fresh fruit, an assortment of slices of orange, Honeydew melon, Cantaloupe melon, watermelon, pineapple and exceptional strawberries. This I have with a small glass of Florida orange juice and a cup of very strong black coffee. Between pieces of fruit, sips of juice and gulps of coffee I distract myself by idle glances at cloud formations, beach walkers and the relentless wave patterns. This introductory course of my breakfast is one which I particularly relish for its simplicity and purity. Whether one is health conscious or a vegetarian there can be little objection to such a kickoff. And the robust coffee provides an ample jolt to one’s surfacing sensibilities.

After an appropriately polite breather I disturb my maritime focus to wander once again to the festive board. It has taken me a mere two days to refine my habits and agenda so I am well acquainted with what was initially a confusing array of chow. I make my way directly to the “egg lady”, the Chef who prepares omelettes to order. There I request what is by comparison to most a singularly plain omelette which I instruct to be “gooey”. Once plated I carry my omelette to the pan of bacon which I generously load onto the small plate. I then add two wedges of Brie cheese and my second round is ready!

The artery-clogging interlude is unquestionably the height of my morning banquet. Once again I compliment myself upon the judicious simplicity of the dish. I have for example deliberately not contaminated it with sausage links or patties, harsh browns, grits or any number of other distortions which apparently appeal to many. Except for the extraordinary amount of bacon, balance would unreservedly be the defining term.

On the heels of such classic restraint I feel compelled to reward myself with a further indulgence. This final round is one which required some ingenuity upon my part as it is foreign to my customary morning choices. I speak of the world renowned flaky croissant which I round off with whipped butter and homemade strawberry jam. Oddly I consume this course with a knife and fork as otherwise it would be an unseemly mess, my fingers dripping in jam and bits of pastry. It also affords a more delicate system for construction of its combined ingredients. A final cup of black coffee completes the cycle for another day!

Room with a View

Not to diminish the insight of E. M. Forster I am reluctant to philosophize away the consequence of a room with a view unless it were to align with George Emerson’s observation,”My father says the only perfect view is the sky over our heads“. My North American seaside experience is for the most part confined to the Atlantic Ocean and as such I am accustomed to facing east when on holiday. Aside from the unmistakeable splendour of the sunrise there is the seductive sound of the crashing Ocean, a recurring percussion which comes far closer to washing away the sins of my soul than any other invention.

Combine the sunrise and Ocean with a bit of height and the prescription is breathtaking! I cannot imagine a more delightful way to begin a day than from an upper balcony overlooking the distant horizon. One can track by the minute the never-ending changes of the panorama as the sun steadily arches across the resplendent sky. Frequently there is the added curiosity of early morning beach walkers or a lone Olympian competing against the passage of time to fulfill a Maritime dream.

To our further delight this morning we took our breakfast in arrant tranquillity upon the terrace with a commanding perspective of the Atlantic. A bowl of fresh fruit and a cup of black coffee is an unsurpassable concoction to inaugurate the day. At times the blazing sun was overwhelmingly bright but before long it had risen over our heads and out of direct line of horizontal sight. We speculated that the afternoon heat would make the al fresco dining experience intolerable without an umbrella. In the meantime our private morning thoughts wandered aimlessly and boundlessly in the airy expanse. Our introspection changed with the colours of the sky and reflection of light upon the face of the sea.

When we later regained the room after breakfast and subsequently in the afternoon after our constitutional bicycle ride we were treated to an amphitheatre of activity below, people swarming about the pools and upon the beach fulfilling their current ambitions. The closing number was the spectacle of a full moon rising upon the distant horizon and mirrored upon the placid sea.

Work, work, work!

Since we arrived on Amelia Island, FL last Saturday it has been nothing but work, work, work! In fact the toil began that morning when we left Hilton Head Island, SC and first headed to St. Simons Island, GA. After some consternation we succeeded in locating our preliminary destination, The King and Prince Beach and Golf Resort, an historic hotel reminiscent of 1930s splendour:

Celebrating over 75 years of hospitality
The King and Prince Club opened as a seaside dance club in 1935. Six years later, on July 2, 1941, the main hotel building opened to the public as the King and Prince Hotel and was immediately praised for its modern features and magnificent ocean views.

During World War II, the hotel served as a naval coast-watching and training facility, reopening in 1947 to resume its popularity as a favorite island resort with its gracious Mediterranean architecture. The hotel enjoyed extensive renovation and expansions in 1972 and again in 1983, becoming a member of the prestigious Historic Hotels of America in 1996. In 2003, the Resort’s cherished core–the historic main building–underwent a stunning restoration and enhancement project, resulting in 57 new guest rooms and signaling a new era in the guest experience. In 2005, the Resort was named to the National Register of Historic Places. Throughout the many changes over our 76 years of service, one thing has remained the same: we provide our guests superior service, outstanding accommodations, and unrivaled Southern hospitality.

Our luncheon of local seafood at The King and Prince was fitting compensation for our jarring GPS conundrum, setting in motion what we hoped would be an equally pleasant experience in the ten days to follow before our return to Canada.

Buoyed by a fine example of southern hospitality we trundled off to Amelia Island which is only about an hour and a half from where we were. Our distracting challenges reignited here almost immediately. Upon checking into our villa at the 1,350-acre Omni Amelia Island Plantation Resort we discovered two problems: there was no heat and no internet service, amenities which we take for granted and the deprivation of which we do not suffer happily. When the maintenance crew arrived within the hour they confirmed that we were not imagining either of the complaints and they proceeded to do what they could to repair the systems. We were told however that the engineering team would have to return the next day to repair the heat problem (and of course we meanwhile debated whether we would go to all the trouble of relocating ourselves but decided against it). The internet problem was repaired. We put our day’s work behind us and went to dinner at Verandah Restaurant which conveniently was within short walking distance. Our meal there was superb! We started with a dozen fresh Cape Cod oysters on the half-shell followed by local catches for the main course. And the most exquisite Key Lime Pie for dessert! His Lordship started it all with a Bombay Sapphire martini worthy of its own short story! Even the corn and yeast breads were exceptional. This good fortune was made all the cheerier when we returned to the villa to find the heat reinstated.

The next morning we deferred our resort duties only long enough to put on the nose bag at Sunrise Restaurant where they serve a very acceptable buffet including raw honey from their own apiary, in-house croissants and homemade strawberry jam, along with all the usual choices of fresh fruit, breakfast meats and made-to-order omelettes. After breakfast the first item on our agenda was to arrange for bicycle rentals. The rental agency managed to turn us against them when they informed us their policy did not include delivery of the bikes to the villa. We were spoiled by the experience on Hilton Head Island where delivery and pick-up is standard fare. When we attempted to explain to the clerk the extent of the inconvenience (because the villa was at least a mile if not more from the shop), she was unmoved. Fortunately another young male staff member was in attendance and he volunteered to deliver the bikes on a golf cart to the villa. We took him up on the offer and rewarded him accordingly. Subsequently we have learned that we could easily have availed ourselves of the complimentary tram service provided by the resort but surprisingly the supervising clerk never thought to mention it at the time.

As one day passes to another on these resorts it is impossible to recall the details of what happens and when. I know however that apart from bicycling around the extensive acreage of the resort and purchasing some clothes at the golf shop we also enjoyed a steam bath and swimming. Somewhere in the mix we encountered further problems with our internet connection. We thought the matter would have been corrected upon our return from yet another first-class dinner but not so. All told we had contacted the front desk no less than three times about the faulty internet service. When at last a maintenance clerk arrived late last evening he informed us that he had rebooted the modem. This appeared for the time being to correct the problem. But by three o’clock this morning the internet service once again failed. This was the limit! Both of us are accustomed to having internet service at our fingertips at any time to the day, not the least of which is very early in the morning when I for example often compose my literary pieces. This recurrent internet problem, along with the initial heating problem and other problems (which I have not so far mentioned) relating to faulty drapery tracks and screeching sounds when the shower is in use, compelled me to make a call to the Front Desk at 3:30 a.m. this morning.

The long and short of it is that thanks to the understanding and initiative of Jessica of the Front Desk we’re now in a room in the main hotel. Here is a photo I took from our balcony around nine o’clock this morning:

Too bad Mr. Apple has not yet discovered how to include the sound of the Ocean surf with the photo; it is alluring! Anyway this business of moving from the villa to the hotel was not all fun and games. Apart from having to repack, remove and transport,unpack everything we also had to arrange to collect the bikes and relocate them. We have nonetheless assuaged the labour and annoyance of the affair. For my part I spent several hours by the pool, swimming and lounging in the sun:

His Lordship meanwhile cultivated a thoroughly relaxed afternoon including some wine and cheese compliments of the Front Desk.

We have now regained what we expect to be the leisure of the resort. Our dinner reservation this evening is at Oceanside Restaurant where the menu includes Oysters Rockefeller in addition to creative turns on local catches.

Edit Function

Quite by accident during our winter stay on Hilton Head Island, SC I have uncovered the delight of the iPhoto edit function on my MacBook Pro computer. Surrounded as we are here by the Atlantic Ocean, expansive beach, endless horizon, dome-like sky, palm trees, towering sea pines, live oak trees and languorous hanging moss it is no surprise that every amateur photographer succumbs to the beauty of this place and feels compelled to record it. Although I am equipped only with my iPhone camera which I dutifully carry with me whenever we bicycle about the Island I have remarkably been able – thanks to the aforementioned edit function – to translate those bumbling snaps into something astonishingly pretty. Whenever I share my so-called artistic endeavours with friends I hasten to add that although the end product is a certifiable deceit (the sky is never that blue nor the edges that crisp nor the contrast that brilliant) the photographs nonetheless represent the way I see it (which I grant is bordering on poetic license). Any anxiety I might have harboured was however very much dispelled after having shared my work with a professional artist friend who commented glowingly upon my efforts. Naturally I was only too willing to accede to her approbation!

In any event this is all beside the point and only by way of introduction. What has since percolated in my cerebrum is the serendipitous similarity between my photographic experience in particular and our Island experience in general; namely, the edit function. It occurred to me that so much of what we do here is enhanced by an edit function. We have for example been saturated with local television, both the base jingles of local law firms and other commercial advertisements as well as iconic American movies such as James Stewart in the 1939 black and white production “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington“. We have highlighted our visit by attending the Arts Centre of Coastal Carolina, 14 Shelter Cove Lane where we saw a popular American musical “Singing in the Rain“. We have defined our palate by dining at Annie O’s Southern Eats, 124 Arrow Road where we tasted delicious Low Country fried chicken, vinegar cole slaw and black eyed beans! I have highlighted my sojourn by purchasing from a local music shop an electronic piano keyboard which is itself enhanced by optional sounds for violins, choirs and organs. I have even been retouched by my local hair architect Emerson who has initiated an adventurous new style of cut for me! The one thing we haven’t been able to crop is our protuberant bellies but we are able to de-noise that lack of definition by compensating with boosted energy and fitness from having bicycled virtually every day for three months. It is too tempting to resist noting that we have reworked our appearance with the glow of a sun tan; and that the look of the car has been enriched by a hand polish at the local car wash.

As with the photographic edit function the improvement of our life here contains that last resort manipulation “revert to original” which we are about to do within the next two weeks (delayed only by a short diversion to Amelia Island, FL to fulfill our curiosity). I wonder in real life whether indeed it is even possible to change back what has since been edited. Sure the tan will disappear as will the polish on the car, but for the rest we have our memories which are as permanent as anything else I can imagine. Besides the “revert to original” and “undo” buttons are not realistic defaults when the creation is so absorbing.

Island Car Wash

The Island Car Wash on Hilton Head Island, South Carolina is not a plain-vanilla car wash. I can say this with some authority as I regularly take my automobile to a car wash, usually once (sometimes twice) a day every day of the week, every week of the year. I like a clean car. I am the first to admit to an obsession; it may even constitute a psychological aberration of some description in the New England Journal of Medicine. But considering the inconsequential nature of the crime I am not about to renounce the fetish.

Over the past 39 years I have owned about 18 automobiles. I have a thing about cars. And I take care of them. I have tried car washes of almost every description. Car washes, like just about anything else, come in graduated varieties extending from the very basic to the most luxurious. Granted there is not a great deal of breadth between the lowest and the highest rendition of a car wash. Yet even within the minimal parameters the differences are both significant and desirable.

The primary distinction among car washes is whether you wash the car or whether you watch the car being washed. The latter experience might include a bunch of hysterical high school students washing your car on a Saturday morning as part of a fund raiser. This however is not something to which I have ever been privy. In fact it is the last place on earth I would care to watch my car being washed. The risk of unintentional damage – not to mention the likelihood of an entirely unsatisfactory execution – is too much for me to bear notwithstanding the object of the charity. Accordingly the primary distinction I intended to draw was between a self-help manual car wash and an automatic car wash with or without additional manual labour by others.

The self-help manual car washes are generally not worth the effort. The best that can be said for them is that they remove obvious layers of dirt (assuming there is no need for the application of elbow grease – or else you’re bound to use a mop rigged with a water nozzle). The manual washes do however serve an especially useful purpose for people who live in a snowbound climate where road salt and slush are common. In that circumstance, justing getting rid of some of the film is an improvement though it is customarily an ephemeral one as the condition is destined to recur within minutes after leaving the wash (unless the temperature is so cold that everything just freezes including the remnant drips of water on the car). Almost by definition, the manual car washes do not usually involve cleaning the interior of the car. This is so even with those automatic car washes which do not have that added level of attention from staff after the car exterior is washed.

Before leaving the generic automatic car wash it is important to note that they are not all created equally. Many of the automatic washes end leaving residue of suds or other oily layer and frequently the lower end automatic car washes have singularly poor dryers.

This brings us at last to the thoroughbred strain of car wash – the automatic car wash with staff. Of course even at this rarefied level there are staff and there are staff. While this category of car wash is normally passed off as having little or no differences of any distinction, this is clearly not so and undoubtedly constitutes an insult to the likes of the Island Car Wash on Hilton Head Island, but more on that in a moment. The Island Car Wash on Hilton Head Island has the added benefit of being located on a secluded spread of well maintained real estate which is so arranged as to suggest a spa-like atmosphere for its clientele. In addition to WiFi, a clean water closet and a comfortable interior sitting area (adjacent to an entertaining stockpile of accessory automobile provisions for sale), there is an outside sitting area with parklike benches. The sweeping drives leading in and out of the complex add to the sophistication of the adventure. The sine qua non is however the dedication and expertise of the staff. From beginning to end they bring new meaning to generosity, diligence and detail. After watching them perform one can only privately wonder why in the world anyone would ever consider the fiction of spending a perfectly good Saturday morning washing one’s own car no matter how attached one might be to the thing! The episode at Island Car Wash is nonpareil if it includes the hand wax polishing! All in all it is easily accounted as one of life’s small pleasures to have your car detailed at Island Car Wash!

Housebound in the Outpost

The weather has been wet and dreary for the past two days and it looks as though it will continue the same for the remainder of the week. We can’t pretend to be disappointed. It is a welcome break from what has been our relentless bicycling routine for the past three months. It speaks to the truth of the observation that I slept until almost 10:30 a.m. this morning, something which would normally have been an outrage but my weary body told me otherwise. In any event we weren’t about to bicycle on our fender-less bikes in the pouring rain. Not to mention that the temperatures haven’t risen above 45 degrees Fahrenheit.

By the time I finished my customary breakfast it was pushing one o’clock in the afternoon. While spearing pieces of orange, banana and black berries I sipped my dark roast coffee and leisurely answered overnight emails. There is usually some topic to pursue with one or more of my friends (most of whom are no longer engaged in gainful employment). Later I subjected myself once again to James Joyce’s Ulysses but I have at last abandoned the project. I have satisfied my life-long curiosity about the book but otherwise I am not much further ahead.

We’re quite happy to kill time until our departure on Saturday morning, four days hence. The long range weather forecast thereafter is clear and warm weather (70 degrees Fahrenheit). We don’t feel we’re robbing ourselves of valuable time by doing nothing much. It takes some time to reconcile one’s self to departure, to settle in one’s mind what needs to be done before we leave. I canvassed the possibility of having my teeth cleaned for the second time in as many months, to remove the stain of that strong, black coffee I drink every day. But His Lordship suggested (that’s being polite) I wait until our return when I have already made an appointment for a cleaning. I deferred. My obsessive mission to renew is seldom as gratifying in the act as the anticipation.

Given the foreseeable weather we fleetingly toyed with the idea of leaving early. Why not? It’s not as though we have any time table to which we are attached though of course there would be some unnecessary duplication of accommodation costs. It wouldn’t however be the first time we jumped ship early. Oh well, we’ll likely just sit tight and relax. As odd as it may seem, it might be the only time in three months that we just put our feet up.

Meanwhile for lack of anything better to do I have tumbled in my mind what it is that keeps relationships going. Most of the socializing we have done while here for the winter has been long-distance. The perspective has accentuated the character of my personal relationships. It likely still remains true that “if she knows why she loves him she doesn’t” which is to say there is no list of prerequisites to a successful relationship. That said, I am convinced there are signals about the nature of a relationship and it is both wise and desirable that one should understand those clues. As part of my retirement catharsis I am revisiting everything in my past. I am just as prepared to throw away superfluous relationships as I am to let go unnecessary possessions. Oddly the same rules apply to both. In general terms, if you don’t need it, or you’re keeping it “just in case”, then get rid of it! I imagine that the separation from the world of business has something to do with this theory of liberation. Besides there is just too much work required to invest in a good relationship to allow it to become a chore.