In the hurtle that is life it is not uncommon to overlook what we owe to those whom we’ve met along this sometimes uncontrollable passage. While driving home this wintry day today on my customary route in the country, my mind was unaccountably overtaken by memories in the snow many years ago at Mont Tremblant, Québec with my friends Ian and Pierre.
Ian and Pierre now live in the South Pacific having moved from their first large home on an olive grove to a more urban home nearby a golf course and mountain range. Before they emigrated from Canada they had undertaken a number of residential adventures which fortuitously I had the privilege to share with them periodically.
My introduction to Ian was at Dalhousie Law School where Ian was a Professor. I believe he was born in the South Pacific, raised and educated there, then moved to Canada; and that his mother was Canadian. Because of slight differences in undergraduate and graduate study imperatives, Ian and I were “of an age”. This apparently was of significance because it likely contributed to our initial acquaintance. I was not by contrast on similarly friendly terms with other professors at the law school.
When I moved to Nova Scotia in 1970 to study law I first lived in Domus Legis on Seymour Street not far from the law school. Ian had an apartment in a building downtown Halifax. How we met, I do not remember, probably at some gathering at the law school. Most likely I was drawn to Ian’s sense of humour and his equally attractive charm. Whatever the reason, we ended making occasional rendezvous, first at his apartment for a mix of lime cordial and soda then the Piccadilly Tavern for more serious drinking of Moosehead beer by the quart together with other cronies (and memorably Janet B after the law was changed to permit women in pubs).
Three years later when I graduated from law school and moved to “Upper Canada” to undertake my articling employment in Ottawa before going to Osgoode Hall for the Bar Admission Course in Toronto, I again met with Ian who by this time had become engaged with the Government of Canada in Indian and Northern Affairs. It was during this period that I met Pierre who was living with Ian. Pierre also was employed by the Government of Canada. Ian and Pierre lived in a large home in Sandy Hill in the heart of Ottawa not far from the grand home where Sir Wilfrid Laurier had lived.
Ian and Pierre soon became notable as social entertainers. Their Christmas parties (dinners and congregations thereafter) were nothing short of famous. It was then for example that I was introduced to a bûche de Noël or Yule log.
The cake emerged in the 19th century, probably in France, before spreading to other countries. It is traditionally made from a genoise, generally baked in a large, shallow Swiss roll pan, iced, rolled to form a cylinder, and iced again on the outside. The most common combination is basic yellow sponge cake and chocolate buttercream, though many variations that include chocolate cake, ganache, and icings flavored with espresso or liqueurs exist.
Their dining room table accommodated a large number of people; I’m guessing about 14 in all, possibly more. I have no idea how Ian and Pierre prepared for these events. In the adjoining drawing room was a grand piano. Many of the visitors were from out of town and who stayed overnight in the spacious home. Post mortem was not uncommon at the breakfast table the following morning.
Not long after I began practicing law in the country, Ian was elevated to a senior ministerial position in the Saskatchewan government. We lost track of one another during this time. By chance however, years afterwards when Ian returned to Ottawa and began his private employment as Counsel to the native Indians of Canada, we reconnected, this time at his mountainside home in Mont Tremblant, Québec. My visits there were once again notable for their social graces and parallel enjoyment. We naturally enjoyed downhill skiing as well.
The subsequent moments of particular memory in this on-going friendship were a number of visits with Ian and Pierre at there extraordinary “off-the-grid” home on Lac Mont Tremblant where Tommy Hilfiger had his own private resort nearby the ski hill. By coincidence many years later I visited the cottage of Mr. Justice James Knatchbull Hugessen and his wife Mary on Lac Tremblant across the lake from Hilfiger’s place. We accessed the lakefront property strictly by launch from the mainland. There was no roadway access for automobiles.
But it was Ian and Pierre’s ineffable mountaintop home in the same arrondissement which was the most outstanding of their real estate ventures. I recall on one visit when the snow was especially evident, I had to park my car at the base of the mountain and call to have Ian and Pierre come to collect me in their Land Rover. Once having ascended the winding roadway on the side of the mountain and seated in the enormous drawing room atop the mountain one could literally see air planes flying below en route to the nearby airport.
I apologize if this reminiscence sounds too much like the prattle of a real estate salesperson. While the territorial boundaries were of undeniable flavour, there is no denying as well that it was the remarkable sociability of Ian and Pierre which strengthened what might otherwise have been merely hardware. The inexpressible magnanimity of the two, combined with their personal buoyancy, ingenuity and intelligence, make for unforgettable associations and lifetime memories spanning over half a century.