What a mixture of enthralling events we’ve had today!  Awakening to the studied and prolonged cooking of spare ribs (a culinary enterprise and yearning temptation pursued since the early hours of the day), an invitation to a 9th decade initiation (with the customary attention to the celebratory gift), a local hunt for the perfect honey (and the unwitting discovery of a new and exotic nut butter), a tricycle ride in the late morning mist, a chance encounter with an ancient friend and business associate, the routine car wash and drive into and out of the urban veil, an afternoon drawing room chat with Bunny, and now the picturesque image of the still-burgeoning river glistening beneath the thin film of wispy grey cloud and the lingering enhancement of the vernal equinox.

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As much as I – and no doubt as do many others – commonly feign complete delight in whatever is happening throughout the day, there is very often an undisclosed undercurrent of anxiety and perhaps even turmoil. It may be a leak of the oil pan of the car, or worry about upcoming moving plans, or having to attend upon yet another medical appointment. Or, maybe it’s just the refrain that follows having to deal with speeders on the highway – those types who are never content to observe either the speed limit or the perceived indignity of having to travel behind another vehicle (always of course in exceedingly close range to magnify the impurity and their impatience). In short, a day without at least some complaint is unusual.

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The day began as usual – ablutions, breakfast and puttering on the computer.  We had two plans.  One, go to the golf club for a lunch; and two, attend the Farewell to Bunny get together late afternoon.  The primary irregularity was naturally the farewell gathering.  Yet even the luncheon at the golf club had its element of uniqueness.  Because of the recent cool, cloudy and often rainy springtime weather we’ve lately endured, our attendance at the club has been diminished from what is our routine.

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Excerpt From
Michel de Montaigne (1533 – 1592), “The Essays of Montaigne — Complete.”

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At 3:00 am this morning as I momentarily escaped from my lair to void my bladder, I saw on my iPhone an email from a former prep school colleague.  Even though it has been decades – perhaps as many as four or five – since we had last communicated with one another, I have never forgotten him. His name is Bobby and he stands out as one of the characters of my upbringing at school. Continue reading →

Living as we do in an apartment building which houses predominantly retired people – and because the smallish apartments are not conducive to families – one often hears references to grandchildren. The common remark is that the grandchildren are visiting, or the grandchildren are playing in a sports event or the grandchildren helped clarify a technology issue. Generally speaking the ages of the grandchildren vary from 1 month to 24 years, but mostly in the middle somewhere. And not surprisingly the residence of the grandchildren is commonly nearby – no doubt initially a reflection of the wish of the grandparent(s) to be close to his/her/their own child or children.

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This morning – not atypical of almost any Sunday morning as of late – I received from my erstwhile physician an email in which he included an article preceded by the stock introduction,”I thought you would be interested in this story from The Sunday Times“. The story was entitled, “Stephen Fry: What Jeeves and PG Wodehouse taught me about life.”

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The indisputable advantage of old age is the readiness to speak one’s mind.  Though it is not a benefit upon which I daily linger, there are nonetheless occasions (such as that which arose today) when I lapse into the vernacular without hesitation. I am naturally grateful for the inspiration to do so arising from my acquaintance with those who stimulate such alacrity.

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It’s already 10:20 pm.  The day has vanished. And my head is spinning. I can hardly recollect what I have done and where I have been.  Our “drop by for a quick visit” guest – who has recently moved into the apartment building and who said she’d pop around before 6:00 o’clock for a hurried chat – left approaching nine o’clock.  And I can assure you it was a non-stop confab!  We touched upon endless details surrounding our mutual experiences in the local legal community over the past fifty years. Her arrival here with Bruun & Bennett, Barrs. &c. in Carleton Place predates by several years my own with Galligan & Sheffield, Barrs. &c. in 1976. We are both of an age, separated by less than a month.

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After a lifetime pursuit of unfulfilled (or, should I say, unrequited) yearning, I have come to realize that my problem is either greed or addiction.  I do however relieve myself of the peril of rapacity because often my failure was not gluttony but appreciation. I appreciated the quality of the things I so relentlessly pursued.  But that distinction, I have discovered, is a small compliment because there are many, many things in life of enviable quality, the recognition of which is possible without having to add the acquisitive feature to it – anymore than a thief must have the Crown Jewels. Some things can be admired from afar and without the possessory element.

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