Morning blur

Following an uncommonly undisturbed sleep last night, when I awoke refreshed – and after recovering my acquaintance with the bedroom wall hangings – I pondered the fortuity. I was anxious to maintain whatever tranquillity of mind and body had accommodated such somnific pleasantness. Strangely one of the things immediately apparent was that yesterday I hadn’t tricycled about the garage as I normally do; and, as a result my limbs and thighs were less taut than they otherwise are following such modest activity. I am too reminded of my late father who perished not until approaching his 96th year; and, until then he had continued to get about in a small way.  The point I wish to make is that he preserved an acceptable degree of mobility without having to go to the gymnasium every day. In fact he virtually abandoned anything resembling exercise in the last 20 years of his life (though until then he remained remarkably athletic, walking to and from his nearby garden, or the unfathomable enterprise of walking from Bruce Farms to Dow’s Lake to visit his grandchildren).

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Obituaries

It is, I have no doubt, a remorse shared by more than me; namely, the regret and self-reproach at having only fully appreciated someone after they have gone. Granted the contrition may be mournfully augmented beyond the need for penitence. Yet It remains one of those unavoidable truths that in matters such as these, we’re always too late.

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More to this than meets the eye

Initially the purchase of a fully electric passenger vehicle is tempting.  The retailers do of course devote the predominance of the sales pitch to the many onboard accessories of the vehicle. But the devotion to appearances is unfortunately a disguise of the underlying issues surrounding charging of an electric vehicle.  By my admission I am neither mechanical nor electrical.  The most I know about the mechanics of a car is how to top up the windshield washer fluid; and, the most I know about electronics is the word wire or plug.  From then on, all is mystery.

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Those brash people!

By Email
January 6,  2025

Good to hear from you, Billy. I am happy to confirm that my time in Morocco continues to satisfy my craving for warmth and new experiences. However, the term swoon does seem a little excessive!! I am now on the solo bit of my holiday in a rented apartment on the Atlantic coast. I doubt my sea views are comparable to those offered at Hilton Head but they are quite delightful and the people I have met could not have been kinder. In a word: I’m having a ball!

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The Colonies

January 5, 2025.

Dear Reader: What follows is a copy of an email exchange between me and my erstwhile physician who, as he so often does while languishing on a Sunday morning after having taken his dog for a walk on the winding country trail, thoughtfully shared with me a link to an article he had read in his subscription to The Times of London. It was (putatively at least) an article about British history.  It does however tell me a broader and more formidable tale. As it happens my erstwhile physician, like I, is from a country bred in good part by British colonialism.

As you will also discover if you care to read the remainder of this entry, I am cautious about preserving myself when I already have the notable advantage;  otherwise, anything goes.  In short it is a complicated matter because, on the one hand we’re so obviously attracted to what we know (or what, in this instance, we inherited); while on the other hand we are aware of the value and incontrovertibility of changing one’s perspective.

My apologies for maybe reading too much into this.  One more thing: The latest fashion is to dismiss the value of the former “woke” conversations, societal complaints about which the public is exhausted.

More recently the word (woke) has been used in a more derogatory way, by people who oppose progressive reforms or feel that their advocates are unrealistic or interfering.

Getting back to normal, or making things great again, is not always the best or even the easiest task.  Axiomatically of course, nothing repeats.  And even if one were inclined to forego the dryness of logic, the unforgivable reality is that it will never be the same again.  And we all know it.  So why the fear about change?  The other reality naturally is that there will always be change. Fighting it doesn’t seem to me to be the answer.  For others only conflict will succeed (as it does, in a manner of speaking, in war).

Billy (Chapman)

Email
January 5, 2025

Franz – Whew!  Didn’t see that coming!  This guy Rod Liddle is part of the problem. Apart from imagining (the unfounded fear) that Shakespeare is going to become less relevant, this:

It also occurs to me that if we want to make a success of our multiracial society, rather than encouraging each minority group to wallow in its own ghetto, one of the best ways of doing so is to impart the history and literature of our country to each and every child, regardless of where they hail from, and to enjoin them to celebrate its brilliance and relevance to where they live now.

Wow!  This fellow is sadly lacking! Even historians agree that each writer puts a “popular”spin on the historical accounts they render.  Nor is the observation guaranteed without its venom for doing or having done so. But this particular writer appears to have fallen off the cliff at MAGA without knowing the company he keeps. The keys to commercial success are uniformity and dissection. A 1950’s “Father Knows Best” (black & white) television series similarity. Just like the good ‘ole days!

And “ghetto”? Has he seen where some of these rich “foreigners” live? The article is certainly a reminder of the compromised logic unwittingly adopted (or inhabited) by some people. He screams membership in hoi polloi! I am however more persuaded that the narrative is foremost designed to appeal to the vast majority of the readership. I rather doubt our insightful author would compose the same words were he in the company of a totalitarian government of a different persuasion for example.  Ultimately I believe the strength of the article lies in the support it received from the CEO (or whoever controls the purse strings of the publication).  I don’t imagine the writers are “on staff”; rather, that they are independent contractors (subject for employment to the whim of the Upper Level Censors). And money always talks.

Perhaps I am especially opinionated about this chap because of my undying affection for Comparative Anything.  As you likely already know (I admit I repeat a great deal), I have always valued intelligence about another’s interpretation or manifestation. Strangely I find I commensurately nourish my personal knowledge by virtue and strength of the comparison.  The British colonial thesis is throughout the Western world fairly sufficiently documented. In my opinion there is little risk of disappearance of that “celebrated brilliance” by the addition of some comparative learning.

Thanks as always!

Bill

Vicarious

Partly because I can never remember the word whenever I have infrequent occasion to use it, the word “vicarious” has always interested me extraordinarily.  Another – and perhaps more cogent – explanation of the attraction is that the word was the source of one of my earliest legal lessons after law school when I undertook Articles with Macdonald, Affleck Barrs. & c., 100 Sparks St, Ottawa in 1973.

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Chance encounter

I got up late today. I’ve accepted that prolonged sleep is incontrovertible evidence of my impending dissolution and ultimate evaporation. Or, as my late father so amorphously characterized it, “Going into space!” It was noon before I was spooning my ineffable steel cut oats and nibbling on superb pieces of extra thick bacon. But astonishingly time was no impediment. The sun was shining brightly; the air was dry and clear. An ideal day for a drive to nowhere and back.  So after I brushed my teeth, then crawled on my stick to the basement garage, I was soon motoring into the clear wintry sky along the Appleton Side Road.

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Wrap it up!

At 8:20 am this morning – on the first workday of the New Year 2025 – and while still dreaming in bed I suddenly threw back the duvet and sat upright. There was a noise. It was a noise I am unaccustomed to hear so early in the day. I soon realized the disturtance emitted from my iPhone resting on the charger beside the bed. I answered.

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Wintry storm on New Year’s Day (2024)

Sitting, staring at the wintry storm, I wonder where and when
The gift of life first fell like snow and flattened and what then?
I wonder how and where the sky at first began to call?
Was the grey above and white below a token or a treasure of it all?

The New Year’s Day is calm and staid, its unadventurous tick overt
There’s nothing more compelling than my thoughts to keep alert.
Instead the shadowy sky and emerald freezing water of the river flow
Upon the horizon and upriver to Appleton as they did so long ago.

Do we dare to take a chance, to start anew and freshen all we were?
Does time remain to rewrite the image upon the ground that’s left to spare?
Or will we like it dampen and dissolve then evaporate and disappear?
I sit and watch, and nod asleep, regarding the view from here.

New Year’s Eve (2024)

Granted, nothing’s perfect.  But Almonte is damn close to being so! While contemplating the upcoming new year and the reminiscences provoked by such idle occupation, it occurred to me that Almonte is one of the best things to have happened to me in my lifetime. And it happened almost 50 years ago.  So I’ve had the liberty to evaluate the matter in some detail. I won’t say that Almonte is the best thing to have happened to me in my lifetime. That distinction is the indubitable preserve of my partner without whom I am lost. And that alliance happened almost 30 years ago. But if one were to choose a matter of broad significance and of general application, Almonte would be right up there with whatever else constitutes one of the best things to have happened to me in my lifetime. Almonte far surpasses memorability or merit as a mere place of residence and employment and retirement.  It has signalled so much more than that.

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