Throughout my life there have been appointments. In prep school there was morning chapel.  We literally went to church every day of the week and twice on Sundays (matins and vespers). Then there was football practice in the afternoon followed in the evening by a short break (I forget what it was called) between studies and “lights out!” The next morning the alarm in the hallways rang at 7:00 am and it was into the showers, then breakfast at the Great Hall followed by classes. When I reached undergraduate studies the critical times were for lectures. Subsequently at law school, the same. Then in private practice came client appointments (only one of which I mistakenly missed – and for which I dutifully crawled) plus deciding when to leave for a short vacation. Finally, at this closing stage of my life, most appointments revolve around doctors, dentists and hospitals – checkups, consultations and surgery.

Being on time for these appointments has never been debated. Generally I have made a point of arriving early.  Once, when visiting a specialist’s office in Ottawa, the physician – whose waiting room was full – kept me waiting so long before the scheduled meeting that I left. To this day I cannot recall the purpose of that meeting. Otherwise the history of meetings and appointments has been successful. One meeting I recall in particular was conducted after 10:30 pm with a client (a restaurateur) in Ottawa. He was also the chef. We conducted our meeting at a table in the empty dining room, he still sporting his soiled kitchen apron. That was 50 years ago. He became very successful, the owner of vast amounts of valuable riparian lands not the least of which is the building where I now reside.

There is always relief that follows conclusion of an appointment. It is one more thing “off the books “.  Possibly the reassurance speaks to a profound psychological trait associated with an obsessive personality. Currently, given the nature of my appointments, it is a question of unburdening my complaints to a professional. Once this weight is eliminated from my shoulders I tend to rely unreservedly upon the transfer of authority.

Appointments are normally significant, something of relevance to both sides of the table. The modern technological custom of sending confirming emails to the subordinate party is one of which I approve. Depending upon the nature of the meeting I openly engage myself with the other party in any detail which might foreseeably affect the outcome of our discussion. Better in my opinion to address the matter before hearing the other party ejaculate, “I wish you had told me that before!”

The agenda of my typical appointments now includes repetitive items such as 1) winding the Sligh grandfather clock, 2) fussing with the tuner knob on the Tivoli radio (attempting to locate an audible CBC FM station), 3) failing to resist taking yet another upriver photograph (the perspective changes daily) then “editing” the original, 4) mandatory daily creation of modest literary additives (often with the subsequent review and helpful refinement of AI), 5) succumbing to TikTok for my news (educational but highly selective as a result of the algorithms), 6) mealtimes and bedtimes and finally 7) an improving diet of classical music and literature (mostly beyond copyright so I can get it conveniently and without hesitation).

I do not miss the days of appointments which required me to digest fact and regurgitate law. I took my involvement seriously and I was never dismissive of the task.  Everything had to be reviewed again and again from beginning to end. There was no easy performance. I did of course make mistakes. But to my knowledge there are only two of which I am aware. One – the first – was caught by my clients when they reviewed the draft documents I had sent them. As you might imagine, I corrected the error and rendered the completed documents to them free gratis (though they generously insisted upon giving me an antique legal tome as a gift).  The second error was one discovered myself, thankfully in time to expunge the fault and replace it with the proper terms. I mention this not to certify my credentials, rather to share that I have not knowingly made any other mistakes in my near 40 years of practice. Through the Law Society of Upper Canada, retired lawyers continue to enjoy a degree of professional errors and omissions insurance. There is some assurance in knowing that one has survived over 1½ decades of retirement without exposure to liability. Not being a litigator I merely speculate that most causes of action would naturally have expired after 15 years if not then discovered. While historically this limitation may not have prevented the revelation of a real estate claim (because of the longevity of ownership), the present real estate governance under the provincial government’s Land Titles system is such that, once the ownership is accepted into the system (normally upon acquisition) there is no possible challenge. Consequently historical conveyances have become less and less relevant to the purpose. It bears repeating too that the American system of “title insurance” has insinuated the Canadian vernacular as well. The reasoning now is, if there is a perceived title problem, depending upon an assessment of the exposure, an insurance company will take the risk and defend the title. While I embrace the methodology I cannot resist exclaiming that it illustrates the tactical strategy of the banks and insurance companies.  Note for example, that even if a subsequent sale discloses the renewed vitality of the possible error, the insurance company will simply “insure over” the possible exposure for a further period of ownership.  In effect the problem is “buried”. The strategic mandate imposed upon a once finicky system (Land Registry) is a compliment to modern commerce.