During this morning’s tricycle outing (exercise is far too generous a term for it), I was hailed alongside the road.  The eager correspondent apologized for interrupting my labour then abruptly asked about the apartment building where we’re living. She clearly had intentions in mind. When she inquired specifically whether we regretted not having a meeting room, I replied that my preferred socializing is doing precisely what I was doing; namely, zipping about the neighbourhood and chatting with people along the way. The bitter truth of course is that I don’t get out much. Socializing diminishes incrementally with advancing age. People’s interests and associations quickly fade. And sadly in the process some have died. I confess to having succumbed to my primary interests only which, as I say, foremost include tricycling (walking and bicycling are right out), reading and writing, and driving my faithful automobile. It is a perishingly limited agenda. Though honestly I can’t imagine doing anything further in my current state of retirement and ambivalence.

This morning’s conference about the apartment building was conducted with a woman who, as I had anticipated, is thinking of quitting her house and renting an apartment. She asked what I thought of the place where we’re stationed.  I replied that overall things are glowing though the immediate impediment is the diminished size (all apartments are under 1,000 sq ft). But the hallmarks include the paramount view of the river (which for the corner apartments is explosive with their wrap-around balconies). The bounty of distinctive features was naturally punctuated by the assembly of agreeable people. And underground parking. I told her there are predictable noise disturbances (lounge furniture on balconies or chairs without felt pads in the apartment). Finally there was the incontrovertible benefit of nearby hospital, grocery store, lawyer, dentist, chiropractor, restaurants and retail which trumps all other possible complaints. The woman mentioned that a similar building in Perth includes the privilege of medical care as needed. She added the building has a common room, a swimming pool and access to nursing home residence when required. Apparently the apartment building is owned by a doctor and dentist. I encouraged her to follow her heart in making her decision.

But I’ve jumped ahead of myself. My first social encounter this morning was with another resident upon leaving the apartment and while awaiting the elevator to the garage where I store my tricycle.  The resident advised that their air conditioner was not working. I confirmed that this was the second instance of A/C malfunction I had heard of within the past week. The chap making that complaint was on the first floor. While we were chatting about this untimely peril, the building supervisor materialized to address the matter. I later heard from the husband of the woman with whom I had earlier chatted that the supervisor said there is a mechanical deficiency with the main control features (located outside the building) whereby something is not draining properly.

After this weighty confab regarding the air conditioning I was further obstructed in my intended athleticism not seconds after launching from the subterranean parking lot with my tricycle onto the open entrance of the apartment building.  Seemingly I would never accomplish the statutory 4Kms jaunt on my tricycle! A chap was exiting his vehicle, carrying a lamp and some other unidentifiable accessories.  After exchanging the usual pleasantries, he asked how I liked living in the building.  I responded first by asking when he moved in (several days ago, he said) and then I asked where he was from.  He gave me a look of evident surprise and said, “You don’t recognize me.”  I looked again, then immediately said, “Why, yes, of course it’s you!” This gentleman adds to the list of others in the building whom I have known for a very long time. We then shared the usual gossip about this and that. He reportedly left his farm property to his son.

As I ventured along Spring Street parallel to the river I passed by children in groups obviously headed somewhere in particular.They politely acknowledged and returned a cheery hello. I also saw those who were walking their dogs (both big and small); others (a young mother and a grey-haired grandparent) independently pushing a perambulator with a dog in tow; an elderly couple walking while romantically holding hands; men and women on their knees or attached to machines while cultivating gardens or mowing grass; and, workers climbing ladders and constructing new townhouses (with the enviable direct river view) or installing distinguishable landscaping improvements.

From a distance in the river park I saw my old white-haired friend pushing his walker along the gravel pathway adjacent the shoreline. He didn’t see me so we by-passed what would no doubt have been our normal discussion of one’s health and the weather. He too has eclipsed management of a family horse farm though I believe his wife (who is more mobile and active than he) continues to muck the barns and to do whatever is necessary within that demanding domaine. Many times previously he and I have shared with exuberance the privilege and righteousness of abandoning duty.

Naturally I supplemented this energizing communion by driving my car along the flowery country roads and back.  The corn stalks reach the sky forming secreted avenues of transport.  The wind was at one moment in particular at my back and the car (with its windows and landau roof open) was uncommonly silent. I listened to the modern wave sound of Fisherman’s Friends (Rupert Christie) which was also singularly peaceful. It was another early morning ride.