Human relationships are complex.  Leaving aside the labyrinth features of international relationships and the surreptitious character of nefarious or scandalous intent, those relationships which involve personal alliances are especially fraught with many different and connected parts. Normally one considers the duration of relationships of any description to be inexact and limited. But importantly it has as often been said of friendship that if it were legitimate from the start, it will last forever. Basically, true friends are forever aligned. I believe that to be true. Categorically.  Even if there were an intervening disparity between the friends, I nonetheless believe that the authenticity of the initial relationship will survive any kerfuffle – although I accept that the recovery from the imbalance may provoke a prolonged period of distance and separation.  But, as I say, foremost is my belief that true friends never lose that initial glue which brought them together. It is frequently echoed in the observation, “We picked up exactly where we left off!”

But that prosaic extrapolation is unnecessary in the present circumstance which has prompted me to touch upon this particular theme today. This morning as I cheerfully drove down the Appleton Side Road in the direction of the golf club, I excited within myself the ambition to connect with an old friend. Our friendship goes back many, many years, perhaps as long ago as 1975 when I articled with Macdonald, Affleck, Barrs &c., 100 Sparks St while residing at the Mayfair on nearby Metcalfe St. Suffice it to say, there’s been a lot of water under the bridge since then. What however lingers is the indisputable connection that the two of us had from the beginning.  I am to this day particularly enamoured of Scott’s extraordinary sense of humour (one by the way which relies not upon a vulgar lapse into the vernacular for its stimulation rather perspicuous insight and uncommon brevity). It no doubt speaks of my own comparative inadequacy that I am unable at a whim to recall many of Scott’s comical utterances.  They’re too strategic for my inductive temperament!

We together today spun a yarn of some considerable length as we babbled back and forth, constantly interrupting one another, laughing, forgetting what we were going to say. Gracie, the family pet, is I believe a miniature poodle of cinnamon colour. She was a positive sweetheart, jumping frantically, rolling over to have her tummy rubbed. A perfect angel.