Anyone such as I, so willfully devoted to accounting what are by even the most generous regard trifling personal relations and sometimes recondite frictionless events, is by force of that self-absorption alone tolerably introverted. There are more vigorous adjuncts; words such as selfish, heedless and egotistical. Or the perfunctory appendage, boring, which obviously I prefer not to embrace. What however in my opinion squares the tarsome conceit is that 1) I have nothing else to say; and, 2) it is only about those whom I know that I write. If I were to have opted for fiction as the vernacular of choice, there might reasonably be quite a different slant upon the productions (though even then I imagine it impossible to create tales that haven’t some link to real life). As it is, aside from what I quip are “literary licence”, my focus is upon that which and those whom I know.

Today was an ideal example of what I mean.

In summary while tricycling today each of the several persons whom I fortuitously met and with whom I chatted were people whom I have known (some for upwards of 48 years and all for no less than 30 years) and for whom I have worked. The latter credential alone I reckon is a fairly unusual celebrity (even for the neighbourhood horticulturalist). And as chance would have it, the progression of encounters this morning as I faded and shaded along Spring Street on my Evo Latitude Trike echoed the progression of my career in Almonte and even slightly beforehand, indeed as far back as the moment of graduation from law school. Allow me to explain.

As I reached Gale Street (which is the pinnacle of my first lap of 4Kms athleticism along Spring Street from the apartment building) I met Raymond Timmons. Timmons is former CEO and Director of the Almonte General Hospital. He was visiting his daughter and son-in-law  who lately bought the home of Winston and Sheila MacIntosh (former clients of mine) along the river. I worked for Timmons in matters related to the Almonte General Hospital Foundation (a retainer I suspect drew upon my earlier charitable corporate experience first for the Elizabeth Kelly Library Foundation with Louis Irwin and Robert C. Wilson CA then afterwards for the Mississippi Valley Textile Museum with Herbert Pragnell who was a Councillor of the Town of Almonte). Timmons is (and always has been) smart and well-informed. In fact his entire family enjoyed the commonality of business enterprise and success.

Timmons informed me that he regularly golfs with Charles Reginald Gamble (for whom I also worked on occasion and who was one of the first people whom I met in Almonte) and His Honour Judge Alan D. Sheffield (by whom I was initially employed and for whom I latterly acted). This intelligence amused me because my introduction to Almonte in June of 1976 was a job interview at the Mississippi Golf Club (where we dined) with Messrs. Galligan & Sheffield Barrs. &c. prior to Sheffield’s elevation to the bench. Following this broadly minded and nutritious exchange with Timmons, he dismissed himself to pursue management of his rental property on the other side of town.

Meanwhile on the other side of Spring Street I saw Marina Johnson raking her lawn.  I had once worked for her as well.  She and I had a conversation about property management in particular, a subject about which I always marvel because it consumes elderly people for reasons I do not fully understand.  The way I see it, there is one ready solution; namely, sell it and move on.  But many people (including my late mother) are irrevocably attached to their homestead and tolerate flourishing expense and inconvenience for the privilege. After sharing a cheery Au revoir! I continued my tricycle ride along Spring Street towards the apartment building.

Not far along I saw Dr. Leonard Shaw (who for the record had occasion engaged my professional services) walking his two hallmark shelties (or similar breed) on the sidewalk. He slowed to indicate his intention to communicate.  I thus rode my tricycle to the other side and paused to engage in conversation. Shaw proceeded to outline a rather extensive account of his prolific family, including their ages, university studies, scholarships, athletic achievements and incidental historic details as well as his numerous places of residence throughout the globe. The communication consumed a healthy part of the morning outing.  I purposively corrupted Shaw’s seemingly interminable advice by boring him with some of my own. It was punishingly with Shaw this morning that I shared my earliest legal experience in 1973 as an articled clerk in the Supreme Court of Canada where, once again by entire coincidence, one of my first acquaintances was with George Burke-Robertson QC who was the father of Sandy Atack, wife of Dr. David Atack in Almonte.  Burke-Robertson, in spite of his grand appearance as senior counsel, was at heart a country boy. He made no secret of his favour for a jaunt to Almonte (his family home was after all in Dunrobin along the Ottawa River). On more than one occasion I saw him arrive at the Land Registry Office (when it was in the historic stone building opposite St. Paul’s Anglican Church) in his sleek black Buick Riveria from which he withdrew his tall, slender body and proceeded to conclude a real estate transaction himself at the office desks without the benefit of a title searcher or paralegal. I might usefully add that contemporaneously with the Supreme Court case, the Chief Justice of the Federal Court of Canada (the court of first instance before the appeal) was Mr. Justice Jake Urie. Urie was not only a former partner of Burke-Robertson, Chadwick, Ritchie and Urie Barrs. &c., but also the father of David Urie with whom I had been in boarding school (in fact in the same Form) at St. Andrew’s College in 1963.

Though you may not believe it, each of the accounts I have related briefly touching upon Timmons, Gamble, Sheffield, Johnson and Shaw is but one from a source of further moments of interest, some of which frankly are surprisingly amusing. But I haven’t the inspiration or intellectual capacity at the moment to decipher how I might arrange the pertinent facts so as not to become overly wearing. I trust you will accordingly excuse my deference.