Saturday, December 31, 2011

Happy New Year!

It’s 7:15 a.m. on New Year’s Eve. We’ve just finished a sustaining breakfast of fresh orange wedges, cheddar cheese squares, fried eggs, smoked salmon and English muffins with butter, peanut butter and honey. The screened balcony door is open, allowing the spellbinding sound of the Atlantic waves to penetrate the villa. The sun is just beginning to rise and, judging by the pink and blue permutations on the horizon, it will be another stunning day. There is an expected high today of 68˚F which for Hilton Head Island at this time of year isn’t bad at all.

Thursday, December 29, 2011

Vacation Thoughts

About fifteen years ago, to the disappointment of my mother and the devastation of the family tenets she holds dear, we inaugurated the habit of taking a vacation over the Christmas holidays. Comparatively speaking during that period of time at my office there is normally little to do anyway. It’s a commercial convenience, nothing more.

Sunday, December 25, 2011

Christmas Day on Hilton Head Island

Because I was so lacking in absorption at the office, we left Canada for our winter vacation in South Carolina on Wednesday, December 21st a day earlier than planned. It was with a degree of hesitancy that we pointed the nose of the Lincoln southward as there was freezing rain which however thankfully dissipated as we gingerly moved out of the Ottawa Valley.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Conundrum at the North Pole

The elves were having an awful time of it! The conveyor belt upon which rode the Teddy bears, model cars, train sets, smart phones, dolls, doll houses and wind-up toys had jammed no less than three times already this morning, and it was only ten o’clock! Now it had jammed again. This, of all things, at the busiest time of the year! There remained only days before Christmas Eve, even fewer because they couldn’t really count Christmas Eve itself. Everything had to be packed and onto Santa’s shiny crimson sleigh no later than noon on Christmas Eve if he were to make his worldwide rounds in time. To complicate matters further, Santa had lately put on a bit of weight which was having the disadvantage of stealing precious moments in his descent down the chimneys (except of course those in which slick metal liners had been installed although they sometimes propelled Santa with near disastrous results).

Sunday, December 18, 2011

Last Weekend before Christmas

Today is Sunday, December 18th. Christmas Eve is next Saturday. Whenever Christmas Eve falls upon a Saturday, the rush towards Christmas is never more apparent than on the previous weekend, as indeed it was this weekend. The escalating panic arises not only from the perceived need to complete Christmas shopping on the last weekend before the affair, but also from the scheduled social engagements which flourish at the same time. Everyone is seemingly possessed to complete a wide range of commitments before Christmas Eve, after which it is imagined that the world will come to a complete halt or at the very least that all profitable endeavours will be set aside for no less than a week until after the passage of the New Year. The atmosphere is universally excited, and while most complain about the fact, no one really minds having to endure the buzz of it. The air is made all the more absorbing by the never-ending plans for family gatherings some of which involve extensive travel. Whatever the reason, there is unquestionably a serious drag upon one’s time and every minute of possible relaxation is expended by one preoccupation or another.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

A Day at the Heart Institute

For those of you who haven't got to know the inside of a hospital other than as a visitor, let me assure you they are no place for pretense.

Today for example I revisited the Ottawa University Heart Institute at 40 Ruskin Street in Ottawa. I say "revisited" because it was there that I had open-heart surgery rather unexpectedly on Friday the 13th of July four years ago. At that particular time, I wasn't exactly tuned into my surroundings (I was heavily sedated both before and after the surgery), and frankly, given the condition I was in, I could have cared less about my surroundings. But today I was returning for a "follow-up" diagnostic, albeit far overdue (they said it was the fault of my referring physican, who in turn blamed the Institute for having let me fall through the cracks). From my point of view, I was just as happy to have foregone the privilege of returning to the Institute, part of my developing abhorrence of hospitals generally. During the past four years I spent the first year draining the narcotics from my system, and the next three accepting that I was damaged goods. I did not, however, insist upon a further examination by the Heart Institute, a procedure I rather suspect is more to fulfill their own curiosity about the success of their operation than to know the condition of my own well-being, but I'll drop that as I know it makes me sound jaundiced.

Sunday, December 11, 2011

The Case for Private Medicine

Everyone has heard of the long wait-time for certain medical procedures. Likewise we've also heard of "private" clinics available on demand to perform many of the same services for a price. My latest encounter with the current "provincial" medical system has highlighted the differences though oddly not related to cost or wait-time. There appears to be a widening rift between the "provincial" medical professionals and the "public" they work for, even bordering on disdain by the physicians for the public.  Loud and clear I have discovered that doctors are rapidly joining the ranks of those who are acutely aware of their prescribed duties and entitlements, primary facts which regularly trump pride in the work they perform. The physicians have - no doubt unwittingly - boxed themselves into the same corner one might find a wary and angry dog.

Friday, December 9, 2011

Easy if you know what you're doing...

Since last September I have purchased several new things which generally belong to the category of technological devices; viz., an Amazon Kindle (for downloading and reading books electronically), an Apple iPhone 4S (a hand-held computer) and - as recently as today - an HP "All-in-One" desktop computer. The last of these devices is probably the least interesting of the three, except cosmetically, because it really does little more than the former monitor and tower did. The attraction of the All-in-One is that it eliminates the multitude of wires which plague the traditional computer. The new one has a wire from the keyboard to the screen/computer; a wire from the mouse to the screen/monitor; and the connection from the screen/monitor to the power bar. Now that the former machine is gone I can't for the life of me recall why there were so many other wires. The fact that the tower has disappeared does of course go a long way towards cleaning up my study, which has now a slightly more spacious air to it.

Sunday, December 4, 2011

Tarnished Silver

Even at eight o’clock this morning (which is about two hours later than I normally turn out) I wasn’t in any rush to get out of bed, especially as I hadn’t got myself into bed until after one o’clock this morning. Last night, after puttering on my laptop computer and iPhone, I ended by watching a movie starring Peter Dinklage, something with a railway theme. I was more intrigued to see his performance as a result of his good showing in the British make of “Death at a Funeral”, but this particular film last evening was less than action-packed. I repeatedly found myself fading into sleep so I cut the power at last and went to bed.

Saturday, December 3, 2011

Mulling Things Over

I had a Board meeting at seven-thirty this morning on Mill Street in the historic grey stone building which was the former offices of the Public Utilities Commission, once the throne of the General Manager, Brian J. Gallagher after whom the new $19M generating station is so deservedly named. I turned out precisely at 5:30 a.m. to prepare myself. Downstairs my new iPhone 4S was simultaneously sounding its alarm, producing the mock chime of Big Ben. Glancing out the upstairs windows, I was glad to see that it was raining. This meant I needn’t have any regret about not going for an improving bicycle ride (which in any event I couldn’t have done because my Electra bike, along with three others of various makes, is presently being overhauled at Almonte Bicycle Works).

Monday, November 28, 2011

Santa

It’s late November and already the days are infused with the pervasive exhilaration of “the Season”. It is impossible to take no notice of the swell of influence. It is standard commercial activity to play Christmas carols in shopping centres. It is no accident that this switch in white sound definitively took place precisely upon the expiry of the American Thanksgiving Day holiday. XM radio has an entire channel dedicated to Christmas carols (and oddly that station has for some reason temporarily replaced its “Forties on Four”, a collection of American standards from the 1940s). Last evening I received an invitation to a Hanukkah party, but it was weeks ago that I received two other invitations to similar Christmas house parties. It is nothing to encounter people talking about holidays and family gatherings. My mother has been wringing her hands for weeks about what she will get her granddaughters for Christmas presents (aside that is from the regular cheque which she pointedly mentioned was not indexed). Normal business commitments are being pushed aside until the expiry of the season’s social affairs. In short our mundane daily preoccupations are now overshadowed by this commercial/religious/family flashpoint.

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Sunday Morning Indolence

Unusually the temperature is expected to reach a high of 11˚C today which at this time of year gives the effect of distortion and lack of resolution. If one were to ignore this supernatural feature of the day, it otherwise offers a further and diminishing opportunity to ride one’s bicycle which for me is the last form of physical exercise (apart from swimming) I am able to undertake painlessly. On balance such manifestly inconsequential considerations as the weather and bicycling are welcome contemplations on a Sunday morning.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Swimming Upstream

Yesterday began robustly enough in the fresh morning air with a sunny bike ride along a nearby country road. This ebullience was however to be a short-lived element of the day.

After our customary ablutions we trekked into the City on a mission to find a tailor to fix the tattered buttonholes of an old handmade sweater of mine. While parked outside the mall, and while I was fussing over my new iPhone 4S, a car pulled up directly beside mine. This instantly bothered me because I deliberately park as far away from other cars as possible; and there were ample vacant parking spots all around me. It further incensed me that this fellow felt the need to park immediately adjacent my car as my driver’s side door was open wide while I pored over the iPhone. The elderly fellow (who I could tell instantly was a nosy Parker) then unloaded himself from his vehicle and proceeded to plant himself like an inspecting policeman directly in front of my car where he pronounced “Nice car!” It was a gratuitous comment as far as I was concerned. His fat wife then likewise removed herself from their car. Apparently imaging that I had not heard her husband’s observation, she repeated it, adding that the car was a nice colour. When I failed to respond to either of them, although they knew I was aware of their presence because I glanced askance at them, the unattractive woman retreated and transformed their former compliments into something less flattering by muttering that “the car is nice but the driver is not Mr. Personality” or something to that effect.

Sunday, October 30, 2011

Frugality

Frugality I have lately discovered is not only about penny-pinching, prudence and economy. Tragically it’s also about abstinence and self-denial. That isn’t exactly what I had bargained for months ago when I first began thinking about thrift and planning to reverse years of unrestrained profligacy. Adding this element of asceticism to the remedial project goes well beyond mere moderation in my opinion; in fact it transforms the endeavour from what I imagined to be saccharin accounting to something entirely different and personal, and not in a good way.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Down to Earth

In September the country fall fairs are ubiquitous; and while the choice is extensive I was however especially intrigued by the recent newspaper advertisements for the Middleville Fair. I have often passed through Middleville en route to Lanark and in so doing I have noticed the eye-catching agricultural grounds whose very old buildings bear the remnants of the signs of fairs gone by. Additionally Middleville is on pleasingly high ground and charmingly small enough to provide what I expected would be a more intimate experience than some of the larger fairs held closer to the limits of the City of Ottawa. As it turned out an added and unpredictable feature of this year’s fair in Middleville was the superlative weather on Saturday. The skies were crystal clear, light blue, blazing sunshine yet it was cool enough to invite the sporting of a wool sweater from one’s erstwhile secreted wardrobe.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Sunny Saturday

The exceedingly pleasant Saturday was swiftly winding down. The Howard Miller kitchen wall clock ticked rhythmically and undeterred towards six. The busy Saturday, replete as it had been, was lamentably coming to its closing stages. After their bicycle ride early this morning, after their breakfast at the golf club, and after having gathered and unloaded their groceries (by which time they had all but exhausted the first half of the day), B and D had both been out for lunch, separate congregations, D with B’s sister (L) and daughter (J) and her girl-friend (A); B with another lawyer (K) who was beating the bushes for his urban litigation practice (estate contests and Plaintiff’s counsel in personal injury suits). By all accounts, when B and D rallied at home by happenstance at almost the same time after lunch, their respective social and business engagements had gone well. For D’s part, after their most satisfactory lunch at the new Crêperie, L and the girls had visited the house and admired the garden, the patio and the recent improvements to the garage and brick lamp posts. L, who had more than once mentioned the possibility of selling their expensive family home nearby the Canal in the City, clearly had an eye on the less expensive and more expansive rural housing market. For his part, B and his ward (the younger City lawyer) had shared hard facts about the murky past and about current business practices, two lawyers dryly discussing life as seen from the Bar. They had wandered up and down the Riverwalk from the old Town Hall to the Victoria Woollen Mill where they had dined by the waterfall (though neither of them had paid much attention to what was beyond the extent of the white linen covering their table). Theirs was a soulful expatiation, a commiseration between an older and a younger lawyer. B had felt the need to share the lessons of life which he had learned. K regretted the untimely death of his father at age 59.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

The Millstone News

August 1, 2011

The Toy Box has for several years been my literary platform. I suspect however that I shall now end the regular use of this blog. At the recent invitation of the editorial board of the new e-newspaper in Mississippi Mills, I have happily embraced the opportunity to sustain a column in the paper ("By the Way"). If you would like to examine the new platform, here is the web site address:

http://www.millstonenews.com/

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Dies Caniculares


These are indeed the dog days of summer! Hot and humid, the sky is a turbulent muddle of clouds, blazing sunshine and the perpetual threat of a thunder storm. The effect of the heat and the depressed economy combined to stifle any commercial activity today. The streets were empty, as were the parking spaces, normally jammed. Even the clerk at the bakery store where I sauntered mid-afternoon to collect a coffee and a copy of the Ottawa Citizen remarked that she hadn’t been interrupted while making her cookies (which I naturally felt was an odd favour in view of her labour and dedication).

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Yachting on the St. Lawrence and Lunch at the Club!

Admittedly a public boat tour on something resembling a tug is not exactly yachting. Nor is a chicken wrap at a waterside restaurant equivalent to dining on white linen at one’s private club. Nonetheless we managed (without too much effort frankly, and certainly without the commensurate expense) to squeeze sufficient pleasure out of both events to provide the passable sensation at least of doing exactly that.

Friday, July 15, 2011

The Penalty of Saving Money

Having grown up in the ‘50s, ‘60s and ‘70s at a time when optimism and affluence abounded I was effectively insulated from the uninspiring worry I imagine is now the imposed rage of the present generation – namely, saving money. In the good ‘ole days it was all about big cars and spending money. Remember the two-ton T-Bird? And the Lincoln land yachts? The issues – if I may so dignify them - in my childhood years were dramatized in “Father Knows Best”, a thinly veiled elitist and conventional model to say the least not to mention the hindrance it was to the feminist cause. Now however the ubiquitous talk of global indebtedness is impossible to avoid at every turn. Corny television shows do little to distract us from the over-riding reality. Listen to the media and all you hear is the prospect of entire countries going bankrupt. Lately even the United States is being served up to the chopping block (though I suspect this is a provocative stage show designed to make us all feel bad about our naughty profligate selves). Nonetheless one doesn’t want to disregard the emergency signals.

The Early Morning Spin

When I drew the drapes and peered sleepily out my upstairs bedroom window this morning at 5:30 am I was disappointed to see that after a succession of brilliantly sunny days the sky was grey. There were small patches of blue here and there, but by and large the ceiling was somewhere between dreary and lacklustre. Knowing however that as we have now passed the summer solstice the days will only become shorter, I was resolute to take advantage of the opportunity to bicycle early in the morning without having to sport a flashing light on my wrist. This accoutrement – along with helmets – are now so de rigueur as to be considered exceedingly unfashionable if missing.

The Not So Great Depression

Even if you do not regularly torture yourself by listening to Bloomberg or the BBC (that purveyor of "news of fresh disaster") it is I think accepted that the worldwide economy is not exactly buoyant at the moment. I won’t add to the torment by imagining that I can say anything less than trivial about the economic theories which are driving this lapse. What however interests me more is the effect of these events upon people in the street, quite apart from how Wall Street and the global stock exchanges juggle the numbers. In the final analysis what sustains our national coffers and pumps our financial institutions is probably nothing more glamorous than personal income tax and the housing industry (there’s a reason they keep reminding you that the purchase of your home is likely the largest single investment you’ll ever to make). It doesn’t require much imagination to see or predict the infection of the financial markets when people start to lose both their jobs and their houses, a pattern which in the United States at least is considered far from over. It is remarkable that these two pillars of society (jobs and houses) are apparently so easily jostled and toppled. The American experience discloses that the housing industry had become a complete sham, the product of deliberate artifice. Not surprisingly the ramifications were widespread, pointedly tainting even the grandest of institutions at the top which sought to take advantage of the deceptive maneuvers. Considering the huge inventory of houses which are now on the market, a further decline in prices is expected.

A Walk Through the Forest


I can’t recall where I first read or heard the following tale, but it was a long time ago and it yet lingers with me all these years.

The device is reputed to have been the work of the ancient Chinese philosopher Lin Yu Tang. The thrust of this “game” is that one must answer the questions spontaneously, without hesitation or reservation, and your answers then predict some interesting features of your particular personality. Surprise! What we say says something about us!

Okay, so let’s begin.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Et Seq. – The Continuing Saga

After tossing and turning unremittingly since after midnight and having changed my dampened nightshirt at least once, I finally succumbed to the futility of staying in bed and got up. Apart from having weighed the options I was resolute to address head-on the demons which had arranged to torture me for hours. It was barely 4:15 a.m.

Saturday, July 2, 2011

Boating on the St. Lawrence Seaway

It is I suppose a small confession that I don’t get out much, though I never imagined I would have been so amused by a couple of hours on a public boat tour in the 1000 Islands near Rockport, Ontario on the Ivy Lea Parkway, an adventure we undertook at eleven o’clock this morning along with a multitude of people. When I say a multitude of people, that seemingly indifferent description merits some enlargement as those people characterized one of the salient features of today’s escapade. Judging by what I was hearing, in addition to what I was seeing, the majority of the people on board were either tourists from all over the world (Spain, Mexico, Germany, East Europe, Cuba, the Orient and the West Indies) or what is more likely they were new Canadians, all of whom in spite of their obvious familiarity with another mother tongue were making a decided effort to communicate with one another in English (which was perhaps the only common language among them). I recall overhearing a tour guide reminding many of these people (who each wore a plasticized tag strung around their neck to mark their singularity) that after they returned to the mainland the bus was leaving at 1:15 p.m., and that if they missed it they would have to find their own way back to Ottawa. It occurred to me that these people may have been among those who were recently received into Canadian citizenship, coinciding with the ceremony of the Royal visit of William and Kate which began yesterday on Parliament Hill in Ottawa on Canada Day. There was a distinctly festive air which prevailed among the people in this particular crowd on the boat tour, a buoyancy which I sensed was the result of more than merely a brilliantly sunny day on the open water on a holiday weekend.

Friday, June 24, 2011

Thunder Storm

We’re currently without power. During a brief but bucketing early evening thunder storm, there was an inconceivable crack of lightning (like a giant light bulb explosively extinguishing) and in an instant the power in the entire Town went out. Wouldn’t you know we had just positioned the scallops and bacon for the oven? It appears that our cocktail munchies will have to wait for another time. Thankfully this new diet we’re on calls for vast amounts of salad. We have lots of that, plus some cold cooked chicken and meatloaf, so we’ll still be able to nourish ourselves. The Grey Goose, Bombay Sapphire and Martini vermouth are at the ready. Our laptop computers (although without internet connection) are still available for writing and solitaire, so all is not lost!

Luck of the Draw

If one believes in luck then one must believe not only in good luck but also in bad luck, or at the very least in lack of luck. I won’t even touch upon the debate whether there is luck in this world. From my experience there is, both good and bad.

Knowing that there is luck in the recipe of our daily lives helps remind one of both the good and bad times. This is especially useful when one’s luck seems to be running out or waning. For example, casting one’s mind back upon more advantageous days recalls not only that the possibility of success exists but also - and perhaps more importantly - that the reason for that success was then no more compelling than it is now. That is, it is more probable than not that any fortune one once enjoyed was as much a product of luck as one’s current misfortune. Barring catastrophic events in one’s life, it is safe to say that one’s abilities are constant and it is therefore only the work of external forces which have any influence upon us in one direction or another.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

The MacLean Asylum

Last weekend as we motored through sightly Prince Edward County on a warm and sunny Saturday morning we noticed that one of the summer homes alongside Lake Ontario had planted on its tidy front lawn a small rectangular sign on which appeared the words “MacLean Asylum”. Initially we just thought it funny. Now however upon further digestion I perceive it was more than a mere joke, though I confess my first reaction upon seeing the small standard was to think of it as announcing a booby hatch or a crazy house. Increasingly I am understanding that it helps to be a bit mad to get through the day . There are so many daily misadventures that it would otherwise be impossible to remain cool.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

What Makes the Clock Tick?

I have landed in another of those troughs of inactivity which make me wonder what I am without swirling occupation and how I shall survive the exposing tranquillity which unmasks all the hidden paranoia. One mustn’t confuse lack of occupation with preoccupation. Preoccupation is a malaise from which I have always suffered, what less charitably is called a complex, a fixation or obsession, or just plain and unglamourous worry. But what I am talking about here isn’t a trance, rather a tolerable state of desuetude, a pause so to speak. When the commotion of life subsides it is akin to being thrown upon the beach from the vortex, an instant relief from the ruckus. But the change is so peremptory as to promote a sense of being orphaned and vulnerable.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

My Great-Uncle’s Pocket Watch

Apparently my great-uncle (my father’s uncle on his father’s side) worked for the railway (I am presuming Canadian Pacific because there is a history of investment in that company by my paternal family). I believe my great-uncle drove the trains. I know this because I recall having been told that he crashed one of them.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

New Directions

The Steinway is gone. Not just sold (I got the bank draft over a week ago) but gone. The professional movers hired by the buyer arrived at eight o’clock yesterday morning as we were told they would. With clockwork precision the three men dismantled, bundled and strapped the impressive instrument. Within minutes it was out the door and loaded onto a truck, on its way. Having witnessed such a display of acrobatic precision when the piano arrived twenty-seven years ago, the reprise didn’t astonish me.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Lottery Winners!

Not everybody loves a winner. Hearing about people you know who have won the jackpot is not guaranteed to engender the finest of sentiments. As an illustration and by way of example, consider the first thought that enters your mind when hearing about people whom you don’t know who have won big money; viz., “How long will it take before they fritter it all away?” Our instinct is that we might as well watch a drunk playing with a lighted torch as keep an eye on a commoner who has won the lottery; in either case it’s assumed that it is only a matter of time before he burns himself. The malevolent fascination with strangers is certainly more macabre than one would expect to be the reaction upon learning of a friend’s similar good fortune; however, the truth is probably not a great deal less magnanimous.

Friday, May 20, 2011

Victoria Day Weekend

This long weekend (sometimes called the “May 24th” long weekend) heralds the first of the summer holiday weekends in Canada. Being a sole practitioner (translation: tied to my office like a ball and chain), I have learned to make every effort to profit by the opportunity to enjoy a three-day weekend. It is however a circumstance of mixed sentiments. On the one hand there is the happy prospect of being able to absent oneself from the grind with impunity; on the other hand long weekends are notoriously overwhelmed with like-minded travelers who clog the highways, hotels and restaurants. Bearing that in mind we have sought to defeat some of the anticipated mayhem by preferring an urban retreat to the rural retreat which traditionally characterizes summer adventures for the masses (primarily people with children). In short, instead of going to the lake, we’re going to the city, Montreal in fact. Most citified cave dwellers are only too happy to escape the concrete landscape at every opportunity, while we (being country folk) by contrast value the chance to indulge ourselves in the metropolitan delights of restaurants, museums and the like.

Breaking Down Walls

Given the choice, I would prefer to break into a crowd of octogenarians rather than intrude upon an assembly of youth. Young people scare me. From a distance I find them a prickly bunch, inordinately confident and potentially rude. At the very least I have difficulty imagining what they must be thinking, and I have always given them the benefit of being inherently wicked and malicious. Granted, the really young ones (the ones who are still small and young enough to harbour a becoming fear of adults) are not as threatening; but once they have acquired the ability to speak and think for themselves, watch out!

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Kijiji

I first heard about Kijiji when I set about selling my grand piano in early March of this year. I was unhesitatingly referred to the internet web site by the first two people whom I successively contacted about the undertaking, and they both spoke glowingly of my prospects of success in using the service. One person even went so far as to suggest that the piano would be gone within days. In fact the transaction took longer than that to consummate, but it did happen.

Saturday, May 14, 2011

I’m there!

At last I have arrived at that point in my life when I can truly say that I am well pleased! Many factors have at length come together nicely. Unquestionably this is gloating, but I have to say I like it!

The truth of the matter however is that, typically of any person whose personality approaches that of being mildly bipolar, this current elevation may be nothing more than a mood swing. Yet an analysis of recent events in my life leads me to believe – and accept – that I have in fact attained a degree of satisfaction which is the culmination of concerted effort and calculated choices. Perhaps I am one who is easily fulfilled, but either way it works.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Making Ready

He had only been in bed for six hours, since ten o’clock last night. He wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. The customary early morning disturbance down the hall had effectively broken the spell. Besides he was tormented by a reminiscence of the 9/11 terrorist attacks upon the World Trade Centre in New York City. He couldn’t imagine what would have driven them to do that, to kill themselves and others in a plan which was perfectly premeditated. He added to his misery by imaging what the killers must have thought as they boarded the plane, as they walked up the aisle past the other passengers fretting about their seat adjustments, as they knifed the pilots.

Saturday, May 7, 2011

Mother’s Day

The day began as a model day in the country. The sun was shining brilliantly, the sky was perfectly clear and there was a promise of continued fine weather and warm temperatures for the remainder of the weekend, “Mother’s Day” weekend.

We initiated our affairs by peeling to the golf club for breakfast. The River meandering about the club house was bulging from recent plentiful rains. Everything was an emerald green and many of the flowers were already in full bloom. As we arrived at the club house earlier than usual there were not as many people there as we are accustomed to see, which turns out to be a good thing because the dining room was set up for a banquet. We did however manage to locate an undecorated table for our present purpose. Our cheery server Tiffany took our respective breakfast orders efficiently and with a smile. We treated ourselves to the standard weekend fare of bacon, eggs, sausage and accompanying toast, home fries and English muffin with crunchy peanut butter and sliced green apple, coffee and milk. Truly an athlete’s way to start the day!

Thursday, May 5, 2011

One Damned Thing After Another!

For the first time in a long while life’s vessel seems to have righted itself and is now charting upon an even keel. The Royal Wedding is over, the Canadian general election is accomplished and bin Laden is dead, all good things. As much as one might pretend or prefer to rise above the portent of these circumstances, the truth is they affect us all even if our interest is little more than passing curiosity. I expect that for the most part these events are uplifting, at least for the majority of us in the Western hemisphere. Whether these experiences are intoxicating enough to fuel renewed economic vitality is difficult to predict, but my wager is that they are. Given the immediacy of the internet and the current speed of communication it is unimaginable how historically similar events might have altered the lives of our ancestors. Today however these monuments of global activity impress themselves upon our daily undertakings with almost instantaneous effect. The bin Laden affair, connected as it is to the nefarious activities of the despots of the Middle East, also bodes well for early resolution of those conflicts. Like it or not the strong arm of the United States of America has once again extended to the remote corners of the globe with the renewed assurance of fulfillment of its mandate. Even the bloke on the street can appreciate the connection between these activities and the price of oil. Foreign policy is no longer the domain of effete diplomats. International affairs touch us all.

Saturday, April 30, 2011

Hi, Guys!

Yesterday I received a broadcasted email from a cherished friend in Washington, DC. He writes for a generally distinguished audience. In his most recent “blog” he raised the matter of an annoying subject which for years has troubled me as well.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Tabula Rasa

According to our good friends at Wikipedia (the internet “Free Encyclopedia”), Tabula Rasa is the epistemological theory that individuals are born without built-in mental conduct and that their knowledge comes from experience and perception. The term in Latin equates to the English “blank slate” (or more accurately, “erased slate”). In Western philosophy traces of the idea appear as early as the writings of Aristotle, though it went largely unnoticed for 1,000 years. Tabula Rasa is also featured in Sigmund Freud's psychoanalysis. Freud depicted personality traits as being formed by family dynamics (see Oedipus complex, etc.). Freud's theories imply not only that humans lack free will, but also that genetic influences on human personality are minimal. In psychoanalysis, one is largely determined by one's upbringing.

Monday, April 25, 2011

Ashtrays and Non-Ashtrays

Like children many of us even as adults are in the habit of recalling what are often the most inconsequential (and sometimes less than flattering and inconvenient) details of life. It would for example appear to be no large compliment to my first philosophy professor at Glendon Hall that the only thing I recollect from a year of his instruction is him saying, “The world is divided into two things: ash trays and non-ashtrays”. I might add that my professor chain-smoked those preposterously long, slim cigarettes from which he never took more than two puffs before extinguishing it. To this day I marvel that ashtrays then abounded in the small classrooms at university.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Coffee, Anyone?

Today was a Saturday. In preparation for what was to follow, I began the day with several cups of freshly ground Columbian coffee. It was a measure taken to strengthen myself. Within the next twelve hours I drove the car almost five hundred kilometres in and out of the Laurentian mountains. Throughout that time I drank another cup of coffee over lunch, then afterwards two cups of espresso allongé while visiting with friends at their place. Small wonder, while not exactly bouncing off the walls, I am now the furthest from contemplating going to bed.

Au Revoir!

While I am among the first to acknowledge the extraordinary frequency of coincidence in life’s affairs, and the collateral admission that the future is completely unpredictable, unforeseeable and unknowable, there are nonetheless moments which represent significant and seemingly irreversible demarcations.

Friday, April 22, 2011

Beggars Can’t Be Choosers

The well-known and cautionary adage that “Beggars Can’t Be Choosers” no doubt has its foundation in fact though I take considerable pride – perhaps smugly so – in saying that I snap my fingers at its abstract truth or at least that I stand my ground to repel its particular application. I may be kidding myself, and I may live to regret my haughtiness in thinking that I am somehow above the universality of such popular maxims, but my reasons for doing so having nothing whatever to do with superiority.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Slow Going

As the economy continues to limp along, I find myself having less and less to do each day at the office. It even seems that the customary monthly bills have reduced to a trickle though I am sure that perfection is entirely illusory. When the time is long everything appears to slow to a crawl. With Easter weekend in the offing I have all but given up expecting anything whatever in the immediate future.

Friday, April 15, 2011

Risky Business

Yesterday I collected from my optometrist a new pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses, specifically the traditional Wayfarer model made popular many years ago by such people as Tom Cruise in the movie “Risky Business” (though there were many other movie stars and celebrities who sported them as well). Only two years ago while killing time waiting for a plane in the Fort Lauderdale airport I was thrilled to discover a re-invented issue of the Wayfarer model. It was slightly smaller in size than the pair I purchased yesterday, and it was the tortoise shell colour rather than the traditional black plastic which identifies the original larger and heavier style.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Balls in the Air

I have flung open the front oaken door of the office building allowing the cool morning air to spill into the recesses of my business tombs. After a confined winter it is refreshing to exhaust the stale air from the place. The sun is already high in the sky tracking its way over the clock tower into the southwest, beaming its yellow light through the window casements across the multi-coloured rugs. It has to be one of the advantages of a store-front operation that one can harbour the air from one’s own veranda.

Friday, April 8, 2011

Sister’s Birthday Party

This evening’s dinner party in Ottawa was unusual for a number of reasons. Among other things, my sister was hosting her own birthday party. As odd as this might sound at first blush, the truth is that it made a good deal of sense. To begin, my mother is getting too elderly to have to cater family dinner parties any more. In addition it does my parents good to get out of the house for a social event now and again, something different from going to the hospital for yet another check-up or examination. My sister also enjoys show-casing her attractive home especially now that her kitchen has been entirely remodelled at considerable expense.

All of us (we were eleven at table) contributed in one way or another to the evening repast, though my sister and her husband provided the central features of fresh salmon and filet mignon. The guests were, as should be the case for any proper birthday party, a collection of both immediate family and close friends (one of whom most of us hadn’t seen for almost twenty years or more, but the ties remain strong to the day). Balancing the group were people both young (24 years of age) and old (92 years of age), though I calculate the median age to have been 52.

Friday, April 1, 2011

Barque on the Sea

It is odd that those who can least afford the expenditure so often devote incalculable energy to the resistance of the turmoil of life. No doubt the effort though futile is prompted by either the impending sense of defeat or the final opposition to the prospect. One may as well fling oneself upon one’s sword. This is unfortunate for two reasons: first, we are all of us but unimpressive barques upon the sea of hullabaloo that is life; second, there is no indignity in allowing one’s self to be carried upon the tides of turmoil when we have meanwhile applied ourselves as best we can to accomplishment of our modest objectives.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

For All Other Enquiries, Press “0”

The frustration one experiences in attempting to contact anyone in a large or even moderately large organization by telephone is compounded initially by automation and latterly by privacy legislation. Both features appear designed to defeat the caller in his or her attempt to communicate. The incident invariably ends in complete annoyance, usually only heightening the angst which prompted the effort in the beginning.

Monday, March 28, 2011

The Devil is in the Details

Generally speaking one is admonished to pay attention to the details in whatever one does. The motivation is seemingly to do a thorough job and avoid unexpected traps. While this counsel undoubtedly has its place in things like architecture, law, medicine and a variety of other disciplines including carpentry, plumbing and painting, I think however that the adage can be viewed in a different sense; namely, that if one becomes too detailed about life, the attention can contaminate the broader more sustainable brush strokes of living. Construed in this alternate connotation, the warning is directed to the avoidance of minutiae which can overshadow the more generalized principles of conduct which form the pillars of existence.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Le Vieux Montréal

I think we can all accept that in spite of our best efforts to the contrary we never really know from one minute to the next what is about to transpire, nor how our day will unfold when the ensuing twelve hours after breakfast have come and gone. In retrospect I can see that having an open agenda (and an open mind) contribute greatly to the unpredictability of one’s life.

Today for example was for all intents and purposes very much a normal Saturday morning, though I confess it was singular for its spectacularly sunny, cool and dry weather and the not insignificant added feature that we had nowhere in particular to go and nothing especially pressing to do. In fact the only item of any moment on the horizon, as we sipped our coffee and digested our breakfast, was the rather uninteresting possibility of investigating the purchase of a new mattress (something which, granted, we are all too quick to dismiss as trifling when watching the television advertisements but which oddly becomes gripping when one is faced with the actual need).

Fuming

Many years ago I heard from a family member (likely it was an account by my paternal grandmother in Fredericton, New Brunswick following the death of my grandfather) that my grandfather despised Canadian Pacific Railway even though he always traveled by CPR and on his death he had a considerable amount of money invested in it. Apparently my grandfather was disgruntled by the tardiness and inconsistency of railway travel. I feel the same way about Bell Canada. I am prompted to evoke this particular repugnance first because I received from Bell today yet another bill (a so-called annual “Maintenance Service Agreement” which is about as useful as buying tsunami insurance) and then this evening I got a scary email message from my home internet provider (Bell Sympatico) that I should give them another $5 per month to avoid exceeding the limits of my current internet plan. An examination of my historical usage has satisfied me that any occasions of excess usage far from warrant the extra monthly charge. This type of marketing disturbs me enormously because it is largely without foundation. This ploy is reminiscent of another communication which I received from Bell previously. That mass mailing promoted a newer and more expensive long-distance plan allegedly for the reason that it too would save money in the long run. When I called Bell about the matter and asked them to prove the proposition to me based upon my historical records, it was readily apparent that there were no savings to be had at all. This I view as tantamount to misleading advertising, based as it is completely upon hypothetical or mistaken or no information at all. It hardly comforts me to be guided in my dealings with this huge corporation by the prescription “caveat emptor”! To the unwary Bell represents a leach which eats away at one’s resources by small but incremental bites. Every month I pay Bell for multiple services; viz., house phone, house internet, house wireless internet (2nd outlet), office phone, office internet, cellular phone and annual maintenance. I won’t even begin to think about what I pay in all! In light of this monthly drain it annoys me no end to receive such rubbish communications from Bell.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Back to Basics

While one wouldn’t wish to disturb the appeal and tranquillity of the day’s brilliant sunshine and cloudless blue skies, there is nonetheless the perfect storm brewing worldwide as numerous independent economies struggle to upright themselves, the Far East is embroiled in escalating friction which is driving the price of oil ever higher, Japan (one of the world’s largest economies) is facing years of reconstruction after the devastating tsunami and earthquake (exacerbated by nuclear explosions) and the ripple effect of all of the above is already starting to be felt in the price of food. Closer to home, the declining condition of the housing market in the United States is now so well known that it is no longer the subject of recondite enquiry. Added to this is the rising cost of electricity, especially provoked by the latest rage for “green” power, whether hydraulic or wind, and the premium being paid for it.

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Sunday Drive on the First Day of Spring

I had a short and virtually sleepless night. Last evening I was arrested by introspection and unable to drag myself to bed until half past two o’clock this morning. I had been flipping television channels for hours (something I rarely do – watch TV that is) and watching the most extraordinary things for me (a baseball documentary on the Public Broadcasting Station). Even after I got to bed I felt as though I were awake most of the night, just a margin above the threshold of sleep, unable to submerge myself below the level of consciousness. Anyway as usual I listened to the six o’clock news on CBC Radio 1 this morning. It is now 7:45 a.m. and I am sipping strong, black coffee at the kitchen table, attempting to reassemble myself.

Friday, March 18, 2011

The Auctioneer

Promptly at 7:00 p.m. as prearranged I seated myself in a wing chair in the lobby of the Château Laurier Hotel, picked up the house telephone and requested the telephonist to connect me to Mr. D... the gemologist from the Toronto auction house. Mr. D... answered the call immediately and told me that he was in suite 684. I then proceeded up the elevator and down the wide, hushed corridor to the suite. I carried the Italian leather bag in which were stowed the articles I brought for consideration. It pleased me that his suite was part of the Fairmont Gold collection, the so-called "hotel within a hotel" having its own check-in on the fourth floor and a private lounge for evening cocktails and morning breakfast with white linen and silver service. The pomp of the venue assuaged the faintly nefarious element of our congress.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Hurly-Burly

I don’t know if you’ve ever had one of those days when things get awfully busy, even meddlesome. Lately I feel like that charred duck running about trying to put out forest fires. Now someone needs to put out the flaming duck! Getting on top of one’s affairs is not an easy undertaking especially for someone who abhors the merest disturbance or interruption of a treasured routine. Yet life proves again and again to be quite disinterested in such preferences! One is left to hang onto one’s hat and enjoy the ride!

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Snowbound

Last evening as we herded out of the Old Town Hall following the concert performance, the snow had begun in earnest. In typical March fashion the snow was wet and driving forcefully, almost horizontally. Walking across the bridge to our car, careful to avoid slipping on the icy surfaces, we mused ruefully upon the plight of those who were obliged to travel further than the mile we had to go to get home from the Judge’s residence where we had dined hours before and left the vehicle.

Public Nudity

After thirty-five years of ornamenting my person and embellishing my surroundings, I am now divesting. I recognize that many of the things which I have acquired either no longer interest me or do nothing whatever stuck in a dark drawer. Stripping one’s self of the accoutrements of cultivated society is a manifestly relieving experience. Not only does it lighten the load, it also makes practical sense. Certainly there was a time when I derived pleasure from my things, but as the scope of my social and other vistas narrows I am less inclined to indulge myself in the same materials. The journey towards objective liberty is admittedly prompted in no small measure by the desire to turn back the tide of unbridled spendthrift habits. I can at least say that not all is for naught, since many of the articles which I am abandoning, while not all having appreciated have at least held their own which is more than I can say for most consumables.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Small Consolation

After having cautiously minced my way to work yesterday in a freezing rain, I had little enthusiasm this morning for having to struggle once again with frozen sidewalks so I drove to work even though the sun is shining brilliantly. I suppose it is just one more excuse for avoiding exercise and for driving my car, but it really is more than a challenge on foot. Besides I happen to know from a municipal Councillor who attended our Board meeting last evening that the Town is cutting back on its winter maintenance schedule in hopes of saving some taxpayer dollars. In the result I am opting to give the sidewalks a miss for the time being. The temperature may rise to something above zero today, and that may melt some of the offensive ice and snow which is clustered about the sidewalks. Remarkably the Judge continues to walk with his guide dog whether Tuesday or Doomsday. By his own admission, the sidewalks are perilous, but he was nonetheless clutching his newspaper and goods from the bakery as usual.

Friday, February 25, 2011

Your Choice!

Choices, choices, choices. I am discovering, however, that the real question is not so much what one chooses, but rather what one avoids. The difference in posture is readily apparent upon even the slightest analysis. For example, to debate a choice of alternatives almost inherently suggests that one or the other will go ahead; whereas a consideration of whether one wishes to avoid something altogether does not imply engagement. There is another respect in which the two views of dealing with the world are distinct. Merely choosing one course of action over another prefers the value of adopting that course for the sake of that course alone. On the other hand, determining to avoid an undertaking prefers the higher value to oneself of letting that matter slip away.

Monday, February 21, 2011

What is the answer? What is the question?

The morning began with a bracing email from my twenty-five year old niece. The communication was one of several recent ones about a photography contract she had been asked to sign. My niece has spent upwards of four years studying to be a professional photographer. The singular feature of this contract is that it contained no mention of compensation payable to my niece for her photographs. An even more alarming subsequent development is that the owner of the property where the photographs were taken has at last made it clear that she never had any intention of paying for the photos, and as a result the taking of photos on the property will no longer be tolerated effectively closing the door to the least suspicion that there was any sort of commercial arrangement between my niece and the property owner other than a once qualified indulgence. In fairness to my niece, part of the reason she was misguided is that the property owner proffered a contract which would normally have included compensation but which only appropriated to her an exclusive proprietary interest in the photographs. In fairness to the property owner, she felt the taking of photographs might compromise her privacy without control of the product.

Saturday, February 19, 2011

Getting Inside Oneself

Getting inside oneself is not I suspect something most of us do with any marked degree of facility. Such an achievement (for I consider it to be one) would seemingly be even less likely when surrounded by fifty other people in relatively close quarters. Yet that is precisely the experience I have had this evening while attending a birthday party for the second wife of an acquaintance of mine. Given the tenuous nature of my relationship with the primary persons involved it is not entirely unimaginable that I was able to distance myself from the proceedings, although I do not think that one needs to feel estranged from others in order to get inside oneself and engage in self-discovery. The process is not exclusive or limiting. Getting into anything (which of course is really nothing more than a metaphor for getting into oneself) usually involves profit and pleasure of some description, even enjoying oneself wholeheartedly and perhaps without inhibition, but nowhere is it written that the undertaken is solitary.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

The Birthday Party

Almost anyone with a heart knows that planning a birthday party - however informal or extravagant - is as much fun for the planner as it is for the celebrant. Given my restricted social calendar these days (I am becoming tired with age) and my preference for spontaneity in any event (one has to capitalize upon the propitious moments whenever possible), it is not surprising that I should have warmed rapidly to the idea of an impromptu get-together this afternoon with my long-standing friend, Jill, who is today celebrating her forty-ninth birthday.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

How are things?

At 9:00 o'clock this morning I had an appointment to have my eyes tested by a local optometrist. The appointment was my annual eye examination. As I believe is now standard practice in most optometric clinics, I was first interrogated by an assistant who photographed the wall of my eye with a view to giving the photographs to the optometrist for subsequent detailed consideration.  When the assistant and I settled into the business of the day, she politely enquired after my health and general status.  For some reason, rather than merely giving the stock reply that all was well, I dilated upon the subject.  Specifically I wondered aloud how it is that some people through no fault of their own are treated to bad luck while others escape it entirely.

Hints for Living

No doubt you have discovered as I have that the less complicated life is, the better. Granted there are some issues in life which are unavoidably perplexing, usually involving sensitive emotional issues. But when it comes to mere survival, the techniques are rudimentary.

The starting point for any successful career is to get out of bed. The corollary to this observation is that one should go to bed. Getting a good night’s sleep is one of nature’s gifts. Even a disturbed sleep, if taken between 10:00 p.m. and 6:00 a.m., can provide far more improvement to the average day than almost anything else. I suspect it has something to do with keeping oneself synchronized with what is happening around one, whether it is the rest of humanity or the birds and the bees. It is at times a temptation particularly for the younger set to linger into the late hours of the evening or the early hours of the morning. This is a practice to be avoided largely because it betrays less a calculated willingness to do so than a lack of conviction in having completed one’s daily affairs. There comes a time in a day to put down the hoe. Anyway, having got oneself to bed, the same theory applies at the other end; namely, enough is enough. Assuming one hasn’t contaminated oneself with debilitating additives and self-medication the night before, there should be a natural enthusiasm to greet the day. Even if there isn’t, after eight hours one has effectively exhausted any benefit to be derived from one’s lair.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

The Council Meeting

In point of fact it wasn’t a Council meeting that we attended this evening in the Council Chambers of the Municipality. It was actually an “Information Session”, a session specifically designed for the recently elected Councillors as well as any other members of local Boards and Committees who cared to attend. It was in my capacity as a Board member that I joined in this enterprise.

My specific intention for attending, however, was to put a face to the man with whom I had dealt on previous occasions, an exceedingly pleasant lawyer from a nearby County Town, a man whom I had never met in person. This gentleman was giving this evening’s address to Council on the prickly issue of “Conflict of Interest”.

Winter Lull

The yellow sunlight pours through the tall narrow windows at the front of my office. Everything within is bathed in honey-coloured light. It is mid-winter and commerce has entirely subsided. I am just as happy for the reprieve. It is a positive delectation to be so inordinately peaceful. Meanwhile I occupy myself by imagining what if anything I can do to improve the physical environment but conclude it is saturated. Nonetheless I place a call to an upholsterer to enquire about having a roller towel made for the bathroom to replace the threadbare towel made years ago by a gentleman no longer whinnying among us. Otherwise I admit this is likely to be it forever apart from the on-going maintenance. I am at the opposite end of my career. Even if I were to indulge in idle speculation about the future it is better not to disturb the character of what has been developed over the past thirty-five years. I remember when I took over the business of the old lawyer who retired at 82 years of age after fifty-six years of practice there was still a hand-operated Gestetner copier and pot-bellied oil stove in his office. Each era has its patina.

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Batten Down the Hatches

It is not uncommon to hear people speak disparagingly, or at least half in jest, about high-strung A-type personalities, those individuals who distinguish themselves by being obsessive or neurotic. The attributes or ramifications of such people are partly pop psychology and the term has been determined obsolete by many researchers. Nevertheless even to the layman there are obviously people who are less laid back than others so it is not entirely unreasonable or inconvenient to permit the generalization.

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Tea Time

It’s 2:30 p.m. on Saturday afternoon. The dazzling sun dipping in the southwest is beaming through the Venetian blinds making my eyes blink. Today’s newspaper and the week’s unread magazines and journals are piled upon the kitchen table. We’re clad in our comfortable lounging clothes awaiting the arrival of our guests for tea. Meanwhile the kitchen is humming with activity and pregnant with appetizing smells, mostly garlic and rosemary. His Lordship is hard at work preparing lemon/lime hummus and a sauce Créole.

One's Portion in Life

One doesn't have to look very far to encounter people whose fortunes in life are far less favourable than one's own. Looking out over these sometimes distressing fates it is difficult to allow oneself to become anxious about one's own lesser hardships. Nonetheless the universe is ultimately personal and our private reality defines our destiny whatever it may be. The thread which is common to the challenging experiences of both ourselves and others is the manner in which we address them.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Snow Day

Normally I am already awake at six o’clock in the morning. But last night I had gone to bed later than usual, and the night before I hadn’t slept well at all. So last night I got caught up and slept relatively peacefully. The last thing I recall before retiring was looking out my study window to see if the snow had begun. When the radio alarm suddenly announced the six o’clock news it startled me. For the previous twenty-four hours the media had been predicting a snow storm for most of Eastern Ontario, and this morning there was no let up in the pronouncements. Aside from the Egyptian uprising in the Far East there seemingly wasn’t much else to occupy the journalists.

Sunday, January 30, 2011

Wending Along

I am not complaining that we are pushing the end of January. January is a hard month, getting back into the thick of things after a holiday, having to do all those tedious year-end chores, not to mention having to cope with the unfolding winter weather. Besides I always enjoy the closing of one event and the commencement of another. I need every available platform from which to launch a fresh start. Unless one is Catholic, there is a need to secure new venues for purging. The calendar is as good as anything for that.

Friday, January 28, 2011

Now I get it!

Although it may sound flippant to say it, “Que sera, sera!” This seemingly bland and axiomatic idiom is to my mind of far more substance than the silly song of which it is famously a part. First it is a transgression of interpretation to suggest it simply means “...whatever will be will be...”, a reading which becomes even more contaminated by adding “...the future is not ours to see...”. More to the point, it should be strictly interpreted as “...what will be will be...”, the difference being the absence of whimsy and the presence of prediction. I contend that by understanding our own machinery - the matters which appeal to us, the things which we enjoy doing, the tasks which fulfill us - we effectively nurture what talent is already inherent, much the way the oak springs from the acorn. Why we should assume that human nature is any different from any other natural occurrence I shall never know. Everything about us, whether determined by nurture or by nature, inescapably calculates to manufacture what we are and what we do. The secret, however, is to appreciate the components we have and then to act upon them.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Tight Rope Walk

Tuesday, January 25th, 2011
Make no mistake, life is a tight rope walk not a cake walk. The smallest disturbance or lack of attention can have calamitous results. The possibility of drifting through life is pure fiction no matter who you are or what your circumstances.

Having said that, the oddest conundrum is that we are in most respects as free as the birds, at least so long as we behave like the birds. By that I mean we must keep ourselves in tune with our environment and our needs. Anything more or less is skirting either negligence or frivolity, not exactly the happiest compounds. By way of further refinement I mean that in our natural state our situation is, with some exceptions for those of us who are really disadvantaged, not that complicated. Where the fun begins is when we choose to perplex an otherwise simple state of circumstances. It is, for example, no accident that many of the most successful people in the world are the most down-to-earth, not common or unsophisticated, just fundamental. In the scheme of things any one of us would be fooling ourselves to imagine that we’ve got it all figured out or that we have the slightest idea of what is on the horizon. The future can change in an instant. While most of us acknowledge the possibility of that distortion, it invariably comes as a complete shock when the possibility is in fact realized. It is only then that we start back-pedaling in an attempt to regain some lost ground which by then may or may not be too late depending on the extent of the damage.

Monday, January 24, 2011

Night Rider

The one advantage of a really cold day in the winter is that the roads are dry. This is an advantage not so much because the driving conditions are better, but rather because one's car will stay clean after it is washed.

There is very little for me that competes with the attraction of getting my car washed and driving it on clear roads. So when I made up my mind after work to prefer an evening ride to an evening cocktail, I immediately began preparing myself for the excursion. The first part of the routine is to get the inside of the car as tolerable as possible, which in the winter means removing the obvious debris from the car mats. There is little point in going the extra mile for the brake and gas pedals as they will only be soiled the minute one steps into the car. Perhaps a quick swipe with the cloth gloves, but nothing more.

Uncharitable Cold

It is small wonder there are few people on the street today. It is so bitterly cold that no one choses to venture abroad. The cold air seeps through every crack in this historic building. Even without the cracks the cold radiates inwardly as though the double brick walls were made of ice.

The grinding temperatures have had the same effect upon business in general. I also fully suspect the miserable weather has precipitated the usual colds and flues of the season, disabling the subalterns of bureaucracy upon whom I rely.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Ephemeral Bliss

It isn’t often one can say that everything combines in perfect harmony, lending an air of boomps-a-daisy; but when it does - as it does for me today - the event is worth recording.

The good news starts with the weather, a sticky wicket at best in Canada in the middle of January. Today we are blessed with a dome of faint blue sky - albeit it a frozen one - which shows off to exceeding advantage the vapours of heat billowing from the large stone chimney of the Old Post Office across the street. The vapours, being tossed about by a light wind, are accented even further by the happy coincidence of the dazzling sun being immediately behind them, effectively igniting their appearance. Knowing as I did early this morning as I glanced out the kitchen window while putting on the nose bag that the weather would be fine, I capitalized upon the opportunity by determining to walk to work. It is perhaps an undertaking of small consequence, given the destination is probably no more than a mile and a bit from home, but for one such as I who is very much enamoured of the automobile it is a significant concession (though I admit a positive one). Given the brisk temperatures, I bundled myself in several layers of wool, beginning with a cardigan, then a sweater coat from Prince Edward Island and finally a traditional duffle coat. About my neck were two silk scarves (one à l’ascot, the other a regular long one which I wound about me). My gloves were as well of tawny wool with dark brown leather palm pads. On my head, a multi-coloured wool toque. Shod with my thick and fur-lined leather boots I was like a stuffed snowman, ready for the cold!

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

What Motivates You?

It’s an innocent enough question: “What motivates you?” Yet it is almost too innocuous to excite any depth of response, the sort of uninspired question a radio interviewer might ask one’s guest in order to keep the conversation moving. Indeed it was that very circumstance which this morning during my breakfast repast captured my attention while listening - as I always do - to CBC Radio. I can’t recall who the host was interviewing nor about what, but I distinctly recall being intrigued by the question.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Blue Monday

While I had never before even heard of “Blue Monday - The Unhappiest Day of the Year”, considering what a restless night I had and how thoroughly miserable I felt this morning, it doesn’t at all surprise me that the mathematical formula actually exists. It’s apparently a calculation based upon various factors such as weather, debt, motivation and the failure of New Year’s resolutions, all of which makes perfect sense. Anyway, without expanding tediously upon the conspiring elements (which I think any fool can accept), what’s amusing about the idea is that there appears to be some substance to it, more so today notwithstanding the alleviating sunshine. I am still generally downhearted.