Monday, December 31, 2012

New Year’s Eve in South Carolina

I don’t imagine there is anywhere on earth that New Year’s Eve doesn’t involve an element of entertainment and merriment.  Being by the Atlantic Ocean adds a further feature of festivity particularly when, on a day of dazzling sunshine and warm temperatures such as today, the beach is flecked by throngs of families playing with one another, throwing balls for their barking pets and sitting about in beach chairs and chatting.  The regular shrieks of children heighten the carnival air.
On this New Year’s Eve we began our day much as we always do, commencing around 5:00 a.m. with the routine coffee and silent perusal of our accustomed web sites and email.  We did however elevate our typical breakfast in a small way by having bacon and corn bread with our “over easy” fried egg.  Then, when the sun had risen sufficiently on the distant horizon of the Ocean and sky, we bundled ourselves in sweaters, coats, gloves and hats and pushed off for our habitual early morning bicycle ride.

Sunny Day at the Beach

On the heels of the temperature having approached 65˚F yesterday afternoon, we were somewhat unprepared today on our early morning bicycle ride for temperatures closer to freezing. In point of fact we were rather under-dressed all considered, sans woolen gloves or hats. When however we came into the direct sunlight, away from the overhanging trees on the bicycle paths, we knew it would not be long before things improved. The vibrant blue skies soon provided ample radiant heat.

Saturday, December 29, 2012

Trauma on the Bike Path

Whether for the love of exercise (“exercise is medicine”) or – what is perhaps more likely –whether to expiate last night’s immoderation of martinis, shrimp, wine and pousse-cafés, early this morning we climbed aboard our respective tandems not long after the sun was up. The weather was decidedly cool. We were heavily layered in undergarments, golf shirts, long-sleeved shirts, sweaters and jackets, along with woolen gloves and tuques (and for me the requisite silk scarf). Thankfully, however, it wasn’t long before we began removing some of the layers. There was no wind on the beach so we felt the full warmth of the increasingly intense sun.

Thursday, December 27, 2012

Le Bien Être

Progressively the manacles of the workforce are falling from me and I am acclimatizing myself to the locale both in fact and metaphorically.  This morning’s rising sun and clear skies brought the assurance of another fine day.  After our predictable breakfast of fruit, coffee, muffin and one egg we bundled ourselves in woolen fisherman knit sweaters, gloves and tuques and set off on our one-speed bicycles along the beach, into the wind (to have the advantage of it upon our return).  The broad face of the unpopulated beach was welcome refreshment, as we breathed deeply to capture all that is good in the Atlantic sea air, savouring the glittering sunshine.  After we reached the most southerly point of our adventure, we swung back to retrace our passage, this time with effortless swiftness.

Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Pacem in Terris

Apart from the necessities of nature (food, clothing and shelter essentially), when all is said and done it’s about peace of mind. Peace of mind is however not something easily won. Being a bleeding heart liberal isn’t a realistic prescription either: “…and world peace”. Rather it is a matter of accommodation, adjusting to the aspirations, strengths, weaknesses, successes and short-comings of both one’s self and others within one’s orbit. Peace of mind is as at times as illusory as perpetual happiness. No one is above the struggle to achieve peace of mind, no amount of prosperity or social advantage can ensure it and there is no one recipe which suits everyone.

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Christmas Day on Hilton Head Island

During the past twenty-four hours as we adapt to our holiday accommodations, we have succeeded in ironing out the temporary wrinkles of our lives. Within a relatively short but intense period of time we have brought things into line and placated our circumstances. The three-day drive to South Carolina, while enjoyable for the most part, was nonetheless an imprisonment of sorts, requiring constant focus on the driving and the customary gymnastics to avoid traffic jams, plus the obvious in and out routine of hotels. Once here the machinery of relocation kicked in, mandating familiarity with the main functions of the condominium (the heating system, telephones, stove, laundry machines and Wi-Fi connections), collecting groceries as well as household provisions, liquor, wine, beer and Champagne; then arranging to rent bicycles; having the car detailed; and finally unpacking and storing our clothing and personal items. The business of having one’s own condominium (as opposed to a hotel room) is not without its exigencies. Already however I am imagining that we shall dine out infrequently if at all while on the Island. It may be an experience we preserve for our return drive when necessity requires it.

Monday, December 24, 2012

Christmas Eve on Hilton Head Island

It would be a lie to say that getting here has been a breeze. Oh, nothing tragic or even especially out of the ordinary, just the usual traumas of daily living, the sorts of things one never factors into a holiday when smugly contemplating it from the comfort of one’s drawing room. Life has the knack of dishing up sufficient irritations to remind one that except for those rare and exceptional moments, it is an uphill struggle no matter how seemingly attractive the undertaking. It was for example the hour it took to check into our hotel in Richmond, Virginia. We had a suite for which there were two doors, but the “key” only worked in one of them. It required no less than three trips up and down the elevator (and we were on the top floor) to achieve the rectification of the problem. The hotel engineer had to reset the lock. This in itself seems to be a small inconvenience, but one must add to this annoyance that we had left our car parked at the front of the hotel, thinking we’d only be a minute or two before returning to remove it to the parking garage. By the time we regained the hotel entrance the bellboy was visibly impatient with us, effectively chastising us for being delinquent, suggesting that it was a matter of moments before the car would have been towed. He added further injury by informing us that a lady guest had almost struck the rear end of the car while trying to manoeuver around it. I didn’t even bother to explain to this subaltern what had transpired in the past hour.

Sunday, December 16, 2012

Preparing for Christmas

It is now our well-worn wisecrack when asked what we’re doing for Christmas to answer “Pack!” For the past seventeen years since we met, we have retreated from festive family gatherings and opted instead for a trip south primarily to capitalize upon the evaporation of business opportunity during the period.  As evident as it is that Christmas week is not the ideal time for business, it was many years before I could implement the habit of closing the office door at that time for the simple reason that the over-riding emotionalism of Christmas obliged me to stay within reach of family.  Once however the cord was cut I learned to expand the holiday period to begin on any Friday immediately before Christmas (either because office parties inevitably consume that day or charitable employers give it to their employees).  Later I acknowledged that the first week of January is easily avoided as an exhausted population recovers from the expense and indulgence of the season.

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Small Town Law Practice

Quite unexpectedly (being as I am a virtual recluse in a town which is but a satellite of the metropolis) I have been asked to meet with a third year law student who apparently has ambitions to practice law in a rural environment and seeks my take on it. He heard of me through one of his law professors who is a family friend. I understand the scholar is from a smaller urban centre and supposedly has hopes of returning to it upon being called to the Bar. Until now I hadn’t imagined that a small town law practice would hold any interest for an aspiring lawyer, not because I denigrate it but more because I felt it to be uncool or archaic (even if moderately quaint).

Monday, November 12, 2012

The Trustee

Although it smacks of the esoteric, the term “trustee” may nonetheless arise not infrequently in daily communication. For example, there is the “estate trustee” (what some may equate with the now historical expression “executor and trustee”), trustee-in-bankruptcy, board of trustees, trust company and a mere trustee. In its broadest sense, a trustee can refer to anyone who holds property, authority or a position of trust or responsibility for the benefit of another (which may in the case of boards of trustees include the public benefit or other charitable purpose). In all cases the trustee may be a natural person or a corporation, whether or not they are a prospective beneficiary.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Under Siege

Since the brutal market melt-down in 2008, when years of accumulated savings of many people simply evaporated over-night, there has been a pervasive and unsettling sense of being under siege. Like any successful military operation, the attack came unexpectedly and lethally, causing a feeling of instant isolation and surrender. The spin-offs of the initial calamity include imperceptible recovery, continued unemployment, forced re-thinking of the worth of a university education, the growing need to abandon hopes of early retirement (or worse, the need to return to work), a stepped-up acceptance of the diminution of the value of money, an acknowledgement of the pragmatism of raising the age of right to Canada Pension Plan and Old Age Security, the paradox of low interest rates and commensurate laughable return on investment and a general loss of any candidacy for entitlement.

Thursday, October 25, 2012

All Hallows’ Eve

Halloween like so many other commingled pagan and Christian traditions has its roots as a feast which marked both the end of summer and the walking abroad of departed souls who were here for the last time before the transition to the next world. Even spirits must need be fed so the custom of collecting “treats” (or what once were called “soul cakes”) unfolded for the benefit of both us and the supernatural beings. In case the meandering ghosts were prone to exercise their displeasure with us mortals as a final act of vengeance it was considered prudent to disguise oneself on that particular evening. The harvest of pumpkins (frequently carved for the effect of spookiness) combined both the feast and rite of passage. Remember too that bringing the cattle down from the summer highlands necessitated the annual slaughter of the livestock so the event was not without its blunt and bloody element which inspired bonfires and other rituals associated with sacrifice. Each of us has seen the evolution of the annual celebration of Halloween, a diversion which changes as we age. As children the preoccupation with costumes was overwhelming.

Sunday, October 14, 2012

Rainy Sunday Morning

As I sit here on an early Sunday morning sipping my tepid and consequently distasteful black coffee, listening to CBC French radio classical music (religious chants and predictable piano numbers), watching sparrows dart in and out of an unexplained hole in the back yard cedar hedge, examining the gloomy grey and foggy skies in the distance and rejoicing that I have nothing better to do, I am thankful that it is drizzling outside. I have justification not to go bicycling which is the only physical exercise I get any longer. I have abandoned any interest in walking. My knees can’t take it and the pace is paradoxically too slow to satisfy my inextinguishable need to get on with it. Besides yesterday in the chilly morning air and brilliant sunshine we bicycled at least ten kilometers clad in layers of high-collared woolen sweaters, generous cotton jackets and toasty gloves so I’ve sufficiently expiated my guilt in that department. Languidly surveying my domain I have the sense of examining the scene of a recent battle, at the very least a kerfuffle. Upon reflection so much commotion transpires even in a week, unexpected events and the accommodation of blips in plans, addressing unfolding essentials, analyzing picayune details, tending to annoying things, recovering from indulgences, coping with family, aging, dying and the daily prosaic burdens of living. When one is at last thankfully dismissed of obligation it is like surfacing from the suffocating depths for air, both invigorating and resentful. I am old and experienced enough to recognize that this temporary reprieve is to be relished. Securing the ravelled edges of life is no small triumph. When one is afforded the privilege of respite it is nothing more than standing motionless in the deceivingly calm eye of a storm. One step outside the arena of composure risks starting up all the machinery of life’s perpetual assaults once again. The inescapable news of the day included a reference to the “Wealthy Barber”. As far as I can tell his secret is nothing more than deprivation, something approaching asceticism as a religion or maybe replacing it with an equally severe obsession with the accumulation of money. As they say “You can’t have money and things”. Take your pick. He makes a virtue of living in a 1,300 square foot house without a basement (purportedly because he has nothing to store). Give me a break! Nothing to store but the money he never spends! At moments like this – on a leaden Sunday morning when one has been granted an instant to think back upon what one has done – there is the temptation to embrace austerity. But it is a self-discipline which is about as compelling as being disinterested in tomorrow’s breakfast after having had a full evening dinner. Think of the starkness of consumption, the denial of all those trinkets. It is an abstinence which is not for the pusillanimous! Last evening was a desirable Saturday night, an ornament to any Sunday morning. It was an escape to a candle-lit Italian restaurant where the heavy white porcelain dishes clattered and the rising wave of customers’ chatter blurred the invisible walls between us three and our dining neighbours. There were vodka martinis at the polished wooden bar first then at table our sommelier-in-training (James Dean celebrating his new leather bomber jacket) pored intently over the extensive wine list, having first spent the afternoon at a winery with his young companions, sipping Shiraz and Cabernet in promotion of their awakening life-time skills. “We’re going to enjoy ourselves this evening!”, he elatedly proclaimed upon informing the server of his considered choice. We settled comfortably into the shell and orbit of our convocation, loosening the tongues of tales and anecdotes, sharing some off-colour jokes and contemplating the taste of things to come, promoted by good bread and tasty extra virgin olive oil and Balsamic vinegar. Remarkably within the space of one week we have dined in the same place with people who flew in from New Zealand and another who is about to fly out to South Africa. On our lips was talk of an upcoming jaunt to the island of Sardinia in the Mediterranean. How magically the wheels of life turn! Now I am back on earth on a comparatively dull Sunday morning examining the drops of water on the leaves of the trees outside the kitchen window. What purpose is there to speculate about the future? Does it matter where we’ve come from in the past? The once pleasant present has already evaporated, exchanging its manifestations for memories. Sunday morning is at best an interlude to contemplate. It does nothing to change what has been, is or will be. Yet how precious is the moment, that magic feeling of nowhere to go!

Monday, September 24, 2012

Tea with Miss Jill

Funny, but over all these years Miss Jill and I have never actually had any tea when we’ve congregated for our now ritual Friday afternoon tea. There has been coffee certainly, and Sherry from the side-board many times on a chilly autumnal day or a frosty winter’s eve, and once even some Cointreau (which I personally detest and therefore welcomed the opportunity to unload), but never tea. Sometimes we have nothing at all to drink and we content ourselves merely to imbibe the gossip, quips, cynicisms and private, uninhibited explosions which we are wont to intercommunicate. Tea by osmosis so to speak. In a word, we devour one another’s company with or without anything to slurp. Imperceptibly our end-of-week custom has altered. We were for example originally habituated to roost in the sanctum sanctorum of my inner chambers, lounging about in large stuffed and leather-bound armchairs splayed upon the precious Persians, metaphorically snapping our collective fingers at industry and commerce (frequently a dying thought on a late Friday afternoon in any event). Gradually as our symposiums became more regular our venue changed to the front, side office wherein I conduct the real work of my business and in which we were by virtue of the room’s austerity and comparative economy plunged even more forcefully into the substance of our communion. As with true friends engaged in any reality, the loss of frills didn’t diminish whatever the depth of our parley. Recently I remarked to myself how salubrious these conventions are primarily because of the immediate and heightened levity they promote. As anyone knows, a good laugh is good medicine. And cackle we do! Our personalities have since the day we met been plumb compatible, each of us knowing exactly how to rebound off the other. Even in the midst of unspeakable personal displeasure we unhesitatingly rise above it and soon find ourselves engaged in a comic free-for-all. If either of us should dare to pull rank by succumbing to anything even remotely adult or mature, the other precipitously counters the assault and instantly reduces the conversation once again to the wholesome and level field of playfulness. No doubt you too have a very good friend with whom you can openly confide your most treasured thoughts. It’s an addendum to be longed for. So often we are trounced by the crush of life and without a ventilation we are further distressed by having to surrender to the demolition. It would be passably acceptable if we were merely befuddled by the miseries of living, but more often than not we must surrender under agreed conditions which inevitably spell defeat. How welcome then is the attentive ear of a complaisant and harmonic soul! Occasionally our private forum is, like the piercing of the corporate veil, laid bare by the unanticipated visit of another, someone who - not surprisingly in a small town - is frequently known to us both and whom as a result we beckon enthusiastically to join the fray. It is near impossible to belie the purpose of our nefarious concert; rollicking bravado imminently throws wide open the door! I thrill to see others so conspicuously participatory! The boardroom agenda screams divestment and unburdening! Howls of laughter invariably ensue! It is the lost art of turning misfortune on its head by ridiculing its flagellation. Tea!

Saturday, July 21, 2012

People Talk

People talk. We all do it. It isn’t however until you hear of them talking about you that the smarting topic purchases any particular weight. Talking about you behind your back adds all the more kindling to the ignition. How an aspirate loves an audience! Lord it over the down-trodden fellow!

Thursday, July 19, 2012

Axiomatic Living

There is opportunity for scientific discovery in everything. An examination of even the most mundane features of our daily lives provides, in the hands of the skilled analyst, no end of provender for consideration. To ourselves we are frequently less than complicated. And yet the records would suggest otherwise, elevating what might seem to be merely empirical data on everyday occurrences to the construct of a systematic enterprise based upon knowledge about the very universe. That is, there is (1) an objective reality which is (2) governed by natural laws that are (3) discoverable through observation (and perhaps some experimentation).

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Sans Enfants

Even given the extended concept of the modern family to include same-sex spouses and, in the vernacular at least, just about any other kind of mutually meaningful association, there nonetheless remains an indiscriminate but noticeable dividing line between two classes of persons in a relationship; viz., those with children and those without children. Once again children have proven themselves to be the great social leveler inasmuch as they foster no distinction between the classification or characterization of the parents who raise them. Essentially, parents of any stripe are still parents. The differentiation is quite simply between couples who have children and couples who do not.

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Construction Zone Dining

At six o’clock in the evening we stood like two anxious dogs upon the edge of the River, peering into the mist and grey light to determine whether indeed the approaching small craft was that of our hosts, Debbie and Mike, from the Village of Appleton, come to collect us for dinner with them at their home. The motor of the boat puttered languidly. They came more sharply into view as the boat’s bow was seemingly magnetized to our shoreline stance. “Ahoy!”, went up the corporate welcome on both sides, and the metal craft slid with a grind onto the beach and out jumped Mike and Debbie both cleverly sporting open plastic shoes to accommodate the water upon their feet. Then followed embraces and the first of many groans about the disappointing weather which for the last hour had turned from cloudy to on-and-off drizzle, threatening to dampen our planned outing. Nonetheless we in unison proclaimed our advantage over such niggling details and proceeded to career ourselves into the small craft in preparation for departure, supplemented by less than nautical burbles about balance, size and position.

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Ridden Hard and Put Away Wet


The logbook of existence for many people is scarcely enviable. Rather it is a balance sheet with uncommon liabilities. In brief, life is hard.

The accomplishment of getting out of bed in the morning is a victory won with only waning pride. It merely sets in motion the lurching disappointment which already reigned through much of the night when frustratingly trying to smother one’s orbiting dreams in the pillows. Once standing disarrayed and staring into the mirror, one lamentably murmurs, “How long can I keep doing this?”.

Friday, February 3, 2012

The Daunting Task of Doing Nothing

At the risk of espousing pop psychology, even if you aren’t inclined to market yourself as a Type-A personality, most people have some difficulty justifying themselves by doing nothing. And for those of us who are uncomfortable relying upon Mr. Mitt Romney’s assurance that the poor need not worry because there is a safety net in place, I wager the majority of us would prefer to fulfill our dreams by doing something. As a result we happily drag ourselves out of the lair every morning, pacifically and routinely prepare ourselves for another day in harness and head for the mines at least resignedly if not in fact with a whistle on our lips and a skip in our step. The undertaking may indeed be encumbered by the fear that no matter how hard or how long one works you’ll never get ahead; but nonetheless on the balance most of us are satisfied to play out the role of production if for no other reason than to avoid the stark possibility that we’ve accomplished nothing.

Thursday, January 19, 2012

Those January Blahs!

To speak plainly I have had a vexing time of late. I find it remarkable how changeable is my January temperament (predominantly on the decline, but apparently now recovering), how the first weeks of the year seem to drag interminably, how generally wary I am of being able to get through another year of “this”, how starkly cold and miserable the weather is even on a sunny day (I despise the salt and sand which is everywhere), how unpromising the future appears. In short I am suffering a full-blown case of the January blahs aided by that pseudo-science of Blue Monday. Yet it must be that I have turned a corner for otherwise I would be entirely immobilized, unable even to communicate my despondency.

Saturday, January 14, 2012

First Week Back

It was about a week ago that we returned home from our winter vacation. I always consider the readjustment to home life and office duties important and more often than not, pressing. Having spent an entire lifetime taking care of business of one sort or another, it is impossible for me to ignore my routine. Like it or not, it’s my niche. Any success I may have enjoyed over the years has never been without constant effort. I have always been aware that anything I accomplish will only happen by dedicated and almost painful application. Within the unimpressive sphere of my limited experience, I know that while I can reach a level of achievement which stands the test, I am equally aware that there is for the most part nothing terribly complicated about anything I have ever done. On that subject, however, I regularly observe that if one cannot do even the simple things well, how can one proclaim to be accomplished in doing anything else? In any event, I am bound by nature to repeat the performance to maintain my personal constancy. Eventually I must get back to work.

Thursday, January 5, 2012

Last Day at the Beach

We’ve succeeded in prolonging our last day at the beach by having started the day at two o’clock this morning in response to a fire alarm. Just as we bumbled our way into the hallway along with the other startled guests in the building, the piercing alarm stopped and we were seamlessly reabsorbed into our respective compartments. After such an eruption we were too disconcerted to return to our lairs. We made a pot of coffee and pretended to begin the day as normally as possible, although it wasn’t long before we again submerged ourselves under the duvet. We reawakened closer to the more respectable hour of seven o’clock not much worse for wear.

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

First Business Day of the Year

While I won’t say that I agonise about my professional obligations during a vacation, the frozen truth is that I never really free myself of the office. With about a week of holidays remaining here on Hilton Head Island in South Carolina, I am already counting that the business days before my return to the practice of law. I have been able to conduct some business “remotely” through the combined resources of the internet and my laptop computer, but the application has been cursory only. Nothing I’ve done thus far has been substantive but it at least affords me the satisfaction of having disposed of some of the administrative matters which annoyingly accumulate at this time of year.

Monday, January 2, 2012

Right this way.....

The high spirits of Christmas and New Year are now precipitously behind us. I am parenthetically thankful not to have to regard the time through foggy eyes nor stupidly question what happened by shaking myself to consciousness. The sudden disappearance of the enchanted indicia of Christmas and the New Year leaves one questioning both its reality and utility. I imagine children have a better time rationalizing it. The sobering effect upon adults is likely less convincing. Perhaps the world-wide fixation upon debt reduction spared some people the hang-over response to the habitual indulgences.

Sunday, January 1, 2012

New Year's Resolutions

Depending whether they are the object of considered thought or the target of intellectual snootiness, New Year’s resolutions are for some functional and for others frivolous. There is also the austere option that if one is lucky enough to have overseen enough of them, the New Year is void of any partiality one way or the other, just another day.