Lazy Saturday

We hadn't anything planned in particular for this Saturday, other than having decided last evening that we'd go to the Golf Club for breakfast this morning, as the season will soon be over for another year. On our way through the Village at 8:00 o'clock this morning en route to the Golf Club, we stopped at the home of some friends who live along the River to see if they were stirring, but as I peered through the glass panel alongside the door I could see no movement. Some documents had been faxed to me from Toronto yesterday, and the parents of one of these friends needed to sign the papers, so I thought I'd see if we could arrange a time this afternoon. As it turned out, we returned to the house after breakfast and after having done some grocery shopping, and plans were made to rally at my office at 1:30 p.m. this afternoon. I was also given instructions to prepare some further documentation, so after returning home, I made my way to the office to complete that additional paperwork. Accordingly it wasn't long before noon rolled around. We had a light lunch, then headed back to the office to meet my Clients.

Back At It

When the air is as crisp and clear as it is today (an early September morning in the country), even the shaving soap smells sharper. There is none of that Summer humidity to thicken and weigh down the atmosphere; the household has an uplifting and ethereal air about it. The squared windows are all thrown up as widely as possible. Although the morning air was still cool, I rode my Electra cruiser to the office again today, flying downhill almost the entire way, rounding the corner at the old Town Hall, dipping under the railway bridge, then sharply braking in front of my office steps (secretly proud of my minor accomplishment).

What If?

Have you ever thought about what you'd wish yourself to be? Have you ever thought you'd like to be someone else, something else, someone with different characteristics? It really is a pointless exercise of course. We can't possibly change the putty of which we're made, though granted we can shape it to a degree; but after a certain point in life, the chance of making any remarkable alteration (much less an improvement) is pretty slim. So we're pretty much stuck with what we are.

We Just Need a Deed!

It is especially not uncommon in a rural conveyancer’s practice to encounter situations in which the Parties on both sides of a proposed real estate transaction are related to one another, and in a concerted effort by them both, they seek to reduce the anticipated costs by trivializing the extent or quality of legal services which they consider are required to give them what they want, usually based upon such irrelevant facts as the length of time the property has been in the family (customarily a bad omen, since no one has had a critical look at the property for years) or the vastness of trust which exists between them (a warm and fuzzy feeling which dissipates the instant the money comes into question). Invariably, such aggressive economic efforts are preceded by the word "just", which is meant to convey not only a sense of urgency to the lawyer but also the paucity of work which must be undertaken in the learned view of the Client. To the uninitiated, such reasoning is daunting and tempts one to take up step with the advancing column. For the old lawyer (or should I say, the "seasoned practitioner") such self-serving diminishment of legal services is both misleading, uninformed and ultimately dangerous. Nonetheless, as a facilitator (that is, a "deal maker" rather than a "deal breaker"), courtesy prompts the Solicitor to bridge the gap between negligence and diligence, hopefully providing the Clients with want they want, subject to intelligible and meaningful qualifications. As an aside, it is also common in such family transactions for the lawyer to be urged to act for both Parties (again, as a perceived cost-saving vehicle), even though the standard for non-related Parties is independent representation. The Law Society of Upper Canada does in fact provide an exception to the general rule of independent representation where the Parties qualify as "related persons" within the meaning of the Income Tax Act, Sec. 252 (which broadly includes blood and marriage relations). Where the Parties are obviously imperfectly matched as far as business acumen goes, the decision to opt out for either or both Parties is easier; otherwise, the decision to proceed on behalf of both is made.

St. John's, Newfoundland

The flavours of St. John's, Newfoundland are distinctly and transparently military and maritime, both steeped in history. The backdrop to the City is its traditional harbour-front, housing the massive stone buildings of the Court Houses, financial institutions, legal firms, churches, Masonic Lodge and the like. Upon touching down in St. John's (I am guessing that most arrive by air, for the only other alternative is by sea), it is immediately apparent that there is more that is ancient about the City than the rock upon which it sits. Its inaccessibility to the outside world has preserved the City from the monotony of North American cities, and I understand it is an unyielding and sometimes aggressive obsession of those who live there to keep it so. It is easy to be quickly transported into another world, far away from anything we know about city dwelling. The great thing is that it appeals to young people, not merely retiring bureaucrats and professionals who are now seeking to enjoy a slower pace in life. Make no mistake, however, there is a distinct smell of money about the place if you know where to look, and thankfully even that display of richesse has been crafted in a unique way.

La Vida Breve

When I think of the tragedies in life - the car accidents, the wars, the cancers, the brain tumours, the kidney failures, the suicides, the untimely deaths, the alcoholism, the business failures, the unemployment, the marital breakdowns - it’s a wonder I get out of bed. The miracle is that, once I’m on my feet, the oppressive weight of the contemplation of this life is somehow lifted. I’m not saying it’s always easy to throw oneself back into the flow, but there’s an almost immediate sense of reward for having done so. Knowing that the fortunes of life can turn on a dime doesn’t help, either. Such philosophical reflection does little more in my opinion than paralyze the process of living, being akin to a confession of the futility of life. One has to get into the act to experience any relief.

What’s on the Horizon?

What a spectacular way to start the month! At six o’clock this morning the sky was a dome of azure blue as I silently cruised on my bicycle along the Appleton Road towards the Village, five miles distant. The overnight temperatures were distinctly cooler than they have been for months, and as a result the mists on this early September morn were spilling off the fields onto the highway in volume. If ever there were an impetus to do the right thing in life, this was it! It was good to be alive! As the sun, a hazy yellow ball of blinding brilliance, rose flashing between the dark green tops of the corn stalks, I could also make out a slight tinge of rouge on certain clumps of high tree-tops in the distance along the River. We’re not quite to the point where the "morn in russet mantle clad breaks o’er yonder hill", but it won’t be long. Nature gathers speed pretty quickly at this time of year.