Erin's Journals

Just a thought… It’s never too late to be what you might have been. [George Eliot]

So who the heck am I, anyway? Is 61 a little ripe to be discovering one’s voice?

Well, a loud HELL NO to that question.

See, here’s the thing. And I’m going to use the word “brand” – something most people can neither relate to, nor care about – when it comes to myself.

All those years on the radio, my job, or brand, was to be on the airwaves, but not to make any waves. My entire work and personal life existence was built around not losing a listener: don’t have an opinion on something one way or the other, don’t state anything that could be the least bit offensive, and whatever you do, don’t give them a reason to tune away.

For the most part, for almost 40 years, I did exactly that.

The “play nice” mantra carried on into my reWirement: I tried not to offend in any of my blog or video posts (although five years back, holding my tongue about anti-vaxxers was impossible – and I’m still okay with that). My freelance work in podcasting, whether for a big body like the Canadian Real Estate Association or our own podcast, Gracefully and Frankly with Lisa Brandt, were built on a foundation of a sparkly beige countertop. Be palatable, don’t offend, be sure people are happy and, whatever you do, don’t be controversial. And NO politics!

But these days, it’s too important in our country’s young history to be quiet, to be demure, to be a lady.

Now that I’m openly and actively campaigning for the Liberal candidate in a longtime Green riding here on southern Vancouver Island which is currently held by prominent Canadian Elizabeth May, I’m wearing a button, helping candidate David Beckham get some eyes and traction where he had none, and not wavering in my support for PM Mark Carney.

But what does this do to my “brand?” Does it open trolls to give me bad reviews on my book or my sleep podcast Drift with Erin Davis, to try to hurt me via back channels? Possibly; I refuse to check. But there’s more at stake here than what’s in it for – or even against – me.

Yes, I wimped out: Rob and I were too protective of my own mental health against the climate of meanness and lies for me to consider running when the suggestion was made (as tempted as I was to serve and *bonus*: spend part of my time nearer our grandkids in Ottawa), but I’m doing the next best thing.

Here’s a promise: because I respect you and your intelligence, I won’t try to change your mind, or even influence your vote (not that anyone on the internet should, no matter what you may think of them). All I can do is my part, so that when it’s over, if our grandkids Colin and Jane ask what we did in 2025, we will have an answer that will make them proud. It may even influence them to try to make a difference when they’re a bit older. We can hope.

For too long we’ve been afraid of what the neighbours might think; now as we look south of the border we see what many of them are doing, and we can’t care about anyone but ourselves and our country any longer.

It’s time for us to stand up for Canada, for our home, for our country. Less than one month of effort is worth a lifetime of freedom and comfort, don’t you think? When has Canada ever asked anything in return (except during tax season lol) for the endless bounty and opportunity she has offered to so many of us?

Call your campaign office. Order those signs. Wear those buttons. Make that donation! Don’t accept the status quo – change happens one vote at a time (either way).

And remember that nothing worth doing is easy. And Canada is definitely worth the effort. It’s just (less than) one month.

Just a thought…

There are moments that the words don’t reach
There is a grace too powerful to name
We push away what we can never understand
We push away the unimaginable.

(Lin-Manuel Miranda, playwright, Hamilton)

We’re marking this day in a positive way.

She should have turned 34 today.

I could not put our feelings into words better than the Pulitzer Prize-winning Mr. Miranda. We just push it away…while somehow holding her close.

Yes, here we are on March 24^th, not sure whether or how to celebrate a day that we remember clearly enough as one of the best ones of our lives, closely followed by her joyful wedding and the arrivals of our grandson and, as luck would have it, a granddaughter, too, four years after our daughter’s death.

How do you mark a day like this? You find your own way: sometimes cake, sometimes tears, sometimes a visit to a special place, or just carefully tucking yourself into the memories that aren’t sharp enough to cut.

For Rob and me there will be actual blood. We’ll be donating at a clinic that, fortunately enough, happens to be taking place in our little home town, coincidentally on Lauren’s birthday.

She loved to give blood and was proud of her record of donating as soon as she was eligible, again and again. We were proud to have raised a child who was aware of the importance of giving and sharing gifts with those she might never meet.

As you know if you live in loss, we do what we can to honour her memory. On our walk home today after the clinic we’ll pick up a slice of birthday cake and savour it together when we get home.

There’s not much more we can do – just hope somewhere she’s proud of how we’ve pushed through the unimaginable to live our lives with grace and strength, with vulnerability and compassion. A great loss opens the heart to the suffering of others and takes us out of ourselves. We give when we can, holding a reserve to protect our own hearts, and we go on. Because we are not in control of anything but how we react, accepting the lessons about what life gives us, and what life takes away.

And we find gratitude for Lauren having been the unimaginable gift she was, and still is.

Just a thought… Stay Calm and Erin Go Bragh.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day if you celebrate. I have an Irish king (John) in my family tree but even that wouldn’t get me a free Guinness in Dublin, I’m sure. So I’m happily a Canadian Queenager instead.

We’ll call this blog a Long Day’s Journey into Nice: short tales of the long road trip as we headed home from California’s Coachella Valley, up the Pacific coast through the state, then into Oregon and finally Washington before hopping the ferry back home to Victoria, BC.

Like so many Canadians, it was the last time we’d be leaving the US for a good long while. Even though tRump and his crooked, market-manipulating cronies have been turning tariffs on and off like he got the Clapper for Christmas, we seem to be holding firm and slapping back.

Anyhoo…a few stories from little stays along the way home, breaking up our six- and seven-hour daily drives.

As you may have heard me mention to Lisa in Episode 116 of our Gracefully and Frankly podcast, our first three nights were at Best Westerns. They varied in layouts and amenities, but most were clean, convenient and friendly (and one even had no pet fee). All three had Keurig-like coffee machines and if you know me, you are aware that oxygen ranks second on my list of needs to stay alive. (I kid, but barely).

We deviated from motels late in our trip, hoping to have memorable and romantic experiences. We got neither. We did learn that two tall-ish adults and two little dogs don’t fit all that well on a queen mattress. But Rob made do with the floor. (Kidding!)

We learned that website pictures often do more justice to a place than it deserves; when you book a room in a cabin condo, you don’t learn until you get there that there will be several paces along an elevated outdoor walkway, followed by two flights of stairs to get in and out. Do we travel light? No, friend, we do not, considering we were away for three months. While we mostly organized what we needed per hotel night, a lot of bags were involved for us and the dogs.

So, one in particular was a real slog…and we were rewarded with that queen-sized bed. Also, you don’t find out until you see the room how tired it is, and how long it’s been since its owners (presumably in a timeshare) have updated it. A crap shoot for sure.

Rob could save us a fortune fixing things along the way, just as he did in the house we rented! He worked off the cost of heating the pool to 85F each day by cutting to fit a solar blanket for the pool to retain the day’s heat and save money, adjusting the frame of an old dishwasher so the door stayed closed (and later installing the new one); moving an old fridge out to the curb, repairing the gate opener so that the remote signal was stronger, and countless other small fixes to make the older house better for the owners and future guests.

We learned that driving long-haul with an electric vehicle is an exercise in hope, trust in apps and patience, not all of which are rewarded. One hotel we stayed at had two chargers (yay! free!) but one guest plugged in for about six hours, and had parked so that no other vehicle could possibly back in safely to get to the other one. There we lost out. But the next night there was a slow-speed charger and we were one of only two couples in the little cottages (they didn’t drive an EV), so we got to stay on it as long as we needed, and saved ourselves a few hours’ charging on the final leg of our trip. Plus, free!

We learned not to let me book a hotel at the end of a long day on the road. I did that on Wednesday night for the next night’s final stay in the US and inadvertently had us staying the wrong night. When I wrote “see you tomorrow” in an email confirming our resos, thank goodness an alert human saw it and said, “Did you mean tonight?” She was kind enough to change the booking (which we could have had to pay) and even gave us five dollars off for a cheaper night’s rate. Maybe it was karma for the next story I have to share….

Sometimes you swallow your pride and plea to pee: at one daytime stop at a Motel 6 we found a highspeed charger, but there was no one in the office to ask about washrooms. So I searched out a cleaning cart and, sure enough, an older couple (likely the owners) were servicing the room. I offered to give them money if I could use the washroom, provided they hadn’t cleaned it yet. They said “Sure!” but refused the money. So I peed, then asked if my husband could also do the same. Once again they happily said yes, and I left the five-dollar bill on the bed, saying I insisted. Hey, pay to pee? Just like Europe! We were relieved. Literally.

On our last full day in Washington State I not only saw but talked with Sasquatch! Okay, not the real deal (as if one exists), but a 52-year-old woman in the hospitality industry who had no idea what I was talking about when I mentioned trade wars with Canada. I want to live in her rainbow bubble. She says news stresses her out, as she’s afraid of what might happen to her as someone who immigrated from Hungary and has been in the US since she was six. Imagine that kind of fear.

I felt melancholy saying farewell to the memories we made all those winters in California, from long-ago visits with Mom while she was living in Palm Desert, to adventures with the grandkids there two winters ago. We won’t back down and our little sacrifice is nothing in the big picture. If anything, the gorgeous scenery and kind people we encountered reminded me that we are so much more alike than different. It also strengthened our resolve to see more of our new-ish home province, Beautiful British Columbia.

So we’re home: not sad it’s over, but glad it happened. With elbows up, we’re ready to take on whatever lies ahead. And whoever lies incessantly. Oh and next winter? Looking at you, Puerto Vallarta. No driving, but definitely taking Dottie and Livi again. Our options will be fewer but that resolve is strong.

Enjoy this week and thank you for spending some time here on these last days of calendar winter! (Spring arrives Thursday just in time for Ep. 118 of Gracefully and Frankly. If you haven’t been to the website yet, please visit and click through to listen or even leave a voice message to air on our show! And follow the podcast so you don’t miss an episode, won’t you?)

Just a thought… It’s not about being woke; it’s about being human, about treating others with dignity and respect. [Jameela Jamil]

I had an entirely different blog written for today, but after a little video I posted got a ton of reactions, it seemed important to tell another side of what’s happening between Canada and the US, from our own personal perspective. Can you take one more? Then come on along!

During our leisurely six-day drive up along the US coast from California’s Coachella Valley to Port Angeles, WA where we crossed back into Canada, I saw a handful of u-know-who’s rear window or bumper stickers, and only one rural house whose entire front fence was festooned with a large banner with its name on it. Keep in mind that overall, California, Oregon and Washington State are all considered blue, but have their large pockets of MAGA. Heck, even Canada does. So no one is immune.

It wasn’t until we arrived Thursday evening in Port Angeles to stay overnight until the next day’s ferry home that it dawned on me: in all of those days on the road, I had seen not ONE Canadian, or BC license plate. We were the outliers; anyone noticing us would have inferred that we were on our way home, which we were. Here’s our route, marked out in blue.

Upon arriving on the sunny Canadian side in downtown Victoria, I did what I said I would do: I kissed the ground. No, I didn’t stop to think that it was conveniently close to the curb for a dog; I didn’t care. And I’ll show you that short video in a moment. (Oh and boy, the trolls on my FB page said their dog had just pooped there. I remarked that that was likely why it tasted like kissing THEM. I couldn’t resist.)

But – back to being an adult – we learned that earlier on that same day, the ferry we had ridden had brought the mayor of Port Angeles over to meet with Victoria’s mayor. The leader of the US city of 20,000 said she was carrying a message of friendship and a border mayor alliance, apologizing on behalf of her citizens for the great insult that has been flung at Canadians in general.

Many people are hurting and not in ways anyone in DC would care about, since president Muskkk said that empathy is humanity’s greatest downfall. The people in border towns and cities who reaped the benefits of Canadians’ proximity are starting to feel the very real results of careless and malicious decrees. And that is spreading (finally – Reagan’s promised trickle-down economy, but not in a good way) to those who happily and gratefully welcomed Canadian visitors year round.

Further south in Florida’s Broward county, the second-most populous county in the state behind Miami-Dade, nearly 22,000 homes are on the market today, nearly double the number from one year ago. What percentage of those have Canadian owners, I can’t tell you. But the signs are right there, and they say FOR SALE.

See, that’s the thing about us. As someone said, we won’t tell you who we are, but we know who we are NOT. The whole “elbows up / les coudes levés” movement says it all. And while tRump continues to turn tariffs on and off like grandpa with the Clapper on his bedside lamp, most of us are sticking to our decisions.

My heart goes out to everyone who is hurting (there’s that darned empathy again). I don’t know how many people feeling this pain voted for the orange one or didn’t bother voting at all, but I did meet a woman Wednesday in the hospitality industry in Washington State who had not heard about a trade war. She came to the US from Hungary when she was a child and is living in fear that at 52, she might be his next target. I felt awful telling her about it in the vaguest terms (and sure didn’t mention that it’s going to affect her hotel bookings soon, if it hasn’t already) but was in awe of her ability to stay in a bubble, because the news “stresses” her.

We wish we could, but that’s not who we are, or where we need to be in this moment in Canadian history. It’s not about hating all Americans, it’s loving Canada. Their government has forced us to take a stand, and whether it’s by keeping our money at home by staying here, or by carefully reading labels in stores and curbing our online purchases from the US, we’re doing what we can to stand on guard for ourselves. The rest of the world is seeing what we’re doing and some are even following our lead.

Who knew that 2025 would be the year that Canadians would unite (well, most of us) in solidarity, supporting each other without judgment, with compassion and with kindness? Where “woke!” would be not a diss, but a compliment, to describe a good-hearted person who cares for others, and not just themselves?

We know now. And we’ll keep this feeling, I hope, for a good long time. It would be just like tRump to pull the tariffs and try to lull us back into the division that had settled upon our complacent country, in hopes that an ally to his plans gets elected here. But we won’t be fooled. Unlike some voters to the south of us, we’re learning not to repeat a fatal mistake. Elbows Up and Les Coudes Levés, my friend.

And now, as promised, near the BC Legislature and its newly-hung gigantic Canadian flag, here’s that super short homecoming video. Enjoy – I sure did!

Just a thought… Even the worst days have an ending, and the best days have a beginning. [Jennifer Coletta]

Okay, for the final time, I will repeat that we’re in the US because we planned and paid for this trip long before the November election, and without prescience of the tariff ridiculousness that has kicked in. So Rob and I are on our way home and saying our good-byes to the US when we cross the border for what will most likely be the final time later this week.

We left the Palm Springs area (Cathedral City) Saturday and had the best, most gentle drive on our way up the coast. We stopped our first night at a humble Santa Maria, CA Best Western that was not only one of the best sleeps we’ve had in ages, but – get this – NO pet fee! This is like winning the lottery because some hotels charge $50 US per pet, per night – others even more. So yeah, one place we looked at, the dog fees would have been more than the room cost! Hard no.

Our second night (which was last night) was in San Rafael, CA, at another Best Western with a higher room fee but just one reasonable charge for the dogs. That, we could swallow. And our main aim was to get there in time for the Oscars at 4:00 pm our time, and catch Conan’s monologue, plus the whole show.

This is where our EV troubles came in. We had a charging stop planned at Walmart in Salinas (the town known for where the singer of “Me and Bobby McGee” let her get away). Great! Broke up the day’s drive and still would let us get to San Rafael in time for the Oscars.

Well, nice try…the chargers on one side of the parking lot were all full, with a few people in line waiting. On the other side of the lot, stood two chargers: one was in use, while the other had a non-EV parked obliviously in its spot. As the driver of that car eventually backed out, I raised my arms in exasperation and said, “It’s an EV spot!” at which they honked at me in anger. Oh sorry, sunshine, it was totally my fault that you had your head where the seat warmers go.

We finally got one about an hour after pulling off in Salinas, all the while watching the clock and the countdown to Conan’s monologue. While Rob charged, I walked an excited Dottie and Livi, then as Rob kept them company, I ran into the store to buy some discounted salads and an expired pie for Rob. Nothing’s too good for us! Then we were back on the road through the rolling green hills, past garlic capital Gilroy (anyone remember Memories of Gilroy from the President’s Choice line?) and on to our destination.

But to even out the frustration in the parking lot was a wonderful surprise: I noticed that a fellow standing chatting with the other drivers awaiting an EV spot had just gotten out of an orange VW ID.Buzz, the new electric van from Volkswagen. We’d just seen it for the first time in a TV ad and I immediately went online to check it out. Here except for the colour (and thanks to the Detroit Free Press), is what it looked like (I wasn’t nutty enough to take a picture of his). And at the end of the blog I have a must-see ad for it – hilarious!

Boy, if we didn’t already have a grown-up car, I’d SO want that, preferably in a funky blue. So I excitedly asked the man, who was about our age, if he loved it and he said yes. When I asked if I could look into the window, he said, “C’mon in and you can ride with me.”

Do you think I’d turn that down? I laughed as I said, “Well, it’s just like me to take a ride from a stranger!” and he reminded me that we were just backing into the EV charging spot. It was just delightful, as was he, and it had that delicious new car smell.

So an anxious time in a Walmart parking lot awaiting an electric charge and watching the time like a hawk turned into a giddy delight as I thanked him for the quick ride in a car he’d bought as an empty-nester for his wife for Valentine’s. He admitted it was kind of silly since it’s just the two of them, but I congratulated him on seizing the day.

The way things feel right now, I think we all need to.

Have a great week – our next episode of Gracefully and Frankly will be recorded on my end in a motel room, so wish me quiet neighbours and decent internet and we’ll talk to you Thursday!

Oh, and here’s that ad. If you are a fan of SNL and remember the sketch “The Californians,” VW hired three stars to bring it back, for the new van. Enjoy!