Erin's Journals

Just a thought… Be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you. [Ovid]

Well, that was quite a weekend. Apart watching the Jays and Habs, deer and fawns, Rob and I did one of those things that can really test a relationship.

We’ve had them before: the earliest I can recall was wallpapering together. Boy, if that isn’t a recipe for disaster, I don’t know what is. But we got through it way back in the day, and lived to face other way bigger couples’ challenges. How lucky we are that we’ve gotten through them all intact.

We’ve assembled a big gazebo, with me standing near the top of a ladder, resting the roof on my head while while Rob secured it. We’ve managed to put up a massively heavy nickel-and-glass hotel pendant light, me holding the globe aloft like Atlas with a colourful vocabulary, while Rob screwed a plate into the ceiling. And we moved that gorgeous behemoth to at least two homes.

All that said, we’re lucky to have survived this job on Friday night. It was about 10 pm when I said, “C’mon, let’s do this now.” Oh sure, we were smiling when we decided to tackle it, and no, there was no alcohol involved!

We had lucked into an apartment-sized washer/dryer pair from our condo neighbours. Rob managed (solo) to get them into the back of our smallish SUV and brought them over to our Pender Island cabin, and together we got them, via hand truck, bumping and rolling into the house.

A kind neighbour had “voluntold” her husband to help us to get them up these stairs and I gratefully accepted. But…

In truth, I don’t think they knew what Dan would’ve been in for. We sure didn’t! And in retrospect, asking anyone to help us move these would have been too big a request. When he came over on Saturday to see what we’d accomplished, he agreed it would have been awfully tough. And yes, my friend, it was.

As you can see from the first picture, there’s a tight turn at the bottom of the stairs, and another squeaker at the top. Obstacles included wooden uprights, a natural wood pole upstairs (too splintery for my exotic dances, I’m afraid, lol) and glass panels lining the stairs all the way up.

As I tugged up on the hand cart, Rob was crouched, a pillow on his back, under each appliance. Using his quads and his back, after every “one-two-THREE!” from me, he pushed it up the stairs. Aside from having to unscrew the handrail, our biggest hiccup was when the heavy washer bumped up to the tight top landing and I was pitched backward on my butt. I was extremely mindful of the glass panel that could potentially break my fall, and fortunately, everything – including all of me – ended up intact.

The pair fit into our walk-in closet, which is now, in addition to being a powder room (we had a small toilet/vanity combo plumbed in and installed) a place for tightly fitting laundry facilities.

We won’t be using them this week, as on Friday we start a 10-day visit to Ottawa. In that case, we’ll be able to take our stuff over to the kids’ place to wash, though, thank goodness.

Oh, and of course I will not miss any episodes with my Gracefully & Frankly partner Lisa Brandt. Talk to you Thursday.

Just a thought… You can take away a man’s show; you can’t take away a man’s voice. [David Letterman]

Welcome to a new week, and a holiday if you’re lucky enough to have it off today. An event to come in a few days has had me reflecting a lot on my own life, and wondering if perhaps you can relate, not only to me, but to an internationally known TV personality.

As you are aware, this Thursday is the final new episode of The Late Show with Stephen Colbert. After nearly 11 years, the talk show host will say his good-byes on CBS. Who will be his guest on the finale is still a secret, but my best guess is that during a week off a while ago, he not only travelled to Chicago to sit down with President Barack Obama, but went to Rome to do the same with Pope Leo. As a devout Roman Catholic who wears his heart on that well-tailored sleeve, it is not just ironic but insulting that the far right lunatics decry a moral man for calling them out on their bullsh*t. But I digress…and again, Pope Leo is just a guess.

It’s a done deal. CBS has bowed to their Golden Piggy and removed Colbert from the network. And it’s not a desperately failing network’s boneheaded move that has me thinking. No, it’s what’s next for a man I admire but have never met.

When I left CHFI of my own volition in December ten years ago, it was for deeply personal reasons. Rob and I had to start a new life and, for us, that meant pulling up stakes and moving as far west as we could go in this glorious country of ours. It was not an easy decision and we knew we were leaving family, friends, a career and a life behind. But we had set our GPS for the future, and that’s where it led us.

Now settled into our third home since packing too much stuff into vans that would make their way across most of five provinces and a part of an ocean, life is making more sense every day.

But it has taken me almost an entire decade to finally let go of the work dream: that I’d return to radio or continue to be doing what I loved. That desire and need have morphed into a gentle satisfaction in doing two podcasts: my sleep stories Drift with Erin Davis (now closing in on 500,000 listens) and the weekly joy Lisa Brandt and I call Gracefully and Frankly”(which is nearly at 240,000). These, along with this journal, will have to be the way I share myself and my stories. And the emails and messages I get keep me connected. Thank you!

From what I’ve gleaned, taking on retirement is a job in and of itself. Not just in filling the hours – far from it: there are always volunteer positions and freelance that people can seek.

But, psychologically, it comes with a process that is a lot like the grief cycle. Normally (whatever that is) the yearning continues for 3-12 months, and even up to two years.

It’s the loss of your professional identity. The social connection. The structure and routine.

Experts recommend seeking counsel, or just allowing yourself to grieve. Rebuilding your identity with different hobbies, pastimes and activities, and creating a new structure and routine. Goodness knows (as I found out first-hand) having no structure can mean it feels like a Saturday night and get-out-the-Grey-Goose every danged evening. And that’s not good for anyone.

For Mr. Colbert, the future is bright: he’ll land wherever he wants and is already diving into co-writing a new Lord of the Rings film. But it’ll take time (and plenty of that in a shrink’s office, no doubt) to deal with the pain of what has happened to him as America takes on an increasingly fascist air, particularly where comedians and truth-tellers are concerned.

I wish him only the best in whatever this newly-turned 62-year-old plans. Yes, there are plenty of people who’ve been turfed from their jobs, but this is a different case and anyone who says otherwise doesn’t want to recognize it. The Colberts won’t need a GoFundMe to keep going, or to start downloading coupons for groceries, like so many who have been fired must do. Perhaps because 23 years ago I experienced myself what it feels like to lose a public position, his firing resonates loudly with me. But more likely because he could be the biggest canary in the coal mine where media control is concerned. For that matter, CBS has already signed its own death warrant. I care more about the fate of the historic Ed Sullivan Theater than I do about what’s left of the network.

May he follow in the footsteps of David Letterman, and do only what he wants and when he wants to do it from here on in. I wish him even a fraction of the joy he’s given us, and none of the consternation he caused among the worst of them.

As Letterman himself said the other night (quoted above), “You can take away a man’s show; you can’t take away a man’s voice.” Hear, hear. And that goes for women, too.

Hello!

Last week if you read my journal here, you may remember my message to myself was “enough.”

So, with that in my mind and heart today, I will pass on writing a blog and invite you back here next week. (Of course, Lisa Brandt and I will have a new episode of our Gracefully and Frankly podcast Thursday and I look forward to talking to you then.)

In case you’re not on Facebook or other social media, I did put together a gentle video that I think you’ll like that had a true Mother’s Day and Mother Nature theme.

Enjoy this, know that we’re having a peaceful day together, Rob and I, and thank you for coming by.

Erin

Just a thought… The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough. [Rabindranath Tagore]

I’m spending these days in the cocoon of our island cabin in the woods as we head into the heart-heaviest week of my year – Mother’s Day this Sunday and then the 11^th anniversary of Lauren’s passing the next day. I’m always torn about what to post on Facebook that day: in many ways I’d like to forget about that morning in Jamaica when we got the call from her mother-in-law that she’d died suddenly in her sleep. In other ways I feel it’s disrespectful of her and her memory to just let the day pass.

What also crosses my mind is, Are people tired of hearing about this? because honestly I’m sure some are. That’s how grief and the world go: everything keeps turning and moving on, but you are still reminded constantly of your person, that day, the events surrounding their passing, and all of the things that still swirl in your heart and your head.

Regrets. Longings. Joy. Questions. Even anger. All of the feelings that so many people figure you should be “over” by now.

That’s not how it works. I can only tell you my experience (and this is in no way how you or anyone else should grieve; each of our experiences is as unique as our DNA). The sadness hits so much less frequently than it used to do that sometimes I feel disloyal to her. She walks with me, she listens while I talk to her, she rolls her eyes when Rob and I recall the hilarious things she said and did as a child, adolescent and adult. My heart overflows with pride for the woman and mother she became, and the people she touched on her way to her next destination.

Just as it was in those darkest days of eleven years ago, gratitude is the only way Rob and I have found to keep moving forward. Sometimes my modus operandi is to run and to stay as busy as I can in an effort to escape the inevitable question of why? and the vast unfairness of losing one’s only child. But coming to recognize that for what it is – escaping – is helping me to try to break a pattern. And that is by trying to remember one simple word: enough.

We had enough.

We have enough.

We and this life we have built are enough.

For all the love we had to give her, it was enough – enough to let her know she could move on to whatever is next in her soul’s journey.

“Enough” is a funny word that looks even stranger the more you write and read it. But it’s a word that is also an admonishment, a comfort and a reminder.

Because sometimes enough is all we get, and it’s more than we could have hoped for. And holding on to that thought, that immense gratitude, just has to be enough. Making peace with that as best I can makes all the difference.

My wish for you is that you may you have enough.

Just a thought… To love and be loved is to feel the sun from both sides. [David Viscott]

I struggled with what to write for you today because my heart and soul are so wrapped up in this little cabin on a tiny Gulf Island off the coast of Vancouver Island. The last thing I want to do is bore you, or stop you from visiting here!

So today I’ll focus on some impending puppy news.

The last time Dottie was in a family way and I posted her brand new pups (that was around Christmas of 2023) I had just one person who was notably angry – probably on X, where anger goes to grow – that I was promoting a breeder instead of adopting strays. Let me say this first of all: if adopting is a possibility, people should definitely have the choice to do that.

My dear pal and Gracefully and Frankly partner Lisa Brandt is the first person to do so: she’s homed and loved many dogs as well as senior cats, to whom she has given the best years of their lives. Her current pet Cuddles is a prime example of that and I have the utmost respect and adoration for her for this reason: she knows she won’t have a whole decade or two with her beloved fur friend, and that there will be medical bills and worries. Yet she puts her big heart out there and she and husband Derek enjoy their family for just as long as they have him, her or them. So, yes, adoption is the way to go. (I have a joke about this at the end, by the way. I could NOT stop laughing!)

But with our Havanese dogs Dottie and Livi, they came to us in a different kind of way. We fell in love with the breed after seeing one in the Westminster Dog Show and knew of one in our Toronto condo building. They were the breed we wanted, having had negative experiences with a few others, and just as many with mixed breeds. We’re not species-ist, I swear!

Anyway, Dottie happens to share a birthday with our Lauren, and we found her the day after. It seemed “meant to be.” But she came with a caveat: Dottie was the personal pet of a highly-respected breeder in Cobble Hill, about 45 minutes up island from us, and she would have to continue to be part of owner Bev’s foster breeding program. Apparently this isn’t such an unusual situation, but it was (and is) for us.

This sounded great in our excitement about bringing this beautiful girl into our lives, but we have been at the mercy of timing and Mother Nature ever since. After Dottie’s first litter of six lovely pups, she’s been due to hook up with a boy for another one. Our vacations plus the breeder’s availability have gotten in the way and there has been no litter #2. Here she is with her new pups back in 2023.

When Livi went into heat six weeks ago, we figured Dot would follow in her diaper pads shortly thereafter. But nope. Livi has been successfully mated and as of this writing is halfway through her pregnancy…we THINK. The weird thing about doggie gestation is you often don’t know until they go off their food if they’re expecting. Livi is showing no signs of that, but the fact that she and her boyfriend mated (or “tied”) three times puts the odds in her favour.

Then there’s Dottie. She was due to be bred as well, which should have had both dogs in the “maternity ward” (where they met, and which first gave Bev the idea that we should take Livi home with us to stay, since her former owner was now unable to keep her) for June and July. This period without the pups would have allowed us to plan to go to Ottawa for a longer visit with the grandkids and their folks.

But it now looks like, if we go, Dottie will accompany us since now her timing is not meshing with the breeder’s plans. I’ll be SO glad when this time in their and our lives is done; we want the dogs to be 100% ours to enjoy for the rest of their (and likely our) lives. But who can plan when Mother Nature calls the shots, right?

As for their new part-time home on Pender Island, they absolutely love it. Not just the longer walks (not so much for Livi, who is a little bit of a slug at the best of times, and doesn’t keep up with the black and white blur that we call her “sister”) but having a big area to run in, to sniff and explore and in which to munch whatever grass the deer aren’t interested in.

Oh, the deer. Both dogs bark when they see one go by, but last week as a new mom and her fawn passed our window, I had Rob scoop up the dogs and hold them both where they couldn’t see our magical visitors. And I got this picture.

All in all, life here is so good that it’s taking all the self-control I have not to gush here every week. But I thought that sharing some puppy news might be a change of pace. And who can’t use some good news on a Monday after the bizarre weekend we just lived through (again)? Oh, and paying the joke tax, now that you’ve read the blog…