Erin's Journals

Just a thought… If ye break faith with us who die, we shall not sleep though poppies grow in Flanders fields. [John McCrae]

As Rob and I have walked the small Pleasantville streets of Sidney, BC the past week, we have both noticed and commented on the proliferation of poppies on people’s lapels. And not just in our age range or skin tones.

Don’t believe the hate that spreads on the internet at this time of year about “those people” who don’t wear them. Sometimes our poppies fall off our lapels; sometimes they’re at home. Just be kind and wear your own is our motto.

On a beautiful large lawn near our home overlooking the ocean there is a display that we almost literally stumbled upon during a dark dog walk the other night. Here’s what we saw.

Around the country today, Canadians of all ages will take a moment – or hopefully more – to remember the sacrifices of the men and women who have fought on the side of righteousness; who have given their sanity, their body parts, years of service and, in many cases, their lives to serve Canada.

And it warmed Rob’s and my heart to see a story on our local news that you might have read or watched last week about an app, founded by a Canadian vet, that has mapped out gravesites from across the planet to share the stories of thousands of fallen soldiers. For it is in this telling, in bringing these brave men and women back to life, that we are reminded of the happiness they felt (the founder’s grandfather died in a mine blast after visiting his brother posted in nearby Normandy). Just as in the words of John McCrae, who “lived, felt dawn, saw sunset’s glow – loved and were loved….”

Here’s a link to the story on CBC if you haven’t already seen it.

To Ryan Mullens: you deserve the Order of Canada. You have found a modern way to remember old-fashioned love of country, bravery, and dedication to the fight against fascism.

For many today, tears will fall, not just in memory of horrors past, but in despair for what is to come. “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it,” George Santayana said. Today we do remember history.

After today, it remains up to us to support the side of righteousness and remember that, as Edmund Burke said, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men [and women] to do nothing.”

We remember. And we thank you from the bottom of our hearts today – and always.

Just a thought… There is no medicine like hope, no incentive so great, and no tonic so powerful as expectation of something better tomorrow. [Orison Swett Marden]

Whew. One more day until the world finds out what’s happening south of our borders. Maybe you’re reading this from the US; I hope things go smoothly and we’re done with the drama-la for a while. Of course, the best way to predict the future is to look at the past, so if Kamala does indeed prevail, it’s quite likely that the loser will reject the voters’ voices and drag out the answers we’re all awaiting. So on we go.

Lisa Brandt and I, who did a Facebook Live on Friday that is an hour of fun, laughs and even a bit of deeper discussion, will do a fresh 24-hour turnaround for this Thursday’s Episode 99. We hope you’ll join us. In the meantime, I’ll share a link from our third FB Live event at the end of today’s blog!

I write today’s journal with a few specific people in mind. Their names are Grace, Carol and Colleen, and I’m sure so many more people here today share their situation in missing their spouse terribly. But perhaps they, too, remember when a respite from their Significant Other was a welcome thing. No doubt there will come a day when I, too, long for the 24/7 togetherness. But for now, a few thoughts on a welcome week of separation.

Rob and I are joined at the hip. Except for when he plays hockey, every endeavour, whether work (except for my writing and for recording and editing Drift and Gracefully & Frankly) or recreational, is shared.

So when we’re apart, I take the time to appreciate it. Do I miss him? Of course! Especially when something important that he would usually handle falls through the cracks. One such major issue just about had me missing a flight on Saturday – a story I’ll share Thursday with Lisa and you on Episode 99. But Lisa helped me in immeasurable ways as I showed up to shine emceeing the Excellence Canada awards at the Delta Hotel Convention Centre in Toronto a week ago today.

She even took a picture of me on the ballroom’s big screen!

We had a chance to meet two of our heroes: Kim Renton and Kathy Keefe, the co-founders and superwomen behind enVyPillow. After years of their sponsoring Drift and then G&F, Lisa and I finally got to meet them and they were as delightful in person as we knew they would be. They were there to be interviewed as part of the Entrepreneur Excellence portion of the day.

Spending four days at Lisa and Derek’s home in lovely Port Stanley, a tad sleepier than it is during its summer touristy months, was wonderful. From dining out to staying in, buying my favourite Liverpool jeans at a local ladies’ wear store in town and getting a gentle facial, to just spending hours talking (and later planning and doing that Facebook Live), it was so soul-quenching that neither of us could believe how slowly our time together went. Isn’t it always that way with best friends?

Rob and I would check in via text, while – when not playing hockey four times last week – he spent hours each day settling in to the condo, setting up shelves, rearranging and even purging all but one small box of Christmas mementoes (more on that in a future blog). He and I FaceTimed while we watched the fifth and then final innings of the Dodgers’ World Series winning game, and would collaborate on our favourite word game until we triumphed. That’s how we stayed connected. Every call, every text ended with more “I Love You’s” than we usually say in a day. Absence does indeed make the heart grow fonder, and that’s why time apart – we think – is essential in keeping the spark lit after 38 years this month (our “first date” anniversary).

But it was the homecoming that was sweetest. Not the dreaded job of unpacking the suitcase, which Porter thankfully sent along with me (they have yet to let me down!), but the welcome at Victoria’s small and sweet airport.

Rob met me with lovely flowers and two very happy little dogs.

And I couldn’t resist a chance to let them show their affection. I mean, airport arrivals are full of happy reunions, but how many lickings do you get to experience?

May we feel this joy all week. Don’t miss this Thursday’s Episode 99 of G&F and here’s that live hour from last Friday. I hope you enjoy watching as much as we did doing it for you.

In the meantime, Keep Kamala and Carry On-a-La.

Just a thought… If I cannot make it better, I will not make it worse. [Mira Frankl]

This is the blog I never wanted to write, but knew one day would have to be penned. And I will beg your indulgence in reading it.

On Wednesday morning, one of our dear Mira’s two sons texted to tell us that his beloved mother had died in hospital. After being unable to be roused from a deep sleep, she was taken Tuesday evening to hospital and passed away hours later due to heart, lung and kidney failure. Earlier in the week she’d been told it was a matter of days. Her 99-year-old body was tired and she was ready to go.

Alas, selfishly, we could never be prepared to say good-bye.

My friend, I could write a book about her amazing life, but would come up short in my efforts for “Mondays with Mira” and would not dare try. You’ve read some of my recollections of her life: a teen-aged prisoner of a Nazi work camp during WWII (who even dared to dilute the metal being used to make bombs to sabotage them), a gifted linguist who spoke languages so fluently that her captors assumed she was German (instead of Yugoslavian, which she was), and a beloved mother, adored wife and a cancer survivor.

I haven’t even told you that, against her husband’s fearful wishes, Mira, the second woman in Israel to get her driver’s license, would hide soldiers in the back of her station wagon and drive over mined roads – headlights off – to get them to and from the front during her early years in Israel, to which she and her Jewish husband relocated in the country’s infancy.

I could tell you these and dozens more stories, but what I might risk leaving out is how incredibly warm and wise she was. She called Rob and me “her kids” and could never do enough for us. She asked for little, but appreciated every moment we spent with her.

My final hours with Mira came last Monday, the day before her departure to the hospital. Her beautiful and strong fingernails (which never saw polish in her life) had grown so long that they were making her crazy.

I took my electric filing system, cuticle conditioner, nail treatment and hand cream. We spent an hour holding hands as I did her nails at the dining table; she was so thrilled with the outcome that she couldn’t stop raving and smiling. It took very little to make that face glow.

But nothing fulfilled her more than giving: in recent months she gifted us an old letter opener, a bathrobe of hers, two nightgowns she’d barely worn and an umbrella a friend had given her years ago. She tried to give us this ornament or that picture, but we told her we had too much stuff of our own!

And now a thank-you to YOU: her wonderment and joy at seeing the hundreds of birthday greetings September 1 on my Facebook page was thrilling. She was incredulous! Her appreciation of Dottie and Livi visits, her love of Colin and Jane and even her flirting with Mike Cooper (well, HE says she was) when he met her, were a joy to witness.

I will reflect often upon what we think gave Mira her longevity and sharpness of mind: this woman who continued to dominate at Bridge and her word search books, who read voraciously and enjoyed Jeopardy despite English being her, I don’t know, sixth language were inspiring.

She consumed no caffeine, nicotine or alcohol her entire life, and kept salt and sugar to a minimum (but loved her Chinese food). She ate small meals and stopped when she was full. We introduced her to new foods like pumpkin pie, but her all-time favourite was still the humble mashed potato.

She loved to laugh, cried unabashedly, and expressed her immense heart with no reservations. She never upset herself over things she could not change; she mourned those lost in the ongoing wars in the Middle East (on both sides) and worried over her friends’ children who reside there. She regretted being too ill to vote in the recent BC election. She hoped “The Woman” would beat Trump in the US.

That full, tired heart of hers was filled with love. Every day was a gift and she would awaken and say, “Well, I am still here, my dears!” when she would email or call.

Widowed, she loved her newfound life in Canada, especially in quiet Sidney, BC, where she settled 25 years ago, where residents and visitors alike revelled in conversations with the small, white-haired woman who would go out every single day with her walker (until the last two weeks) to get her groceries, to get her hair done and nails trimmed. Until last winter, she was a part an integral part of Sidney life through her dedication to volunteering. She gave and she gave until her body gave out. And when it did, she made sure it would be given to science. I hope she helps unlock secrets to healthy longevity!

Rob and I are heartbroken at her passing. No one in our lives will love as she did – without guile or reservation, with no expectations and only love and good wishes. She urged us to travel while we can, reminded us to be forgiving but not be taken advantage of. She herself gave and forgave, and although she is no longer at home to welcome us for visits, ice cream and whatever pastries she’d picked up with which to surprise Rob, we will always cherish those hours, those stories, those incredibly strong and sturdy hugs and countless kisses.

We will continuously marvel at how chance brought her into our lives. And our gratitude will be as unending as our love for her. Now she dances again with her beloved Zvonko and her dear grandson Avi in a place that knows no war, no winds – only joy and gentle breezes.

Her memory will always be a blessing. She showed us how to live.

Mira Frankl

Sept 1 1925 – Oct 23 2024

Just a thought…

We were practically singing (or was it “signalling?”) in the rain as we emerged into the BC downpour on Saturday from our voting station in North Saanich on provincial Election Day.

First off, yes, we had our voting on a Saturday! I love that, especially for the folks who work Monday to Friday and for whom wedging in time to vote negatively affects their already-busy lives.

Why the skip in our step? Well, there’s a feeling after having voted that I only get after rolling up my sleeve to give blood, or rolling down my sleeve after getting the latest shot to protect my health. Call it virtue-signalling if you like, but it’s far more than that.

For one thing, it’s a nod to our past as women. We have grandmothers who were the first in their lineage to have the right to vote. For another, it’s acknowledgment of other so-called democracies that face erosion and possible moves to fascism with increasingly blatant attempts to stifle the rights of those who can vote. Our system is far from perfect (I’d like to vote directly for the PM, for example, in the next federal election) but it’s the best we’ve got in this country of ours. If that’s more virtue-signalling, so be it.

For the first time, I found myself as somewhat of a quiet activist within my own family. You see, I have two nieces who were ambivalent about casting their votes in their first eligible election cycle; they weren’t “feeling” the candidates and didn’t see one who answered all of their concerns, whether they be trans rights, help for those who can’t afford a place to live, and so on – all legitimate concerns in the 21^st century, to be sure.

So I sent impassioned texts urging them both to vote on Saturday and to choose a candidate strategically: find someone most likely to protect or improve those things that are important to you, but who isn’t an outlier (as opposed to an out-and-out liar LOL). Do not support the one and end up eroding the strength of the party that is apt to do the most for your causes. Thus the “chess move.”

Even at our age, we leaned upon friends who had done more research and had voted early. We asked opinions. We didn’t just rely on pundits or predictions. We voted carefully. But most importantly, we voted. I got the sticker, and wore it out like a badge of honour.

There’s far too much at stake, both here and across borders and oceans, not to fulfill our duties as citizens. We can scream to the rooftops “How can it be this close!?!” about the US polls, but if we don’t get out to our own when we get the chance, just what are we signalling, anyway?

Just a thought… Goodbyes are only for those who love with their eyes. Because for those who love with heart and soul, there is no such thing as separation. [Rumi]

I’ve been thinking a lot about gratitude lately. You know me: I don’t like to leave it unexpressed. This past week we had yet another reason to be especially thankful and I’m grateful to be able to share it with you on this Thanksgiving Monday. (Spoiler alert: it’s a happy ending.)

I’ve often talked here and on our Gracefully and Frankly podcast about Mira, our friend we met through volunteering about four years ago. She turned 99 on Sept. 1 and although we’ve seen signs of her enormous and giving heart slowing down, her energy waning, we have also been blessed to experience the joy she finds in every day.

Well, not every day.

Just before Christmas of last year, it was Rob and I who delivered the news to Mira that her dear grandson had passed away. The details aren’t mine to share, only that there had been estrangement from his loved ones for some time and that finally, tragically, his family got the call that no one ever wants to receive but dreads every time there is a ring or a ping.

Since then, we’ve watched again and again as a loving grandmother’s eyes filled with tears recalling her early years as a caregiver for her beloved, brilliant and sensitive boy.

Having deep and baffling grief in common, our ties strengthened even further.

Last Tuesday in the dark pre-dawn hours, Mira pushed the button on her wristband to call and be taken to the hospital by ambulance. Although we’re not sure, it seems she might have had a mild heart attack.

Rob and I spent time with her daily. And as we sat in the sunshine outside the hospital on Saturday, trying to avoid the smoke wafting towards us from patients and their visitors who lit up nearby, we talked for a good hour. When she wondered if her heart just simply broke last December and she didn’t know it, we told her we’d heard of something like Broken Heart Syndrome, which we’d witnessed when another elderly friend suffered a heart attack upon the death of her husband of nearly fifty years. (She recovered fully and is nearing her 95^th birthday this December.)

Our gratitude is not only for Mira’s homecoming yesterday, but for the care she received at Victoria General Hospital. The nurses, Simi and Prateesh, could not have been kinder; the doctor who came by to visit was gentle in explaining to her (through us) what he thought and what was happening next. Of course, Mira has a son who lives in the area and he was the primary recipient of updates (as he should have been) but we felt honoured again to have been part of Mira’s care team. She says we’re “her kids” and although we know our places, stepping up was just what family – and dear friends – do.

The whole week of hospitalization had a strange parallel: while my own dad’s residence in Kelowna, BC has been in lockdown during a resurgence of Covid (of which he has had a seemingly mild case himself this past week), it was healing to us to be able to be with Mira daily. The way her face lit up when we poked our heads around the curtain in her room, the pleasure she took in the walks and talks we shared for hours in the past week, were everything to us. They reminded us of how many patients and residents everywhere long for the contact we were fortunate to be able to provide. And as often as our health care systems across the provinces seem to – and often do – let us down, when she needed it, great care was there.

Mira said she asked her doctor why they should spend so much time and care on someone who is 99 years old; why they don’t spend that time on younger patients who need it instead. Of course, we laughed when she told us and I asked if we should just send her out on an ice floe somewhere.

But as she waved good-bye to us from her fourth-floor room window while we pulled away in our convertible in the late day sunshine Saturday, we felt as if we were the ones who were floating away from our anchor, our home, our love, our Mira.

In a lifetime filled with good-byes, we are thankful for the ones that are only for the shortest of times. Those are the partings my heart can take these days.

Happy Thanksgiving. Hug hard and often. And know that I am grateful to you for letting me share our stories.