Erin's Journals

Just a thought… Great achievement is usually born out of great sacrifice, and is never the result of selfishness. [Napoleon Hill]

You can watch a video version of this journal on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube.

Monday. Spring. For us, the first full day yesterday meant having the fireplace log on the TV and trying to think warm thoughts amidst the mass of covidiots who are still out there protesting because they have to wear a piece of cloth or paper on their faces.

I can’t say any more here than I’ve already said…just that in the city of Kelowna, BC, where one protest of several hundred unmasked people took place yesterday, my dad is literally wasting away in a seniors’ residence. But that’s okay right? He’s 87 and obviously he doesn’t matter, when what really counts is being able to party with your bros and to hell with the rest of us.

The variants are spreading to the point where a third wave is looking more like a matter of not “if” but “when” and some of us are worried sick about those we love. Our friends. Our parents. Our children. Each other. Yeah, never mind. What a bunch of privileged sucks who have no idea what hardship really is. So…I’ll move on.

I had a four-way Zoom call with my sisters yesterday: one who lives in the Ajijic area of Mexico (near Guadalajara) with her husband and just got her first vaccine – tremendous news in that she lives with lupus – and my other two sisters, who are both in Kelowna.

We talked about the usual things: updates on how we are, what’s up with Dad and some ongoing mysterious withdrawals from his bank account that he has no idea about, Colin made a cameo to say “hi” to the coven, and then we wrapped up on a joking note, as we almost always do.

My younger sister Leslie, who, along with her husband Paul is doing bang-up business with a new concierge delivery service they named Better Call Paul (my idea, thank you!), was talking about wearing a mask so frequently: the pains and pluses. I told her to remember how much she’s saving on lipstick, even though I should talk. I still wear makeup when I go out and am constantly washing masks that look like the Shroud of Turin except with foundation or tinted powder.

Then she added that because she doesn’t spend much time in front of a mirror, she often forgets tweezer duties (and the girls on here will know exactly what I mean). We joked about how when Covid is over, maybe we’ll unmask, only to discover we all have the equivalent of hockey playoff beards. But I told her to look at the bright side: those whiskers could be acting like Velcro to keep her mask in place.

Right?

God, you have to laugh. When so many people have real hardships, you just have to. Like a pal of mine in the ER the other day who was getting medication on the spot for some severe pain. Two other guys were also in there and one was getting constantly contacted by phone. His ringer? A train whistle. I’m not even kidding. If it was me next to him, I’d have politely asked him to please put his phone on vibrate. Then if he refused, I might have been tempted to knock that Orange Blossom Special right out of his hand.

Honestly, if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry. And really, haven’t we wasted enough makeup already?

Take good care and I’ll be back with you here on Thursday.

Just a thought… Challenges are what make life interesting and overcoming them is what makes life meaningful. [Joshua J. Marine]

*Before I get to today’s journal, I have a serious note here for you about this website. There have been repeated attempts to hack erindavis.com by what we assume are bots. The end game? Maybe ransom. My friend Lisa was a victim last month and it cost her a lot of money to rebuild her website. SO FAR they haven’t succeeded on ours and Rob is working on this in partnership with Graymatter, our web designer, to thwart whoever’s doing this.

But, if you come here and there’s nothing on Monday or it appears very different, please do join me at www.facebook.com/erindavispage or on Instagram @erindawndavis. I’ll keep you abreast as best I can, but know that we’ll still be posting and if worse comes to worst – after 18 years of safety here – I’ll bring erindavis.ca off the bench and move there. Wish us luck. We’ve already had my VISA card hijacked this week…so it’s been a few days here!

Now to today’s journal. You can watch a video version on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube.

Hey – notice anything new over on the video journal? Check it out: we moved to a new set! Okay, not exactly, although over the years, Rob and I have been serial relocators. No, what happened here was a bit of a necessity – see, we have an apartment downstairs in this house, and we’ve got guests coming to stay in it starting in April. Yes, we told them about a six-year-old and a toddler here occasionally, and it’s gonna get loud up here in all of the best ways, but they’re coming anyway! 

So we’ve set up a new space to record these. I also have two speeches to deliver – keynote addresses that are happening soon – maybe a Facebook live event for a company I’ve partnered with in the past, and just yesterday I was a podcast guest for the Vicar’s Crossing podcast: two priests from the London, Ontario area, believe it or not. So yes, this room is going to get busy. 

I love this. Setting up my iPad and MacBook, getting the lighting so I don’t look like I’m in a horror show and all of the steps that you take to do something in your own house. It’s still really a bit of a miracle to me. And then I edit the video, post it on Facebook and Instagram, and Rob puts up my written journal.

I wonder how we used to do these five days a week but, of course, then it was just written, and then I tried an audio journal. Hard to believe that this Saturday will mark 18 years since I first wrote a journal at erindavis.com. And here we are. I won’t stop trying new things, just to see what you’re interested in – what isn’t too far above my skill set – and what provides more pleasure than headaches. So far, so good…at least on my end. Hopefully the same for you.

As I was writing and rewriting my keynote yesterday, I came across a wonderful quote that really sums up where all of us are today. After a year of losses – the loss of hope, the loss of plans, of security, for some, jobs and homes even – we all look forward to a day (variants permitting) where life can begin to look normal again. And on that day as we start to heal, no matter what it is you’ve suffered – from death and loss as we have in our lives, or from those other hardships and disappointments – this quote resonates so loudly. 

And on that note, back to tweaking the room and setting up for the next Zoom. You take care and have a great weekend as we get set to welcome spring on Saturday at 5:37 am EDT. I’ll be back with you here on Monday.

Just a thought… Some people see the glass half full. Others see it half empty. I see a glass that’s twice as big as it needs to be. [George Carlin] 

You can watch a video version of this journal on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube.

On this, the Ides of March, I turn my focus to the echoes of March – thanks to comments you made when I posted this on Facebook last week: that I’d always thought I didn’t clean because I didn’t have the time, but lockdown seems to have proven that wrong.

I was reminiscing about this time a year ago, when I thought: I’m not going to order a bunch of masks online – by the time they get here this will be over. Yeah, right. So I asked about your misconceptions, and I got some great responses. About 140 of them. I chose a few to share today and, as always, thank you for staying in touch through Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, email and in whatever way it is that you reach out. 

A great many centered around connection. Judy B wrote: “I remember saying to my son on March 13th, ‘But we’ll still have Easter dinner, right?’ And he said, ‘Mom, I don’t think so.’ And here we are a year later, same conversation, same answer.”

From Lynn: “I was made aware of the huge inequality in our world. The ‘haves’ could ride it out and complain about being bored, not being able to hug your grandkids, couldn’t go south this year etc.. The ‘have nots’ lost jobs, some were scared, hungry, some were cold over the winter. I realized that cashiers, nurses, doctors, teachers, maintenance workers, shelter staff are the most important people in the world. I realized how lucky I am, and will never take it for granted again.” 

Truly, Lynn, none of us will take the before-life we had, or what we cherish or miss most now, for granted. But I’ll suggest to you that even those who’ve been struggling the most also miss the hugs and grandkids and children and friends the most.

Because as Claire points out here, it’s not what we have, but who we have, that matters most. She says: “I’ve definitely been made aware of my strengths and weaknesses this past year, that’s for sure. I find myself quite often saying, ‘I don’t care,’ mostly about material things that surround me. I know I am picking up the phone to speak to my family members on a daily basis, rather than the usual, ‘I’ve lost track of time and really should call so & so.’ Oh, I also know that my husband and I apparently have a hidden talent when it comes to cutting and colouring hair, lol.”

Ah yes – the topic of hair came up a lot in your observations. JoAnn says her hairdresser made her promise she’d never try to cut her own again! And speaking of care, Brenda despairs for the plants she left in her office when they all bugged out – and this was an office where they had dealt with PPE for SARS and Ebola in the past. (Remember when we didn’t know what “PPE” even meant?) She thought she’d be back soon. The good news is, the plants were cacti, so there’s hope.

Mali shared this observation: “My biggest misconception was thinking that technology could be dehumanizing and cold and tricky to learn for some (despite a job which depends on it). I learned that students could learn effectively, build connections, elders could connect with family, individuals would innovate, inspire, create and communicate using whatever was available.”

And then, of course – because of the universal balance of yin and yang – there was the flood of misinformation and outright lies that people were fed, disguised as facts. Stella notes: “I always believed that if people were given scientific evidence from top medical teams around the world about precautions to take during this pandemic, they would abide by these rules in order to be safe and keep their loved ones safe. And yet, some people continue to do whatever they want to do to the detriment of everyone else.”

And finally today from Norma: “SO many changes in one year that we never saw coming OR never expected it to have the impact it did on our lives. If we have learned one thing through all of this, I hope it is the love of family and friends brings true happiness, not the ‘things’ we thought we needed.” 

Yes – right down to the toilet paper and Lysol wipes. Remember when we treated our groceries as though they’d come from Chernobyl? We learned so much in the past year, but if your comments are any indication – and I believe they are – the biggest lesson to hit home has been something we knew all along: the importance of hugs, of hellos, of information and, most of all, of connection.

It’s why doing this with you means so much to me, and I appreciate you being here. We’ve a long way to go, but we’re heading there together. We can do this. Talk to you again on Thursday and thank you.

Just a thought… The things you do for yourself are gone when you are gone, but the things you do for others remain as your legacy. [Kalu Ndukwe Kalu]

You can watch a video version of this journal on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube.

I didn’t know what to talk about with you here today. I mean, this week has really taken me down in ways that I didn’t expect. Unfortunately, a lot of it had to do with the truly nasty comments people were making in response to a Facebook post I put up on Tuesday that said:

Now, I’m not going to get into the whole Meghan and Harry interview with Oprah; you’ve either seen it and formed your own opinion – which I’m sure not going to bother trying to change – or you haven’t seen it, which tells me you don’t care.

I will say this: when the 99-year-old Duke of Edinburgh finally leaves this world, which could be in a week or ten years – who knows – Meghan Markle will be blamed by the press and a lot of the people who read or believe it. That’s where we are today and it depresses the hell out of me. But enough about that. Not my chickens, not my farm.

I want to talk about some older folks – just plain folks like us – who have come into my heart in the last several months. Since Rob and I started delivering hot and frozen meals, through a local community centre, to seniors who didn’t want to or couldn’t go out during Covid, I’ve begun to make connections that even I didn’t know were there. And until last month, I didn’t realize how strong they had become.

It started with Anne, one part of a couple, Anne and John, to whom I’d deliver a big paper bag each week, opening a tiny gate and walking the few steps to their row house. Every Thursday we’d exchange a few words. Anne was unfailingly grateful and would tell me every week, her eyes so expressive as she told me what these deliveries meant to her. I could only put my hand to my heart and say it was our pleasure.

Sometimes when we’d call ahead to let them know just exactly when we were coming, Rob would talk to Anne and John’s son who would be visiting – from where, we never learned. When I met him, I did tease the son that with his shiny bald pate, he surely shared his father’s hair stylist and he laughed. How alike they looked! (My own dad, who’s had very little hair since his late teens, would have laughed too.)

And then, a few weeks ago, we got an email with our delivery list and Anne’s name wasn’t on it. Feeling worried, Rob wrote to our community centre contact and asked if she was okay. They told us that Anne had been moved into a care facility.

When we made that solo delivery to John the next day, their son told us that Anne was in great hands. John, his eyes watery, said that she was doing really well. He gratefully accepted the food package, plus the card that we’d written in and sealed to tell him our hearts were with him and to give his dear Anne our love when next he saw her, which I realize now with Covid, was probably not at all.

Those same hearts, Rob’s and mine, sank only two weeks later, when John’s name wasn’t on our delivery list. This time, the news was what we’d dreaded: sweet John, with his walker and his soft British accent, had died. A broken heart perhaps? We can only guess. But now this couple with whom we’d really only had the briefest of exchanges, but had formed what we felt was a connection, was gone.

We reminded ourselves that in plain demographics, it can only be logical and natural, really, that some of the people to whom we deliver won’t be at their door, the longer we continue to do this.

It is logical, but that doesn’t make it easier. One woman with gorgeous blue-green eyes shared with me last week that her cancer had returned, and then, as I took in that news, asked for my hairdresser’s name. She did make the appointment and I’ll find out later today how she liked my gal.

Another recipient now has a caregiver answer the door, as she recently suffered a broken shoulder. When I was let in to put the package on her kitchen counter, I asked the dear tiny lady how she was feeling and she asked, “Who are you?” So perhaps there’s a connection that was only ever one-sided, but I’m okay with that.

I never expect more than a “hello” and even though I’ve been given a bottle of wine and some chocolates at Christmas from a few of the folks to whom we deliver, the real gifts have been knowing that we’re doing even the smallest thing to remind these people – seniors and valued contributors to and members of our society – that they matter, that they’re cared for. That we remember they’re there and we notice when they’re not. And so, each time we get our delivery list emailed to us, we check to see whose name is missing and wonder if they’re okay.

They may never know what they mean to us, these 14 or so seniors that Rob and I encounter every Thursday, but I can assure you, it’s more than we mean to them. And that’s an imbalance I am more than happy to encourage.

Have a gentle weekend, my friend, remember that your clocks go ahead this Saturday night and we’ll be back with you here on Monday. You pick the time!

Just a thought… They may forget your name, but they will never forget how you made them feel. [Maya Angelou]

You can watch a video version of this journal on my Facebook page or here on YouTube.

This is International Women’s Day. This year’s theme is #ChoosetoChallenge. To me, that means shaking up the status quo, asking “Why not?” instead of accepting anything less. And as Brené Brown put it, no longer sacrificing your authenticity for acceptance.

My hero in 2020 and 2021 is Doctor Bonnie Henry. The Provincial Health Officer and voice of the Covid response in BC for the past year, she has done her absolute best, I believe, to keep us as safe as we can be, informed and advised. Dr. Henry has been not only saluted in song and on signs (as well as with a designer Fluevog shoe!), but of course she’s been vilified in our “shoot the messenger” and “I believe Facebook” society. Anytime she’s made a decision that’s made me go, “Okay, but…” her move has soon been followed in other provinces. Has she always been right? I can’t say that for sure, but I believe in her and I would trust her with my life. I already have.

I am also bowing in deep gratitude to every woman – and yes, I know there are men in health care, of course, but on this International Women’s Day, I’m going to focus on the females, okay? The ones who have worked so hard, and I don’t say “tirelessly” because I know you’ve been exhausted, to bring us back to health and/or keep us going during this past year.

Last week as Rob and I were giving blood – and yes, Canadian Blood Services always needs donations – I met a nurse named Ronna. Her grey hair pulled back in a ponytail, she had kind and smiling eyes. She’s a nurse in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at one of our local hospitals, but had recently begun working with Canadian Blood Services too. As we chatted during my lengthy intake interview, Ronna said that she had “hung a lot of blood bags” in her life, but she’d never really stopped to think of where that blood came from. And that she loved meeting the people who were giving this precious gift to help save patients.

I was moved almost beyond words by what she said, and was actually teary sharing that conversation with Rob later. And then I told her why we were there to give blood: in memory of our very avid donor daughter, Lauren. So I said, our reasons were many, but that we were just grateful to have a chance to do so. Meeting Ronna made this latest donation more meaningful than ever.

To her and everyone who’s saved a life, held a hand, made our arrivals into or departures out of this world a little easier, or in the case of my own sisters and me, been a great mother, thank you. Thanks, Mom.

We’ll never be able to repay the sacrifices you’ve made in the past year, but you deserve every accolade: today on International Women’s Day and always. Take good care and we’ll talk to you again on Thursday.