Erin's Journals

Just a thought… Be thankful for everything that happens in your life; it’s all an experience. [Roy Bennett]

Welcome to a brand new month. Ah, sweet October: a time of thanksgiving, of pumpkins and spice and whatever else nice you can find to lighten your heart. For us it’s a list of family celebrations: the latest being this little twinkle who turned a whole year old yesterday.

Her brother opened her gifts for and with her, while Rob and I basked in sharing this special milestone. Happy Birthday, Sweet Jane. How lucky we are to be a part of your life. You really are a joy to be around – cheerful, chatty and charming just like your mom.

The living and dining areas in her parents’ home were decorated with streamers and ribbons all laid out for the Insta-moments to come. But Jane, still a little groggy from a shortened late-day nap, was more content just to chill and take it all in. After the presents, she was buckled into her high chair, sung to and presented with a small cake topped with whipped cream and sliced blueberries.

But Jane didn’t do the “cake smash” that is so big a part of many babies’ first birthdays; it was there for the mess-making but she just poked at the topping, tasted a berry or two and that was it.

Over at the grown-ups’ table, we had a delicious and decadent Oreo cake, but curiosity about the organic sugar-free cake Brooke had gone to such trouble to bake got the better of me. I broke off a small bite and put some in my mouth. My eyes wide, I turned to Brooke, sitting next to me and said, “You know I’ll eat anything, but this is garbage!”

We both burst into laughter, as Colin asked what was so funny. See, here it is: I’m usually really careful with my words and I’d never intentionally hurt Brooke’s feelings. She knows this well about me. But on the other hand, she ribs me mercilessly about the fact that I never met an expiry date I didn’t want to challenge to the death (likely mine, she fears). She’s adamant about counting down those numbers on packages like a NASA launch crew, whereas I take them very much as a…suggestion. And while we never argue, it’s quite likely we’ll never see eye-to-eye on it, so we do have numerous funny exchanges on the topic.

Brooke also marvels (or is it recoils) at how I will try just about any kind of food; she frequently teases me with her gagging sound effect when we’re talking about meal choices, menu items or taste preferences. It’s part of how we get along and we both laugh about it a lot. So it was last night that when I actually put something in my face that elicited that kind of almost real gagging response, we both burst out laughing.

The cake was more like Irish soda bread and without that topping (which cost Brooke a fingernail and could have caused more damage when she had a run-in with the electric beaters) it might have been wonderful with a stew or soup. It was made with the absolute best of intentions and so much love and care. And I know we’ll laugh about it for years to come – and *I* won’t be the one who brings it up!

Here’s to the memories, the laughter and the moments of outright silliness. Events never come off the way we hope they will (especially if babies are involved), but it’s the slip-ups that make them memorable and keep us smiling long after the banners have been taken down and the gift bags packed away. (Oh, that’s something else she teases me about: I’m the queen of hoarding and reusing gift bags!)

I love this.

I’ve also had quite enough birthday cake for a while. At least until Colin’s turn a week Sunday. Autumn has come packed in layers of love and celebration. I wish you a slice of the same.

——

And I will tell you that when news came last night of Chrissy Teigen and John Legend losing their son Jack at the halfway point of Chrissy’s pregnancy, I wrote about the bravery that they have shown in sharing their grief to help others. My comments didn’t fit with or within this journal, written on Jane’s birthday, but you are welcome to go to my Facebook page to read more, or to add your voice. E.

Just a thought… Be fanatically positive and militantly optimistic. If something isn’t to your liking, change your liking. [Rick Steves]

Well, what a weekend that was! Thanks to our Friday popcorn-and-movie night, and a PA day for Colin today, we had two little boy sleepovers with him, and on my birthday Saturday, a night at an inn for me and my bigger boy (that would be Rob). I’m feeling mellow and happy and grateful today and frankly, my friend, I don’t know what to do with it.

As we were walking through a beautifully treed area yesterday in Malahat, BC yesterday, the fragrance of the breeze and sunshine on trees and plants recently drenched in days of intermittent rain, I shared with Rob my quandary: I’ve lost my edge.

So why is that not a good thing? I feel that in writing here, I should be more than a big bowl of trifle every time you come to visit: more than fruit and cream and bits of cake, I should use this space to share more, do more.

All around me there is pain and uncertainty. Every feed is filled with angry, acerbic comments. People are suffering from insecurities of every kind as we watch and wait and wonder what a pandemic that never truly went away is going to do next.

The problem is that I’m too damned happy.

Paging Catholic guilt. Catholic guilt – line one, please…. 

I haven’t felt this joyful in five years and I’m not sure how to handle these feelings. I’ve never felt so out of step with humankind in my life. I know, I know: I’ve suffered deeply – we have – for the past five years, in the aftermath of a family tragedy that I don’t even have to name here any more.

The last time we were this blissful, the rug was pulled out from under our lives. As I told you in Mourning Has Broken, I felt as if somehow we deserved it; the Monkey’s Paw effect. It sounds insane, but in trying to find some logic in the enormity of our loss, I had to find a way to blame myself.

Enough time has passed, enough reading done and wisdom accrued that I know not to dread that the universe will tug it again; my job is simply to embrace each day and be joyful for the opportunities that it contains. Live in the moment.

But where does that leave you, my dear reader? I sometimes feel my writings or posts on FB sound as if I’ve been lobotomized (remind me not to watch the Nurse Ratched trailer again on Netflix). A few weeks ago, a Twitter account run by the alleged puppet comic Ed the Sock commented on one of my optimistic posts, saying that he liked that wisdom so much more when it was accompanied by the crispy fortune cookie it came in. Stupid, yes, but that hit home.

I didn’t respond to let him/it know that he/it had gotten to me, opting to block him/it instead, but it gave me pause. My lack of edge was obviously something that he/it found worth ridiculing and although I don’t agree, I get that.

My form of humour has always been not to ridicule (MAGA hat wearers notwithstanding) and hopefully to find more clever ways to be funny than through being mean. I’m not perfect, but I’ve tried. A sock with a cigar in its face (?) can’t be expected to buy what I’m putting out there. But why the follow on Twitter, “Ed,” darn you? (Now there’s some solid sock humour. Darning. Sock. Get it? Ugh. Sorry.)

Back in June when we learned that our Ottawa family – Phil, Brooke, Colin and Jane (whose first birthday is this Wednesday) – would be moving to within a six minute drive of us, I tried to assure both you and me that all of my posts wouldn’t be saccharine, family-related journals. Little did I know that I’d find myself in such a bubble of undiluted happiness, I’d be worried about seeming to be oblivious to suffering.

I will always believe that what we do, who we are, is a result of choices. Did we choose to lose our only child? Well, of course not. It feels ridiculous even writing that question. But how we chose to go on – that was our decision to make.

I never stopped hoping, believing in, writing and talking about joy. I knew it was ours for the taking in little bites, wherever we could find it. And now, when buffets are closed to help save us from a deadly virus, here I am with my plate so full I can barely carry it. What else am I to do when after a day of deluge, this rainbow behind me greeted us at dinner Saturday night?

So please bear with me while I figure out how to balance all of this. In the meantime, have some trifle. There’s no booze in it, but I’m better this way. And right now, it’s all-you-can-eat. Have a good week.

Just a thought… Difficult roads often lead to beautiful destinations. [Zig Ziglar]

So much going on here – not the least of which is a deluge of rain we’re under for a few days – but I’m grateful (with the exception of this afternoon’s community meal deliveries) to pull it all off, indoors.

This half year of COVID has brought myriad changes to people around the world, from how we think (when did science become something people can take political sides on or argue with so confidently?) to how we live our everyday lives.

Much of it has seemed like we’re trying to build a house – or even a sand castle – on a faultline; there’s so much uncertainty from day to day as we eyeball the numbers like a bookie at a sports bar. Are there more cases? Will we be retreating to Stage Two again? Have we entered or are we about to enter the second wave of the pandemic and then what?

So many questions.

As always, when times are uncertain, we take control of what we can: we become part of the solution where possible, instead of adding to the problem. We continue to mourn the death of the normalcy of life before the pandemic and make the best of a bad situation, as we saw last week with so many taking part in Rosh Hashanah services online while missing the usual large family gatherings for the High Holidays.

It’s heartbreaking and, given the cancellations we’ve been witnessing, may foreshadow how the Christmas holidays are going to go this year (that is, if we’re called upon to do so, and then obey the instructions). So much uncertainty.

I’m happy to say that in our professional lives, there has been been growth and even the start of new things! Rob and I had already begun our podcast for the Canadian Real Estate Association called Real Time before the lockdown, having recorded and produced our first episode in California. In a year in which everything could have gone terribly badly, the real estate business has been booming: home sales are up (as are prices) and inventory is at record lows in many parts of Canada. Which brings me to the other new start, which begins today.

In a set-up in our home (our bedroom, which has the best acoustics besides my little studio), we’re getting ready to broadcast live this morning as I host, and Rob makes possible from a technical standpoint, an online annual conference. I’ve had the honour of hosting for CREA at various events across the country, even delivering a keynote when I jumped from emcee into the speaking spot during an Ottawa ice storm in 2018 that prevented Dragons’ Den star Michele Romanow from making the trip. Today, I jump into a different kind of situation.

As of 5:45 am our time, I’m awake and starting to caffeinate (thanks, time zones) and ready for a 7 am PDT kick-off. There are esteemed guest speakers, experts and panelists, and I’ll be tying them all together through the day, encouraging viewer questions and so on. Here’s a shot from our tech rehearsal earlier this week.

I’ll post one pic of the actual event today on FB as it goes on, but we’ve got our fingers crossed that this will go well. Next month, I’m delivering my new keynote speech to a group live via Zoom from the same set-up; in November, yours truly will be called upon to host a big fundraiser for Markham Stouffville Hospital Foundation.

I’m nervous in a different way for each of them, but excited and grateful to have a chance to try new ways to learn my craft. I’ve even informed Speakers’ Spotlight in Toronto, a large talent agency with whom I was just starting to forge a relationship before COVID hit, that I’m doing this now: long distance emceeing and even delivering a keynote, complete with visuals.

The learning curve is steep, but I’m reminded about the new beginnings that come with endings – a perfect message as we segue into the season of fall.

Wish me luck and, if you’re a CREA member, I hope you’ll be joining our inaugural online summit today. I’ve got Rob running the tech as well as scrolling my iPad in a homemade kind of teleprompter behind my computer camera lens.

There’ll be lots of coffee and the voices in my ear will be directing me throughout the six-hour event today. Such a nice change from the usual voices asking me why my Fitbit numbers are so low! You have a lovely day and weekend and we’ll be back with you on Monday. “MAKEUP!”

Just a thought… Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness. [Desmond Tutu]

I’ve many things to write about today as a virtual slide show runs through my mind from the weekend past and the days ahead. Work is ramping up. Our joy is through the roof, while sadness over losses, both near to me and in another country entirely, sit heavy on my heart. So come on in, and I promise we’ll make sense of it together.

Friday evening, I felt the highest highs and lowest lows in the course of just a few minutes. As Colin bounced around with the excitement of sharing our “movie and popcorn night” tradition with the grandson of my friend Nancy, we were preoccupied by wrangling their exuberance, getting them seated with their lemonade and snacks and negotiating what movie they’d watch.

Having gotten them settled, I checked my phone and saw remembrances of a great American. “Oh no,” I said to Rob, as I scrolled to confirm what I and millions of others had feared: Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg had died. Like so many, I was devastated to learn of her passing and frightened at the prospect of another Trump-chosen lifetime appointee to the highest court in America. That heaviness stayed with me throughout the weekend, and continues today. What next, 2020? (Don’t answer.)

On the other side of that darkness, though, was the joy felt while watching two little boys in their pajamas, laughing, playing and eventually lying on the floor watching a show together. Seeing our Colin playing with someone – even though it cut into our own precious cuddle time – was good for the soul, as was the day of games and outdoor activities we shared with him alone on Saturday. How we cherish this new tradition!

I sent my friend and fellow writer/broadcaster/blogger/VO artist/radio vet Lisa a picture of Rob and Colin together on Saturday, in hopes that rather than contrast the joy of our day with the sadness of hers, it would lighten her heart. I think it worked, but on Sunday Lisa messaged me that her mom, dying from cancer and spending her final days in hospice in Southwestern Ontario, had taken a turn for the worse and now was barely responsive.

This came as a surprise: not in that her decline had continued, but that it had resumed so quickly. Just last week, her mom was expressing enormous peace and gratitude for the kindness and comfort she was experiencing after having been moved from hospital to hospice. It warmed my heart to hear the relief and respite in Lisa’s writings; for a time their shared suffering was put on hold. The “rally,” as it’s known, was short-lived but fully appreciated.

Lisa’s put her own life on hold, living at her mom’s condo a few hours from her own home and doing all of the things a good daughter would try to do: in addition to caring for her mom, she’s handling the sometimes overwhelming visitors’ schedule (brief can be best, people!), dealing with one particular neighbour who won’t stop calling or knocking at all hours to ask after her mom’s well-being (despite being implored to just await word, please), and being there for her mom in every way that she can.

In past months, Lisa and I have talked about my mother’s own sudden passing 8 years ago from a brain aneurysm and wondered which is crueler, which is gentler. I’ve often said that there’s no comparing grief, but still, it’s a question we ask ourselves and each other, as close friends can do. And there is just no answer.

Yet in the midst of her hour of darkness, a little godwink came to Lisa yesterday in the form of social media and this tweet.

In a beautiful bit of timing, Lisa was buoyed by the comments and virtual hugs that came from friends and strangers alike, most of whom didn’t know just what was transpiring in her day. Here’s her response.

You can never know how just a few kind words or a gesture (big or small) can change even a few moments in an otherwise awful day.

A simple tweet asking for a few words of admiration for a fellow Londoner was an enormous gift; its responses, a virtual hug for a friend who is suffering.

And witnessing massive numbers of people coming together and donating millions of dollars in the memory of #RBG in the hours following her death helped me to remember that even when we’re feeling at our lowest, when despair clouds our hearts, there is always a light.

Sometimes we need to search for it. And sometimes we can even be that light.

Just a thought… The scars of others should teach us caution. [St. Jerome]

This is a journal that I’m going to ask you to share with anyone you know who might be vulnerable to a scam like this. It is something that happened to me, and I’d really like you to spread the word, if you would, please.

I got a message on my old FB site that I rarely ever go to. (If I could, I’d delete it, but it anchors my public page so I cannot.)

It was from someone saying they were Adriana Iontorno-Palermo, who allegedly works at the York Region School Board. If there IS such a person, she should know that her identity has been hijacked for this scam. I’m not shaming her because I think she’s been a victim here too. Please, if you know her, ask her to check her account.

This person – and I’m going to say “posing” as Adriana – wrote:

Hi Erin. I hope you’re staying safe and healthy.

I responded that I’m well, and that I don’t use that FB to message, but she can find me at www.facebook.com/erindavispage. Then she wrote back that she was well and feeling blessed (smiley emoji). Then in the next text asked:

Do you have knowledge of the federal government’s old age survivors compensation?

I answered sorry, no, I didn’t – thinking she was looking for information. But no, “Adriana” had some for me:

The program is a federal domestic assistance, in conjunction with the federal government is helping by giving out funds (not loan) that they require to carry out their life and helping people above the age of 50 years old.

Next text:

And I got my care cheque delivered to my door a few weeks ago. When they came to my house to deliver my package I saw your name on their website so I was wondering if you got the same type of cheque already.

I answered that I had not and that it was strange I’d be on their website; however there are other Erin Davises out there, sooooo….

Her next text:

Since I got mine a few weeks ago and I did see your name on the list also. (Note the grammatical errors; I get plenty of correspondences with them and don’t judge or care, but it’s a hallmark of scams.) That’s why I decided to check with you and see if you got yours also. But I think you need to check it out. Should i help you with the contact information now?

So I told her if she had a link that might be helpful, or she could email me through my public email address. Here’s her response:

Alright. You can get in touch with them at this number (819) 801- 6084. Text them that you heard about the program and want to get yours also. They will put you through on all the process.

Wow, so helpful, right? This person, with whom I allegedly share two friends, sent me everything I needed to get a magical cheque to my door, simply for being over 50.

In these days of cheques being sent to people in need during COVID shutdowns, this is a SCAM. How do I know? I listened to my gut and it just felt like one. So I did the easiest thing ever: I Googled the phone number and, sure enough, this came up from Haddon Financial, posted August 6. You’re not seeing things; a lot of this is going to look VERY familiar to the texts I got. But there’s also some solid advice in here:

NEW SCAM ALERT
I got a FB message from a friend this morning asking me if I have knowledge about the Federal Government’s Old Age Survivor benefits. I said yes and then was asked to share what I knew.

That led to the following exchange:

THEM: The program is a Federal Domestic Assistance, in conjunction with Federal Government is helping by giving out Funds (not loan) that they require to carry out their life and helping people above the age of 50 years old.

And I got my care cheque delivered to my door step a few weeks ago. When they came to my house to deliver my package I saw your name on their website so I was wondering if you got the same type of cheque already?

ME: The federal govt doesn’t deliver chqs personally and they would never have a person’s name on their website. The federal domestic assistance program has nothing to do with any survivor benefits.

THEM: Since I got mine already and I saw your name on there website also that’s why I thought I should check with you since I got mine already. I think you need to check it out.

ME: What is the website?

THEM: Alright you can reach the agent in charge number at- the Agent name is Mr Joseph (819) 801-6084. you can text him now that you heard about the program and would like to claim yours also, he will put you through on everything.

Let me be very clear here – this is not a real thing. The Federal Domestic Assistance program exists but it’s got nothing to do with survivor benefits and the federal government, CRA, Old Age Security, Canada Pension, Service Canada would NEVER do any of the following:
1. solicit you in the way to apply for benefits
2. suggest that you text them – good grief most govt agencies won’t even accept an email – has to be hard copy mailed, in person delivered or fax. 
3. have the name of an individual on their website – certainly not someone as small as me

I have reported this to the fraud squad so they can add it to their list of ongoing nonsense that is out there. Make sure you speak with your parents and other people in your life who may be vulnerable, in need of money (benefits) or who may be a target of this kind of thing. If you get a message from a friend that looks like this let your friend know they have been hacked. Do not forward it to anyone else and for goodness sakes, don’t call the number or give anyone your personal information! 

Safety is not just about wearing a mask.

And that, my friend, is how these scams work – and how careful we have to be about whom we text for information. A simple Google search can often be the best thing you do if that little voice inside you says “really?” and you don’t have to be an MIT grad to figure it all out.

I hope you found this as eye-opening as I did. Have a gentle weekend and I’ll return here Monday. Please do share this and be careful, won’t you?