Erin's Journals

Just a thought… [When] I got sober, I had all this time and more energy…it’s working today. That’s all I have. But it makes life so much easier. [Ringo Starr]

I’ve a lot on which to catch you up, so let’s get at it. Although it was scheduled four days after my own “big day,” I missed my one-year birthday meeting Saturday on Zoom with our local 12-step group because of the wrong code; I sat there with my little birthday candle and lighter at the ready and felt as if I’d been stood up for a date on Saturday night.

Although my “Serenity Prayer” got a workout that day, I told Rob, “At least it wasn’t a business meeting or an emcee gig where I was letting a lot of people down.” There’s always something for which to be grateful, as I am for you.

Many folks have written asking after Molly’s well-being. She’s doing okay. Some days she hardly eats and just sleeps all day; others, she’s constantly standing by a dish she’s just emptied, wanting more, and when we take her out, it’s a challenge to keep up with her. That was the case yesterday when she and I jogged for part of her outing.

Last week, I thought we were nearing the end, as we were up most of one night with her because of a raucous digestive system (yes, there were accidents). Such is life with an aged dog. But for the most part, she’s doing really well. Every day is a gift.

Oh, I should tell you that I’ve passed along many of your kind words to my dad. He giggles like a child when I tell him that people say he’s handsome! But these days he’s going through some uncharacteristic depression, as the realization is setting in that he no longer has his keys, his car and the freedom that accompanied them. His lady friend is upset, too (even with us daughters, I’m told), and much of that likely has to do with her losing a bit of her freedom as well.

We get that; as a team, my three sisters and I are working to ease the sting. We’ve formulated a plan to get him regular rides and a brother-in-law who will be setting up semi-weekly errand runs with them. We’re all doing the best we can; Saturday we got together virtually and delivered a bouquet and some of his favourite toffee. I know that both gave him a smile, that is, if his favourite toffee doesn’t reduce that smile by a few teeth!

The WestJet situation I wrote about here last Monday seems to be resolved – sort of. Although I haven’t heard back from the manager to whom I’d written, Phil and Brooke spoke to an agent on Friday (after a six-hour wait for a call back that didn’t come, they started again on another phone).

The middle seat which was previous blocked off for COVID safety was still available, while the seats they’d already booked had dropped slightly in price. So after refunds of the existing purchases, they were able to buy baby Jane the seat and spend just $144 more, rather than the $1000+ an agent had told them earlier that it was going to cost. So I guess that’s a bit of a win?

Of course, what’s at the forefront of our minds these days is that same little family: the one that is packing up and selling items and checking off lists in the climatic steam bath that is Ottawa. The way we’re helping from this end is by picking up local online purchases of gently-used baby furniture and toys for the kids to have at the ready when they arrive – first for a few weeks here, and then in their own home once the truck pulls into the driveway with their new (two-year-old) house’s contents.

Yes, this is becoming more real by the day. And while we’re trying not to count the days or hours (19 sleeps to be exact) we’re managing to stay calm and keep baby-proofing everything! At nine months old, Jane isn’t yet moving around, but it’s just a matter of minutes until she is.

Finally, tomorrow, Ringo Starr turns 80. There will be a concert at 8 pm ET on 7/7 with a lot of his friends (from whom, with a little help, rumour has it, he gets by) and here’s the link to a story about it.

As Ringo – now 31 years sober – would urge you to say at noon tomorrow, I wish you “Peace and Love.” And I’ll be back with you here on Thursday.

Just a thought… There is never a good time to make a hard decision. [Charles Orlando]

What a two-day trip that was! A true journey of the heart and one that I am so grateful to have made, especially given its outcome. Buckle up – here we go.

On Monday, I was sprung from the island in my first trip in 3 1/2 months, aboard a 17-passenger Pacific Coastal plane, one of the more intimate flights I’ve taken. Yet I felt safe and totally enjoyed the 50-minute trip from Victoria to Kelowna. With no assigned seating, I was lucky to have lots of legroom right up front, and a clear view of our young pilot.

My sister Leslie and I spent two nights in a hotel overlooking Okanagan Lake. To be clear, the hotel was lakeside, our room was not; I had booked two queens in the least expensive category.

The Delta Hotel by Marriott Grand Okanagan was in its early post-COVID stages and there were several adjustments for a guest to make: no coffee pods or condiments in the room, no cups, mugs or glasses (not a one) and no maid service.

We wouldn’t have used a mid-stay clean-up for just two nights, but the no coffee situation had us using some packets I’d brought just in case, and a cup we had picked up at the bar filled with ice. Yes, the ice machines were also off-limits.

I was okay with all of that, but wish I’d known in advance just what the specifics of the limitations were going to be. What I wasn’t okay with was a torn pillowcase and a dirty balled-up sock on the floor, peeking out from under the open curtain. I really hoped for more in my first hotel stay in months.

Interestingly, the dirty sock had bananas on it. It’s like they knew Grama Banana was coming!

The most important thing was my time spent with family, the entire reason for my short sojourn. On a beautiful warm Monday evening, Les and I picked up Dad from his residence and took him to DQ for an Orange Julius which he enjoyed with us in a nearby park. Tuesday evening we went to a family dinner at The Keg, and then yesterday, after a nice sleep-in, we wrapped up my visit with a long lunch at a White Spot (family chain) restaurant.

Dad looked resplendent in his Canada Day red and we had “the talk” about him driving.

Even though Dad was given the thumbs-up in a cognitive test at his doctor’s a week earlier, he listened as we shared his daughters’ concerns. He expressed his feeling that having a car to run errands for his lady friend made him feel like he had a purpose. We got that. We even saw his eyes welling a little.

But we explained that Leslie and Heather will be there for his every need, that we can give him books of cab chits that will be taken care of for him, or that he can call a service like Driving Miss Daisy (or Lt. Col. Davis in this case) for his every need. We reminded him that Dawna could accompany him, that they have shuttle service to and fro wherever they’d need to be, right there at the residence.

And then we ate. In a booth that was already quiet, but which afforded us the privacy of an empty socially-distanced table behind us, we talked about his after-life beliefs and plans for some ashes; Dad already has a tombstone engraved and waiting in his closet(!) so that he and Mom can eventually rest together in their pre-purchased spot near the town of Black Diamond, Alberta.

We offered to take some of his ashes to his own family’s homestead graveyard on Mount Davis near Three Hills and he was really pleased with that idea. Talking about that chapter – may it be a long way off – was easy for Dad; he’s prided himself on his pragmatism in not burdening his four favourite daughters with any dilemmas or difficulties after he’s gone.

This is the talk I’ve been wanting to have with him: letting him know that we are aware he’s not going to be with us forever, and that we just want to honour his wishes, not all of which have been expressed. How glad I am to have brought up the subject, more easily broached after the recent fall that gave him bruises, a concussion and contusions, and gave the rest of us such a scare.

After Dad had enjoyed his burger, and Leslie and I had finished our meals, I reached across the table and took his lovely strong hand. I said that this is where Leslie, in her years as a sales rep, would “close the deal.” So I asked where he was in terms of his driving decision.

He delighted us both by saying he would put his car up for sale this week, and set a date – mid-July – to say good-bye to it for good. That public sale won’t even be necessary: as it turns out, one of my sisters will buy the little Hyundai with its 58,000 km (very few of which were added by Dad, I should note) and give it a good home. This way, he can still be picked up in it occasionally. He’ll be in his familiar car – just in a different seat, is all.

As I said my good-byes to Dad before heading to the mostly empty Kelowna airport, I hugged him repeatedly and told him how we were always proud of him, but that we were never more so in how he handled this huge decision. He got a little teary again when I said that as a pilot, he’d logged more travel miles than most people on the planet; it was time to let someone else take the wheel.

I can honestly say I don’t think I’ve ever loved him more than I did yesterday and do today and from here on in. He showed strength, grace, courage and good judgment when it would have been easy to dig in and say “not yet.”

As worried as we are on occasion about Dad’s memory and shenanigans (like leaving the residence when they were under lockdown, necessitating his a 7-day isolation) yesterday I could see my father clearly for the man he always was and still is inside.

A good man and a great father.

That’s how my Canada Day became Father’s Day. And one I’ll never forget. Who needs fireworks when your heart is sparking like that?

Take good care and I’ll be back with you Monday.

Just a thought… I’m beginning to think “hindsight is 20/20” was some kind of message from a future time traveler that we all misunderstood. [Victoria Guida]

And welcome to the last two days of the first half of a year we’ll never forget. For most, we’ve seen months fraught with anxiety, isolation, fear, loneliness and sadness. That was us, too, until recent weeks brought a sudden upswing in our spirits and outlook with some good news. I can only wish the same for you.

I’m off to the airport today for the first time since we flew home in a panic from California nearly 3 1/2 months ago. I’ll be boarding a plane so small that the practice of isolation (which is now being lifted on Air Canada and Westjet, as you’ve undoubtedly heard) isn’t even an issue: this Pacific Coastal flight has one seat on each side of the plane and carries 17 passengers total! But I’ll definitely be wearing one of the two masks I had made by a nice lady I found locally on Facebook in different fabrics of my choice. I’ll be happy to wear it for the 65-minute flight from Victoria to Kelowna!

I’m heading to the mainland to spend the better part of three days visiting with my dad, whom I haven’t seen in person in a year, and sharing some sister time with two of my three siblings. Oh, and tomorrow I mark a big day: my 12-step “birthday” of one year.

After racking up 10 years of sobriety until we moved here, it feels strange to be celebrating with the traditional cake and kudos, but here we are. For everyone who knows what I’m talking about, I salute every single day you’ve not picked up. And thank you to every person who helped me get here.

That’s not to say that it’s been easy; even after spending those weeks and money getting my head straight in rehab last summer, I sometimes imagine how it would feel to “take the edge off” when I’m extremely stressed. You and I can be honest about that. Friday was a prime example of exactly that kind of day.

10 days earlier, Phil, Brooke and Colin had purchased WestJet seats so they could fly here July 24th to begin their new lives. This was under the previously-enforced seat spacing guidelines, so a ticket for Jane (who’ll be almost 10 months old by then) wasn’t necessary; she’d be strapped in her carseat in the mandated empty seat between Brooke and Phil, or one of her parents and her brother. They didn’t have the option of purchasing her seat, so they had her booked as a lap passenger, which many parents of infants do.

Then the change came into effect on Friday and here’s where it gets messy: when Phil contacted WestJet, he was told he could purchase that seat in their row of three in economy, but for $1024 – not business or plus or whatever it’s called – which is roughly twice the price he’d paid for each seat just over a week earlier. When Phil raised the unfairness of the price hike, the man on the phone (who was just following company policy) said, “Sorry, that’s the price.”

I took to my own Facebook page that evening to express my dismay and, yes, anger with a company to which we’ve been loyal over the years for changing the rules midstream at such an a huge added expense. Heck, if you’ve read Mourning Has Broken you know how grateful we were to their personnel for the compassion they showed us when we were making our way home from the remote show in Jamaica that fateful May day of 2015. So I love WestJet.

I followed up the post with what is likely a more effective way of communicating our situation: an email to a member of management. I’m hoping they’ll see our side of the situation and offer us that middle seat at the same price as the others we purchased. We’re not trying to get anything for free, especially in light of the way that the people of Westjet and so many other companies – big and small – have suffered in the past four months. Just fairness. I’ll keep you posted.

In the meantime, I’ll continue to pop into FB daily plus Twitter and Instagram to share messages from now until my next journal on Thursday, which I hope will include pictures from some long-awaited family time.

Please have a very Happy Canada Day. Of course, we’re a long way from perfect as a nation and there are enough people echoing American-flavoured sentiments here in this country to spark fear in my heart for our future, but I’ll always be grateful to have been born in this glorious, beautiful and bountiful land. I’ve been fortunate to obtain enough passport stamps to know that truly there is no place like home, like our Canada.

Let’s continue to listen instead of talking, consider instead of shouting, support instead of ignoring and work together as the one great nation that we are in order to fulfill the dreams, not simply of each of us, but of all of us.

Tous Ensembles.

Just a thought… Good news is rare these days, and every glittering ounce of it should be cherished and hoarded and worshipped and fondled like a priceless diamond. [Hunter S. Thompson]

Four weeks tomorrow is Christmas. I know you think it’s six months away – and you’d be right – but in our case, July 24 is the day that our Ottawa family arrives, suitcases in hand, bleary-eyed and stressed after two long flights from Ottawa to Calgary and then on to Victoria. We’ll tuck them into their beds for what we hope will be a long night of rest and recuperation and then a whole new life begins: the banana bunch reunited.

Right now, as we spin in this dance of joyful realization that this is actually happening, it’s a Facebook frenzy: messaging, buying and arranging pickups for this and that. They’re with us for a week when they arrive, so we need some things that won’t be here until the movers bring their cargo from Ottawa. This puzzle box contains a lot of pieces and I’m sure a few are wedged between couch cushions right now, but we can do this!

Yesterday I wasn’t so sure: I left $165 in the mailbox of a woman from whom I was buying something, then remembered Brooke had offered her $150. So I shouted to Rob from the car, “Get $15 out of the mailbox!” and then when I messaged the woman that the money was there, Brooke messaged me telling me she’d already paid her via e-transfer! Of course, that was in an earlier message, but do you think I can keep all of these transactions straight?

My brain has gone from about 20 km/h to 200 and I’m having trouble keeping up, as you can plainly read. Yes, I keep lists and all, but when things are all happening on a social media platform I rarely use, it’s challenging.

Now, to some of your questions. And can I say first that I was just floored by the excitement and kindness that you sent through various messaging platforms? Please note that some of my emails are going into people’s spam folders (we know not why) and I don’t answer direct messages on Insta or FB because I just can’t keep up with them all. If you write to me through this website, I can virtually guarantee I’ll respond in as timely a manner as this Vitamix of a schedule we’ve jumped into allows.

You wondered where they’re moving to – and I think I said in the video that they’ve purchased in a neighbourhood that’s a six-minute drive from our house. There are beautiful parks, a large grocery store, a Shoppers, a branch of their bank and the best pizza we’ve found locally, all within 1000 steps (yes, I walked it, because, well, that’s me). Some asked about jobs and so on for Phil and Brooke; those are things that will be determined in good time. Right now it’s all about getting the little family of four here with sanity (mostly) intact for us all.

A few asked if we’d be spending winters in the US anymore – and the answer is a hard “ah, hell naw.” We weren’t expecting to go this year anyway, given the vicious upwards turn of COVID cases in our own Riverside County, CA; getting health insurance would probably be tougher than winning the Powerball. And with our commitment to Brooke and Phil to be there for them and the children, we are happy to sacrifice our little piece of paradise to make this dream a reality. Nothing will ever be more important to us than doing whatever we can for this family. Nothing.

So it’s going on the market – furnished right down to the cutlery and whatever is in the cupboards! Our agent down there will gather up the few personal items we had and ship them to us. (When I started doing the Canadian Real Estate Association podcasts this year, I couldn’t have imagined just how many house transactions 2020 would hold!)

As I keep telling Brooke, who’s busy packing up a house with two little ones, purging from Phil’s last move after a catastrophic house flood, and working with him to get 1000 things settled before they leave one province for another, this will ALL work out. We need to take a moment every few hours, sit down, plant our feet on the floor to ground ourselves and just breathe. Good thing we can remind each other of the importance of stilling our minds, even for a short while!

So that’s where we are for today. On Monday I’m heading to Kelowna; it’s a happy trip and I’ll fill you in more in our next journal, also Monday.

In the meantime, have a safe and happy weekend, please wear a mask when you’re out and thank you again for sharing our massively good news this week!

Just a thought… Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly. [Langston Hughes]

Well, hello there. It seems only fitting that on the day Lauren was wed seven years ago – one of the happiest of our lives – I am sharing with you news that has lifted our hearts into the stratosphere. Rob and I are feeling the most deeply fulfilled, the most overly joyful that we have since before that day five years ago that Lauren left us, her baby son and her husband in her sleep.

I had planned to tell the news here today to you first. But when I was in conversation Friday evening with Kevin Frankish on his Kevin’s Isolators show, he asked me what was keeping me joyful and grateful. And I just couldn’t sit there and lie!

So here it is: the announcement of the dream we didn’t dare to dream, coming true. (I should warn you that the video is five-and-a-half minutes long and will use quite a bit of data, so you might want to make sure you’re on wi-fi.)

By the way, Kevin made the little hummingbird graphic at the end using a video Barbara Cassells sent me. Barbara shared her own story of losing her son Nathan for me to include in Mourning Has Broken: Love, Loss and Reclaiming Joy. She caught a beautiful moment with my book and a real hummingbird. Don’t miss it – and thank you, sweet Barbara!

Of course, there are more details to come as our shaky exuberance subsides a bit and things come into focus.

I’ll have a fresh journal for you here Thursday.