Erin's Journals

Just a thought… Music is the moonlight in the gloomy night of life. [Jean Paul Friedrich Richter]

It never ceases to amaze me what power music can have.

I know that sounds simplistic – who hasn’t felt better or sadder when a certain song came on the radio – but at no time has that thought been brought home more often than during the past seven days.

Last Friday here, our local station CHEK put together what they called a “living room concert for Vancouver Island.” Remarkably well done in every way, the 90-minute fundraiser, which was hosted by the news team (which is what seems to be a tight, friendly family themselves) the show featured performances from the names you see below, and a few messages from sponsors, celebrities and political leaders.

It was uplifting, entertaining and – although I hesitate to say it – more touching than the US show the following night for the WHO. We were mightily impressed by our local show; we turned it on thinking it would be a well-intentioned, hastily-assembled telethon (and not of Easter Seals-type quality), but we were flat out wrong. It was a great show and if you have the time, enjoy the show here.

I was struck by the incredible difference in yesterday’s Nova Scotia Remembers event. In theory, the two shows were similar: both were put together to share music and messages in a time of hardship.

But while Rock for Relief was a celebration of hope and inspiration, yesterday’s special nationwide broadcast which emanated from Nova Scotia was a virtual vigil to offer healing and solace in the wake of last weekend’s horrific murders in the province we’ve always known as Canada’s Ocean Playground.

There was one very similar, underlying theme though: gratitude. Here on our island, almost as far as one part of Canada gets from Nova Scotia, the plea last week was for generosity during these hard times for so many. There was also a loud message of gratitude to those who have given so much so that we can be safe and healthy during a pandemic.

But in the vigil yesterday we also saw gratitude: for the lives that each of these souls lived. For the sacrifice made by RCMP Constable Stevenson. For the comfort that Canadians and others around the world are sending at this time of unimaginable pain.

Through it all, the thread that wove each of these special presentations together was the healing power of music. Whether simply picking an acoustic guitar, playing the bagpipes on a sullen shore or singing while sitting at a piano, every person who contributed touched our hearts with their own gifts.

No one who saw – or sees this now – will forget this performance, though. Troy, Nova Scotia’s own Natalie MacMaster – long recognized as a Canadian and international fiddling treasure – played along with Emily Tuck, one of the victims of last week’s madness. You can watch it here.

The original recording of the 17 year-old, whose parents were also murdered, was made during what was called their “COVID Kitchen Party” in Portapique. So recent – and yet literally a lifetime ago. And though Emily now is gone, I hope that her extended family and fellow Nova Scotians find the same comfort in listening to her music that we have felt in the five years of hearing, over and over, our daughter’s sharing of her own gifts.

That is the power of music.

Just a thought… There are three kinds of men: The one that learns by reading. The few who learn by observation. The rest of them have to pee on the electric fence for themselves. [Will Rogers]

Today: a few lighter moments, but first, a tale of cautionary measures. One of them is admittedly not scientific but anecdotal and may have just been a thin slice of time that we observed, but I wanted to share what happened with Rob this week.

On Wednesday he went out for a few grocery necessities. He went to a village near us, Saanichton, and there was a lineup outside the store. Given that it was raining and he needed only a few things, he opted not to join those getting wet as they waited. He did notice that the people of Saanichton were observing the hockey stick rule (the distance we should stay from each other) before driving to our closest little town, the beautiful Sidney by the Sea.

Outside one store, he observed another lineup, so chose to shop at a different spot. No line at Save On, so in he went. And what he saw in the store surprised him. From what he could figure, fewer than 10% of people were wearing masks; the only person he noticed wearing one – as he was – was the cashier, who was also behind plexiglass.

Sidney is a small town set on the ocean (as you may have guessed by the name I mentioned above). A great many of its residents are seniors who’ve moved there to enjoy the view, the quieter pace and the small-town joys we have come to love in better times: a weekly outdoor market with live music and farm stands, restaurants with sidewalk dining, piers and fresh fish.

In the past few days, BC has seen another increase in the number of COVID-19 cases. While the island numbers are blessedly low, just the fact that so many of our residents are in the age group that has been hit so hard (albeit in senior care homes) the absence of masks left us baffled.

Are we letting down our collective guard? Why on earth weren’t more people wearing masks? We are and, for the foreseeable future, we will. And the first person who makes a comment ridiculing us will wish they had on a hockey mask.

Anyway, that’s what has been on my mind for the last couple of days.

On a much lighter note: my roots. I could stand my three-month growth no longer – even though Rob kept asking, “Who is going to see you?” – and got busy with my Root Rescue kit from L’Oreal yesterday.

Once again, as it always does between hair appointments, it did its magic. And to answer Rob, I don’t care who sees it: it’s for my own good! Makes me wonder, though, if salons will notice fewer colour appointments when this is over, as people come to realize they can do some of the tricks themselves?

Of course, I’ll say here that I could never do as good a job as the pros who’ve had me in their chairs over the years. But there may be some women (and, yes, men) who decide that they are happy to go natural.

I did have to laugh yesterday as I remembered a snarky dog groomer admonishing me for trimming Molly’s face (and doing an admittedly bad job at it) a few years ago. She said, “Would you cut your own hair?” and now the answer is yes. Yes, I would. Or at least I’d let Rob do it.

I haven’t put on makeup except for a swipe of lipstick in weeks. My skin is grateful, but I miss mascara. (Have you noticed how many makeup ads are popping up on social media websites? I think the cosmetics folks are hurting now, as is most everyone, while the hair product sector is likely soaring. Literally a growth industry.)

The very rare visitor we have – a neighbour, a friend dropping off some surprise or someone coming to get paid for replanting a tree – has seen us in almost every pajama combination we have. And we’re not even embarrassed anymore – no matter the time of day! We do get dressed for dog walks, then it’s back into the PJs. As Rob said to me yesterday, “They’re not jammies, this is a flannel pant suit.”

Luckily, we keep each other laughing. And to pass along the favour, my sister sent me a video that I wanted to share. It’s a duo’s take on Simon and Garfunkel and, although I measure every parody song to Randy Rainbow, they did a really good job: true to the original lyrics and meter, excellent musicality and they even manage to pull off looking like the duo.

So enjoy this. Yes, it’s tRump-themed (isn’t everything these days?) but I thought you might appreciate it. And on that note – or those notes – I’ll bid you adieu and be back with you (yieu?) here tomorrow.

Just a thought… Light as feathers, as fleeting as Zephyr, one moment they breathed pink, the next they faded. Cherry blossoms were as much an inspiration for beautiful verse as they were a reminder of life’s fickleness, she thought. [Alice Poon] 

How slow is life for most of us (except for the frontline workers we so appreciate) these days? It’s big news that High Park in Toronto is going to live stream the cherry blossoms, for those for whom the blossoms are a sign of spring and who’ve gotten such joy from taking in the sweet colours and scents of nature’s glory every spring.

We are gleeful to sit in and watch trees blossom! That’s how slow. (And I’m not making fun, most definitely not; just observing with a smile, not a smirk. Hopefully you know me that well by now!)

Here in the Victoria area, near Sidney, we’re in the midst of a much-needed few days of heavy rain. Already up island there have been fires and we’ve had several weeks of sunshine and dryness. So a few days of rain can’t dampen our already admittedly subdued spirits; we’re grateful for the shelter and, except for a daily dog walk and the occasional careful trip for groceries, we have nowhere to go.

Once again, it’s all perspective. We take nothing for granted these days; the news about the cherry blossom live cams reminds us here to look out and appreciate the blossoms. Like the dogwood tree in our yard that is almost in full bloom. Here it is out our kitchen window.

And the pink petals have begun to litter lawns in the most beautiful way. Here’s a picture from the first spring that we lived here when Molly was truly “pretty in pink.”

Sometimes it’s hard to remember that no matter what happens in our country and our world, inside our homes and our hearts, life does indeed go on. So we look for the rainbows, the blossoms, the birds and the beauty. And we just keep going.

Take good care and I’ll be back with you here tomorrow, my friend.

Just a thought… We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors, we borrow it from our children. [Native American proverb]

50 years ago today, a brand new movement made headlines. The first Earth Day was the child of ignited social awareness that came during the Vietnam War; the environmentalist founders wanted to harness that activism to draw attention to pollution and the scourge of illness we were bringing upon our planet.

On this day 50 years ago, the streets of America were jammed with some 20 million people who heard – and wanted to spread – the message against dirty water, dirty air and litter.

Where are we now? Thankfully, we’ve changed in ways big and small: people no longer roll their eyes when you talk about recycling – with a few small exceptions – and we are always considering new ways to have a more positive impact on the world we live in. Littering is seen as the disgusting act that it is; climate change is recognized as something that is not only happening (and, yes, it usually snows in April in Canada) but is worsening yearly.

Here’s something I found out when I was researching today’s journal (thank you to NASA):

Global warming refers to the long-term heating of Earth’s climate system observed since the pre-industrial period (between 1850 and 1900) due to human activities….climate change…refers to both human- and naturally produced warming and the effects that it has on our planet.

Even when it snows in April (or as Vanessa Williams sang, “…sometimes the snow comes down in June…”) there is no denying that our planet is warming. None. We can argue ’til we’re blue in the face about the causes and the possible solutions – and in this country, with so much dependency on the oil industry for families’ survival, those discussions get heated, if you’ll pardon the pun.

But the fact is, we need to do more – and less – and do it now. Unfortunately, it’s such a political hot potato, there appears to be little hope of that in the short term. And, honestly, I’m not up for a debate about any of this.

I’m not saying I’m right – I’m always open to learning – but I haven’t got any fight in me. A lot of Canadians take this very personally, as their livelihoods depend on it. Trust me, I know: many of them live in my family tree.

Where have 50 Earth Days gotten us? One only has to read about the Great Barrier Reef, the glaciers and icebergs, floods, wildfires and islands of plastic to see that we’re not doing enough, fast enough, and an ailing planet continues to get sicker.

While we all try, quite literally, to prevent getting sick ourselves, Earth has had a respite from the output of coal plants and cars. I’m not a scientist, but it doesn’t even take a degree from Trump University to recognize that waters are clearer, the air is cleaner and some aspects of this horrid self-isolation have brought about small measures of healing for the planet. As we protect our own lungs, the earth is breathing more easily these days. What a sobering thought.

Today, a simple step: turn off lights. Turn off fans. Unplug the devices you’re not using, so that they’re not sapping energy. The lists and suggestions are numerous and easily Googled; as we go about our insular lives these days, it might be worthwhile just to take a moment to look for ideas that might not have occurred to you.

And if you’re interested, I sat down and talked with a very interesting man, a REALTOR® who’s an expert on going green in terms of your home, whether or not you plan to list. He discusses what people are looking for in a “green home” and how to access information on what kinds of challenges climate change might bring to your very own backyard.

His name is Chris Chopik, he lives in Toronto, and I spoke with him for this podcast we did for the Canadian Real Estate Association (CREA). I think you’ll enjoy our talk.

And remember: Kermit was right about a lot of things, but on this day, it’s worth rethinking his song. Perhaps it is easy being green.

I’ll be back with you here tomorrow. Oh, and one more thing: where the heck did 50 years go?

Just a thought… A kind gesture can reach a wound that only compassion can heal. [Steve Maraboli]

I had hoped that by today I’d have some words of encouragement for you, my friend, during these darkest days for so many of our fellow Canadians.

In a time of self-isolation, in which we’ve all been called upon to examine our lives, our values, our connections, perspectives and freedoms, the loss of so many innocent souls in a devastating tragedy the likes of which Canada has rarely seen – or ever, if sheer numbers count for anything – has put into focus what truly matters.

Love.

The love we share for each other. The kindness and compassion that have shown themselves in myriad ways in this dark year of 2020, but that have also been challenged as never before in our blessedly pampered lifetimes.

We feel anew this yearning for things to go back to the way they were, but now that timeline has shifted. Not to a month or two months ago, but to last Friday, before so many people were taken from their beautiful, full and contented lives by one person. The depth and breadth of the tragedy that has befallen so many families in parts of one of Canada’s most beautiful and bucolic provinces has hit us all. Hard.

What do we take from this? And how do I answer my own question without sounding like a greeting card?

Life is precious and short – and desperately unjust. Some have had that shown to us in the cruelest ways already, while others fear for their own safety from an invisible enemy that has made the people of this vulnerable planet stop and take shelter.

We cannot hide from the hidden foe that is the evil that lurks in the hearts of some of our fellow humans. We cannot steel ourselves before we go to sleep at night, bracing with one eye open for the monster in the night. Because life, as we know, most often does not work that way. And neither does death.

There has always been and will always be evil; we have always witnessed unspeakable cruelty and had no answers to questions that can barely be formed.

What can we do?

We can turn to our faith, to each other, to the ways in which we might ease the suffering of others – even when we feel we have no tools with which to do so. We can dedicate an act of kindness to the people whose hearts have broken and carry it out as we bear even a little of their pain in our hearts.

Rob and I have made an appointment to donate blood next Monday. It’s not a big gesture, but it was our daughter’s way of giving back and paying forward the many blessings she had been given during her short life. We do it in her memory, and in the hopes that someone whose own existence depends upon the gift within that dark red bag might not have to leave others suffering as do the families of those lost souls in Nova Scotia.

If you’re inclined to do the same, here’s a link to Canadian Blood Services.

There are many in need around us, across our country and throughout the world today (as always). But for now, each of us can take comfort in doing the little that we can as a remembrance that we are all linked together despite the desperate aloneness and sadness experienced by so many.

We go on…and we hold those who suffer in our hearts.