Erin's Journals

I want to start today by wishing Carol, a friend I met through grief who also came on our cruise this past spring, good luck! In honour of her son Jamie, whom she and her husband Rod lost, Carol is going to do the CN Tower Edge Walk. She’s got more nerve than I do and she is making sure she lives large in Jamie’s memory on his birthday. Like I said, good luck, friend!
 
Perhaps it was realizing that yesterday was the 10th anniversary of Michael Jackson’s death that triggered a vivid dream of Lauren during a rare afternoon nap. The connection isn’t as faint as you might think: on the day that we heard from TMZ that Jackson had died, I called Rob immediately. He was on a streetcar in Toronto, heading to a rental place to pick up a truck we then loaded to move Lauren out of our condo to her new place in Ottawa that weekend. So that’s what memory June 25 will always hold for us. (This is where someone would write that Farrah Fawcett also died on that day. While that’s true, her death is not why I called Rob, who was off on that epic errand.)
 
My dream of Lauren was clear and cheerful. We’d spent a lot of time together – something to do with a boat and a cottage – and she ran into the kitchen to avoid evening mosquitoes. We were hugging and laughing. Next thing I saw, we were both sitting on a kitchen floor: I was chomping on a Tootsie Pop, while she munched on a Charms Pop (TP’s biggest competitor, if I remember their cartoon ads of the 70s). As syrupy spit dripped down her arm and onto the floor, Lauren said to me, “You know what’s the BEST?” I asked what. 
 
“Having a daughter you can love forever.” 
 
With that, I began to awaken, having just sung the song “Smile” by Charlie Chaplin. A loaded dream to be sure. But better than the one from a few nights earlier. Do you ever have that “job nightmare?” You know the one: something about work where you’re completely helpless and everything is going sideways, bigtime. 
 
I had the “radio nightmare” where the station was playing music endlessly but I couldn’t find a way to turn a mic on or turn off the automatic programming so that I could do the show I was supposed to do. (There are as many variations to the radio nightmare as there are radio hosts. I could go on, but basically it involves finding yourself in a scenario where your arms can’t reach the equipment to stop the music or start it, or you run into a booth to do a national newscast and all you have is a pile of concert listings.)
 
Luckily, none of that was coming true, but I always wonder what it is that’s triggering that kind of dream again. Hmm.
 
Meantime, speaking of concert listings, Rob and I are off to Vancouver today to see if we can’t relive a highlight of last year: Jeff Lynne’s Electric Light Orchestra live at Rogers Arena. I’ll fill you in here tomorrow, but I hope you have a great day. With dreams of only the best kind. 
 
And if you see somebody atop the CN Tower today, give a wave. It could be a mom celebrating her son’s life – you just never know, do you?
 

Hey there – hope your week’s going well so far. It’s been a week since Mike Cooper and I shared an hour with you via webinar. I wanted to update you on cabin availabilities and so on, just to keep this top of mind in case you’re considering joining us for a magical week (plus land tours, which I think Rob and I are going to do, and maybe Mike, too) river cruising from Switzerland to the Netherlands. As our host Gerry Koolhof of New Wave Travel put it, with ocean cruising you go to a country, but with river cruising you go through a country.
 
A reminder that if you book before June 30 (which is a Sunday – so better you should do it by Friday) you’ll get an added bonus of pre-paid gratuities ($185 per person) plus a $200 CDN on-board credit (per stateroom based on double occupancy). I won’t go on with details and prices; you can find out all you need to know about the trip in October 2020 here. 
 
See, the whole reason I’m nudging on this is that we REALLY want to take over the entire boat with just our group. So far, we’re about one-third to one-half booked and that’s terrific! But if we get the whole boat, that way we can stage more than one dance of our own, Mike and I can have the run of the dining room in terms of visiting tables, etc. and we can just make it one big (old) school trip, if you will! Once you’ve looked at the itinerary etc. just email Gerry. He’s a sweet guy whom Rob and I have known and dealt with for about a decade. 
 
That’s all I’ll say for now. I was just reminded to mention it by Jann Arden’s Instagram photos of the riverboat cruise she’s on in Europe with fans/guests. I hope they got their whole boat too – and that she’s having as much fun as her guests undoubtedly are.
 
Rob and I are off for a musical adventure of our own tomorrow and I’ll fill you in then. 
 
Meantime, I’ve entered the world of home assistants. No, I’m not firing Rob; we found a great deal on Google Home last week and bought one for the bedroom and one for the living room. I think – like any new device – it’s going to be up to us to find uses for it, other than asking her what the weather is.
 
We play music on it, like soft meditation music or smooth jazz, but more often I’ll get it to tune in my favourite radio stations, Ocean 98.5 here in Victoria (without the static that used to accompany listening to it – stupid transmitter rules!) and 680 News in Toronto. That may sound strange to you, but I like hearing friends like Paul Cook and Steve Roberts. Plus it’s kind of comforting in its way to listen to “cottage country traffic on the nines” or hear how the 404 is moving.
 
I’ve had a few people ask, “Well, aren’t you worried they’re listening to you?” and frankly, I’m not concerned at all. For one thing, I have nothing to hide from anyone and if Google, his pal Alexa or any of the other home devices out there want to listen in on me, feel free. I figure we’re giving away information about ourselves every moment, so one more portal isn’t going to break me.
 
One guide to privacy quotes someone at Symantec (a cyber security company) as saying, “If you’re talking about your plans to take over the world, as you do every night, there’s a physical button to mute.” (Both Google Home and Alexa have that mute button.)
 

 
But I AM hoping she’s listening once in a while – like when I use a tool called “broadcast.” You say “Hey Google,” or “OK Google” to get her attention, and then tell her what you want the household to hear. For some, that means, “It’s time for dinner, everybody…” or “Someone had better walk the dog,” or a message like that. For me, as it was yesterday morning, it was, “Hey Google….broadcast ‘I’m ready for my coffee, Rob.'” She did, he laughed from the living room and, yes, I got my coffee, after he messaged me back with a few choice words!
 
As I say, it’s going to be all about making the most of this device. I do love the radio aspect (I think this is a bigger game changer than satellite radio, quite honestly) and the fact that I can ask Google to play me Terry O’Reilly’s latest podcast – or any podcast for that matter.
 
Hmmmm…maybe I’ll get into this podcast thing after all…we’ll see. 
 
Back with you tomorrow on our midweek travel adventure! 
 

Welcome to these final days of June. What a treat it is to share summer with you!
 
It’s funny, having mentioned Bambi here last Friday, that today’s journal is a glorious look out the window, in words (and pictures). Deer, one in bad shape, bunnies and, instead of skunks, of which we have none, a few captivating raccoons have filled the last few days with adventure and appreciation.
 
As I’ve told you, our move to the Victoria area (we’re in North Saanich, overlooking Victoria International Airport) was, in part, to help us to heal. Little could I have imagined how taken I’d be, not just with the scenery and the way it envelops you in peace and perspective, but in the little dramas that play out in our own backyard. I’d be lying if I said I’m not drawn to our expansive windows about 20 times a day, just to see if “our” deer are here. You’ll see them in a moment.
 
Yesterday I learned that our raccoons look much different from those enormous brown, black and beige trash pandas that inhabit Toronto and environs: ours are small, grey and white, with accents of black (their masks) and a much more timid demeanor than their urban cousins down east. Interestingly, BC raccoons are said not to carry rabies, unlike their kin. I plan not to test that bit of information personally.
 
After hearing a squealing and rustle in the bushes, I tiptoed out onto a deck and stood still enough to witness a pair of bandits sneaking across the width of our yard to have a nice meal of two corn cobs we’d tossed below for whatever critter wanted them. (This photo – not of our raccoons – is from the Delta Optimist.)
 

 
I shouldn’t go outside when I hear squealing; it can’t be a good thing. Has the tiny rabbit we see nibbling grass come to harm? Is a quail family being picked off by the neighbourhood cats again? I keep reminding myself that nature isn’t cruel, it’s just indifferent and, well, natural, but I can’t help myself from worrying about the more vulnerable inhabitants of our tiny corner of the world.
 
Take this fellow. I’ve watched him enough to see little budding antlers and I wonder if he’ll have a chance to live long enough for them to grow fully. You see, his back left leg is lame. 
 

 
For well over a month now, when he makes his way through our yard, sometimes stopping to rest in a quiet corner, that leg is lifted and never is serious pressure put upon it. Was he attacked, I wonder, hit by a car traveling too quickly through our neighbourhood, or hurt while jumping a fence or rock wall? I can’t say. I do know that we cannot call any agencies for help for him unless he’s dead. And that’s life, too. I have a little video of him if you’d like to watch. He looks mangy and thin and I wonder what will become of him….
 

 
And finally, one of the nicest natural surprises we’ve had here: a pair of fawns. They and their momma came by for a visit last week and it made our day. Now you know why I’m always taking the long way to the kitchen: there’s a show right below us and I don’t want to miss a moment – even when they’re en route to our neighbour’s yard!
 

 
Have a lovely week and I’ll be back here with you tomorrow.
 

First of all, happy summer! I hope that this season brings to you all that you’ve awaited during the winter and spring months. Of course, for some parts of the country, this season got an early start; for others, it’s yet to kick into high gear. But my hopes for you are lots of great memory-making. My best memories are in the hazy glazed backdrop of summer.
 
This is also a day to kick off a huge movie weekend with the return of a film franchise that has been a part of our little family’s life almost as surely as if it was planned to run alongside our history.
 

  

When the first Toy Story came out, it was 1995. Our little Lauren was just over four years old and we’re almost certain it was her first theatre excursion. Then, of course, we waited for the DVD to come out and devoured it again. And again. “You are a sad, strange little man,” a line from Buzz Lightyear to Woody when Buzz thought Woody was out to get him, was repeated many times in our household as the years went on – usually to Rob or to our little dog Pepper.
 
In 1999, Lauren was 8 years old and she, her daddy and I excitedly went to the theatre to see Toy Story 2 together. Woody got a girlfriend and we were introduced to a dastardly miner voiced by Cheers and Frasier star Kelsey Grammer. It was a delight and not the least bit disappointing after the magic of Pixar’s first Toy Story offering.
 
Then came Toy Story 3: the film to end the franchise (or so we thought) and how perfect it was! We waited 11 years for this story as little Andy Davis grew up and gave his toys away. I wept big wet tears that rolled from my eyes, down the back of my wrist and onto the cushioned armrest, as the story so perfectly echoed in June 2010 what was happening in our lives: Lauren moving out of our Toronto condo to start her education and her grownup life in Ottawa. The parallels were so strong that the film always held a very special place in our hearts.
 
When Lauren died five years later, another door closed: we were pretty sure that we could never watch Toy Story or any of its franchise again. The desperately sweet memories that we associated with the film and its characters, the joyful moments we’d relive with our daughter that came from the movie, like the tea parties with Daddy modeled after the ones to which Andy’s little sister subjected Buzz Lightyear, were just too close to our broken hearts.
 
So here’s the thing: I was dead set against going to see this newest version, Toy Story 4. Why would I put myself through that? (In fact, that’s the question Rob asked when he returned to our airplane seats in April to find me with tears rolling down my cheeks as I watched Disney’s Bambi, a film for which Lauren knew all of the songs and that we’d watched endlessly when she was a toddler. It’s why her nickname, like that of the skunk in the film, was Flower.)
 

 
But now I’m reading that TS4 is getting 100% positive reviews on Rotten Tomatoes. It’s earning raves all-around. Do I dare? Do we dare? And why would we – just to sit and cry or to laugh and remember – or do both? Oh dear….
 
With the exception of that soggy moment in the skies a while back, I haven’t cried in so long that I worry I’ve shut down in some ways. In sharing messages of reclaiming joy, as I have done in the past four months since the release of Mourning Has Broken, have I intentionally tucked away the pain – and do I want to reopen that door?
 
I promised to give Brooke and Phil our Toy Story DVD set and forgot when I was visiting this month, but will in October. I think Colin’s going to love the adventures of Woody, Buzz, Mr. Potato Head, Bo and so many of the Toy Story gang just as much as we did. And, oh yes, like Lauren was the first time she saw the film, Colin is four years old. Seems fitting; after all, these were the stories – the Toy Storys – of our lives.