Erin's Journals

Before we get into today’s journal, I just wanted to share with you my post for Walmart this week. In our house, April is always brightened by a certain birthday, but there’s no reason why you can’t bring some spring into your place, via the best possible April Showers!
 
One of Rob’s and my favourite birthday memories is when I booked a suite at the then-Skydome Hotel and invited friends over for snacks and to watch an Opening Day Blue Jays game! We had a great time – lots of laughs and fun – until we tried to sleep there that night and had to listen to leaf blowers cleaning popcorn out of the seating area. It was brutal – but still memorable. Suffice to say, I was plenty pooped for the radio show the next day!
 
For lots of wonderful baseball memories told by a man who watched and shared the best moments with us all, I can’t recommend highly enough a new book by longtime Blue Jays radio broadcaster Jerry Howarth. His new memoir, Hello, Friends: Stories from my Life and Blue Jays Baseball, is filled with tales of encounters and conversations with players, as well as his own journey to broadcasting fame (with plenty of pitfalls and tears along the way). Jerry, of course, was one half of the famous Tom (Cheek) & Jerry Blue Jays broadcast duo and he’s an exceptional writer and story-teller. 
 
As both a broadcaster and a fan of Jerry, one of my favourite anecdotes in the book is how, in his minor-league days, he would be joined in his booth by the stadium organist. A big fan of the game, she was visually impaired and counted on Jerry to tell her what was happening on the field, between her stints at the keyboard. From that day forward, Jerry always called play-by-play for Ginny, the baseball fan who couldn’t see the field. If that isn’t a perfect analogy for radio, then what is?
 
In 2015, Jerry reached out to Rob and to me the day after Lauren died so that he could share his own family tragedy – the passing of a niece, also in her sleep – and console us. I’ve never forgotten that vast kindness and generosity. So when we were connected this year by former Jays broadcaster (and now afternoon host on Sauga960 AM) Barry Davis, Jerry and I picked up where we left off – which was with a huge hug and kiss in Seattle two summers ago.
 

 
We decided to send each other’s book (do you know it costs $27 to mail a book to Ontario????) and have been writing back and forth. Jerry’s a hoot – he’ll write to me and cite pages and paragraphs and his jokes and insight about them. As we’ve continued to connect, we’ve had such a lovely experience. And as his book continues to climb the bestsellers’ list, we’re chirping at each other like teammates going for the same record…he’s planning on unseating me, and so on.
 

 
The photo above is courtesy: joseph michael photography / info@josephmichael.ca / instagram @photojoecanada. Now, as much as I would hate for anyone to BUY THIS BOOK for Father’s Day (ahem) and for Jerry to surpass me in sales, I’ll give him this plug and this space! Don’t you dare pass me, Jerry!
 
I’m kidding, of course. We’ve had a wonderful time going through this experience together and I wish him every success. This American-born Canadian citizen left his beloved play-by-play job due to complications from surgery: a tube down his throat during prostate cancer treatment left him with injured vocal cords. 
 
Now he enjoys time on the field, more time at home in the GTA with a beautiful grandson (of whom he sends pictures every now and then) and with his wife Mary. He has two grown sons and I am grateful to Joe for taking that lovely shot of Jerry with both of our books. Thanks, Jerry. Getting to know you – through your book and our friendship online – has been a real pleasure and an honour.
 
With love and thanks (and yeah, good luck with your book)…
 

I’ve never ever claimed this space was a news column and, thankfully, it’s been a long time since anyone wrote in a huff and asked why I wasn’t commenting on this or that. That having been said, I’m at a total loss as to what is happening in Ottawa or at Queen’s Park these days. But especially Ottawa. Rob and I have been reading up on SNC Lavalin to try to understand just what’s happened (and keeping up is a challenge with the daily additions, subtractions and interpretations) and how things have gotten to where they are now.
 
I know we’re not alone in our search for the truth and not the so-called “facts” as one party or another projects them. In fact, when you type “SNC Lavalin” into Google (as I did yesterday to make sure I had the right number of Ls happening here) the sentence was completed by the two words “For Dummies.” One thing this dummy knows for sure: I need to learn more about this from people who didn’t hate Trudeau to begin with.
 
I am trying hard these days to adhere to the wise words of a prayer that I’ve often cited here: 

God Grant me the Serenity to Accept the Things
I Cannot Change
Courage to Change the Things I Can
And Wisdom to Know the Difference.

In the past week or so, Rob has frequently reminded me of these words to the “Serenity Prayer,” as I’ve been really down about the lack of transparency in terms of the Mueller Report. Rob said it again as we watched a teary Kevin Pillar depart the Blue Jays, the only pro team he’s ever known, as management who claim to be building have systematically dispatched any player whose name graced a fan’s jersey.
 
And so I change the things I can. I’ll watch the Jays, but won’t go to another country to do it (as we did two years ago); I’ll cheer, but I won’t cry. Same with the Leafs. I will vote in the next election (even a local one for council that’s happening here in our area next week when we’re away; we will vote in advance tomorrow) and I’ll do the research and read more than just the writers with whom I agree. Truly that is literally The Wisdom to Know the Difference.
 
Tomorrow: a lovely man I’ve gotten to know better since we’ve both had our books published. Enjoy this day.
 

Oops! Thanks to all who wished Rob a Happy Birthday yesterday. I mentioned it was “this week” but it happens to be Thursday. So he’s feeling much love already, which, happily, takes some of the pressure off me in what he likes to call his “birthday month.” Um, yeah…no.
 
Do you ever stop and think of what a miraculous time we live in? Yes, there are some serious drawbacks to having the internet at our fingertips and I’m finally just starting to fight back against the firestorm of negativity that I awaken to daily when I am reminded of how much I dislike some people in government these days. But instead of going straight into my Twitter feed or email, I now go to my meditation app.
 
In the time it takes Rob to bring me a cappuccino (yes, yes, I’m spoiled, even during his “birthday month”) I can listen to and enjoy 10 minutes of meditation. It’s a lovely way to start the day and one that I could never indulge in during my working years; as soon as the alarm went off, I went into full work mode, trying to get my brain synapses fully firing! Now, thanks to those quiet ten minutes, I can handle whatever comes my way – or, more appropriately – whatever I choose to let in.
 
Don’t worry, I’m not proselytizing and won’t mention meditation every day. But since a few asked yesterday, I happen to use the Calm app, which costs money if you don’t cancel it at the end of the trial period (and I forgot to, so I’m making the most of it).
 
It turns out that may have been a blessing after all, as I not only meditate along with them in the morning for ten minutes, but I also enjoy their bedtime stories. There are fairy tales, walks through national parks and even a long meandering story to which I’ve twice fallen asleep, told by Matthew McConnaughey. Each one helps me to turn off my brain at night. Insight Timer is a free app that allows you to meditate “with” people from around the world. That’s another you may want to give a go.
 
But what I really wanted to share with you today was the little internet miracle that let me talk on my laptop camera to a classroom full of students at my alma mater, Loyalist College in Belleville, Ontario yesterday. Some time ago, I’d been contacted by an instructor there, Laurie Pratt. She’s a professor for social service workers’ courses and asked me to weigh in about grief and Mourning Has Broken.
 

 
For about 45 minutes, I talked about my career, the day that we found out Lauren had died and the aftermath, including the book. Most importantly (hopefully) I was able to answer Laurie’s (and her students’) questions and to discuss how it feels to be on the receiving end of people’s condolences, the words to use (and not to use) and different elements of moving on in the wake of something like this happening. I hope social workers dealing with grief, hospice and so on are able to take with them some of the lessons we learned through our experiences and have shared in the book.
 

 
See, I always thought I’d like to teach. And yesterday, through the book, through the magic of the internet, through the promise that some good can come of the worst, maybe I did a little of that. Who knows what the future holds? But I’m feeling pretty excited about the prospects these days.
 
Have a great day and I’ll be back with you here tomorrow.
 

Ah, April 1st. April Fool’s – and a day when radio people traditionally have gone out of their way to play tricks on listeners. I was never really good at it, not being great at keeping a straight face or telling a lie. (I’m the proverbial dog whose tail wags at the poker table.)
 
There are legends, of course, in the business, but none that stands the test of time quite as well as that of my former partner Mike Cooper and the 1976 stunt that had police officers flying down to 1050 CHUM’s studios on Yonge Street at 2 am, thinking an intruder had broken into the radio studios and shot Mike. It darned near cost Mike his job, but saner heads prevailed and he’s still standing – in more ways than one! Here’s a blog post I found with the details. Read on for producer Bruce Marshall’s insight as well. Like I said, legendary.
 
Mike was never one for looking back; when CHUM had reunions – on the air or off – he was reluctant to go and reminisce with co-workers or fans of that era of radio. He would always say to me that the best days are right now…and truly we both subscribed to the line from Carly Simon’s song “Anticipation”: “These are the good old days.” For the longest time, they were.
 
The trick to it all is recognizing the good days when you’re having them. As Rob gets set to mark another milestone-ish birthday this week (the one where the government starts sending cheques…gulp), my much older husband is staying positive: he’s continuing to take good care of himself, takes a lot of pride in his appearance and plays hockey every chance he gets. If turning 65 gives him pause in any way, he looks at, say, my dad who’s going to be 86 in two months and thinks what Dad wouldn’t give to be 65 again. It’s all perspective.
 
And if we just keep remembering that there’s a moment in every single day to cherish – even if it’s just that especially good cup of coffee or the sun shining through some April snow – then whether these truly are the “good old days” will be irrelevant. We can’t go back, so we look around and find gratitude. That’s a choice, no matter what life throws at us, right? (Can you tell I’ve taken up meditation again?)
 
Have a great day. Enjoy the moments.
 

For someone who doesn’t work Monday though Friday, I sure am glad to see a weekend here. I won’t lie to you: it’s been a heavy week. It began on Sunday with what should have been Lauren’s 28th birthday. For Rob, she’ll always be 24, as he can’t bear to contemplate what should have – could have – been.
 
As for me, I look at where I was at 28 (pregnant with her) and wonder if she’d be expecting another child by now. I wonder if she’d still even have her job, with cuts being as rampant as they are at the Ottawa radio station at which she did midday news. Few people she worked with are still there; a couple of sweet young men came to see me when I was in the building in late February for TV interviews. They remembered her and wanted to wish Rob and me the best. Maybe she’d have moved to television, although she never had that “bug.” Who knows…?
 
It’s rare weeks like this one – perhaps a deeper reverberation of the silence that follows a frenetic, fantastic whirlwind book tour and joyous time at the top of the bestsellers’ list – that make me feel a bit of a hypocrite. It’s why I’m always trying to stay positive here, without lying to you. You don’t come here to be brought down or depressed; I try to find different ways to look at things or stories to share that will make you think or feel. The last thing I want is for this to be about “poor me.”
 
After all, part of the title of my book is “…love, loss and reclaiming joy.” I know you can do that – and we strive to do it every single day. How I wish the joy was all-encompassing and never-ending, but you’d have to admit there would be something seriously wrong with me (or right with my meds!) if I didn’t slip into the crevices – or craters – that accompany the kind of loss that we’ve experienced. Add to it losing our cousin’s family this week – the sweet hugs and laughter and screams of little people playing with us – and it’s been, as I say, a heavy one.
 
I’ll be out of it by Monday and will work this weekend on pulling through. Moving forward. Counting blessings and saying our own “at leasts.” I’ve lots of writing to do while the Blue Jays play on TV: I’ll be preparing Walmart stories (which I hope you’re enjoying) and doing lots of advance work on journals that I want to make sure are up for you when we’re in Amsterdam in just over a week.
 
I am excited to tell you that there are now more than a few book dates that are being lined up for the first week of June: I’m coming to Southern Ontario for events big and small and definitely in areas that weren’t on the agenda in late February (not that Mother Nature would have cooperated anyway). So I’ll keep you posted on that front and hope that if we missed each other last month, we’ll have a chance to chat or hug (or both) in two months.
 
In addition to the travels we have ahead, it is truly something I’ll be looking forward to. And as anyone who’s suffered a loss will tell you, having something to anticipate on the horizon can mean the difference between the light and the dark.
 
In the meantime, thank you for being here. I wish you a peaceful weekend filled with light and I promise I’ll do my best to have the same. All we can do is try, right?