Erin's Journals

You probably know Arlene Dickinson: famous for her prominence on the Dragons’ Den panel, she’s about to embark on a new show on CBC (starting this Friday at 8:30 pm) called Under New Management, in which she “takes budding entrepreneurs on a life-changing journey of assessing businesses for sale and whether they are really ready, and have what it takes.”
 
She’s a fascinating follow on Twitter @ArleneDickinson. Seemingly daily she tweets something positive and reaffirming to jump start our souls and I appreciate her outlook and sincerity. But it was a tweet on Saturday that I read, related to and commented on that I thought you might find interesting here today.
 
She wrote:
 

 
I echoed her sentiments and then was pleasantly surprised when she responded.
 

 
But it was a tweet that followed that really stopped me in my tracks. Sophia @hoistingmysail wrote: “Girls, I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you both. You inspire so many to carry themselves like Goddesses no matter what! Please do the same too! You own it!!!”
 
As much as I’d love to believe what Sophia says (surely more applicable to Ms Dickinson than to me) there’s still that small but persistent voice, that insecurity that has always been there. It’s the voice of the tall, new kid in so many schools who never fit in with the cool girls, except now, some 40 years later, those girls have been replaced by the superbly coiffed and often gorgeous sales women in stores where I could afford to shop but simply won’t. Can’t. Why? Because, like Arlene, I could just be coming from a salon myself, or on my way to a special meeting, and I still would not feel put together enough.
 
I’d think of the fraying handle on my three-year-old purse or the salt lines on my well-worn boots; I’d know that my size body is probably “plus” in many of their fashion lines and that I wouldn’t spend that kind of money on designer clothes to begin with. For what? So I can wear it a few times in public and then retire it to the back of the closet where clothes from a life I used to lead all go to die? (I gave away almost all of those dresses and pieces before we left Toronto in 2016.) 
 
Because clothes shopping is not something I particularly enjoy, I’ve been lucky in this public life to have had the support of a couple of amazing women in the business. Freda Iordanous is owner of Freda’s on Bathurst near King and she always treated me kindly and with generosity when it came to dressing for television or borrowing a gown for a one-time special event.
 
Then, thanks to events I was hosting in York Region for Markham Stouffville Hospital, I had the wonderful help of the women at The One and Only boutique in Aurora (still my favourite store). I love going where there’s no judgment, the staff treats you like a friend or a sister, and they know what will look good on you before you even try something on.
 
If not for those women in those places, I think I would have been that same 15-year-old girl every time I looked at clothes, even today. I don’t go into the high end stores where you can sense the top to bottom once-over the moment you pass by. I’m reminded of the scene in Pretty Woman when Julia Roberts’ call girl character is openly shunned by a snooty store clerk and then, of course, turns out to have a platinum credit card or something and surprises that nasty employee. Prejudices exist everywhere and, in the big picture, this one – real or perceived – isn’t really important.
 
It is, as Sophie pointed out in her tweet, something we should own. But I did find it comforting to know that a high profile business entrepreneur and media superstar like Ms Dickinson feels as I do. I’m much happier supporting the small store owner – a person who values her customers and treat us all equally, whether we’re sporting yoga pants and sneakers or toting a Louis Vuitton purse. (Hint: I’m the former.)
 
Oh, by the way, see the dress I bought in the Vancouver airport – not kidding – tomorrow on Cityline with Tracy Moore when I return to the place where the whole book adventure began. Might want to set the PVR today.
 

Ah, Monday. It’s been another unusual weekend of calls, texts and emails letting us know about the lists that Mourning Has Broken has landed on. Biggest news came Friday that we were #1 in Canadian non-fiction and #2 non-fiction (behind Ms Michelle Obama) on the Toronto Star list, as well as #1 in the Globe and Mail (Canadian non-fiction) and #3 in non-fiction. To say that this is unexpected is an understatement!
 
My friend Susan Knight, program director of Ocean 98.5 here in Victoria, came over for coffee on Saturday, holding a copy of The Globe and Mail and filled with questions about this entire experience.
 

 
Did I expect a best seller when I wrote it, she asked? I told her honestly that I always envisioned it going to the top but I never expected it. Does that make sense?
 
I’ve found the learning curve in this whole experience to be steep. For example, as one reader asked, what makes a best seller? How does one get on one list, for example, and not on another? Is it like a gold record in Canada versus one in the US? Are the sales numbers different? Again, no idea. I don’t want to bother anyone at the publisher with these questions but I’m sure eventually I’ll get the answers. (I did learn when I went in to sign some books in our local Sidney store, Tanner’s Books, that the sales in BC were strong. I was surprised by that, in that promotion here has been minimal so far.)
 
Someone else asked how one gets a book into the US. (That I don’t know, but the ball will be in HarperCollins’ court.) We’ll do everything we can to help spread the word of love, loss and reclaiming joy. 
 
Sometimes you have to do what you can to promote your own work. The author, podcast and CBC’s Under the Influence host Terry O’Reilly told me that you screw up your nerve, go into book stores and offer to sign your book, and I’ve been doing that in stores big and small. Only once (at the aforementioned Tanner’s) did the staffer to whom I spoke check the back flap to see if I was actually the person who wrote it!
 
I mean, I get that, and to be honest, found it funny that no one else had checked, including the friendly lady at Indigo in the Mayfair Mall here in Victoria! (I inscribed her 14 copies and let her decide whether the sticker “local author” or “signed by author” should be affixed to the cover.)
 
Our poor daughter-in-law Brooke, though. She was with me a week ago yesterday when we were in Barrhaven and I wanted to pop into the Indigo just a few doors from the spa we’d spent a few hours visiting. Because of a facial, I did not look – shall we say – camera ready, so I wasn’t going to offer to sign any books. Instead, I went to their best sellers’ shelf and searched for Mourning Has Broken.
 
Ah, there it was: on a shelf second from the bottom. Well, that was not going to do! After furtively checking for staffers (there was none), I took another book and the two behind it, and moved them down to where mine was, placing my book up on the second shelf where it belonged! Brooke was playfully mortified when she saw what I’d done and, laughing, we made our way out of the store.
 
Two days later, with a bit of time to kill before our flight, Rob and I stopped into the Indigo and yep – there it was – still on the second shelf! So I gathered the four remaining books, took them to the front desk and offered to sign them. The young woman behind the cash was excited and said, “Yes,” and to my delight, a woman who was in line at the store to buy a book asked if she could purchase one of my signed editions! Turns out she’s a librarian and was going to buy one anyway, but it just happened to be a bit of fortuitous timing. We even shared a hug.
 
Now I don’t know if this all sounds strange or like I’m on some ego trip (as my dad used to put it) or what, but I don’t really care. I’m enjoying the experience as best I can, as I’m pretty sure it’s not going to come again in this lifetime. It’s the culmination of a dream I never knew I had, out of a nightmare that we lived through. And if there’s going to be a silver lining, damn it, I’m going to embrace it. Because that’s part of the book: reclaiming joy. Have a gentle Monday and we’ll be back with you tomorrow.
 

I need to start today’s journal with an apology. If you’ve been among those who have written to share your personal story of loss, please know that I have highlighted your email and am taking the time to answer each one individually.
 
Because we’ve had a bit of a struggle getting back on our home footing – time zones, jet lag, appointments in particular and too many plates spinning simultaneously in general – I’m not answering my emails with the same speed that I usually strive for. But know that I am trying and will take time each day to do so. And thank you for understanding.
 
In addition to begging your patience, I need to take a moment to share with you some praise. First of all, if you were at any of the events in and around the GTA last week, I’m grateful to you for braving weather and other obstacles that could have kept you away.
 
I’ve heard from many who said they truly wanted to share some real face time and I get that; Mother Nature wasn’t nearly as cooperative as we wanted her to be. But my hope is that I’ll be coming back to Ontario in the next few months and I promise that I’ll keep you abreast of any such plans, so that if we missed meeting, we’ll have another chance when snow is just a memory and the only road worries are the usual traffic slowdowns!
 
I am also indebted to the interviewers who took the time to read my book and ask informed and caring questions. So far, nearly 6000 people have watched the chat that Maureen Holloway and I shared through CHFI.com last week and if you choose to spend some time with us there, you’re more than welcome to do so.
 

 
One of the funniest moments of that evening came when Mike Cooper, who was just popping into the theatre to check out the audience size, ended up being our “warm up” act. It was a delight – thanks Mike! And thank you to Rogers in general and Julie Adam in particular for having had my back for so very many years.
 
I’m beyond grateful for the support that 98.1 CHFI and 680 News gave to Mourning Has Broken and have no doubt they played a role in this book becoming a bestseller. (Friend and co-worker Steve Roberts was in two Indigos that had sold out of it; please don’t give up – there are more on their way. Amazon will be shipping my book in about a month and the good folks who print the books are working on getting them out as I type this, plus the audio book is also coming any day now.)
 
The myriad TV and radio hosts who delved into what cannot have been an easy topic for them to research and discuss are to be thanked as well. I tried to inject each interview with the appropriate amount of levity, just to let people know that the book wasn’t going to be one big tearfest and I think that my efforts were met with appreciation for the most part.
 
If you’re wondering when my chat with Tracy Moore of Cityline airs, that’s going to be later this month – perhaps next week – and the discussion I had with Marilyn Denis comes late in April. Again, I’ll be sure to keep you posted. Meantime, how much fun was CTV’s The Social? I’d love to go back and visit more often. Here’s hoping an invitation’s in the works!
 
Sweet Dina Pugliese cried as we talked on the BT couch, bringing many viewers to tears over their morning coffee. Marilyn and I connected in a way I’ve so longed to do (having been friendly competitors for decades, my attempts to have her on my little Rogers TV show were thwarted from on high, unfortunately, or we’d have crossed paths in front of a camera long ago). 
 
The interviews all went beautifully and I am grateful. I’m especially touched by the fact that, despite the obvious ROGERS tattoo that I’ve proudly (and metaphorically) sported for almost my entire career, my cousins at Bell Media – Lauren’s employer at the time of her passing – were more than generous with their support and air time.
 
I came away from last week’s media blitz with an affection for Ben Mulroney that I hadn’t had before; his tears as we chatted for etalk were genuine and copious (I don’t know if they’ll make it to air when the piece is broadcast) and he is a sweet, sensitive and genuine interviewer. I’m glad to have had that opportunity to get to know him, as well as to reconnect with Susan Hay at Global. I just wish my time had overlapped with that of Jennifer Valentine’s debut on the new Global morning show. How wonderful that she’s getting a chance to shine on camera again in the early mornings! As always, there’s bounty enough for all, right? 
 
So, I thank you today. For letting me share a little behind-the-camera and microphone gratitude with you and for your patience if you’re awaiting a response. I’m beyond touched that this book has resonated so deeply with people who are navigating the dark waters of loss and I respect the courage it took, in some cases, to write to me.
 
Be well, enjoy this weekend and I’ll be back with you Monday with a laugh. Me acting up in a bookstore, of course….
 

I’d just come home yesterday after a blessedly uneventful visit for a mammogram when the thought of cancer actually manifested itself in words. But this wasn’t about me: it was news on my Twitter feed that Alex Trebek says he has stage four pancreatic cancer and is vowing to fight it. 
 
Here’s the link to the Sudbury native making the announcement about his health: something he wanted to do lest you hear “overblown” or inaccurate reports elsewhere. Good for him – choosing transparency, rather than letting the tabloids or other garbage “journalists” twist the news that is only his to tell, should he choose to tell it.
 
The 78-year-old Trebek admits that normally the prognosis is “not very encouraging,” but he’s going to fight and keep working; he urges everyone to “keep the faith.” He also jokes that he has to win: he has a contract to host Jeopardy for three more years. 
 
I know it’s unusual for me to write here about two celebrities in one week, but these have been exceptional stories: a 52-year-old dying after a massive stroke and now the news of a man who’s been in our living rooms for decades – almost every single night – as well as in our phones (I have the Jeopardy app) and our computers, facing an extremely deadly disease head on.
 
Of course, we all wish him the very best. He feels like family.
 
I don’t really have many Alex Trebek stories; I had the opportunity to intervew him over the phone a few times, including at CHFI and back when I was at CKLW in Windsor/Detroit in the early 1980s.
 
That latter phone call took place when Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune packed an incredible, seemingly unbeatable one-two ratings punch. Of course, Wheel was the winner – something that the dry and wry Trebek had fun with. When we joked about the rivalry between the two shows, he told us, “Of course Wheel of Fortune has more viewers. For that show you only have to know the alphabet!”
 
I always loved that line. Mr. Trebek, I’m told, has a deeply twisted sense of humour (something we get to see glimpses of every now and then) and I have no doubt that it will help him through the weeks and months – and hopefully years – ahead.
 
In the meantime, I’ll watch his show tonight, pausing live TV to give me a chance to answer before the smarty pants contestants buzz in (yes, it’s come to that, my friends). And I’ll sit in otherwise quiet appreciation of a man who just makes me believe that even if he didn’t have those answers (or questions) on a card in front of him, somehow he’d probably know them anyway.
 
I hope he’s got the answers this time, too. Because my question would be: “What is twenty more years, Alex?”
 
—–
 
On another note – if you subscribe to Sirius, please join me at 1:30 EST on Sirius XM Canada Talks with Jeff Sammut. We’ll be having a nice long chat, and I look forward to catching up with him. 
 
I’ll be back with you here tomorrow to wrap up the week. And since it’s Thursday, I’m happy to share with you a link to my latest Walmart article about something happening this Sunday morning. I’m sure you’ll find it “timely.” 
 

Ah, home, sweet home. For the second time in two weeks, Rob and I found ourselves unpacking our big teal-coloured hard shell suitcases yesterday and just tossing most of their contents in the direction of the washer and dryer. Some stuff goes back into the “travel” closet (where the extra curling iron and travel-sized bottles live). I want to pitch two pairs of high heels into the ocean, but I’m sure it would just prove frustrating to mermaids, so I’ll keep them until I forget the pain, remember how they looked and pack them again. 
 
One month today we’ll be wheeling those suitcases to our nearby airport again as we host (along with my radio partner Mike Cooper) a river cruise in Amsterdam. This is turning into quite the year for logging miles and I’m not complaining. When I pictured reWirement, TRAVEL was at the top of the list of things I wanted to do. And so here we are. Molly has been in the excellent hands of warm and loving people staying in our home.
 
This time around, I have no travel mishaps to share with you and there’s one great big reason for that: Rob was with me. Yes, we had lousy snow tires in a Toronto blizzard (not our fault; it was the only car that Hertz had available when we landed at YYZ – a Kia with Nova Scotia plates that shouldn’t have been anywhere near a snowy road) but that was the extent of our (mis)adventures.
 
I do have to tell you a Rob story that is so above and beyond the call of duty you’ll marvel at this guy’s patience and sweet nature.
 
It was the day before our trip to Toronto, two weeks ago today. While I was getting my hair cut, Rob had taken Molly into Victoria for a grooming, so that the couple staying at our home whilst we were gone would have a sweet-smelling pup between them when she decided to hop up on their bed and join them for the night (which she does, the little tart). 
 
I asked him if he would pick me up some adhesive lashes. I’d considered getting extensions, but found out that: a) no one in Sidney was available to do them, and b) you need to go a few days with no water or makeup near your eyes for the lashes to adhere properly. The latter was not going to be an option, as I had TV to do the day after we landed.
 
My friend and favourite makeup artist, Christine Calder, had told me that her best pro lashes came from Walmart (’cause I don’t just write for them, I shop there, baby!). So I asked Rob to pick me up a few strips of KISS brand lashes. I guess that sounds simple enough, but here’s how that went down.
 
Overwhelmed by the selection, Rob texted Christine and they had a conversation that went back and forth to such an extent that it ate up all of the time he was going to spend doing errands during Molly’s appointment! He sent pictures, she sent advice and on it went. I ended up with about six packages (or 30 sets of lashes) and will probably be laid to rest wearing one of those pairs, so many do I have now.
 
Then last week, as I was doing a phone interview with PostMedia’s Kevin Connor, Rob was out at a downtown Toronto Rexall trying to match a picture of blush that I had sent to his phone, since I didn’t pack mine. I wouldn’t have ten minutes to shop and he volunteered to go find some for me. He brought back three to the hotel room; one was fine and the other two were returned later in our trip. 
 
Anyway, in case you didn’t already know, that’s the kind of guy I married. The guy who, all last week, got me (and sometimes my amazing publicist Melissa) where we needed to be on time and mostly composed, weather permitting. As I stayed and signed and hugged and talked with readers and former listeners in Oshawa, there was Rob with his own lineup of folks who just wanted to meet him, shake his hand or have him sign my book. It was heartwarming.
 
He’d gotten up a few times at different events and offered his perspective on things, answered some questions and even was the mic runner for one particular gathering in Uxbridge. He’s never stopped supporting this endeavour and I’ll never stop being grateful for everything he’s done to get us where we are – and some days that’s simply “upright.” And that’s okay.