Erin's Journals

Here we are – beginning another year together in this quiet spot I call my journal and I want to thank you for making the time in this often hectic life to sit here with me for a few minutes nearly every day.
 
Was your holiday break a good one? Did you indulge a little too much and sleep as long as you wanted? I hope you did just the right amount of recharging your batteries to carry you through the winter months as we await longer days and whiffs of spring.
 
I was saddened to read of the passing of Jann Arden’s mom, who suffered with Alzheimer’s and whose slow fade into darkness had been so eloquently and honestly shared by her brave, funny and beautiful daughter. Although the lyrics to Jann’s “Good Mother” have echoed through my mind this past week, twice I’ve been in places with music playing and heard her singing “Insensitive.” Nice to be reminded that down here in the US they know a great Canadian singer when they play one. 
 
Speaking of mothers and daughters, I have to tell you how my 2019 began yesterday. After a midnight swim that followed just the right mixture of quiet reflection and channel flipping, I fell into a deep sleep that took me well past my usual 8:30 am awakening. And there’s a reason why I didn’t want to open my eyes: I had my first long dream of reuniting with Lauren since she left us in May of 2015.
 
In this dream, she came to visit as an adult in our MINI convertible with a girlfriend who was in her wedding party. In a house I didn’t recognize, I couldn’t leave Lauren’s side; my late mom was in my dream, too, and at one point Mom, Dad and I were sharing cookies that Lauren had made with Brooke (the wife of Lauren’s widower Phil). And Brooke – they were great! I broke off a piece with icing on it….
 
At one point I had to leave the room, I was crying with such joy to be with Lauren again. My mom didn’t quite get why I was being so emotional and I knew I was being silly – Lauren was just back on a visit, is all, from her home in Ottawa – but you see, in real life, I was just the same: absolutely giddy when she would come for a night or two and stay under the same roof.
 
Except in this dream, my joy was extreme and, for some reason, so was the depth of my need to be at her side, stroking her arm, hugging her, sitting on a step (near a bush vibrant with bees and wasps, one of which ended up down the neck of my dress, but that I successfully fished out of the band of my underwear before it could sting). Ah, dreams….
 
This is how I started 2019. Awake from a dream where, towards the end, Lauren had knocked over and broken a champagne glass (that had a K etched on it) and in which, when I saw an envelope addressed to a media outlet, I mused that it couldn’t be for her, as Lauren no longer worked there, having died. And that’s kind of how the dream ended.
 
What does it all mean? Everything and nothing, I suppose. All I know is that it’s the first significant reunion I’ve had with our girl, and I’ve been so hoping she’d visit in a dream. I recall offering to give her our car if she’d come back and live with us, then laughing, realizing she had her own life; that she had to be somewhere else. I would like to think she’s pointing me towards the year ahead. And reminding me she is always, always at our side.
 
Happy 2019, my friend. Our dreams may not all come true, but sometimes it’s enough just holding onto gratitude for what we have, what we had, and what lies ahead.
 

As winter begins this afternoon and the official solstice occurs, it seems a good time to remind us all that the short, darker days will be turning around and we’ll see more light in the coming weeks and months. May that be a metaphor as we face the end of one year and the start of another.
 
Of course, for many, the lights will shine brightest this coming Monday and Tuesday, as families gather to celebrate the warmth and love of the holidays. How we wish these feelings could last through the year! But that’s up to us, isn’t it?
 
As we embark on a few weeks’ hiatus here on the journal, returning on Wednesday, January 2nd, I want to tell you what I hope for us in the coming year. 2018 has been filled with travel and adventures, sadness and serenity. As always, Rob and I have striven to keep a balance of it all and to stay the right amount of “busy.” We’re still working on it.
 
I’m finding myself filling in the calendar for the coming year with a mixture of company (coming down to join us between now and mid-February) and business travel: we’re returning to our Ontario home towards the end of the second month as we prepare to spread the word on radio, TV and in print media about Mourning Has Broken: Love, Loss and Reclaiming Joy. 
 
Although I am bound by the rules set out by our publisher regarding what I can say about appearances and when I can say it, I was sent this Chapters Indigo notification by a friend, Charlene Close, earlier this week. So it’s out there: on Wednesday, February 27 at 7 pm I’ll be at Indigo in Oshawa for an interview about the book, followed by a book signing! I’m very exciting to be hitting up Durham Region and this gorgeous store and you can click this Facebook link or simply Google it for more information.
 
I hope to see you there, if you’re not coming to Oakville or one of the other appearances that have yet to be officially announced. If there’s any news over the holiday break, I’ll be sure to post it on Facebook – if you’ve been Invited to Like, please do click Like on the page and if you haven’t been…well, Like it anyway and that way you’ll get instant notifications that I’ve posted there, if you’re so inclined.
 
I have been blessed with the support and encouragement of a lot of my sisters in media and people whose paths I’ve been lucky enough to cross through my career: Marilyn Denis, Amy Sky, Olivia Newton-John and Jeanne Beker have all written a few lines, what we call “blurbs” for the book cover about its contents or its author. But the nicest surprise came our way from Jann Arden.
 
This phenomenal human being, who inspired me to start journalling 15 years ago, thanks to her own frank, funny and touching thoughts on the internet, said “yes” when I reached out and asked her to write a Foreword for the book. Although she was up to her eyes in her own projects (including a CTV sitcom that’s coming out in 2019!) she agreed to read the book and write the Foreward, warning me that she wouldn’t be able to get to it until mid-October because of her TV commitments.
 
Days passed. Then weeks. I figured that it was a nice try on my part and I didn’t blame her for not finding the time. I heard from our publisher that the book was put to bed before the holidays, so if we did eventually get something from Jann, we’d use it for the HarperCollins.ca website (where you can also pre-order the book) or on my own website. I wrote Jann and told her to take her time: the pressure was off and if she wrote anything, it wouldn’t be in the book per se.
 
She got back to me immediately and told me she was just finishing this “glorious” book of mine and asked if it was too late. I told her we’d see. 
 
The next morning, this incredible singer-songwriter, herself living with the broken-heartedness of watching her dear mom slip away to the ravages of Alzheimer’s, sent me these lovely words. 

There is nothing that can prepare you for life, nor is there a single thing that can prepare you for death, your own, or for one of your tribe, your flock, your family—blood or otherwise. Death comes down either by hammer or feather, neither of which are particularly kind.
 
What Erin Davis has managed to articulate with her gut wrenching and brilliantly inspiring memoir dumb-founds me. Page after page is filled with such grace and insight and openness that quite often I was wiping a tear off my cheek or a laugh from the corner of my mouth.
 
How do you reconcile the sudden death of your only daughter?
 
How do you navigate a marriage and a job and myriad friendships and errands and appointments and just day to day breathing in and out? Erin bares all and in doing so gives us the opportunity to share our own losses—making us feel less alone in our own rivers of grief. That river that winds in and out of our days, stealing sleep and happiness and eventually our mental, physical and spiritual health.
 
Grief shared is more bearable.
 
Grief shared heals tender hearts.
 
Grief shared is a gift that Erin Davis and her beautiful book “Mourning Has Broken” gives to humans everywhere.

Can you even believe the beauty of Jann’s composition? I was speechless. Teary and speechless. And in a small miracle, when I reached out to the senior VP and publisher who’s been shepherding me through this whole project, she said she’d talked to the art department and they had just enough space – and time – to add it to the book. The words “A Special Foreword by Jann Arden” have been inserted onto the front cover, right below Olivia Newton-John’s quote.
 
And so, there you are. A note of grace, the kindness of the universe and a message of hope moving forward. Sometimes all you have to do is ask and you shall receive; being patient and trusting that all will be well is another path to choose. There is still so much kindness in the world. And I wish you and your loved ones a gentle and peaceful holiday season and a serene 2019.
 
Merry Christmas. And above all, thank you. Talk to you here on January 2nd.
 

Thank you for letting me share what was in my heart here yesterday. I wanted to post an addendum late last night saying, “My day got better!” in case you were at all worried. But, of course, you knew it would get better, just as I did. All it takes is time.
 
Tomorrow will be my last journal here of the year, as so many folks get busy with the holidays and celebrations starting next week. I get that, and anticipate you’ll want to take a break from the journal, too. But I’ll be back here tomorrow and I’ll share with you another book-related appearance that has been made public. We may see you there in February!
 
Over the next two weeks or so, in addition to hosting one of the lowest-maintenance guests a girl could ever hope for (my sister-in-law Sue), Rob and I will be doing our share of trying to get work.
 
As you may know, I do voice work on the side; there’s a British company which uses me for Southern Ontario phone prompts (maybe you’ve called a company, been put on hold and thought that voice sounded familiar?) and we also audition for a half-dozen or so other voice jobs daily through various online sites that post jobs, and to which we subscribe (at a cost). I’m thinking 2019 might be the year I get an agent for voice work as well as for public speaking, as I hope to get much busier in the coming months.
 
You may be wondering where we do our recording down here in Palm Springs. Would you believe in a trailer?
 

 
When we saw this place online last spring, the big attraction for me was this little retro-looking Shasta trailer. It’s actually just a few years old, but is designed to look as if it’s straight out of the middle of the last century. It sleeps four (although we haven’t booked enough company here to put it to the test) and is a sweet little thing. I’ve always had a thing for trailers. Although I’m not sure I’d like the life, I do love the idea of having your house on your back. My friend Lisa and I share that passion.
 
Perhaps it’s about the freedom to travel as long as you want, staying where you like. I’m afraid what could ruin the experience for me would be staying in close proximity to people who don’t respect rules or boundaries; we’ve experienced that enough with noisy neighbours and slamming doors in hotel rooms. I wouldn’t want to have to ask someone who’s had too many (and is a possible gun owner) to keep it down, if you know what I mean.
 
This little trailer isn’t going anywhere; it has locks on the wheels so no one tries to open the gate and wheel it out. That’s okay; we don’t need to move it; we like using it as our studio!
 

 
I sit at the little table which Rob has surrounded with our black egg carton-like acoustic foam, and my microphone is on that table. As Rob listens and records from the seating at the back end of the trailer, I do my auditions and then we come into the house, Rob edits and sends them out and we wait. And wait. 
 

 
I haven’t lucked into much work yet, but we’ll keep auditioning. Luckily, Derek (my friend Lisa’s husband) landed a nice fat job from some trailer voice work he did here, and Lisa also got work, if I recall. So it’s been great for them and I hope over the next few weeks it’ll be lucky for us, too!
 
Back with you here tomorrow to wrap up the week, the season and the year!
 

Today I could write about signs from above or Christmas trees, the roadrunner I saw in a parking lot the other day (for real – here’s the picture)…
 

 
…or the coyotes who leave poop in our neighbourhood and have us on high alert when Molly goes out for her bedtime piddle.
 

 
I could tell you about the house across the street from our rental in Palm Springs that every single day has two classic cars in the carport. They’re movie-set-beautiful and I believe that it’s part of a rotating car program that makes a house look occupied (although a Ford Taurus would be far less conspicuous than a 60s model Chrysler Imperial with huge fins). We haven’t figured that out yet.
 
I could tell you about having my arms full of tops to try on at the local Stein Mart, only to put everything back on its rack and leave when the unending Christmas music in the store finally pecked away through the protective coating I try to shield myself in, and got to me.
 
I could tell you about how we aren’t putting up one ornament or card or a coloured candle again this year and that we’re totally okay with it. Christmas Eve will be spent in a seafood restaurant we found last week. Rob, his sister Sue and I will sit outside and catch up with each other, our talk and laughter perhaps drowning out the sounds of Bing and Dean.
 
Christmas will see a few little gifts in the morning, Pillsbury Grand rolls for breakfast (Lauren’s favourite once-a-year food tradition) and a turkey because we love turkey. We’ll spend the day outside, probably walking or reading. Rob and Sue may reminisce a bit about past Christmases with their folks; the movie Holiday Inn is on the PVR and maybe Christmas night they’ll watch it while I play word games on my phone. I don’t know. Except for a grocery list, I’m not planning very far ahead right now. One day at a time. 
 
I could tell you that we stayed up until 4 am yesterday at a local casino playing nickel video poker while the cleaning staff vacuumed around our feet, just because we didn’t have to sit at home and think. And feel. 
 
I could tell you all of these things, write them down and put them in today’s journal, but I’d have to figure out, as Bob Seger wrote, “what to leave in; what to leave out.”
 
Ah, there are so many distractions in December: Lights! Parades! Dog photos with Santa! This is such a joyful time of year for almost everyone else – and I hope that includes you – and I hate to bring it back to the deep sadness that we feel, that so many feel, at this time of year when there’s someone you miss with all of your heart who should be with you – or at the other end of a phone call – and just isn’t. And it’s not ***** fair. (Add the expletive of your choice, please. And be creative.)
 
I could write of the anticipation and crazy glee that returned when, although we were no longer children, Rob and I had the experience of watching Christmas through our little girl’s eyes. The Precious Moments fabric I used to sew her first stocking. The time she bounded out to the cottage living room to see a giant stuffed Santa sitting atop a snow racer. The year that, as a young child, all she wanted was a “kittar (guitar) and a flashlight.” (This year, her little son’s list includes a bucket. A four-year-old with an actual bucket list.)
 
We tuck away in the deep, safe corners of our hearts the Christmas mornings we were painting on our imagination’s colourful canvas of the many raucous and bursting-with-excitement memories we were sure were to come.
 
Colin will still have those mornings – Phil and his Christmas-adoring wife Brooke will see to it – and one day we may be part of them on the actual day instead of a month in advance as we were this year. And for that hope and that boy we are forever grateful. Lauren gave us a gift that we will continue to cherish and to love beyond words for the rest of our lives.
 
I could write about so many things today: the weather (though you’d hate me), the hassle of waiting around all day for a guy to come and fix an ice maker that we don’t use anyway, or the nice lady showing me cat videos on her phone as we played side-by-side at the casino.
 
I could write from the head or I could speak from the heart. I’ll choose the latter and go on my way, asking not for condolences or sympathy – just to tell you to know that I am grateful to have this place to say anything or nothing at all. Back with you here tomorrow.
 

Just one week until Christmas Day now and, oh, how the memories are stirred! If my parents’ families’ stories are typical, back in the day, people would just now begin thinking about cutting down or buying a tree to put up; my mom would tell me of her dad going out into the bush around their house in Turner Valley, Alberta and cutting down a small tree, bringing it home on Christmas Eve and then they’d decorate it.
 
Imagine – just a few days to enjoy the festivity of a beautiful tree! Now, of course, trees go up in November (or even before) and people enjoy them just as long as they can. Why not? You go to all of that work and expense, so why shouldn’t you enjoy your wonderful tree for as long as you possibly can? 
 
One year, we had such a beauty that we left this tree up (complete with Rob’s homemade watering system) until February. Of course, we were travelling in January on a listener trip, too, so there wasn’t really time to un-deck the halls, if you will. Oh, that’s an awful job. Not only does it mean that the holidays are well and truly over, but that you have to find each box or wrapper, put every individual ornament back in its place and say goodbye to it for another year.
 

 
Ours have been in bins and boxes since we moved and haven’t seen the light of day since early 2015. Maybe except for a special few, they’ll all go to a thrift store – who knows? Once again this year, being in California, we won’t have to think about that. Some day, some day. Not yet.
 
Our cousin Jocelyn and her husband and pre- and teenaged daughters have the most amazing idea for a Christmas tree and something I’d never heard of. I thought I’d share it with you today.
 
Every year, after failing to find a fresh cut tree that they loved in their Calgary-area home of Okotoks, they now order one from Nova Scotia. Yes, there’s a Christmas tree farm there that ships trees weeks in advance and Jocelyn assures me it’s about the same price as one that is schlepped home from a local lot: $125 plus $10 shipping compared to the $100 they would pay for an Alberta tree. You order according to the fullness that you want.
 
It arrives in a long cardboard tube ($10 for shipping a tree is pretty incredible in my books). 
 

 
How this six-foot tree stays moist and fresh, I have no idea. The instructions say to leave it wrapped up in the garage (they’re a Canadian company, so I guess they assume your garage is going to be chilly) until ready to put up. Just over a week ago, they cut it out of its tube using a small power saw. Me, I think it would be outrageously entertaining if you had to whack the tree like a Pillsbury tube in order for it to pop open. Sort of a combined piñata idea? (Just kidding). 
 

 
And then – voilà – the tree is brought out, all wrapped up like a present just ready to open.
 

 
Snip some plastic netting, let it settle downwards, and you have yourself a gorgeous tree all ready for decorating and admiring.
 

 
In case this is something you might consider for Christmases to come, save this link. Thanks to Jocelyn, Julian and the girls for sharing this wonderful tradition with us. Tree in a Tube – who the heck knew? 
 
And today, since we’re counting down to the “big day,” I thought I’d share with you some very special CHFI pieces that you may already have seen online at the station website or on Citytv. I think the one with my dear friend Michelle Butterly is just amazing. Have a great Tuesday!