Erin's Journals

Welcome to the start of what, for many, is the final work week of 2018. For others, like our daughter-in-law Brooke, it’s the storm before the calm (if you will) with mornings in retail that start at 6 o’clock and end with tired feet. We hope for her (and for you) that the coming weeks include some much-deserved downtime.
 
It used to be that my November and December were so insanely busy that the minute I signed off before Christmas holidays, a cold would descend on me. It was as though my body said, “Okay, you’ve stopped fighting now. Time to get sick!”
 

 
When I posted this picture from 2 years ago of my final breakfast broadcast on Facebook Saturday, many people asked how my longtime partner and our dear friend Mike Cooper is doing these days.
 
It’s been almost two months since Debbie Cooper left us, and Mike is handling this awful aloneness as best he can. From his texts and emails, I’m gathering that one of the hardest parts is answering questions from people so used to seeing this inseparable couple together. “Where’s your wife?” kind strangers will ask. I know he’s very tired of answering that. You see, not everyone knows Mike from the radio or has heard of his immense loss. They’re accustomed to seeing Mike and Debbie together holding hands, laughing over dinner or just sitting quietly poolside. 
 
I do want to share with you some very happy news: after initially saying there was no way he could go without Deb, Mike has decided he will join us on the Tulip Time river cruise next April after all. We’re so proud of him for making this big step, listening to advice that he has to have something to look forward to in order to keep moving through his grief. While it’s certainly sage advice, he didn’t have to take it. But he is.
 
This past week, something happened that reminded me that Mike will never truly be alone. A coincidence, to be sure, but a nudge to him, a Godwink from Debbie, that made us both go WHAT THE —-?!?
 
Mike was down taking in some sun and what he thought would be alone time with his son in Isla Mujeres, Mexico, where Christopher helps run a resort. Mike says a single guy sure does stand out; he tells me, within two days of arriving, he’d already been hit on by “three old dolls and a couple of guys.” I reminded him that he’s still got it.
 
We’ve been texting back and forth quite regularly as I nudge him to come stay with us in Palm Springs before company lands in here for the next couple of months, starting Christmas Eve. Then one morning last week he sent me this picture.
 

 
Take a look at this. Now look up at the top right. That’s right: my signature.
 
There were a lot of coincidences that had to happen for Mike to send me that picture. First, he was looking at the book exchange at the resort for something to read. Then he came across this book (which I remember having read because it was sent to the radio station and I thought I might get some Wise Guy questions out of it). But…but…I haven’t stayed on Isla Mujeres. 
 
Sure, it could have been dropped off by someone who picked it up at a property in nearby Cancun. But I only sign books I plan to keep. If I gave it up, surely I would have scratched out the signature, or wouldn’t have signed it to begin with?
 
And there it was. In the middle of a melancholy Mexican trip, Mike goes to the book exchange to find my signature. What do you think of that?
 
Me? I believe Debbie was nudging him to remember just how loved and cherished he is. And that’s my Monday Motivation. Maybe to remind you to nudge that person you haven’t seen or been in touch with in a while and let them know how special they are to you or that they’re loved. This can be an awfully lonely season.
 
And on that note, I’ll also include a link to a website that has some very helpful essays and articles. It’s called What’s Your Grief and I’m hoping you’ll find it as useful or shareable as I have. Have a gentle day. We can do this.
 

Oh, I love the stories you shared with me on FB, in light of yesterday’s journal, about the Christmases that you ruined. Thank you so much for your own memories. One reader, as a girl, burst into tears on the big day because she’d already found her Timex watch. Talk about a guilty conscience!
 
If you look back at Christmases past, as I did yesterday with my “found” guitar debacle, you’ll find that it’s the feelings that were stirred that make for the most indelible memories. Most of those emotions, I hope, are positive ones. Of course, any time you mix family dynamics, high expectations and, yes, alcohol, the atmosphere is ripe for drama. But I’m talking about the experiences. And that’s where today’s Friday Favourite takes me.
 

 
Sooner or later, we come to an age where things no longer matter as much and Christmas, birthdays or any special events become less about accumulating stuff than having your heart touched; being reminded that someone knows you well enough to choose something you’ll really appreciate. This year my younger cousin Karen and her husband gave Rob and me a gift that we’ll long remember because it was an experience – something we might not have done otherwise.
 
Before Rob and I left for Ontario and then came down here, we exchanged gifts with our Victoria-area family. Last year we gave Karen and her young family a year’s pass to Butchart Gardens to enjoy, and they did, we’re told. This year, it was a few months’ dues for the YMCA where her family swims and plays and Karen works out. I like the idea of giving people gifts that they might not purchase for themselves, but which – I hope – they’ll use and think of us as they do.
 
Karen and her husband returned the favour with a certificate printed off via the internet for two passes to a big local attraction down here: the Palm Springs Aerial Tramway. Despite our two or three previous visits to family spending winter months here, somehow Rob and I didn’t know about or experience the world’s largest rotating aerial tramway. Thanks to Karen and Joe, we did and our friends Ian and Anita MacArthur rode it with us!
 
With the help of Wikipedia (and the ongoing recorded commentary as we travelled), we learned that this 12-and-a-half minute ride passes up North America’s sheerest mountain face.
 

 
In addition, you start in the Sonoran Desert and end up in an alpine forest! Quite the view as you start to ascend and look back down.
 

 
Not for the claustrophic or those who are afraid of heights, eighty passengers are allowed to enter the round vessel at a time, very careful not to lean against windows or put your bags down near them, as one is reminded that indeed this tram car definitely is rotating: two revolutions are completed in your trips up and down the thick support cable. There’s a bit of a bumpy sway when you pass over each of the handful of towers, eliciting a group “oooooooh!” but other than that, it’s quite a serene experience.
 
We were fortunate to have a relatively clear day at the top, with temperatures around 15C; some days the temperature can be 15-20 celcius degrees cooler than it is on the desert floor below. Anita and I posed near a massive log before embarking on a brief walk that left us winded, not only because of its rather deceiving steep angles, but the thinness of the air up there in Mount San Jacinto State Park.
 

 
There is a restaurant and café, carefully groomed trails for hikers of all abilities and plenty of lookout locations. From here you can see clear to Nevada; if it’s not hazy or smoky there’s a pretty good view of Mount Charleston, just outside of Las Vegas.
 

 
In colder months, families come up to play in the snow, which is quite a novelty in Southern California, as you can imagine. Guests can choose to take in films or browse the well-stocked gift shop. It was a lovely way to spend several hours and if your travels ever bring you to this part of the world, the $25.95 ticket for adults (about $10 less for children) is well worth it. But booking ahead is recommended, especially during the holiday season. Here’s a link if you’re interested.
 
Completed and opened in 1963, the Aerial Tramway has been featured in the pilot episode of Mannix (if you remember that one) plus Columbo, I Spy and even a few feature films. I’m glad I didn’t know about the 1974 ABC TV movie Skyway to Death before we went!
 
You don’t have to do much research to see what some of the older tram cars looked like; they have a few of them dotting the welcome and parking areas as you arrive.
 

 
At this date, it may be late if you’re still trying to come up with that special gift for someone who is, as has so often been said of Rob and me, “so hard to buy for.” But the tramway experience was perfect, and Karen’s folks, my aunt and uncle in Victoria, printed off and gave us a gift certificate for a local restaurant and nightclub, The Purple Room, that we have yet to visit, but are so looking forward to in the new year. It’s even within walking distance from our place!
 
Just the thoughtfulness that went into looking at where we were going to be and what we might find interesting (and doing plenty of research while they were at it, I’m sure) makes these gifts so memorable and appreciated – our days both merry and bright!
 
Thanks for making time during this hectic season to stop in. I’ll be back with you Monday with a whole new batch of journals. (If they’re like my cooking, when I smell the smoke, I’ll know they’re done.) Peace!
 

As I get set to wrap up the week tomorrow with another Friday Favourite, I have been reminiscing these past few days about the Christmas I ruined – for myself.
 

 
This picture is from Cosmo.com, so heaven knows what this kid is finding under the bed. My story isn’t quite that spicy, but here goes!
 
What sparked reliving one of my worst holiday memories was watching an Eric Clapton Christmas special on MTV the other night (funny where you surf when your PVR isn’t full like it is at home). He talked about the year his grandfather, who’d raised him, had hidden a remote control car; little Eric found it and wrecked both his and, I’m assuming, his grandpa’s Christmas in spoiling the surprise.
 
We all know as maturer gift givers that truly it is the giving that’s better than the getting. Choosing the perfect gift and then seeing the receiver’s face when he or she opens it, whether that’s on Facetime (as in Colin’s socks on Monday) or in person, is just the absolute best present anyone can get on Christmas Day: seeing that you’ve hit that homerun. 
 
That’s why my biggest present ever (as a child) was a disappointment to me. Because I was just stupid enough to go looking for it.
 
I would watch with envy as my older sisters got gifts like a typewriter or a sewing machine or record player. My younger sister got the doll that talked and, even then, I think my parents would say I was “so hard to buy for,” a lament that they repeated in my grown-up years when I could afford to get myself pretty much anything that would be on my Santa list.
 
Still, I always thought, any gift given from the heart is one that I’ll gratefully accept. A candle? You bet. Socks? For sure. Just show me that you’re thinking of me and know a little bit about what gives me joy in my life. (That’s why Brooke’s gifts of Colin – a blanket with photos of him on it and then, later, framed pictures of our precious grandson – have been so well-received in the past three years.)
 
And so it was, that year that I was ten or so, that I was hoping for a special gift. Maybe I felt that I was finally old enough to receive something “bigger” like my sisters had gotten. So I went looking. 
 
I don’t know if it was the first place I searched, but I got on my hands and knees and peered under my parents’ king-sized bed. And there it was, something long and black, that had slid quite easily into what I’m sure they thought was a perfect hiding spot. Lying on my stomach, I reached under and grabbed a vinyl edge, pulling the gift towards me. Sure enough, it was exactly what I’d thought – and hoped for – my first guitar.
 
I unzipped the case just to be sure (because, what else was it going to be, genius?) and there it was: a little chestnut-coloured guitar with nylon strings. I quickly zipped it back up and placed it back under the bed before I was discovered searching where I had no business being.
 
The sick feeling in my stomach I had from that moment on lasted another two weeks or so until the big morning, when I was going to have to put on my best Taylor-Swift-Winning-Again surprised face and act like I hadn’t seen it before. This should have been one of – if not THE – most memorable Christmas(es) ever. I ruined it. I spoiled my own surprise. Nice going.
 

 
Yes, that’s my dad; you don’t have to use ancestry.com to see the family resemblance. But I learned a big lesson that year. I haven’t gone searching for my presents since – not as a teen or an adult. I love good surprises and have learned that life has far too few of them. I’ve always remembered the rather sobering quote from humourist Erma Bombeck: “There’s nothing sadder in this world than to awake on Christmas morning and not be a child.”
 
That year, I ruined one of the few surprises I had left. But who knows if I’d still be remembering that year I got my first guitar, had it not come with that kick in the stomach I felt?
 
Tomorrow: a gift that we’ve already “opened” that is the perfect kind of present when you’re that hard-to-buy-for person! Have a great day.
 

Here we are, less than two weeks from Christmas, and I’m hoping – as are those who’ve sent gifts through the mail – that the massive backlog of parcels and packages in the main sorting stations in Toronto and Vancouver doesn’t mean holiday gift-giving is ruined for far-flung families such as our own. 

Of course, it used to be that a lot of mail at this time of year consisted of colourful envelopes holding cards, family letters and even a cheque or gift card. I say “used to” as so many people have given up on sending Christmas cards, citing cost, a lack of time and so on. 

I used to love sending cards. I’d be up to my elbows in glitter by the time my afternoon of writing, addressing, licking and stamping was done. This year, a few people to whom I’ve delivered presents in person got cards; otherwise, I’m afraid the busy period leading up to our departure from BC in late October just didn’t allow for it.

I don’t know how many people still send cards. Occasionally, I’ll get a lovely one via email from a journal reader or two, but the rest seem to come mostly from companies who’ve gotten our business over the last few years. I don’t usually hang on to cards but I do have the last one my mom sent us and this one from Lauren’s final Christmas with us. I just love it. 

Today, I want to share with you something you may want to copy and paste to send to others on that list of people who are close to your heart. Our friend and former co-worker Jay Kennedy sends it out annually and I remember reading it on the air during one of our Christmas Eve at Erin’s shows that ran from 1991 to 2014 (with a few years off in the middle).

My gosh, that show meant so much to me that when I knew I was being replaced at CHFI in 2003, one of the first things that went through my mind was, What about the Christmas Eve show? I so loved being a part of some families’ traditions. I’ll never forget the year when the ratings showed that one of every two radios turned on that night in the GTA was tuned to CHFI. Goodness. What an honour – and such a joy!

So today I’ll leave you with Jay’s lovely poem which was sent to his mom years ago and which Jay has adjusted and tweaked over the years – like a family recipe handed down and improved upon with each use. I hope it resonates with you with as much sweetness as it does for me.I’ll be back with you here tomorrow with a story of the Christmas I ruined. For myself. Ta!

I have a list of folks I know, all written in a book

And every year when Christmas comes, I go and take a look.

And that’s when I realize, these names are all a part

Not of the book they’re written in, but simply of my heart.

For each name stands for someone, who has crossed my path some time

And in that meeting they’ve become a rhythm in my rhyme.

And while it sounds fantastic, for me to make this claim

I really feel that I’m composed of each remembered name.

And while you may not be aware of any special link

Just meeting you has changed my life, a lot more than you think.

For once I’ve met somebody and see their friendly face

the memories of that treasured time, the years will not erase.

So never think my Christmas cards are just a mere routine

Of names upon a Christmas list, forgotten in between.

For when I send a Christmas card that is addressed to you

It’s cuz you’re on a list of those I’m indebted to.

For I am but the total of the many I have met

And you are certainly one I prefer not to forget.

And whether I have known you, for many days or few

In some ways you’ve had a part in shaping things I do.

And every year when Christmas comes, I realize anew,

The best gift life can offer, is meeting folks like you.

And may the spirit of Christmas, as long as it endures

Leave its richest blessing in the hearts of you and yours! 

Thanks for sharing a few minutes here today. Today, a suggestion on how you might like to spend a few hours….
 
Now that the Golden Globe nominations have been announced (airing Sunday, January 6th) I for one am going to make a point of seeing the titles and performances that have been given the most attention, just to find out what the fuss is about. We’re anxiously watching to see when The Favourite hits our area! Huge excitement over that one.
 
But another film that is getting a lot of applause is one that we have seen: Green Book, co-starring Moonlight‘s marvelous Mahershala Ali and Eastern Promises’ and Lord of the Rings’ Viggo Mortensen.
 
The five-time Golden Globe-nominated film (including nods for director and screenplay, as well as Ali and Mortensen) was a fan favourite at TIFF last September. It’s based on the true story of Doctor Donald Shirley, a wildly talented African-American pianist who decides to shrug off the (relatively) less racist climate of his New York City home, and tackle a concert tour in the 1962 US deep south. 
 

 
Mortensen plays Tony “Lip” Vallelonga (so nicknamed for his BS talents), an out-of-work nightclub bouncer who is hired by Shirley’s record label to drive him and protect him during his tour. And that’s where we come to the movie’s title.
 
The Green Book was the name of a guide to establishments – more like sleezy motels – that black travellers could stay in “safely” while in the south, published by Victor H. Green & Co from 1936 to 1967. Don’t forget, these were the times when a person with dark skin couldn’t dine, sleep, swim or visit a washroom in the same places that white people could. Dr. Shirley gets himself into trouble simply for being black – regardless of his genius or numerous degrees – and for stepping outside the white lines and gradually he and Tony learn a lot more about each other than they see on the surface. 
 
Don’t get me wrong: it’s not formulaic in the least. Some have called it Driving Miss Daisy in reverse (which would make for an awkward trip – all of that looking over your shoulder LOL) but it didn’t feel like that to us. And the fact that comedic director Peter Farrelly (Something About Mary and Dumb and Dumber) is at the helm means lots of sprinkles of laughter and light moments.
 
It really is a gem and it’s no wonder this film has been getting accolades. It even got nominated in the Best Film COMEDY category in last week’s Golden Globe announcements. To me, that’s not a fit at all, but I guess the film’s producers choose to pitch to the category where they feel they have the best chance of winning.
 
As for performances, plenty of the real Tony Lip’s family are in the film (his son wrote it and is seen in it, too). The acting bug runs in the family: Tony himself appeared in several films including The Godfather and three seasons of The Sopranos! If you have time, your jaw will drop reading this story in the New York Post about the real Tony Vallelonga. His entire life could be a series or movie. What a journey!
 
If you can still find Green Book in a theatre, I highly recommend it. There are echoes of the return of overt racism that we’re seeing every day in the news and online, and like the trailer for Schindler’s List (which returns in a 25th anniversary edition this month), it’s a timely reminder that – to paraphrase – the only way for evil to triumph is for good people to do nothing.
 
Thanks for being here today and we’ll talk with you here tomorrow.