Erin's Journals

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!
 

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.