Erin's Journals

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.
 

Hello – and I hope you had as restful a weekend as the season allows. It’s just two weeks now until Christmas Eve and we’re feeling strangely serene given how insulated we are from the whole holiday rush. Presents were handed off to be delivered to our family members in the BC interior; Phil, Colin and Brooke have received and opened their gifts, including my favourite of this year, a collection of three pairs of socks for Colin.
 
Before you think I’ve really lost my mind, let me qualify that by saying, yes, he got bigger presents. But when I found these in a store in downtown Palm Springs that only sells socks (the most amazing selection) I actually hugged the sales lady! I’m sure she thought I was nuts. I mean, who gets that excited about socks? Well, I do – but let me explain why. 
 
I went into the store and my jaw dropped as I saw hundreds – maybe thousands – of pairs of socks adorned with everything from sayings to famous faces to sports teams. Yes, this American store had these!
 

 
Hoping against hope, I asked the young woman who offered to help us if they had a pair with bananas on them. As you may know, we call ourselves Grama and Grandad Banana and when Colin wants to talk with us, that’s who he asks his Brooke to call. We call him Baby Banana or Cocobanana…just silly names, like we had for his mommy when she was growing up, and it’s fun. 
 

 
There you have them: Coconut (our nickname for him when he was born, child of Peanutty and a play on Colin’s name), Bananas (us) and monkeys (as in the “Five Little Monkeys” in one of his favourite song videos right now). 
 
Our pal Lisa took them back to Canada last month with her, popped them in a gift bag and mailed them to Brooke and Phil. The socks arrived and he opened them last week. He called out what each of them was and we were delighted – probably way too excited for a child to open socks than we had any right to be – and he said he wanted to wear the banana ones the next day. On Sunday he was wearing his coconut socks!
 

 
(This was the best picture I could get via Facetime – trying to capture a rambunctious four-year-old is a bit of a challenge!) 
 
Now, don’t get me wrong: I’m not so far removed from childhood that I don’t recall what a downer getting socks could be at Christmas! Typical grandparent gift of old, right? But these three pairs made me hope just a little bit that when he chooses to put them on in the morning (and, oh yes, he coordinates many of his outfits, including which socks he wants to wear to school, play and sleep) he might think of us.
 
While I’m not sure he gets the connection between us and the gift of the tablet he plays on, and through which we get our precious Facetime, those socks might just give him a better understanding (literally) of just how much two people very far away are thinking of and loving him. Oh, so much.
 
Have a gentle Monday and thank you for coming by. Here’s to warm feet, warm hearts and warm thoughts – always!
 

Here we are already at the end of another week and now, something I promised: a Friday Favourite. Today, the spotlight is again on one of my favourite things…sleeeeeeeep.
 
Before I get to that, I want to thank you for your response to yesterday’s “Baby It’s Cold Outside” journal. I am dying to write another journal with your comments and my answers to some of them and, if you’ll indulge me, I’ll do that next week if it still feels relevant. But for now, the journal I meant to post last Friday before the whole book tour thing began to spark (and I expect to have more dates and times soon. Stay tuned as we used to say….)
 
This one is the perfect gift if you, your spouse, or someone else you love is one of those people who loves covers. Loves blankets. Loves being tucked in. Loves weight.
 
For me, even in the summer, I will have my sheet, a comforter and then a bathrobe or blanket overtop. It’s not a matter of staying warm, it’s that feeling of security and comfort. Even when Molly climbs up and sleeps on my shoulder (when I’m lying on my side) I don’t mind at all. Unless she snores, which I’m sure she minds about me, too.
 
We were wandering through a store a few weeks back and I couldn’t believe my eyes. There was a product that I’d only heard shared on the air in stories about weighted blankets: studies show they ease anxiety, can help some behavioural difficulties and, of course, just provide oodles of comfort. We bought one immediately. 
 

 
The packaging says it weighs 12 pounds and, in making the bed, I really can’t argue that. It’s heavier than it sounds! It has a soft short-plush side and the size we bought is basically a single.
 

 
Prices vary (it’s definitely available in Canada and I’ve seen it up to 15 pound) but expect to pay about $100. What makes it heavy? Tiny (and silent) glass beads. They’re also what keeps this blanket from roasting you (I gave it to our friend Anita to try out one night when she was here and she was incredulous that it didn’t roast her). 
 
Again, if there’s someone you know who loves heavy coziness while sitting watching TV or lying in bed (even anxious dogs are said to benefit from them) I recommend this one hundred percent. As I said, I didn’t know they were a real thing until I saw them on the store shelf. So maybe you’ll know to look for one now, too.
 
Have a terrific weekend and I have lots of new journals for you again here next week. Saw a tremendous movie that got great attention from the Golden Globes in their nomination announcements yesterday, so I’ll share that, too. Take care. Stay cozy, my friend!
 

We’ll get to the “Baby It’s Cold Outside” discussion in a second…but I want to start today with a special shout-out to a woman who is tiny in stature but occupies a great big place in our hearts.
 
Helen Moase today turns 89 years old and she’s the very example of strength and heart. Shortly after Helen’s husband, our very dear friend and former bandmate Carl, passed away in 2004, she suffered a heart attack. Those of us who know this couple just weeks away from marking their 50th wedding anniversary, also know that Helen was suffering from a broken heart, as many are saying helped contribute to the passing of 41st US President George H.W. Bush only eight months after his wife Barbara died.
 
But Helen was fortunate in that she was still able to fight: she decided to do whatever it took to return to good health, determined that her children were not going to bury two parents in one year. And I’m happy to say that, not only did she recover fully, but Helen went on to volunteer at the same hospital that treated her, so that she could help others who’d gone through what she’d endured, to recover and find good health again.
 
Soon she’ll mark the milestone of being the longest-serving volunteer there and we couldn’t be prouder of our friend, who was, in addition to being married to a man that Rob considered to be like his father in many ways, Lauren’s surrogate grandmother. She’s a part of our family and this is a big day. And here she is with the tiniest member of our family at our old place on Lake Simcoe: Molly on the couch and almost on Helen’s shoulder!
 

 
From the sublime to the (possibly) ridiculous: I’ve had people asking my opinion here this week on the fact that radio stations are opting out of playing the holiday season staple “Baby It’s Cold Outside” because of its lascivious lyrics. I guess I’m asked because Mike Cooper and I did a version that was played every Christmas season on CHFI. It was fun, silly and sounded like two very good, hammy friends flirting with each other (as we did – with hopeless, helpless abandon and to the amusement of our spouses).
 
Here’s a link to our version (which you weren’t going to hear on the air again anyway). You be the judge. To me the most offensive part of this song may well be how we digitally down-tuned the instrumental track so that the band sounded like they’d been on a three-day binge! But Mike and I have a shared vocal range that is, shall we say, limited. (Mike wrote yesterday and said, “Thanks for making me sound like a perv.” Ah, Mike!)
 
The issue that has come to light thanks to a CBC article is that the lyrics just aren’t acceptable in a post-#metoo era. Of course, some call it the Golden Age of Being Offended.
 
Like the true Libra I am, I’m of two minds. (We’re all about weighing all the options and still being unable to pick one damned thing off the menu.) I’ve read comments on that CBC site and a great many of them are from men who basically say “lighten up or change the channel.” One part of me agrees wholeheartedly. As the comedian Ricky Gervais put it, just because you’re offended doesn’t mean you’re right.
 
But…what if they are? What if they are right? The lyrics to this Oscar-winning song include, “Hey, what’s in this drink?” (which I assumed meant he’d put booze in, but others’ minds go in a more Cosby-like direction) and his relentless pursuit of a woman who keeps on saying no – again and again. Clearly, he wants her to stay and fool around. I hear that as a fun song. But is the song instead deep down about rape or a lack of consent?
 
Here’s where interpretation – the ear of the beholder, if you will – comes in. As with almost anything we experience, it’s a matter of our own personal filters. If you were in a position where you were concerned you couldn’t get out of a tight situation that might have turned into assault – or God forbid, you weren’t able to – I can understand finding that song triggering or disturbing.
 
For others, it’s a hokey and dated song about a guy trying to get lucky. Is she resisting because her aunt and her parents say “no,” is she playing a cat-and-mouse game (and remember this song is well over 50 years old) or is it JUST A SONG?
 
Some who posted on the CBC’s comments cited lyrics in other songs that get radio airplay despite their controversial content. And they’re right. But once again – your radio has buttons. You have a choice to change the channel or to mute the song, which is what I do whenever I hear certain songs at this time of year. (For the record, they’re not because they make me sad – only “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” does that – but because I just can’t stand them or heard them waaaaaaay too many times from 5am to 9am over the years.)
 
Does a person have the right to be offended? Absolutely. Does everyone have to agree? Of course not. And the last time I checked, radio stations are allowed to choose which songs they do and do not play. Usually it’s dictated by popularity, what fits a format and what listeners prefer to hear. Right now, one song is probably not the hill many program or music directors want to die on, so it gets put away.
 
Now, can we get back to things that really matter? Like thanking volunteers. People who look beyond the everyday minutiae to help others. That works for me. Thank you, Helen, and Happy Birthday.