Erin's Journals

Welcome to Monday and I suppose that, for some, the weekend continues. I’ll never get having a long weekend around Remembrance Day. Honestly, it’s not as if today anyone will be going to a cenotaph, will they? But that’s the way it is. Federal offices are closed today. 
 
I don’t know if you keep track of first date anniversaries, but Rob and I do and today it’s 32 years since that night I invited him (my, um, boss) to Second City’s “Not Based on Anything By Stephen King” preceded by dinner at a now-defunct restaurant for which I’d done radio ads and was paid in food. Those were the days! I remember what I ordered: a Caesar and a Caesar (cocktail and salad). Strange the things you recall – and there are so many others from that night. (You’re going to have to buy the book LOL) Anyway, here we are, all these years later. And I am grateful.
 
We’re also apart this year as Rob is back home in BC getting set for a long car journey that I’ll explain and lay out later this week.
 
Today I find myself at Pearson International getting set to fly to Halifax for a job tomorrow evening with the Canadian Real Estate Association. I gave it an extra day, as it’s November and you never ever know what the weather’s going to do, right? After seven or eight of these CREA gatherings over the past two years from BC to Nova Scotia, I’m so sorry to see the talks come to an end. How I enjoyed emceeing them and seeing parts of Canada I’d only flown over in the past, such as Regina and Winnipeg. But all good things must come to an end, they say.
 
Yesterday it was just another spectacular Celebration of Hope. I’m sorry that I am not able to include stories and photos here today as my web editor Rob is several provinces away, but instead you can find out how the event went – including an appearance by my friend Mike Cooper – by going to my public Facebook page: www.facebook.com/erindavispage. I’ll have put up pictures etc. there. Thank you for understanding. 
 
Here, though, is the clip that was prepared and shown to the crowd of 800+ at the Hilton Markham Suites yesterday. After it ran, Mike joined me on stage (Sarah and Christopher and their partners were there as well) and we talked about Debbie’s commitment to giving back to Mount Sinai by volunteering in the cancer treatment reception area and by making sure others being treated were not alone or afraid. She really was something.
 
Take a moment to watch Debbie and Mike as she spoke in 2015, upon receiving her Hope Award, about how her diagnosis changed her outlook. I think you’ll find this to be more Monday Motivation than you can possibly imagine.
 

 
Here’s to making every day count. I’ll be back with you here tomorrow.
 

And we come to the end of another week filled with more news – more sadness – than many of us can take. Another mass shooting in the US. A looming constitutional crisis, also south of the border. The heavy grey of November. I’m sure you’ll be looking forward to taking a breather, if the world will allow.
 
On a much lighter note, we have one last full day together here in Ottawa with the most accommodating couple – and their son – who’ve made Rob and me feel welcome, despite the unwieldy length of our visit, brought about by Deb Cooper’s funeral last week.
 
This lovely stop in Ottawa was already planned, but last week’s sad occasion added an extra few days; we suggested that they think of the visit as ten days but with three off in the middle, and they’ve graciously done just that. We even squeezed in a very early Christmas, as it’s all our calendars would allow this year. (And yes, they now have a digital thermometer to replace the one we melted while making that early turkey dinner.)
 
I’ve never had a problem with people who choose to start getting excited about December 25th before November 11th. I’m of the mind that our hearts and spirits are big enough that we can accommodate many emotions and pay attention to more than one significant event at a time.
 
Yes, I’m sure someone’s nose was out of joint when the Bay windows were unveiled last weekend, just as they would be if a Santa Claus parade was held tomorrow in some small town instead of waiting until after November 11th, as seems to happen annually. But this year, I was incensed about something else I saw – or didn’t see – and I have to share it with you.
 

 
Remembrance Day this Sunday carries with it even more significance than usual this year as it marks the centenary of the first armistice after the Great War, on November 11, 1918. Having visited Vimy Ridge and the memorial there in 2016, we were touched deeply by the significance and magnitude of the sacrifices made by young men and women of so many countries, but especially of our own. 
 

 
The row upon row of white tombstones marked with names, years and maple leaves is heartbreaking. And taking time to remember the children, parents, brothers and sisters lost during the wars in which a young Canada was called upon to help preserve or restore peace is something every one of us should do willingly and with more than just a passing knowledge of what it is we are commemorating.
 
But here’s what happened last Sunday evening. We’d checked into our downtown hotel room and took a walk through the Eaton Centre. We entered at Nordstrom at the north end and, as we passed individuals and groups, security guards and employees in that giant department store and then as we spilled out into the mall itself, we saw not one poppy. Honestly, not one.
 
Finally, we crossed the path of a woman in her thirties, pushing a stroller. She had on two poppies. When we stared at her slack-jawed (yes, I’d gotten pretty worked up by now), she took out her ear buds as if to listen to what we had to say. I told her, “You’re the first person we’ve seen in this mall – from the entrance of Nordstrom to here – to be wearing a poppy!”
 
She seemed surprised at our rather random outburst and said, “Oh, I always wear two in case I lose one!”
 
We thanked her, said, “Good for you,” and were on our way.
 
For the rest of our pass through one of Canada’s largest and most famous shopping landmarks, we saw no more poppies than we could count on one hand. Again, not on security guards. Not on store employees. Not even on men’s jackets on window mannequins. I mean, what the actual hell?
 
I don’t want to be that person: the one who gets all mad at a store for playing Christmas music or like the angry dude who sang “A Pittance in Time” about the people in the store who didn’t stop down during the 11 am moment of silence on Remembrance Day. I’m all about people relishing the freedom that the allied soldiers fought and died for, so that Canadians had the choice to wear a poppy or to not wear a poppy.
 
For all I know, some of these folks had their poppies under their jackets or just had no idea what the whole thing is about. Maybe some are new to Canada or visitors to this country (Americans don’t wear poppies, after all). There are a lot of possible reasons why it took us one-third of the mall on that blustery Sunday evening to spot even one person wearing a poppy. 
 
Something is getting severely lost in the messaging. Whether it’s parents’ fault or that of schools, or if it’s something being dropped in the government’s duty to inform its citizens about an important day in our nation’s calendar, there is a serious disconnect when it comes to why we wear poppies. I know why I do: because I’m so fervently grateful to live in this country and to enjoy the freedoms and rights that we so take for granted and that came at such a ghastly high price.
 
Put up your Christmas tree – your Festivus pole – do what you want. But for heaven’s sake please keep spreading the word about the significance of the poppy and our veterans and active service people. Remind others of the sacrifices that have been made, not just by individuals, but their families as well. And may we never, ever forget. 
 
I’ll be back with you Monday.
 

Boy, it’s strange when the rollercoaster comes to that sudden stop at the end of the ride. You know the feeling: you’ve built up to the climb, there’s the whoosh and excitement and then…with a force that makes your head jerk, it stops. And you’re left trying to focus. Out of breath. I didn’t realize I’d been holding it until it was too late. And then I was in trouble.
 
If you follow me on Twitter (first of all, thank you) you know there was a bit of a grief moment yesterday. I tweeted this, then was told my esthetician was ready. (This screen grab is from about six hours later.)
 

 
I followed a lovely young woman into a small dimly lit room. Then just as the door was closing I heard a guitar lick. I asked if I could stop for a sec and listen. Sure enough, there it was: Let it Be. A message from our Beatles-obsessed daughter to her equally obsessed mother? Perhaps, I thought. Perhaps.
 
Well, that was enough to open the flood gates. The lady who would be with me for the next 90 minutes for a facial and massage could not have understood, but I sat up on her table as the soft spa music drowned out the sound of Paul McCartney’s voice and I buried my face in a small towel and started to sob – something that’s never happened in a spa or anywhere else that wasn’t a “safe” space before.
 
Startled, she said, “What happened? Are you okay?” 
 
I tried to explain to her that I had been holding myself together for a very long time but all of a sudden things hit me. Our daughter had died. We were trying hard to stay happy but we were with our grandson and…and…and….
 
How do you sum up three years of highs and lows to a perfect stranger who’s seven months pregnant, just doing her job and sees this woman break down in her peaceful little room? 
 
Part of this, I know, was the sudden stop. I know the ride starts up again very soon (off to the Markham Stouffville Hospital Celebration of Hope on Sunday and then Halifax for another event Tuesday) but I’ve been finding since leaving the constant, high wire act of live radio, when I turn it ON for several hours, I come down hugely.
 
The void that leaving radio has left in me just seems to get bigger and more extreme. I miss it more than I am willing to admit sometimes, so when it’s over, it just seems abrupt. Weird, I know. But at least I know what it is when it hits and why…and that helps!
 
Tomorrow – something was missing in Toronto this week. But it’s not too late to make it better; there are a still a few days left.
 

Honestly, is it only Wednesday? I want to talk to you about yesterday – a day in the life. It starts with a 6 am alarm playing Pachelbel’s Canon, coffee, a nervous tummy and too many trips to the bathroom. And it ends on a plane in the windy skies, as we head back to the heart of our lives in Ottawa.
 
We awoke at the downtown Chelsea Hotel. Remember last week’s post about the Ivy at the Verity? Okay, turn that inside out and that’s where we stayed. I will say that despite the $600 rack rate posted on the door, it was about one-quarter the price. (Had it actually been $600, someone was going to get charged with robbery.) And we slept well, which is really most of what a hotel room’s for, right?
 
Having done a dry run the night before in our rental car (after a wonderful dinner at former co-workers and forever friends Michelle Butterly and Carl Hanstke’s house in Etobicoke) we knew the best option would be a fast drop-off on Yonge Street at the courthouse entry to College Park. That’s where the beautiful Carlu is situated – the same place where Mike and I had our first CHFI show Oct. 26, 2005. We did a sound check at 7:30 am and then caffeinated some more and waited.
 

 
The wind-swept crowd made its way into this gorgeous historic meeting place and away we went at 8:30 am sharp. I had a warm welcome (I’ve hosted events for Excellence Canada for about two decades now) and then began introducing execs and guest speakers.
 
First name you’ll know: Lance Secretan, author of The Bellwether Effect. He’s routinely listed among the top keynote speakers in North America and I felt honoured to be able to listen backstage to his message of authenticity. “We’re inspired, joyful and happy when we’re at one with whom and what we love,” he said. Truer words….
 

 
What a fascinating speaker! And the crowd at the Carlu was in for even more great talent later in the day.
 

 
Our green room was like a “who’s who” of CBC alumni: Peter Mansbridge, former chief correspondent with CBC news, who was given a special award of recognition…
 

 
…as was our good friend Rick Mercer.
 

 
Author/broadcaster Terry O’Reilly (also CBC!) was also there to give a lunch keynote, as was Bell CEO George Cope, who accepted an award for Bell’s Let’s Talk initiative. So, truly it was an incredible day, so filled with inspiration and humour – especially when Rick, rather incredulous that he’d won an Award of Excellence, proceeded to read from his actual elementary and high school report cards. Hilarious! And guess what? Apparently he talked too much and didn’t pay attention enough for teachers’ liking! By the way, Rick’s new book, Final Report, just arrived on bookshelves yesterday. It’s sure to be a bestseller (as are they all) and it couldn’t happen to a nicer guy. Here it is. 
 

 
We grabbed a cab from the Carlu at 4 pm, managed to hop an earlier flight than we’d originally booked (thank you, Porter!) and despite some strong winds on the ground, had a beautifully uneventful flight. It’s good to be in our jammies watching CNN, even if the results aren’t what we’d hoped for. 
 
Have a good Wednesday and I’ll have another journal for you here tomorrow. Today a bit of spahhhhhh time. I think I’m ready for it.
 

Welcome to Tuesday. Before I go any further, thank you for the FB posts (www.facebook.com/erindavispage), Twitter comments @erindavis or emails pointing out that the thermometer we used was likely just supposed to be used briefly in the oven and not left in the turkey. Our favourite method for measuring temperatures is with a probe that has a wire that snakes out of the closed oven door and attaches to a digital readout that sits on the counter. It also alerts you with a persistent beep when your meat is at the temp you desire. We’ll try and find one of those to replace the one we melted! Thanks again.
 
This is a day that could be a huge one stateside: midterm elections are being held. Will Kennedy-esque Robert “Beto” O’Rourke unseat the lugubrious Rafael “Ted” Cruz in Texas? Will Stacey Abrams triumph in Georgia? Will it be a blue wave, a red wave or maybe a wave of apathy? Pins and needles time, once again. I, for one, have PTSD about the last time Americans went to the polls.
 
Not to make it all about me, but here’s a story that you may or may not be familiar with. It made it into the book (Mourning Has Broken, Feb. 26 HarperCollins, pre-order now on Amazon.ca).
 
As you’ve probably noticed, Rogers is a very big company and, as such, when you’ve got an announcement to make, you do so with a number of departments’ involvement. Take my resignation. I’d made the decision in October of 2016 or thereabouts, having worked nine months after Mike Cooper retired to spend more time with his wife, and some 14 months after the death of our daughter. It was time. Darren was ready, I was ready and a great new host was waiting in the wings.
 
What day should we announce it? A date was chosen, November 10th, and then – no – it couldn’t be that date, as Breakfast Television was going to be doing their show live on location elsewhere. It most definitely was not going to be the Friday, November 11th, so we moved it up to Wednesday, November 9th. When I asked about the US presidential elections the night before, no flags were raised. What could possibly go wrong?
 
Long story short, a difficult morning was made even harder by the mood in which I – among a vast many others – awoke on the 9th: incredulous, unbelieving, disappointed and fearful. What a great way to say, “Oh, and by the way, I’m sorry to be leaving you….”
 
In the end, of course, my timing didn’t make a bit of difference. It’s just the way it’s framed in my memory. By the time that week was over, Rob and I were on a flight to catch a ship and begin a long-planned vacation before we came back home to pack up and really ship out – for good.
 
I guess I’m remembering this all so clearly today for two reasons: one, that it’s another election day and hopes are high for, if not a clean slate, then at least one on which a brighter future can be sketched. And two, I’m waking in Toronto again today.
 
As I mentioned yesterday, I’m thrilled to be here hosting two big events, the Performance Excellence Summit and the Canada Awards for Excellence. It’s just an honour to be invited to emcee these two illustrious events and I hope to have a pic or two with Peter Mansbridge, whom I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting, and our pal from frequent radio visits, Rick Mercer.
 
Some pretty good company today – along with the best and brightest from corporate Canada – and it’s enough to keep my mind occupied until we get back to Ottawa tonight to park ourselves in front of the CNN that daughter-in-law Brooke has ordered just for our visit! And Stephen Colbert is going live tonight, too. 
 
Talk to you here tomorrow – and let’s all hope for the best.