Erin's Journals

Hello from the road. From Kingston we go today to Ottawa at long last to spend time with our sweet four-year-old Colin. His Halloween costume yesterday was perfection: a Mountie! I wish we’d been with him for trick-or-treating, but it was too hard a push. Maybe another year?
 
Instead, we stopped in Aurora at one of my favourite stores, The One and Only Boutique (just west off Yonge, north of Wellington in the St. Andrews Shopping Centre). The theme this year for the Markham Stouffville Hospital Celebration of Hope is “Even Santa Loves Pink” and I had to get my emcee dress.
 
There are still tickets available for this fun Sunday of shopping, hilarity (with Jessica Holmes) and inspiration, so please do consider joining us if you can. There’s a link in the ‘What’s Up’ section of my homepage, or just scroll up if you’re reading this on Thursday. We’re planning a tribute to Debbie Cooper, too, since she’s a past Hope Award recipient.
 
Here’s the dress that Maxine at The One and Only came up with for me. I love the ladies at this store and am grateful to them for supporting MSH and making sure I have just the right dress no matter what I’m doing. They always have.
 

 
My only regret when I’m in there is that the life I live now, with the exception of this week’s funeral and three emcee events to come, is just so very casual. See the shoes above? They’re way pointier than the Skechers I usually wear. Laugh if you want, but my toes are going “What the heck is this?” when it comes to anything that isn’t super comfy! Ah well, as my mother used to joke (and her mother before her, I’m sure) “You’ve gotta suffer to be beautiful!”
 
The best part of our shopping trip yesterday was my dear pal Allan Bell and his mum coming by to visit while we chose the dress and shoes for Allan’s huge event. (Holy Moses – I just realized I was in my late 20’s when I first did this Celebration of Hope for Allan. That’s how far back our friendship goes!)
 
I took a moment to sit and tell them and the two women at the store about the incredible hotel experience Rob and I had. I thought I’d share it with you today, just in case you’re looking for something like this in the future.
 
The other night, when we realized we’d be coming to Toronto a week earlier than we’d initially planned, I started searching for a hotel room. I went to my go-to, TripAdvisor and up pops The Ivy at Verity – a boutique hotel that happened to be marked down for the two nights we needed. 
 
I knew the Verity as a women’s-only club that had meeting rooms, a gym and many other lovely facilities; when I was hosting Women of Influence events for all of those years, they were a regular sponsor. But I knew nothing of four private and sound-proofed hotel rooms that face onto a courtyard on the second floor of this 1850s vintage building. 
 
The room was as lovely as any in which we have ever stayed and you know we’ve travelled widely, including to luxury resorts with CHFI listeners. An open sitting room with honour bar welcomes guests, and off that area was Room 4, a suite featuring an enormous bathroom with marble features and a private commode and separate shower, plus a bathtub so long I couldn’t touch the end. Three scented salts were offered and I loved the lavender so much that I put the little dish of it next to my bed both nights. 
 

 
The handcrafted bed was a pillow-topped king with Italian sheets and a mattress that a feature story posted in the lobby stated was $30,000. Okay, what? And it wasn’t topped with George Clooney? Wow. Still, despite our time-confused bodies, we had the quietest, best sleep we’ll have for this entire trip, I’m sure. It was all exceptional from check-in to departure. Yes, parking on Queen Street East (near Jarvis) can get costly. That’s one drawback, so I’d try hard to leave the car at home. 
 
Oh, I almost left out one of the nicest touches: a breakfast tray left at our door at 8 am both mornings featured warm croissants, a carafe of coffee, juices, fresh fruit and yogurt and granola parfaits. All part of the room charge which we were lucky to get at $299 a night. It could easily have cost nearly double (and at certain times, given the fluctuation of travel prices, I’ve no doubt it is).
 
We couldn’t have been happier and I highly recommend the Ivy to anyone wanting a getaway with a girlfriend, a significant other, or just on your own, if you can swing it. There’s also a luxurious spa there, too, as well as a gym that is for women’s use only. 
 
I didn’t get any discount in return for writing this and am offered no reward or remuneration for sharing my hotel experience. I just thought, if you were my girlfriend, I’d tell you about this place in a heartbeat. So that’s what I did. And if it’s out of your price range – and trust me, I know a getaaway like this is, for most – maybe just some lavender scented bath salts from the drug store could be your own spahhhhhh touch this upcoming November weekend?
 
Have a fantastic day and I’ll be back here with you tomorrow.
 

 
I love that quote. I had it at the ready in case I was crying yesterday but managed not to need it. Well, mostly…!
 
Oh goodness, I thought this was going to be a short one, but here we go! I’ll take you through our day yesterday and begin it with the biggest hug and thanks. I hope you can feel how grateful we are – Mike and I, as well as Mike’s family – for the support you sent us yesterday and in the past week. Everyone who offered up their thoughts for strength, they worked! It was an incredible day. And if that’s a strange way to describe a funeral, then so be it. But she was one helluva woman and got the send-off she deserved.
 
Mike, his children and their partners gathered at 11 am in the beautifully laid out (and so lovingly staffed) Mount Pleasant Cemetery Funeral Center. Bright and spacious, large, long windows gave us the most incredible views of clear blue October skies and the orange and yellow leaves that contrasted them so beautifully.
 
Rob and I came a short time later in case tech help was needed (it was not) and then to help meet and chat with visitors. In many ways, it was for us a radio reunion: our friends from CHFI, present and past, were there and I was so glad to have the chance to congratulate Mo and Darren on their wonderful ratings. The whole team – bosses, everyone – looked so beautiful. How sad that Debbie’s passing was the reason for our gathering. 
 
During that time, we all enjoyed looking at the beautiful artwork Debbie created. She only took up painting when she was diagnosed with cancer five years ago. And look how beautifully she did!
 

 
Here you see more of her work. On the right, hanging over a frame is a stuffed bunny I gave Debbie before her first surgery. She was holding it in the hospital when she died, Mike says.
 

 
At 2 pm, after having hugged and held so many people that we’ve missed more than Rob and I even knew, we took our places. As a piper played “Skye Boat Song” (which you may know from the TV show Outlander) we began a service that was led by one of only about a dozen funeral emcees in North America. It’s not his official title and I’ll write more about Terry later; I’m intrigued by the notion of doing this kind of work myself….
 
Terry spoke of Debbie as though he knew her well – so well, in fact, that I found myself thinking, Dang, I was going to say that! Well done, sir. We began with the “Love Is Patient” verse from the Bible (1 Corinthians 13:4-8a) and attributed all of those wonderful descriptions to Debbie herself. So perfect. Then I was introduced.
 
I spoke for 13 minutes, having timed it in our room during one of the three times I rehearsed it yesterday morning. Despite being wracked with nerves (until Rob reminded me that I was among friends) I was inspired by Debbie to bring laughs, tears and memories to those who had gathered to say their good-byes. And yes, I ended with the poem I included in yesterday’s journal. (Rob was in full on sobs by then, reminding him as it did of our Lauren. And it’s when I started to lose it just a bit, too.)
 
Mike followed. With Sarah and Christopher at either side, Mike spoke so beautifully – so eloquently – so perfectly. He had us doubled over at times and I made a point of remembering one of his jokes: he talked about Debbie and him visiting a castle in the UK and going for High Tea. He said, “I didn’t know what to expect – I mean, I had no idea what ‘High Tea’ was. I thought it was just an open bar.”
 
His perfect remembrances of his wife were poignant and beautiful, with as many touching moments as there were humorous ones. Through it all, his children stood beautiful and tall, proud and strong. 
 
When Mike was finished, as his family held each other, we were moved to applause. There was just no other way to show our vast admiration for the job he did and the way he conveyed so perfectly his love for his wonderful Deborah. 
 
After a prayer led by Terry, Mike, Sarah, her partner Marcus, Christopher and his partner Candace and Mike and Debbie’s friend and doctor David Satok each put a gloved hand on Debbie’s coffin as it was wheeled from the chapel. We all followed into the crisp October air and, under spotless skies, watched, tears flowing and arm-in-arm, as the hearse, one white rose tucked into its rear handle, slowly drove away carrying her gleaming engraved oak coffin.
 
Then it was upstairs for visiting, refreshments and more laughter than I’m sure Mount Pleasant is used to hearing within its walls and borders. But it was all so fitting.
 
So perfect.
 
So Debbie.
 
Here’s one of the small tables set up on the second floor. Debbie’s Hope Award from Markham Stouffville Hospital is in the forefront; a beautiful picture behind it shows Mike and Deb lying on their cottage lawn, the sun shining directly down on them. That pic on the right? A very stylish couple in 1986. Although we hadn’t yet met, I remember that night because Mike was taking part in a lip-sync challenge for the United Way and so was I!
 
 
 
Today we’re on the road to Kingston for an unexpected but thoroughly welcome visit with Rob’s sister Sue. Then tomorrow, Grama and Grandad Banana Alert! We’re going to see sweet Colin.
 
What a mixture of emotions these days have been! And again, thank you for being there with us all.
 

I’m sorry – I thought that I would have an entirely new journal for you today. Instead, I am here in Toronto, getting set for a funeral. I have written and rewritten something I want to say about the parting of a dear friend – her life, her love, her immense spirit – but sharing it here before I say it at her funeral just doesn’t seem to fit.
 
So here’s what I’ll do: I’ll share with you a very special piece of writing that someone sent my way. It is attributed alternately to Rev. Luther F. Beecher and Henry Van Dyke; it depends which part of the internet you believe. 
 
It was brought to our attention three-and-a-half years ago when our sweet girl Lauren left us unexpectedly. At that time, it brought me to tears, as it still does today, but all we can do is hope that for someone it conjures hope and inspiration. Here it is. I’ve yet to decide whether I’ll include it in today’s service, but we’ll see. I’ll be back with you tomorrow and I trust you’ll understand why there’s no entirely new journal here today.

Gone From My Sight

 

I am standing upon the seashore. A ship, at my side, spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength.
 
I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.
 
Then, someone at my side says, “There, she is gone.”
 
Gone where?
 
Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast, hull and spar as she was when she left my side. And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.
 
Her diminished size is in me — not in her.
 
And, just at the moment when someone says, “There, she is gone,” there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, “Here she comes!”
 
And that is dying….

I’ll be back with you here tomorrow. Today we’ll all try to stand strong and see what happens. Thank you.
 

What a weekend. Just when you think the insanity is going to take a breather after they find a suspect in a rash of bombings, we learn Saturday of the shooting tragedy at a synagogue that claims 11 women and men aged 54 to 97 years old. The sadness out of Pittsburgh is palpable, even though the anger and rhetoric just keep building, despite brief and unkept promises by a so-called leader that he’d “tone it down.”
 
It’s eight days until the US mid-terms and there’s just no saying how this is going to go, or where it ends. It’s heartbreaking. As we’ve seen, Canada is not immune to this kind of hatred either. But all we can do is hope that, somehow, something changes for the better and that people go to the polls in eight days and have their voices heard and their votes legitimately tallied. Please, make it stop.
 
—–
 
Today – probably as you read this – Rob and I are up and buckling in for the crazy, early, non-stop from Victoria, BC to Toronto. Yes, I do wonder how I did this for all of those years (as I’m sure Roger Ashby will be asking himself after a few solid months of sleeping in, if he can) but you gear your body up for that 3 am alarm. You get used to it when it’s your living and a job that you love. But, oh, these one-offs are a challenge to the body. Of course, I’m not complaining. We would make this trip if it meant taking 14 connections over two days.
 
All going well, our flight boards at 5:25 am local time, we land early this afternoon in TO and get our rental car. Then we head to the funeral chapel and see what we need in order to help make Mike’s Mac computer work properly for the visual aspects of the day tomorrow, and then check into a little boutique hotel downtown.
 
We’ll have dinner with Mike and get ready for one of the heaviest days a person can have: publicly saying good-bye to someone you love. Not so long ago we were in the same sad state. So we’re here to offer our dear friend whatever he needs.
 
Three years ago this month, Debbie and Mike were honoured with the Markham Stouffville Hospital Hope Award. It took place at the Celebration of Hope, which I’ll have the honour of hosting again this year on November 11th in Markham. (There’s a link to ticket info in the ‘What’s Up’ section of my homepage. If you’re reading this on Monday, just scroll up.)
 
That year, Deb and Mike were honoured for going public and talking about colon cancer, which is still the biggest cancer killer there is, and one that’s preventable with early testing and diagnosis. Debbie wasn’t that lucky; although she’d had a clear colonoscopy, it was a fecal test that detected her colon cancer just a year later. Again, I’ll repeat her urging to you that you get tested, too. It’s never too soon…but it can be too late.
 

 
Mike, if I understood him correctly, says that Debbie was at Stage 4 in her colon cancer fight for the five years that we knew she was sick. Yet she fought and she did so with such incredible spirit and an absolute certainty that she was going to beat it, until everyone was just out of options. And so tomorrow, at a private event for family and close friends, we will salute that love of some 50 years, that fight and the incredible woman who mounted it, with the help and support of so many, but especially her loving husband and son and daughter.
 
I sincerely hope that you haven’t tired of me writing about my dear friend. I have so few who are or were as close as Debbie and she truly meant the world to me (as she did to so many). I’ve been dreading this past week for a long time and just trying hard to keep writing about other things for you and for me, finding ways to stay connected without telling you what we knew was coming. Damn.
 
But here we are, you and I, and here we’ll be. I’ll have more for you tomorrow.
 

Well, we come to the end of a week that is just so filled with emotions that it’s difficult to put them into words: vast sadness, deep gratitude and so much in between. I know that it’s Friday and you’d undoubtedly like to start off your weekend on a happy note. I hope that this week’s remembrances of Debbie have also given you reasons to smile. 
 
I mentioned her affinity for ducks earlier this week, and Debbie truly had a wonderful relationship with animals of all kinds. Three years ago she, along with Anita MacArthur (Ian’s wife) and I spent a memorable weekend at a farm together northwest of Toronto.
 
It was September and my first birthday since Lauren left our world. I had decided to treat the three of us to a girls’ getaway. We ate too much marvelous food, stayed up until all hours and talked, laughed and cried by a fire and Debbie and Anita even rode the Deerfield Estates’ unique Gypsy Vanner horses. Here’s a picture from when Debbie’s horse decided it was going to have a drink and maybe a swim in the pond. If she could have, she’d have ridden that beauty right in, reminscent as it was of her beach rides on warm vacations.
 
Debbie was in her element!
 

 
As you can imagine, there are many, many memories of this dear friend to keep us warm in the days to come, even as Rob and I pack up to fly to Toronto, Ottawa, Halifax and beyond. The first leg begins on Monday.
 
But another of the warm thoughts of Debbie comes thanks to her talents in the kitchen. Every summer and fall she’d be up to her elbows in home-grown tomatoes, making salsa, chili sauce and stewed tomatoes. Her dill pickles were epic and she had a flair for making elaborate family dinners look effortless. Between her dishes and Mike’s barbecue prowess, a guest never ever went home hungry.
 
Journal visitor Linda Strome sent me a note this week saying that she would think of Debbie every time she made the lasagne soup that Mike famously shared with listeners. So I thought with the last weekend of October upon us, why not give you a great reason to think warm and loving, nurturing and nourishing thoughts, too? Here it is. I always top mine with some freshly grated parmesan, but you enjoy it however you want. Maybe with warm bread? Just Mmmmm….