Erin's Journals

Well, how was your weekend? If it was like ours in Ottawa, you probably had more than your share of clouds and rain and welcomed yesterday’s blue skies, as we did. But we were fortunate enough to have our sweet four-year-old grandson Colin to light our way.
 
Morning cuddles and stories, long meals and plenty of play time made the weekend seem to fly by at the softest, most wonderful pace. We counted ourselves fortunate to have had this extra visit with the joy of our lives, having not planned to come to Ontario before this week until, of course, we lost our friend. 
 
Today, we’re back in the GTA with two visits scheduled (along with apologies to anyone else we had hoped to see this time around) and preparation for an all-day gig tomorrow at College Park’s famed event venue, The Carlu. Once again this year, I have the honour of emceeing the 2018 Performance Excellence Summit and the Canada Awards for Excellence.
 
Among those being honoured: Peter Mansbridge and Rick Mercer, and dozens of companies from across Canada which have met and far exceeded CAE’s stringent criteria. And once again my path will cross with that of friend, author and broadcaster Terry O’Reilly. So I’ll feel right at home. That always helps: when you’re doing a day-long event, having done it for years and being surrounded by people who feel like your friends really does help with the nerves. 
 
After tomorrow, we’re back at the airport, but this time heading east instead west towards home. I’ll fill you in on that later. 
 
Right now, a question: what kind of oven thermometer can’t survive high temperatures? 
 
On Saturday, we decided to treat Phil, Brooke and Colin to a homemade turkey dinner, since we aren’t hitting any of the usual festive meal occasions. We pulled together a pretty amazing meal, and about an hour before the bird was due to be finished (at 350 F for 4-5 hours) Rob inserted a thermometer that is clearly meant for meat. Here’s the proof. So yeah, no, it’s not our fault!
 

 
An hour later, sure that the turkey was ready to come out, Rob opened the oven to see this melting monstrosity.
 

 
Luckily, the malfunction didn’t in any way adversely affect our dinner and we still had a wonderful feast. But we do owe them a thermometer and will be finding one to replace the old melted one when we visit again this week.
 
Strange, though, right? I thought that other than Rob’s barbecued chicken incineration last year, I had the market cornered on high temp hi-jinx! 
 
Take care and we’ll be back here with you tomorrow. 
 

What, Friday already? I’m kidding. This has been without a doubt one of the longest weeks of our lives. And yet, there’s a lightness of heart at the end of these five days that I haven’t felt for so long. Knowing Debbie’s suffering has come to an end, being in the heart of family in Ottawa with Phil, Brooke and Colin and feeling so happy for a friend who has officially begun her new life.
 
You’ve heard already of Roger Ashby’s decision to leave CHUM after some five decades on the air there on both the AM and FM airwaves. I wish him all the best in his well-deserved retirement; I hope that he and Moira have a long and adventurous stretch ahead of them with only great health and happiness.
 
As a coincidental sidenote: Roger’s former co-host Rick Hodge is also hanging up the headphones, having announced this week that he’s leaving his St. Catharines radio job as of today. How lucky we are that (contrary to the ridiculous hoax links online trying to get people to buy skin products) Marilyn Denis isn’t leaving any time soon!
 
But there’s a radio departure that hits even closer to home for me this week and all of the events of my own life have kept me from mentioning it before today. Lisa Brandt, my sis from another missus, said good-bye to her London, Ontario radio family on Wednesday, ten years to the day since leaving her lofty perch as morning co-host on 680 News in Toronto.
 

 
Lisa has been getting up far too early for as many years as I have – or more. Her résumé includes radio stations from Prince George, BC to Wingham, Hamilton and Toronto (with more stops than I could list here) and she’s done everything from music host to program and news director to on-air anchor.
 
She’s written more books than Donald Trump has read (okay, probably double) and has hosted a TV show that I’m sure is still in syndication somewhere right now. If I sound like Lisa’s biggest fan, it’s because she and I have long felt a great affection and respect for each other, both in our radio careers, and as two women born just ten days apart. 
 
Lisa has been open about her struggles with depression (and equally vocal about the silent killer sepsis – she even wrote a book about the latter). It’s a known fact that getting up in the middle of the night wreaks havoc with one’s seratonin levels, and less chronicled but more obvious is how hard it is to have invisible keyboard cowards taking shots at you constantly for holding a position with a microphone.
 
For example, if Justin Trudeau was making news and Lisa didn’t speak about him with the right amount of admiration or bile, she’d come under attack. Her unending efforts to remain a neutral news host (on her own morning radio show) would be ignored by those who heard her through their own filters and let her know what a garbage person she was for not holding their opinions. Ugh. Who the hell needs that?
 
Don’t get me wrong: she didn’t leave only for reasons of fatigue or mental wellness. It was those things, yes, but so very many more; it was just time. Like Rob and I did, she’s choosing to begin a new life and seeking joy and fulfillment that a job simply can’t provide anymore. Losing loved ones before their time, or before Lisa was ready to let go, prompted a profound shift in her outlook. She could hear her dear, late father’s voice in her ear asking what she was waiting for. And so, off they go.
 
Lisa and her husband are leaving the Forest City and moving to Wallaceburg, where she’ll continue to write, do freelance work of all kinds and start a new life that I hope includes more daylight and an awful lot less stress. Radio life is harder than ever these days; too few people doing too many jobs, too much stress and not enough support or, frankly, the remuneration that the tolls of the job deserve.
 
Lisa and Derek have earned every happiness and I can’t tell you how excited Rob and I are for our dear friends. Best of all, they’re coming for a visit late this month and we can’t wait!
 
Here’s a link to Lisa’s blogs this week telling you the story of her decision to depart. It’s not an end, it’s a beginning. And on this week of sad good-byes (Debbie) and a joyful hello (our Ottawa family) we add to the shouts, a hearty “Bon Voyage” for Lisa. 
 
And life goes on.
 
We’ll talk to you here on Monday.
 

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.