Erin's Journals

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.
 

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.