Erin's Journals

Well hello! It’s funny how this “reWirement” thing has been working out: months after I’d decided to call it a wrap on my radio career, a publisher comes to me out of the blue with an idea that I should write a book.
 
What they call the ARCs (Advanced Reader’s Copy) are now in the hands of people who are writing blurbs or the foreword; it’s an unproofed edition of the book that is the last step before actual final printing and distribution. I still can’t believe this is all happening and I’ll share more with you as the publication date approaches in five months and one week. Just let me tell you that this has been a journey I couldn’t have imagined taking, but one that has been incredible nonetheless. 
 
Oh, and for the record, I didn’t quit radio to write a book. Someone has mistakenly suggested that and I’m sorry to tell her that no one (save Bob Woodward or a few very famous authors) gets rich through writing. We were already planning our new life when this dropped into our laps. So there’s that.
 
Another unexpected perk has been business travel, which I am on today, probably as you are reading this! I fly from Victoria to Vancouver and then connect to Regina, where tonight I’ll be reuniting with author, broadcaster and marketing guru Terry O’Reilly and Dragons’ Den‘s Michele Romanow for another Canadian Real Estate Association evening. (The photo below is from a CREA event last fall.)
 

 
I’m excited about this for a few reasons: first, a reason to put on lashes and get on a plane (I will be fully clothed, too, for that matter) and to see Terry and Michele and the CREA family again during this emcee opportunity. But I’ve never been to Regina! I haven’t even set foot in Saskatchewan, for that matter, and I guess it’s about time.
 
I have a friend who’s contemplating a next step in a career that has been fruitful, but also, of late, especially difficult. Like so many businesses, hers has seen severe cutbacks, meaning that she has taken on the work of many, while still maintaining high standards and successful outcomes to her projects. It’s taking a huge toll on her and, as she ponders her future, I just keep hoping to prove an example that there are so many different adventures that can await you, if you take that leap and seek out a happier life. 
 
We’re getting to that age, many of us, where we stock up on as many condolence cards as we do birthday cards. It’s a fact of life that no one is guaranteed any tomorrows. Anyone who laments “don’t get old!” hasn’t stopped to think about the people who would have given anything to have a chance to do just that.
 
A favourite aunt (who’s turning 87 today, as a matter of fact) often says those words to me and when she does, all I think about is Lauren. I don’t mention her; my aunt’s memory is not what it used to be. But I feel the same about people who complain about getting older or having another birthday. Why is it human nature to do that? 
 
But I digress. My message to my friend is just to imagine how many doors will swing open and how many opportunities will present themselves when she just gets a chance to breathe, to look around and to see the possibilities she didn’t even notice were there. 
 
That’s what has happened with Rob and with me. I’m not sure where this ride is going to take us next, but I’m flying high – quite literally – with optimism for whatever is around the corner!
 
Talk to you here tomorrow. I’d better remember to set my watch ahead!
 

Oh, the irony: I’m in a time zone where shows like the Emmy Awards begin at 5 o’clock in the afternoon and are done by 8, and I have no alarm set for 3:30 am to get up and talk about them! Ah well. Hope you enjoyed last night’s show, if you even remembered to watch. With so many non-network offerings out there, it’s not surprising that TV awards shows are seeing their ratings slide. It’s likely a direct correlation with viewership of regular network shows.
 

 
I am happy to say that reading about its multiple nominations made me seek out The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel on Amazon Prime and it’s one of the best shows I’ve watched in ages. Set in the late 1950s, a housewife finds herself distraught, drunk and hilariously doing stand-up in a club that her husband used to frequent.
 
Her life as a comedian, kept secret from her super uptight parents (Dad is played by the always great Tony Shalhoub) and as a separated mom of two, is a tightrope walked by actress Rachel Brosnahan with courage and spirit. Note: there are plenty of F-words in the show (Lenny Bruce even shows up a few times) and if that induces pearl clutching, this show may not be for you. But oy, what a great find! I was only sorry that Season 2 has yet to be released! Love Mrs. Maisel! (And I’m happy to see that Emmy voters do, too.)
 
Now to something I can’t yet bring myself to watch, but that was must-see for us during its first season: The Handmaid’s Tale. Set during a dystopian time when fertile women are kept strictly as chattel and expected to produce children for the couples who basically “own” them, I felt a heaviness while the policies of the government south of our own border were settling in.
 
And since that first season, it’s only gotten worse: children and parents being separated, women continuing to risk losing rights and control over their own bodies and a self-professed serial sex offender at the helm of the country, making decisions about appointing other possible offenders to the highest posts in the land. I really don’t know if I can settle in and take on another season of this show, given how things continue to devolve around us. How much is life supposed to imitate art, and vice versa? 
 
And so an entire season just sits there, awaiting a time when I’m in a good enough or bad enough mood to watch it. I don’t know if that makes sense, but it’s where I am. 
 

 
There’s a documentary that came out last month that I’m steeling myself to watch as well: Active Measures outlines Russian efforts to manipulate world events. Of course, we’re talking about Putin and Trump here, and the fact that it goes back decades makes this doc even scarier.
 

 
But for a lighter look at where we are now – if that’s possible – this Friday marks the release of the TIFF hit, Michael Moore’s Fahrenheit 11/9 in many cities. You’ve undoubtedly seen or heard Moore on the talk show circuit leading up to this week’s release, discussing why this November could possibly mark the last election in the United States. Sounds like hyperbole, I know, but wait until you see the way he connects the dots. Not all superheroes wear capes (or look hot in tights, for that matter).
 
We’re hoping to see it with friends next Monday, but I can’t determine for sure if ‘everywhere’ includes Vancouver Island. In the meantime, check out The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, if only for the episode featuring the wonderful Jane Lynch. 
 
Tomorrow, I’m off to Regina (where the forecast is for rain and 9C). I’ll fill you in…thanks for coming by and have a great day!
 

Welcome to a brand new week! Not often this year have I felt a twinge of envy about the weather in the place I used to call home, but hearing about temperatures in the upper 20s made me a little wistful. While we were treated to two days of on and off rain (mostly on), I still couldn’t complain: Alberta had snow last week and it’s still summer! And, of course, one needs only turn on the news to see how a few days of intermittent rain is nothing like what’s happening in other parts of the world. I love a tweet from former CBS news anchor Dan Rather yesterday:
 

 
Just a perfect bit of perspective. 
 
And now, to something completely silly.
 
A strange bump has arisen on the inside of my wrist, between the base of my thumb and my watch band. At first, because of a tiny red dot at its center, I figured some spider had munched on me in the night. It didn’t hurt and isn’t itchy, so I figured, no harm.
 

 
Our of curiosity, I Googled “spider bites” and my first diagnosis was wiped out. Nope, not a bite; I’m pretty sure it’s something that has an awful name but is pretty benign: a ganglion. Pronounced “gangly-un” it’s just a cyst that should disappear with time. But I’m embarrassed to tell you how I think I got it: gaming.
 
Yes, playing an online game. It’s no secret that I’ve got a competitive streak half a mile wide; I come from a family of four sisters who were raised to meet and surpass each other’s accomplishments (whether overtly or implied). It served me well in my career and a shared drive to be number one in the highly competitive radio business. But now, I have channeled that into a silly word game. It’s called Wordscapes.
 

 
You are given a certain number of letters and you connect them to fill in blanks. There are no time limits and you earn coins that are only good for buying hints, should you need them.
 

 
Wordscapes is similar to the immensely popular Words With Friends. Just before the Labour Day Weekend, I saw on my iPhone screen there was a tournament for players. So I got in. I played game after game and was leading at various times during the weekend (despite being offline while volunteering at the fair for big chunks of three days).
 
Still, on Monday evening, I was surprised to see player Kate come seemingly from nowhere and beat the pants off me. Rob suspected a bot; although he was being supportive, I was doubtful. Still, it appeared highly unlikely that anyone could rack up the points she was accruing in such a short time.
 
So, this past Friday, I saw a tournament posting again and thought, why not? I started playing. Rob played along, calling out words as he sat next to me and spotted them. 
 
As the weekend progressed, I bounced between first and second place among the 50 players. Last night, we were pleased to have held on to earn another 2000 useless coins. Here’s a screenshot of the close-to-final tally. Yes, the game name I used was Lauren. I had been using one of our silly nicknames for her and then thought I might as well use her name instead. No idea why I didn’t just put in my own name! I guess I wanted her to be playing with me. Who knows? Anyway, here are the standings with 38 minutes to go.
 

 
So what’s this got to do with my wrist? Partway through the weekend, I noticed some pain in my left thumb and knew right away it was because I’d been holding my iPhone for hours. It didn’t stop me from continuing to compete; I wanted to see if something popped up near the end of the game to sweep through to first place. It didn’t.
 
But I’ve a souvenir of that win that I didn’t count on. At least I think that’s what it is. One thing I do know for sure: I probably won’t be taking part in another one. It was fun, but there’s a lot more to life than a word game, no matter how it got the juices flowing and my brain clicking again or what a lovely diversion it was from the rain!
 
Have yourself a gentle Monday and thanks so much for coming by. We’ll see you here tomorrow.
 

Well, it’s Friday. And how are you spending your weekend? Perhaps taking part in one of the many Terry Fox runs that are happening across Canada and around the world? If you are, I wish you sunny skies, comfortable shoes and good luck.
 
Here in Victoria stands a statue of Terry at the place where his run was to be completed, had cancer not stopped him halfway across this vast land of ours. We always think of him with awe and gratitude when we pass that spot near Mile Zero of the Trans-Canada Highway. Here’s a picture of that statue from readtheplaque.com.
 

Weathering storms – whether cancer, grief, or actual meteorological events – is what we do as humans. It’s how we’ve survived as a species for lo these millions of years. 
 
The motto of South Carolina is “While I breathe, I hope.” That saying is more than just five words, it’s a pretty poignant way to look at life and, in many ways, words that thousands – millions – enduring the wrath of Hurricane Florence are undoubtedly taking to heart.
 
It’s hard to imagine having to pack up your belongings and leave behind a home that may not be there when you return. If it is, you could face devastation that will make your home uninhabitable – maybe permanently – the same kind of peril that so many fleeing fires in Fort McMurray in years past, parts of BC and Ontario this year and, of course, in many parts of the US this past summer. And yet, here it is: the new normal.
 
It’s not like we weren’t warned that this was coming. In 2007, former Vice-President Al Gore, along with the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in recognition of their efforts to alert the world about the imminent challenge faced by our planet.
 
That same year, in his Academy Award-winning documentary (and accompanying book), An Inconvenient Truth, Gore foretold, through clear scientific data, and prognostications based on them, that storms would be getting much more severe, flooding in coastal areas would become the norm and people displaced (such as those from Puerto Rico) would have to find new homes in safer areas. But, you know, what would a vast and clear majority of scientists know about anything?
 
Those who deny the predictions of some of the greatest minds of our times because, well, they choose not to believe science are glued to their TVs and devices today watching predictions of the path and wrath of one of the biggest storms of our lifetime (again). And how do they know all of this? Because of the same science these climate change deniers refuse to believe. Why, that would be as idiotic as refusing to acknowledge that nearly 3,000 people perished in Puerto Rico. Imagine. 
 
The earth is getting warmer day by day, year by year. The water is heating up, the devastation is becoming increasingly severe (just look at the wrath of Super Typhoon Mangkhut hitting the Philippines these days, too). It’s all right here in front of us and yet, as Trump says (besides his astute observance that it’s “tremendously big and tremendously wet”), “it’s Mother Nature.” Hmmm…. Perhaps if they renamed it Father Nature, he’d treat its forces with just a little more respect?
 
My heart is with those unable to leave the path of Florence and the massive typhoon in the Philippines. For those who have the means to leave but choose not to do so (because, again, they know more than scientists and authorities who are issuing dire warnings), they will have to deal with the foolishness of their decisions. We wish no ill on anyone. But when will people really start to pay attention to what’s happening? And will it be too late for us all?
 
Yeah, a really cheery end to the week, Erin. Sorry about that. I had a light-hearted one ready to go, but this is where I am today. I wish you a safe weekend. As I lay my head on my pillow, I will be thankful to be under a roof and out of harm’s way. And my thoughts will be with those who are not, because they have no choice.
 
We still have a choice.
 

Well, here we are at Thursday. I know this week’s journals have been a bit on the heavy side with the emotions that accompanied Lauren’s bench installation and then yesterday’s letter from Barbara about her friend’s medically assisted death. I was astounded to see that every email, Facebook post and Tweet was in support of MAID.
 
Many expected they’d face argument in their support and prefaced their responses with “this is just my opinion, but….” However, that wasn’t necessary. One person tweeted that it wasn’t for them – and that’s fine too! I am aware that many hold objections to the option – as is their right – but as I said, I’m just grateful that we’re becoming more open to the idea and the practice. 
 
I wanted to lighten things up today. So, here we go. Shall we go for tea?
 

 
There have been a few very special days in our lives when I have been invited to take part in high tea. (What makes it high, is the stack of three plates). Few are more highly rated – at least, on this side of the pond – than that at the Fairmont Empress in downtown Victoria.
 
When our guest from Toronto, Matthew Stevenson, a friend of Rob’s from hockey days, insisted that we go – his treat – who were we to say no? Previous teas had included taking a tween-aged Lauren to one at the Royal York to celebrate the onset of her “womanhood” if you will; another was with my cousin and aunt around Mother’s Day this year at a sweet little tea room in the picturesque Oak Bay area of Victoria. But the Empress? We’d not had the pleasure.
 
I tried to get an online reservation through Open Table and it was a no go. The place was fully booked on a Tuesday afternoon! We later learned that there were a few large groups, including one from a tour that was in Victoria (possibly from a cruise ship) and another…well, you’ll see them shortly.
 
We waited patiently while hostess Raj tried to squeeze our trio in. Returning 15 minutes later, she’d managed to find us a spot and we were not disappointed.
 
The setting for this beautiful ritual was spectacular. Recently given a facelift, this grand old hotel lobby is the perfect setting for a tradition that has been carried on for nearly a century.
 

 
Our lovely server Andrew couldn’t have been more gracious, despite the fact that one guest in our party had on a sweater/sweatshirt (he’d travelled light to take part in a Vancouver to Whistler bicycle marathon) and we all wore jeans. As you can see, some guests get really dolled up for the occasion; I found out later when they obliged me with a photograph that this is an annual gathering for them. How lovely!
 

 
After being escorted to our table, we were presented with a wooden chest holding small enclosed samples of different tea leaves. Rob chose green, I chose a fruity organic (Matthew only drank hot water) and we combined our flavours with each poured cup. Tea was kept warm on ceramic stands heated by (appropriately) a tea light and as a pianist played nearby, we tucked into our treats.
 

 
Beautiful fluffy raisin scones with clotted cream and preserves were served on the lowest level; I didn’t get a picture before we devoured those! Then it was on to sandwiches, local shrimp and beautiful BC smoked salmon. And then, to top it off (quite literally), we enjoyed different tiny desserts.
 

 
The best part of the experience, besides the perfectly steeped and warmed tea, the array of guests and travellers around us and the outstanding views of Victoria Harbour, was the conversation we had with Matthew. 
 

 
A hockey buddy of Rob’s, Matthew is also a former funeral director. We were able to ask questions that we’d always had and learned a bit about a calling that is so difficult that it often takes a big toll on the lives of those who answer. Marriage troubles, burn out and substance abuse often come with the demands of long and unpredictable hours, immense stress and the pain of being around people who are their absolute lowest. And, no, he never once watched one of our favourite tv shows, Six Feet Under. He said it would be like us watching WKRP – although we did! But I totally get where he was coming from.
 
So, after a leisurely time during which we were never rushed to move on or make way for another party, we found ourselves at the moment when the bill arrived.
 
Here’s a riddle: how is the way tea is prepared the same as the price for High Tea at the Empress? They’re both steep! Raj was sure to mention no fewer than three times that the price for tea (including goodies of course) was $77. PER PERSON. Still, it was something Matthew really wanted us to experience, as he’d been here with his aunt as a teen.
 
Of course, the place had changed, but the attention to detail, the service and, in many cases, the furniture had not. It was a completely memorable and enjoyable afternoon. No wonder it’s “part of the tour” when people visit Victoria on cruise ships. Sometimes combined with a visit to the world-famous Butchart Gardens, it’s a day fit for a queen! And even the likes of us.
 
Have a great day and thanks for sitting down for a cuppa with us. Back with you here tomorrow.