Erin's Journals

Unless you’ve been extremely fortunate, you have loved someone who has died by suicide; in my own family, a close relative has attempted to take his own life at least twice in the past few years. The struggle to save him, to make him want to live, continues.
 
Monday marked World Suicide Prevention Day; I’m not accidentally late to this topic. I wanted to wait a few days to offer a view on the subject that does not echo the sentiments of hope and encouragement that was shared by so many who used the hashtag on social media. There’s another side to dying by suicide, though (we are asked never to say “committing” suicide, as it casts blame and shame) and it’s one that has come into my life twice in the past few years.
 
Once in the case of a friend who helped her father to end his life (through Medical Assistance in Dying at his fervent request) and another in the form of an e-mail that came a few weeks back when I urged people not to wait for a special day to enjoy the sweet moments that life has to offer. Here is what Barbara wrote and I thank her for allowing me to share it with you.

Just over a year ago, my BFF Sharron was diagnosed with a very aggressive cancer. A horrible prognosis with a life expectancy of maybe two months. Maybe not. She chose medical assistance in dying (MAID). After taking her to the second doctor (three doctors have to examine records independently and agree death is imminent) and hearing how aggressive this horrible disease was taking over my dear friend, I supported her in this decision (and I went in determined to persuade her to fight). Approved by all three doctors and a date was set. (There is a “cooling off” period).
 
A few days before, Sharron said, “wouldn’t it be wonderful to have a dinner for all my close friends!” Another friend and I decided we would make it happen the next evening in Penticton BC. A few friends drove in from Vancouver, most from Osoyoos, Penticton, Summerland and Kelowna.
 
Sharron came in, dressed to the nines (all 80 pounds of her) made up, obviously uncomfortable but glowing. Her closest friends. There were only a few of us that knew the date was set, but it was obvious to all Sharron would not be long on this planet. ALL her friends paid tribute to her, and she continued to glow.
 
Three days later, Sharron’s day of death came. The doctor came about a half hour before the time planned. We talked (another friend and I were with her; she had asked a few others but not too many were comfortable with it). He took her into the bedroom and determined that yes, it was still her decision to die, and called Cindy and I into the room. He explained that the injection would take about five minutes, she would fall asleep and pass on immediately. After about five minutes, he said “Sharron, tell me again about your dinner”. She said “it was wonderf…..” and passed. So her last memory was of this wonderful dinner where her friends said to her face, what normally would be said at a wake. It was so beautiful to know that was her last thought.
 
Now….we know that will not happen that often, so I try now to tell friends and family such things, how much they mean to me, how I love them, remember special moments……
 
And that is my story.
 
I miss Sharron but am at peace knowing the suffering is over.

Thank you again, Barbara, and I am sorry for the loss of your dear friend. 
I’m not sharing this story to change anyone’s mind if their opinion is that medically assisted suicide is not a decision they would choose to make for themselves. I happen to be grateful that it is an option and, although I hope not to have to make that decision for myself one day, it comforts me to know that one’s suffering does not have to be endless and extreme. Your opinion may be different and I respect that. I told Barbara that I expected some people to have different opinions and she responded: 

Blowback for sure, but I wonder if any will come from someone who has been with a loved one in the last stages of a horrible disease, watching the suffering, frustrated when even morphine on demand is not working. When a strong heart keeps beating keeping this person in absolute agony.
 
So glad there are choices.

I share it perhaps to shine a personal perspective on something that we’re reading and hearing more about. The arguments can be loud and include valid points on both sides, in my view. But, like Barbara, I believe we should have choice over our own bodies and lives and this is the ultimate decision. And I am grateful to Barbara for sharing Sharron’s story. Would that we all could leave this earth on our own time and in our own way. At least that’s how I see it.
 

 

So many memories of this day 17 years ago. We have an understanding of loss now that we could not have imagined when terror hit US soil on 9/11 and our hearts are with those whose grief knows no end.
 
I remember one of the most touching moments from a memorial held in the days following the attacks on the United States, when a rabbi spoke of those who had passed. The words he used were these: “They are not with us, they are within us.” And they resonated as strongly then, hearing them through a cab driver’s radio, as they do today. 
 
And so it seems appropriate to share with you our own moment of remembrance. I told you a few months ago that Rob and I had found a lovely park near our home – just down by the Sidney Ferry Terminal – that reminded us of Monet’s home in Giverny, France: weeping willows, still waters (alas, no colourful bridges), ducks and peace. Nearby, children play on swings and slides, picnic tables are set up for families to enjoy and there’s a soccer pitch, too. It’s a lovely spot, Iroquois Park, and we wondered if we could perhaps request (and pay for) a bench there.
 

 
At first, they said they had no plans to add benches to that fenced area around the ponds. I pressed a little and explained why we wanted one: we needed a place where we could go just to be with our daughter. In Ontario, there has been a tree planted and a brick engraved with Lauren’s name (thanks to some very kind moms who did this in her memory) but out here in our new home, we felt we needed something. The town parks department agreed to allow us to donate a bench and asked for the wording for her plaque.
 
We submitted it, then waited. Months passed with no word and we were hoping an email would let us know how the bench was coming. So imagine my surprise when someone posted on my Facebook page that the bench was lovely. Wait, what? It was there? 
 
Two days after learning the bench was there, we swung by one afternoon on the long weekend following a day at the fair. We didn’t give ourselves time to gear up emotionally and I think that was deliberate. We had no idea where the bench would be placed; all we could do was be grateful it was there at all. 
 
The placement was perfect.
 

 
It overlooks a pond, where ducks float and dip and rest on a little island. 
 

 
Some day soon we’ll have a little “ceremony” of our own, maybe leave some flowers, play Lauren singing on my iPhone (as I often do) and perhaps surreptitously scatter a few of her ashes. From now on, this is our place. We hope it gives others a chance for quiet reflection and maybe they’ll even wonder who this young woman was. Maybe a mother will rest there with her own baby. Or a young father who just wants to catch his breath. Who knows? We’re just grateful it’s there – for anyone. But most of all, for Lauren.
 

Well, hello there! Hope you had a restful weekend, as the process of “getting back to” continues in so very many lives. It’s as if, with the flip of a calendar, the weather also flipped a switch: from slathering on sunscreen to layering with windbreakers and vests in about a day. We follow Toronto weather, of course, and couldn’t help noticing pleas for school air conditioning amidst record-breaking September temperatures one day, and lamentation about the onset of sweater weather just a few days later.
 
Here in the Victoria area, the long wished-for rains have set in. Unfortunately, they arrive at the same time as our Ontario company; Rob’s friend from hockey in Toronto is staying with us a few days, having come west for a cycling marathon on the mainland this past weekend. A soggy cycling marathon at that. But, oh, Mother Nature gave us a nice show to wrap up a soggy Sunday last evening! This was the view from our deck.
 

 
But enough about the weather! We’re just grateful that the Labour Day weekend was absolute perfection – sunshine and low 20s – for what’s become a regular event in our lives: the Saanich Fall Fair. Just as we did last year as part of our local chapter of Rotary International, Rob and I volunteered to help the games section of the fair run smoothly. I took the mic on Saturday and emceed Bingo for four hours straight, which was big fun – but not a great idea.
 
These days, I talk so much less than I used to. Living somewhat blessedly insular lives, quiet conversations with Rob and the odd phone call and paid voice job make up most of the work my vocal cords have to do. So I did something that turned out to be both predictable and dangerous: I blew out my voice on Saturday. We went from this:
 

 
…to this. Rob jumped in and spelled off my Bingo calling shifts on Sunday and Monday; I sold playing cards and helped out on other games at the fair. 
 

 
Ordinarily, I would have just taken my lumps and reminded myself not to go so hard next year, but there was a sense of panic this time: I was booked for a directed voice session at 9 am on Tuesday and my voice had to be ready for it. A video for an American utility company, I was going to be led through it via conference call by a company representative on the phone from Boston, as well as the director (also on the east coast).
 
I tried to stay as silent as I could during the evenings leading up, Googled remedies, inhaled steam with a towel over my head and sucked on lumps of coconut oil. (Oh, and yes, it’s a laxative; just one of the reasons why Piña Coladas can have you visiting the little tourists’ rooms when you’re on vacation!)
 
Still unsure if I was going to have to cancel the session and beg for a do-over, we got up two hours early on Tuesday and, instead of my usual coffees, I drank peppermint tea. I practised singing and talking in the shower, trying to get my sound from “two-pack-a-day smoker” to the voice they expected after they chose my audition for the video.
 
Nine o’clock came and Rob and I thought it was worth a shot. After a 90-minute session, I made it through and hopefully the folks paying me for the job were none the wiser. But I am. The timing couldn’t have been more precarious.
 
I took some gentle ribbing from family and friends for calling Bingo – after all of the years of other work I’d done on the mic. But while I’m still happy to be hired for emceeing (I’m travelling to Regina this month and Winnipeg next month, then Halifax and Toronto in November), there’s a lot to be said for volunteering to help out in your community – something we’ve always known and tried to instill in our daughter as well. Rotary has been a great fit for Rob and me and it’s been a great way to make new friends and feel that I’m giving back to a place we now call home. 
 
But I’ll tell you, those Bingo folks are hard core, some of them. I’m sure I got yelled at when I was on the radio for making mistakes but, at least if you were yelling, I couldn’t hear it! Keeps you humble, that’s for sure! 
 
Have a gentle Monday, a sweet and happy New Year if you’re marking Rosh Hashanah, and I’ll be back with you tomorrow with a lovely bit of news.
 

How can a short week feel so full, so busy? I guess as everyone settles into the “new normal” that the first week after Labour Day brings, I’ll tie up a few loose ends here today, too. How’s that sound?
 
Your responses to Clara’s mom’s chalk messages to her daughter were just so moving. Many were brought to tears, and that’s not a bad thing! Most of the feedback came on my Facebook page, but in case you’re not there, we even heard from the “author” of that sidewalk philosophy herself. Kay-Cee Murphy wrote:  

Hey all, “Clara’s mom” here. I’m absolutely blown away by all of the lovely coments and how my simple gesture (which brought me so much joy) had touched each and every one of you. My mom, Karen Horn was able to be home with us for our big days and I’m grateful for the role model I have in her, the sacrifices she made and the support of a totally rad family. Many blessings to you all! Thanks Erin for the words that conveyed my heart on a special day for Clara (and me)!

Thank you, Kay-Cee, for allowing us to share it, and to your mom Karen for telling me about it to begin with. And one note I forgot to add to that journal, and that someone else kindly brought up: think of how many other children may have stopped, read and been inspired by your words. Just wonderful! Your gesture touched so very many people. I’ll bet you’re just a wonderful teacher, too.
 
Yesterday’s “30th and 13th anniversary” journal brought up lots of fond memories from CHFI listeners who remember the early days with Don (even as children) and continue to listen all these years later. It’s so nice to read that you’re enjoying Maureen. Change can be a good thing and I hope that they kick some serious butt in the all-important Fall Ratings book. 
 
Oh, and that picture of me laughing onstage with a hula hoop? Of course it was a CHFI Oldies Dance and I was channelling Dusty Springfield. Some thought it was Dolly Parton but I’d have adjusted two parts of the costume slightly, had that been the case! Here I am with Rob, who was doing a fairly good Barry Gibb that year, 2002, in case you were at that dance.
 

 
And here’s one of my faves from six years and a whole new life later. Good times!
 

 
Have yourself a great weekend. I hope you get a chance to breathe and get set for the week ahead. And thanks for sharing so many kind words and memories this week!
 

Do you remember where you were 30 years ago today? How about 13? In both cases, I can tell you exactly where I was: shaking like a leaf, starting at CHFI. First in 1988 and then again in 2005. This date is a very special one in our lives.
 
In 1988, I was a 25-year-old to Don Daynard’s 54, the perfect screenshot of our target demographic, adults 25-54! Meant to be, right? Well, it almost wasn’t. In the summer of that year, I’d left all-news station CKO to catch my breath and do something that was a little more fun. So I found myself doing fill-in shifts on Easy 97.3, where I even had the opportunity to do mornings – solo – and although I wasn’t sure who was listening, it turns out a couple of managers were.
 
One week in August of that year, I got phone calls from ratings giants CFRB and from CHFI. Both were offering me morning news jobs – the first with the legendary Wally Crouter and the second with the affable and popular Don Daynard. Uh-oh. I had a decision to make and, as a waffling Libra, I knew this was going to be tough. No one could make it for me, so I thought I’d let finances tilt the scales.
 
Nope: both were offering the exact same money, with neither willing to go up even a cent. (I later heard a story that CFRB’s parent company Standard Broadcasting had a rule at that time that no woman could make more than $40,000 – a ceiling that CHFI’s own Maureen Holloway would go on to break when she was there, I am told. Good on her!) So money wasn’t going to be the deciding factor. Besides, at that point in my career, I was always just trying to “earn my age.” I was very happy to be getting beyond my years, as it were.
 
So I had to listen to my heart and decide what I wanted. I remembered the reason for leaving the angst and pressure of CKO and that I wanted to have some fun. I was tired of the revolving door of morning co-hosts, all sure they were in the big chair and I was the one to do the fluff interviews. I even partnered with one man whose wife was one of our producers and I sat idly by, my stomach churning, while he’d literally scream at her. (How I wish I’d stepped in, but a husband/wife dynamic like that is impossible to crack.)
 
I wanted to listen to music while I typed away on my IBM or sat in the studio awaiting the moment I was next welcomed in. I needed to laugh. I could have gone to CFRB and made my dad happy, or chosen the station where I could experience more of what I wanted to attract to my life.
 
Did I have an eye on a co-host position? Oh, no. Even though I’d done that already in my career both at CKLW and CKO, the offer at CHFI from John Hinnen was to do news and perhaps occasionally drop in on bits, just as I had done with legendary Detroit morning host Dick Purtan back in 1982-84. At 19, I was learning from the best and had confidence I could hold my own – or at least try – in any conversations with “legends.” 
 
Maybe it was that confidence (founded or not) that led people to believe I was much older than I actually was; I remember when we announced from that chilly Bay window in November 1990 that I was expecting, it was seen by some as a kind of medical miracle. I mean, wasn’t I Don’s age?
 
Once things started going well with the show and I was promoted to co-host instead of newscaster (a necessity when I did three months of the show from home) I started to hope that I might one day get a chance to do what male broadcasters had done all along: retire when they wanted, at whatever age they wanted. Those plans were derailed, but at least my final departure was my choice. I didn’t age out as so many women in broadcasting do.
 
At first, when I left in 2003 to make way for a younger, hipper morning show, I thought I was done at the microphone for good. I was ready to move closer to my family in Kelowna and my beloved mountains and start a brand new life. Fortunately, fate had bigger plans and I was back on the air, on this day in 2005. So part two began at age 42…which also happens to be my favourite number. And here we are.
 
I hope you don’t mind me passing along some memories of this day (times two) in a pretty wonderful radio life! There are lots of behind the scenes stories and insights that I delve into a bit more deeply in my upcoming book Mourning Has Broken: Love, Loss and Reclaiming Joy. Due out February 26th of next year, soon to become another of my very favourite dates.
 
Have a great day and thanks for all of the mornings – both on the radio and here – that you’ve allowed me to share with you. I’m just grateful to have so very many happy memories to look back on.