Erin's Journals

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.
 

It’s Wednesday already! And, oh, I love your notes and emails. Yesterday, after the journal that I freestyled about the first day “back to” everything, I got the most wonderful private Facebook note. It comes from a woman named Karen and this story should go viral, it’s so beautiful. But I’m just fine that it stays among us!
 
As you (hopefully) read, I was lamenting never being able to take our little girl to her first day of school. Not for any of them, until much later when I had an unscheduled September off; by that time, she was in high school and was walking with friends or taking the subway.
 

 
I got a note from someone who remembered so clearly Lauren’s first day of school: apparently, I remarked on the radio that she looked like Franklin the Turtle with her backpack on and I was worried she was going to fall over! The woman was so sad about her own child going off that first day, but remembered that my comment made her laugh. Her note was a beautiful gift to start a Tuesday morning and I am forever grateful for the moments that people remember, even if they’ve long slipped my mind.
 
Now, obviously I’m not the only parent who wishes they could have been available for “firsts” that were missed. But it was a message from Karen that just opened my eyes to the wonderful opportunities that can still exist.
 
Of course, moms who are not at their children’s side can be there with their little ones in spirit during school by sending backpack notes or sweet nothings in their lunches. The occasional Hershey’s Kiss can’t hurt, either – just to remind the little ones (or bigger ones, too) that they’re loved and in our hearts.
 
But look at what journal visitor Karen’s daughter did. It’s just astounding and so very tender.
 

 
This little girl’s mom is a kindergarten teacher, thus unable to take her daughter on that first day of school to a class of her own. So yesterday, here’s what she did: she got up early, took chalk and wrote messages of inspiration that her daddy could read to her as he held her hand and walked all along her route to school. (I know, I teared up reading about it, too). You can see some of those messages below:
 

 

 
In case you can’t quite make them out, here’s what a few say:
 

 
I already loved this woman, but those lines from Yeats were the same ones I used as my “Just a Thought” yesterday, so I love her more! There’s also a Dr. Seuss quote and a line from Daniel Tiger. Then an arrow saying ALMOST THERE! And finally this lovely message in chalk on the sidewalk: 
 

 
Isn’t that just THE BEST? How I wish I’d have thought of doing this – and, of course, any parent can do it any day they want to leave a message to their child on their path to the future. What a lovely story – and I thank Clara’s grandma for sharing it with me. Most of all, here’s to all the Moms AND Dads, Grandmas and Grandpas who have gotten through a day of firsts (with or without tears) on the way to many, many more. 
 
My heart is just bursting. What a wonderful way to be with your child, even if you cannot be there in person! Pass it on and have a wonderful Wednesday.
 

“Welcome back, welcome back, welcome ba-a-a-ack….” How many years did we start an hour or a show with that refrain of the theme from TV’s Welcome Back Kotter? More than I can count. But it still resonates today. It’s a day of butterflies and excitement, seeing your crush again after a long – too long – summer apart and finding out who grew a shadow of a moustache (likely me) or if your bestie was going to be in your class. 
 
For many teachers, it’s a day of even bigger butterflies: the notes I got last week after Thursday’s journal about wishes for those starting high school all had a similar theme of being nervous and even having a nightmare about too many students and too few supplies. Trying to remember names, hoping you’ll get through. Teaching is a high calling. May you be the name a student remembers when they’re thanking those who helped them learn lessons in – and out of – the classroom.
 
Outside of school, yellow buses grind back to life after months spent idly parked in fields and lots. The traffic flow is back to “normal,” which, of course, in the GTA is hell ratcheted down to a deeper and even slower level. Lunches have been made (or ingredients purchased for whenever a full school day resumes) and new clothes have been bought for growing bodies.
 
For many, it’s a day of sharing stories and experiences from summer, although face it: in this day of Instagram and texting, are there any secrets about what someone you know was up to for the last few months? Probably not. 
 
Today is the day that fresh challenges begin. I always felt that the day after Labour Day was more of a new start than New Year’s Day.
 
I was always sorry that the beginning of the important Fall Ratings period for radio meant that I couldn’t once see Lauren off to school as a small child heading into new classrooms. Daddy got to take her every time and we knew that was part of the life we’d signed up for, but I always wished I could have, that one day…just once.
 
Or perhaps you’re a parent whose home is empty for the first time and you truly know what it is to have your heart out there in the world. You know you gave them the roots they needed and now they’ve taken wing.
 
I remember sitting sobbing in a taxi as I headed back to Ottawa airport after making sure Lauren was settled and ready for her first year of Algonquin College in radio. I thought my heart would break. All of that following week nine years ago, I cried every night, missing the joyful sounds that came from down the hall, where her bedroom resonated so often with singing. The emptiness was almost too much to bear.
 
But like in most cases, time proved a wonderful healer. Endings bring beginnings and, just as summer’s unofficial close came with the last ride shutting down at the CNE or, in our case, the Saanich Fair, a new crisp, smooth, beautiful white sheet of paper is turned, just waiting for wisdom to be passed on, mistakes to be made and memories to be written.
 
Good luck.
 
Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m late for class. Again.
 

Thursday thoughts today include a mix of melancholy and anticipation. We’re just about to begin a new school year and, with that in mind, whatever your stage in life, whether the parent of a child or simply an adult remembering your years as one, you can surely identify with the massive nerves, the dread and, yes, anticipation and excitement. And the tears…ours, theirs; parents’ and children’s.
 
Today I thought I’d share a Back to School journal I wrote when our friend and CHFI producer Ian MacArthur’s son Campbell entered grade nine. Campbell has graduated high school and is making his way in the world, seeking his niche. But years later, I’m hoping these words may resonate with someone you know; feel free to share. Or maybe they’ll resonate with you, yourself.
 
Have a gentle day. And we’ll try not to think about this being Labour Day Weekend ALREADY!

An Open Letter to The Class of……
 
If there is a message I’d try to get through to you today, as you feel butterflies the size of pelicans, it would be this: you’ll feel, at times, as though these days and years are the most important of your life. But, unless you do a spectacular job of screwing them up and come out with a police record, you’ll get through. The queens and kings of prom, sports and cafeteria are – quite possibly – peaking in their teens. Your time will come too – and it’s much sweeter later than sooner.
 
If you can get through these next four years with your dignity and self-respect intact, if you can manage to keep an open mind along with those open books and know that, even if you don’t think you’ll use this “stuff” in years to come, then one day you’ll actually be glad you know why Archimedes got excited in the bathtub and who Iago is when his name’s invoked in reference to a backstabbing confidante. I promise you will. 
 
Try to make memories but not mistakes, and if you do happen to trip and fall, turn it into a lesson. On some days, there are often more things learned outside of a classroom than inside it. 
 
Although for most, the emphasis will be on fitting in – remember that later in life, it’s the ones who stand out who truly make their mark in the world. Not everyone is going to like you. That’s a lesson better learned sooner than later and, although you won’t understand why, you have to accept that it’s just the way it is. Don’t waste your energy trying to be someone’s chocolate if they clearly prefer strawberry. You have no control over how other people feel – even about you – no matter how unfair it is. As Don Miguel Ruiz writes in The Four Agreements, it’s their movie. Sometimes we are barely even extras.
 
Ask questions. It is far worse to feel stupid later because you didn’t, than to fear looking stupid because you did. If you don’t understand, there’s a very good chance that you’re not alone. Not every teacher is exceptional and one you’ll remember the rest of your life; some will need a little help to get their lessons and messages across. Sometimes that help may come from you. 
 
Try to be compassionate when it comes to your teachers; they’re mothers and fathers, partners, sons and daughters and they have bad days, Mondays, PMS, hangovers and hang-ups just like the people you live with or know and love. Cut them some slack and remember: they are human beings. Treat them as you’d want your mom to be treated, if teaching was her vocation. 
 
Treat everyone as you want to be treated – from teachers and custodians to bus drivers and other kids in the hall. Choose carefully which people you let in and don’t let into your life – both in person and on social media. Just as you don’t have to be loved by everyone, nor do you have to confide in anyone. As in the grown-up world, there are Iagos galore. As my grandmother said, “Love many, trust few and always paddle your own canoe.” 
 
I don’t know if Gram even went to high school, and that’s probably wisdom she acquired long after those teen years came and went. But it holds as true today as it would have nearly a century ago. 
 
Just know that no matter how your days and years ahead go, remember: for better or worse, “This, Too, Shall Pass.” 
 
And with the right amount of studying – so, hopefully, will you. 

I’ll be back with you here after a bit of an extended long weekend. Talk to you on Tuesday. Have a wonderful Labour Day weekend.