Erin's Journals

Sitting here on a rainy, foggy, socked-in kind of day, you’ll forgive me for wanting the calendar to speed up a bit to get us to next April when Mike, Debbie, Rob and I will be your hosts and companions for a European river cruise. The single staterooms have all been booked, which is great news, and there are still some double staterooms available.
 
We’re thrilled at the rate at which these are selling and, in fact, I think Mike and I are going to be doing another webinar in the near future. I’ll keep you posted on day and time; we’re actually visiting the Coopers in early April, so that will be a perfect time to get online together and have some fun with you.
 
In case you’re just getting on board, here’s the Tulip Time trip in a nutshell: we depart April 5 (a year from next Thursday already!) from Amsterdam, truly one of the most charming cities Rob and I have had the opportunity to visit. Lauren even included it (and a houseboat) on her honeymoon back in 2013.
 
We’ll travel in luxury with AMA Waterways, stopping along the way to experience the sights, smells and tastes of the magical towns we pass through. Don’t forget that many of Europe’s cities and towns were built on waterways, so when you’re on a river cruise, you end up getting very close and personal with these beautiful spots. Sometimes on cruise ships you dock far from the featured attractions – as is the case with Civitavecchia and Rome, for example – and even have to take a tender or small boat to get to the dock!
 
This is not the case with river cruises. We’re most excited to get on bicycles and travel like locals on a stop or two. 
 
We’ll make our way through the chocolate, cheese and charm of Antwerp and Ghent in Belgium and then back to Amsterdam, all the while seeing sights but also enjoying our time on the boat as well. Drinks are complimentary with your tickets (a rarity on cruise ships, I can tell you) as are the excursions! It’s really a brilliant way to travel and the fact that we get to do it with you and spend time together in the evenings is just the real icing on this cake.
 
If you’re even considering joining us, I’d urge you to please move quickly as the interest in this trip has been strong (yay)!
 
I won’t continuously post about this, as I realize it’s not for everyone, for various reasons. I respect that, but hope you don’t mind me sharing the latest sales with you as it’s been a month and a half since we first announced this Erin & Mike Tulip Time cruise. Gerry Koolhof at New Wave just updated me yesterday and I wanted to pass this along.
 
In the meantime, here’s how to get more information – you’ll love Gerry; he’s low pressure with an extremely high level of service. That’s why Rob and I have travelled with his help for more than a decade now. You can get a more detailed itinerary here.
 

 
Take care and I’ll return tomorrow and thank you, as always, for coming along for the ride – in more ways than one!
 

I don’t know if it’s my optimistic streak, but I’m always looking down. Not metaphorically, but literally: I am expecting to see a dime, a loonie or something to surprise me in my path, and sometimes I actually do.
 
But there’s something I’ve seen with alarming regularity and I’m wondering if you’ve noticed a lot of these too:
 

 
That’s right, individual tooth floss thingies.
 
Rob and I love these – unused ones, that is. They guarantee that even when we’re not near the bathroom, we can keep up with the hygiene that our dentists have tried to hammer into us since childhood: floss, floss, floss! We find them handy and effective. But have I ever taken one out of the house? 
 
Okay, I’m going to confess to always having one in my pocket when we’re at the movies when I know I’m going to be having popcorn. A husk or part of the popcorn kernel stuck in a tooth or gums can be pretty bothersome, and if I think that behind a cupped hand I can get away with clearing out something that hurts, I might just try it. If you find that uncouth or gross – and I understand if you do – I apologize. But I thought I should come clean, so to speak. In the rare event I have to use one of these little picks, I return it to my pocket or purse to dispose of when I get home. 
 
But why are we seeing these things all over the ground now? Do people walk along with them in parking lots or on sidewalks and then just pitch them when they’re done? I guess that must be what’s happening. I don’t understand it, but clearly we’ve crossed into just one more place where people who don’t give a darn are leaving behind evidence of their personal hygiene. 
 
I bet you start noticing them now, too. Sorry about that – it wasn’t me. Have a gentle Monday and I’ll be back here with you tomorrow.
 

There is something amazing happening tomorrow in the United States and a total of at least 844 communities around the world (including Victoria and Toronto, to name just two in Canada) as kids and families of March for our Lives “take to the streets to demand that their lives and safety become a priority, and that we end gun violence in our schools and communities.”
 
The event was put together by survivors of the Stoneman Douglas tragedy on February 14th, to make sure that the school shooting (now not even the most recent on US soil) provides a turning point in the discussion on gun ownership and the mad proliferation and possession of weapons of mass destruction.
 
There are a thousand NRA talking points and arguments defending gun ownership and the infuriatingly insane, God-given rights that people claim to have. If I started to list them, I’d lose my mind and a few readers here, but if you watch Fox “News” or read the comments directed at those trying to change minds and save lives, you know them all. Here’s something you have to see: the character Betty Bowers debates – with herself and with poise, humour and logic – every single viral NRA talking point. Here’s the link on youtube. It’s brilliant and takes every one of those arguments down calmly and with pearls on.
 
Will tomorrow’s march make a difference? Only if the people in US government who can do that grow spines and say “no” to the NRA and its enormous donations and coffers. While the recent Cambridge Analytica revelations (thanks to British journalists that Trump can’t say are against him) seemingly show that there are many politicians on whom those who pull the strings have some serious career-and-possible-freedom-ending dirt, surely there are people in power somewhere who can start limiting and then hopefully rescinding some of the NRA’s power. 
 
Last weekend, the Las Vegas Convention Center was host to a two-day gun show. We couldn’t stay far enough away. But seeing the billboards advertising it reminded me of the horrific events in that city just last year and how those weapons (that are ostensibly to make some people feel safer) have the opposite effect on those of us who don’t feel a need to pretend to be John Wayne or some Quentin Tarantino femme fatale. 
 
But there’s good news heading into tomorrow’s action: for the first time in nearly two decades, there are more Americans who view the NRA unfavourably than favourably. If that translates to a political shift, too – whether through a blue wave at the ballot boxes this November or through some unforeseen mass twinge of conscience – then the uprising in the wake of Parkland, Florida will not be forgotten by the next season’s change.
 
We can hope, at least. In the meantime, seeing the date March 24th in people’s media feeds and hearing it everywhere has often given me a reason to smile. You see, tomorrow is the day our daughter Lauren came into the world 27 years ago. And I know she’d think that such a special event as March for our Lives coinciding with her birthday is a pretty cool thing. I know Rob and I do.
 

 
Here’s to making a difference and turning tragedy into something positive. We know that it is a difficult thing to do, but nothing worthwhile is easy in this life, is it?
 
Have a gentle weekend and I’ll talk to you again here on Monday.
 

I have saved one of my favourite travel – or life – stories EVER for today’s journal. I hope that you get a chance to listen to it, as I’m straining to put into words here what excitement and awe this chance encounter brought to Rob and to me. So give it a click. 
 
I hadn’t mentioned where Rob and I went on our vacation last week, not because of privacy issues or anything like that; we flew to the US southwest and, because we spent some time in Las Vegas, I kept it to myself. The reasons have not to do with you, but me: I feel more than a bit of guilt spending time and money (albeit in nickels, as you’ll see) as I know there’s just so much judgment about Vegas in general and gambling in particular.
 
All I can tell you is that Rob and I enjoy the ride and the mindlessness. We have never made enough to cover a trip, but we’ve also never spent more than we felt we should. We love the ever-present possibility that something wild and wonderful will happen. And it did, but not at all in the way that you might think.
 
There we were at a casino in Summerlin, a neighbourhood northwest of Las Vegas. The last two trips we’ve rented a car and gotten a condo away from the hustle – in every sense of the word – of the LV strip: that way, if we choose to spend a few hours where the limits on the video poker machines are a little too high for our blood, we can go for a quick visit, but we’re not trapped amid the yard-long booze cups toted by loud drunks, and those painfully wobbling stilettos that doubtless provide one of about five major regrets for their wearers the next day. 
 
At this casino in Summerlin, Rob and I were sipping our free coffees and hoping that, with a well-paying hand, a wheel above would be activated and we’d add to our credits. Next to us sat a neatly dressed woman who looked to be on autopilot as she also hit the MAX button, except that she was playing with a lot more determination, speed and money. She was spending dollars – 21 of them per hand – something I spotted and then silently nudged Rob and nodded in her direction so he might take notice, too.
 
As I glanced furtively every few minutes, I could see her bankroll rising up, up, up: its highest point (that I saw) nearing 1,000 dollars. I kid you not when I say the next time I looked, it had plummeted to 145 dollars. That’s how fast the Triple Wheel can be: if you don’t get into the wheel bonus and then hit something better than its lowest offerings (which, of course, happens most often) you sink faster than the Titanic dishes on display at the Luxor back on the strip.
 
So, things are not looking good at the Sun Coast, where this woman now holds a little piece of paper and a ten dollar bill in her hand. She was just about ready to cut her losses and retrieve her car from the valet; that is what she told us later. Just then, something big catches our attention. As she raises her hands in delight, three hands all deal 2’s, with a “kicker” (a special smaller card that can quadruple the winnings and more). She had just won SIX THOUSAND DOLLARS!
 
Suddenly, that serious demeanor changed and she was – while not jumping out of her skin – very happy. But then Rob shouted, “You still spin the wheel!” Sure enough, her big four-of-a-kind deal guaranteed her a shot at the gold wheel, the highest-paying of three wheels of fortune that the game offered. With Rob and me standing behind her, she made invisible circles with the pads of her hand on the tabled video game screen, and the gold wheel began to spin.
 
As it slowed and came to a stop, we saw what any of us who has ever played that “bonus” kind of game dreams of: she hit the highest amount that the wheel offered: ten thousand dollars! Rob and I screamed and leapt in the air – yes, finally, we were those people in the casino who yell and cheer (something that playing nickels just does not provide, I’m afraid) – and she jumped up and hugged us. We were all laughing and yelling, and two other women across the aisle came to look as the machine began its crescendo of digital music excitement, filling our small part of the sprawling casino with the happiest of noises. 
 

 
We laughed as she said she was just about to leave when it hit and then, while we waited for what seemed like forever for the hand pay attendant to come and give her that $16,000, I peppered her with questions, including, what about the IRS? She gets a slip of paper and reports it on her taxes against losses at the end of the year. (I don’t know who keeps track of their losses, but I suppose some say they do.) Does she get her picture taken for casino publicity? She could, but she says “no” – another sign this was not this woman’s first trip to the Winners’ Circle.
 
Then, the most unexpected thing of all happened. After the pay attendants came and she handed them both money as a tip, the woman smoothed her blouse and got ready to go. Then she reached over and gave Rob three $100 bills, and gave me three more, handing still more bills to the two people across the aisle who’d also been cheering on this middle-aged black woman. 
 
“Wait, no,” I said, “We can’t take this!” But she was insistent. 
 
“You just enjoy it. Spend it however you like. It’s yours.” 
 
“Can you tell me your first name?” I asked her.
 
“It’s Evelyn.”
 
“Well, Evelyn, we are going to enjoy this and think of you every minute.” And we did.
 
She left the casino (after we asked if she needed an escort) and it seemed lots of the staff knew her well. I noticed that the zippered black banker’s bag I saw at the side of her machine wasn’t something a slot attendant had left behind, but her own “purse.” This is what Evelyn does – or at least has as a very successful hobby. Or, it sure was that day. 
 
Later in the week, when I had my own lucky day (I won $400 on one multiple hand that gave me two Royal Flushes), I found the lady who had been wiping games and emptying ashtrays around us. I asked her if she could take money from me and handed her a $20 bill. I think she wondered if I wanted her to make change. But Mariela soon caught on when I told her that I’d just won and wanted to share it, and she was delighted. On her next trip around the machines, she thanked me again.
 
Her happiness was nothing compared to what I felt: just a bit of an echo of Evelyn and the impression she made on Rob and me that no Royal Flush or Four Deuces could ever leave.
 

Today Twitter is 12 years old. I’m still amazed at the number of people who aren’t on this social media platform, although I don’t blame or judge (why would I?). What I don’t understand is people who kind of sneer and say “I don’t use Twitter” (or, more often, “I don’t Twit” or something vaguely off) when they don’t know what they’re missing.
 
First: let’s look at the cons. Twitter has more than its share of idiots; so does the city bus that just drove by. It’s just the law of averages. Unfortunately, there are plenty of people willing to hide behind the walls of anonymity who will use their Twitter accounts to berate, to lie and to troll.
 
A few weeks ago, when a department of the US government said that it was going to lift the ban on the import of elephant parts for trophies, I retweeted Chelsea Clinton on the topic. As you would expect, her tone was one of surprise (Trump had backed down from a previous effort to raise the ban, due to a firestorm of reaction from people against the horrific move) and disappointment, as well as disgust. 
 
It took only a matter of moments for a few tweets to come in, calling me names and telling me that it was “fake news” (how I hate those two words for anything someone doesn’t choose to believe is true). Of course, it was not fake news; it just hadn’t been widely circulated because that very day – probably not by coincidence – the news cycle was being dominated by Sam Nunberg, the former Trump staffer who went on every channel except the Weather Network to say he was not going to answer Robert Mueller’s questions. 
 
So, that’s the worst of Twitter: you can be inundated with flat-out falsehoods, name-calling and the worst that humanity (or bots) have to offer.
 
But on the positive side, information! YOU choose who you follow, and my favourites are the Washington Post, Toronto Star, Victoria News and other informative and reliable sites. Of course, I follow entertainers I want to keep up with, as well as inspiring people and sites that give me more to think about than just the day’s headlines. Like the Parkland, Florida school shooting survivors, for example. I happily follow Emma Gonzalez, David Hogg and Cameron Kasky. Their words are wise, their hearts are true and their vision is strong. I support them in every way, especially with this Saturday’s March For Our Lives.
 
Twitter (where you can find me @erindavis) is whatever you want it to be. When someone is obnoxious, you simply block them (or if you think they might change, mute them). You follow who you want and you can Tweet if and when you want – or not at all. 
 
I’d give it up in a heartbeat if it meant that one @realDonaldTrump stopped Tweeting, but that bird has flown. Now, all we can do is use our voices to keep spreading truth and hope instead of lies and hate. And if we can do that in 280 characters, so much the better. Happy Birthday, Twitter. Now do more to use your powers for good, would you?