Erin's Journals

Well, here we go again – another grateful goodbye to radio, but this time with a little more peace in my heart. You see, this was a gift that just happened to come when I needed it most. As I’ve often said, radio has saved me more times than I can count. And today I close another chapter.
 
Last May, just before we were to mark the second anniversary of Lauren’s passing (always a heavy, heavy time) I was approached by my friends at Rogers radio in Toronto and asked if I might, by any chance, be interested in doing some work with the CHFI-type station here in Victoria, BC, this beautiful island city that we had called home for just about five months at the time.
 
I was a little reluctant: we were in the midst of trying to get my book started (a daunting task on its own) and also wanted the freedom to travel and do what we wanted, Rob and I. But Wendy Duff in Toronto and Rob Michaels here in BC made it as easy as it could be: I could do my show from home in that little wine room that we turned into a studio, in which I do this audio journal every day as well as various freelance ventures. I came to really look forward to every day’s show and a chance just to go into a little room and laugh and talk to myself (and our listeners, of course) and “play radio,” my favourite pastime. 
 

 
A few months’ work filling in on middays turned into a couple more, until I was told last month that the tweaking was finished and the new system that was being put into place would be ready by this coming Monday. It means that Rob Michaels, who loves Victoria and knows it well, will be on Ocean 98.5‘s airwaves again, but this time in middays. I am so happy that the station continues to look at a bright future and, under new Program Director Susan Knight, as well as with a great new morning team as of last fall, big things are in store.
 
So, what does this mean for us? Honestly, I’m not quite sure. Monday is the deadline for the 2.0 version of my book manuscript to be sent off to HarperCollins, so we’re on track for that. That date, February 26, is also the planned release date in 2019. We’ve planned a 10-day trip in March and another 10-day venture to Ontario for business in April. So travel is definitely in the works, as you read here on Wednesday with our trip to California on the horizon. We’ve got the river cruise with Mike and Debbie that we’re hosting in April and who knows what else is in store.
 
I don’t know what I am going to do when I’m no longer part of the Rogers family, but I haven’t cut any ties and certainly am not planning on burning any bridges! I’m going to miss preparing and doing a daily radio show but, honestly, this gentle and fun midday adventure here at Ocean 98.5 has been such a lovely way to ease my way out of the pace and pressure of a morning show. It’s just what my soul (and mind) needed; I was feeling after the shock of moving and leaving Toronto set in, I was sort of rudderless and wondering what the heck we’d done.
 
I’m sorry to be leaving the fellow former Torontonians who’ve reached out to say they’ve heard me on Ocean and it’s felt a bit like their former homes, and to those who say they’ve been listening online; I can only hope we’ll stay in touch here. But in the meantime, here we go – closing one door and stepping through the next open door we find. That’s what life is all about, right?
 
Have a lovely weekend and we’ll be back with you here on Monday.
 

Ever since humans began putting thoughts down in words, whether carved in stone, scratched onto papyrus or even swabbed onto cave walls, adults have lamented the future in the hands of the so-called “younger generation.” I don’t know if there could possibly be more proof that those concerns are unfounded than the events of the last two weeks in Florida and in Korea.
 
Every day we see the bright, determined faces of snowboarders, skiers, and hockey players (to name just some): competitors from far flung nations who give every ounce of what they’ve got to make their countries proud and to meet their own personal goals. No matter what sport you tune in during these winter games, no matter for whom you cheer, there’s always someone to put a lump in your throat.
 
Their enthusiasm, dedication and willingness to push beyond their own bodies’ limits are all, not only breathtaking, but inspiring. What an incredible couple of weeks it’s been! I don’t think I’ll ever forget the tears and gasps as Rob and I – and millions upon millions of others – watched Scott Moir and Tessa Virtue etch their names into ice dancing and figure skating history. My favourite tweet may well have come from actor Ryan Reynolds, who thanked the golden duo in advance for raising his children as their own!
 
And then there are the survivors of last week’s horrific school shooting in Parkland, Florida, named recently the safest city in the state. What a cruel bit of irony that is. Seeing these young 16- and 17-year-old students stand up with strength, determination and admirable poise, and demand a change, has been nothing short of amazing. Of course, the day of the shooting, I turned to Rob and told him there will be those absolute loons who will say it never happened and will run to their local gun stores to stock up before the boogeyman comes to take away their beloved firearms. Gun stocks soar. Happens every time. And no one has come for them yet, have they?
 
But there’s room for hope this time. These articulate and mature young women and men are not going to just let this latest tragedy fade into history. As hard as parents in Newtown, Connecticut worked – even in their deepest, darkest grief – to make their children’s deaths a catalyst for stricter gun laws, they were thwarted federally by a Republican congress hell bent on pleasing NRA sponsors with their deep, dank pockets. 
 
But we’re feeling something changing here as every politician who has tweeted their flaccid “thoughts and prayers,” or said it’s just not the right time to talk about gun law reform, is being called out: the amount of NRA money each has taken is being attached to their names to underline their blatant hypocrisy. And now that reputable publications and journalists are showing links between the National Rifle Association and Russian donations, the dots are getting connected with ink instead of pencil. 
 
Change is coming and we’ll see the starkest example of that on March 24th when thousands of students march on Washington demanding reform. I join in the chorus of adults who raise our voices in praise of the youth who are saying “enough!” and could not agree more.
 
Tomorrow – saying goodbye to radio once again. Sigh.
 

Well, there was a surprise after all! First off, thank you for your kind notes both on Facebook and to my email (which is erin@erindavis.com if you’re not on FB and wish to be in touch any time) wishing us a happy 30th anniversary yesterday. As promised, it was a low key one, but we did do something that I totally did not expect going into the day. 
 
Earlier this year, I was Googling Jeff Lynne of ELO (don’t ask me why) and saw that he and a version of the orchestra are touring this year. What?!?
 
I immediately got excited until I saw that the only Canadian city they were hitting is Toronto (August 18th) and that would be an awfully long way to go to see a band – even it if was one that I never, ever thought I would have a chance to see in person. Especially decades after their last hits and long since founder and lead vocalist Jeff Lynne – he of the blue sunglasses – had gone on to Traveling Wilburys and various other projects over the years, including co-producing later Beatles releases “Free as a Bird” and “Real Love.” 
 
You see, in their heyday (as you may well recall), the Electric Light Orchestra was one that relied a lot on production, synthesizers and plenty of effects. Even as a teen I doubted that a band like this – plenty of smoke and mirrors – would be likely or able to replicate their performances in a live setting. Still, I loved them. Still do. 
 
I happened to be playing an ELO song on Ocean 98.5 last week and when it came on, I cranked it up. I said later to Rob, “We have got to see them. I don’t care where they are.” And yesterday we made it happen. 
 

 
In what turned out to be a double-barrelled shot of excitement, we booked seats in Oakland, California’s Oracle Arena (home to the NBA’s Golden State Warriors) to see ELO on August 2nd. But then…then we asked each other, “What if the Blue Jays are in town?”
 
We went online and could not believe our eyes: the Jays are playing a three-game stand in Oakland against the A’s in the three days leading up to the concert! So again, we went online and bought tickets to see the Jays in the Oakland-Alameda County Coliseum on Wednesday, August 1st, the third of a three-game stand in the city near San Francisco. 
 
We’ve been to the City by the Bay before, but haven’t driven there from home; we did a fly-drive trip about five years ago and about the only disappointment we had was not being able to get tickets to Alcatraz. So that’s the next thing we’re going to book as soon as they’ll let us. Right now you can only book through mid-May.
 
This is what “reWirement” was supposed to be about: having adventures and just hitting the road, when we want, for however long we want. I’m going to keep journalling the whole time – as long as you’re here – so you can come along and share the ride.
 
Have a great day and thanks again for your kind words.
 

If you have the time, why not go to the audio journal today? Rob’s playing DJ for me…you’ll get it….
 
I hope that, if you celebrated it, you had a lovely Family Day weekend. We marked the day here last week at my Aunt and Uncle’s and it was an evening of good food and laughter. Can’t ask for much more than that, can we? 
 
Today, Rob and I are marking kind of a big one: our 30th wedding anniversary. We’ll take a short trip next month, but tonight it’s dinner at a downtown Victoria restaurant and that will be about it. Maybe we’ll exchange cards, but there will be no presents. There’s nothing more we need or want than each other today – as sappy as that sounds. I have a small bouquet that survives from Valentine’s Day, and I’m not indulging in chocolate right now. So we both get off easy, I guess!
 
I don’t know what to say about this little milestone except that the traditional gift is “pearl” and the modern one is “diamond.” I need neither. My days of wearing jewelry, other than my wedding rings, are few and, even at that, most days I don’t wear the set that Rob completed on our 15th anniversary.
 
My first engagement ring featured a nice sized cubic zirconia; I didn’t want Rob spending money when we had a wedding to pay for. Actually, that’s a lie: my first engagement ring was a lovely multi-diamond stunner that we got right after Rob took a knee outside Birk’s in the Eaton Centre. We were a little drunk after a radio industry event that day, stopped off at the mall and voilà. Three weeks after our first date, we were engaged.
 
We put the brakes on that pretty fast, I gave back the ring (against my sisters’ advice) and we took it slow. And you can read the whole tawdry story in my book – out next February (boy, that’s a tease). Anyway, one year later, we were engaged for real and married February 20, 1988.
 
My grandmother was my matron of honour; my sister Leslie maid of honour. My mom and Rob’s stepmom started a small fire when the candle they lit together on the altar ignited the decorations hung above it. Rob and I sang to each other. That, and the fact our colours were grey and dusty rose (aka pink) add up to what I know were cringeworthy now, but we did it. We laughed through our vows and as much as I worried on our flight to our honeymoon the next day that I’d behaved inappropriately, Rob assured me I hadn’t. Besides, that laughter has saved us. 
 
Sometimes I hear Rob’s easy, lilting laugh and, apart from being delighted that I can still make him laugh after all of these years and trials, I wonder where it comes from and how his spirit can be so resilient that he laughs still, despite what has happened in those 30 years since we first promised to “honour, cherish and encourage your own fulfillment as an individual through all the changes in our lives.” (Yes, we both still remember our vows and will say them today.)
 
I cherish the sound of his laughter. Knowing that we can always find some humour in whatever life throws at us is what keeps me sane. I’m so grateful for this kind and gentle man every single day. I’m not exaggerating. Every day. Some days, living with me, he has some heavy lifting to do, but he never complains. And when it’s my turn to carry him – and those days do happen – I hope I show him the strength he shows me. After all, I’ve been given a great example.
 
Finally, I’ll close today’s journal with this. It’s a moment that happened in the TV show 9-1-1 and it stuck with me. When one of the fire team is in a car crash that leaves him alive after having his head pierced by a steel bar from the truck behind him – through and through – his fire chief says something to this effect: “You are the luckiest, unlucky son of a bitch on earth.”
 
I paused the PVR when I heard that line. I turned to Rob and said, “That’s us. The luckiest, unlucky SOB’s there are.” And it’s true. As long as we keep focussing on the lucky part most days, counting our blessings, we’ll be all right. 
 
Thank you for coming by and letting me share what’s in my heart today. It’s full of love and gratitude. Because life is good. And it’s best with Rob beside me.
 

If you’ve come looking for information on the River Cruises with Mike Cooper and me, click here for a link to Wednesday’s journal that has all the details. By the way, Gerry will be responding to your emails all weekend, including Monday. 
 
I guess that given how many movies I’ve seen in the past few months as I get ready for the Oscars (yes, call it my new hobby) it had to happen eventually. Dazed from a film, I’d wander where I shouldn’t. What’s surprising is that in all of my life, I don’t think I’ve done this once before: I walked into a men’s room. 
 
The explanation is pretty simple: at the theatre where we went to see The Shape of Water, Rob and I visited the “facilities” before the show. You never know how long one of these movies is going to be (unless you pay attention when you’re researching it online) and with a movie that has “water” in its title, you can’t take any chances!
 
When the film ended, we were both deep in thought and conversation about what it was that we’d seen, how we would categorize or describe it and so on. We used a different set of doors to access another flight of stairs up to the washrooms. And just as I’d done before the movie, I took the first door on my right. Which was not right. It was oh-so wrong.
 
The first thing I noticed was the smell. Beaucoups de Pee Pee. Then I looked up just as one man who’d had his back to me turned towards the door and saw me. Which could half explain why, as Rob tells me, there’s always a puddle on the floor at the base of the urinals. But that’s too much information. I said, “Oh! I’m so sorry!” and high-tailed it out of there just as fast as I could.
 
Of course, standing outside the door was Rob, who was about to enter the men’s room and was wondering what the heck I had gone in there for. He pointed at the picture of the stick figure on the door and said, “What did you think – she was wearing a pantsuit?”
 
I gave him a “har-de-har” laugh and asked if he’d apologize to the men in the washroom. He did – and they said, “That’s okay.” But who do you think we had to catch up with and pass (in a hurry, I might add) on our way out of the theatre? Those two men and their wives. I’m sure they’d already told the gals about the woman who walked in on them.
 
But here’s the thing: if I hadn’t made it to my own gender’s washroom, I sure would have needed to in about one minute. I got a text from my boss, Susan Knight at Ocean 98.5. She said, “Are you parked in the lot?” and I was. Rob and I had pulled into the station parking lot, taking advantage of free parking just two or three blocks from the movie theatre. “Because you’re about to get towed!!!”
 
We texted back a bunch of messages ending with more exclamation marks and, in so doing, I learned that we’d parked in the building owner’s spot. (Unlike in Toronto, Ted Rogers’ family doesn’t own the buildings other radio stations call “home.”) We were confused about what we’d been told when I started there back in May and obviously we’d parked in his spot before. My business card was on the dash; that’s how Susan knew to text me. Thank goodness I’d done that!
 
Long story short, we ran from the theatre to the parking lot, where we were told by a stern older man that we had come very close to getting towed. (Susan vouched for that: she saw him call and then call off the tow truck company.) I’ve never been towed in my life; neither has Rob. One first in one day is plenty, thank you very much!
 
Have a great weekend and thanks for coming by. I know you have a long one ahead (unless you’re a federal government worker) so I’ll take Monday off here with you and return on Tuesday.