Erin's Journals

Just a thought… The world is now too small for anything but brotherhood. [A. Powell Davies]

Ah, goodbye to July. Here in BC, in our perfect part of a beautiful island, we welcomed two days of sporadic rain last week – our first significant precipitation since June 8. Yes, this is our dry season, while Ontario’s summer is its rainy season (something I didn’t know until researching climate before we moved here). If not for the constant threat and already real damage of forest fires, it would be just so glorious.

August will hold for me the promise of another family reunion: heading to Kelowna later in the month to spend a few days at my sister’s with her family and my dad. My big sis Heather and I have talked Leslie into seeing the Barbie movie together. We’ve all seen Oppenheimer and it was astounding; now time for dessert. Bring on August!

Speaking of family reunions, I have a “small world” story over which I still can’t stop shaking my head. Of course, when you consider that the central character in this tale lives only an hour away, you realize that it’s not like a Bosnia-to-Bornia kind of stretch, but still….

Back in March, we got our sweet Dottie from a breeder in Cobble Hill, about an hour’s drive from home and which, as it happens, is only a stone’s throw from where I went to rehab four years ago. Well, a listener/reader named Lynn wrote to me about her daughter and their fears and experiences over the breastfeeding drug that we strongly suspect caused Lauren’s heart to stop, Domperidone.

To make the story Twitter length, her daughter told the doctors that under no circumstances would she take the drug (which is banned in the US and prescribed with caution in the UK) and yet she was still handed an Rx for it. She did not accept it. UNREAL how this drug is so freely peddled in Canada and shipped online to mothers in the US. But I digress….

In our email exchanges, Lynn told me that she had a sister in my area who had gotten not one but two dogs from the same Cobble Hill breeder as we did. So she connected us and it turns out that sister Laurel lives about two blocks from our house, and her dogs – wait for it – are Dottie’s mother and grandmother!

I couldn’t wait to reunite the family and that happened last week. While I expected a wag fest as the three generations of Havanese girls got reacquainted, there was actually the usual amount of shyness from timid Dottie at the beginning and then the three snuffled, sniffed and kind of shrugged. Did they recognize each other? I can’t say for sure. Dottie has a little resemblance to her relatives, and even though she tried to get them to play with her, they were kind of blasé about it all.

Fortunately, Laurel and I had a very nice visit, eating sandwiches made from crab that she and her husband had caught for themselves, and talking about another shared and even deeper connection: we’ve both lost a daughter. Laurel’s Elise passed away at 17 of cancer in 2015, just a few months after Lauren left us. In fact, in honour of Elise, breeder Bev bestowed Dottie and several other puppies with her name: thus our dog’s official registered moniker is Lily Elise Dot Calm.

I’m grateful for the experience of having had someone open her home but more importantly her heart to me and to our fur baby, and for the greater connection that being out here living in a public way on the internet has brought us. For all of its hellish woes (the web, not life) there are certainly miracles to be found just a click away. And it seems clear to me that no matter how much the distractions of people like Musk and Zuck divide us, they can also unite us (as they did Lynn and Laurel in a story that’s not mine to tell) in oh so many ways.

My wish for you is that August brings a month as sweet as a sun-ripened ear of corn, her bounty as rich in your life as that gracing a roadside produce stand. And thank you for connecting here in all of the best ways.

Remember when I said I was going to pull back on the video journals unless something unusual happened? Today’s story definitely qualifies and I hope you’ll watch it at the link below.

In a nutshell, Rob and I witnessed a most-newsworthy event – I was interviewed as someone who saw it, and my video of its immediate aftermath made it onto CHEK News in Victoria, BC (our home TV newscast) and then on the late edition of Global News BC.

I won’t tell you any more and give away the story; you’ll want to see it, I think! I shot the journal immediately after recording the Zoom interview with Global, thus you’ll see the same outfit. I haven’t run out of dry-cleaning money, at least not yet.

I’m not sure if I get the WKRP Buckeye Newshawk award, or if my next career has at last gotten its launch here on the island (and I’m kidding about both) but it sure did jump-start our day. A shocker for sure.

Take care and thanks for coming by. Click here.

As I write this, my heart is bursting with the kind of joy that at one time not so very long ago I never thought possible. And it comes with seeing two little boys who had never met hugging, laughing, playing like they’d spent so much of their lives together.

My sister Leslie and I are both members of what has been named by someone “the club no one wants to belong to”: that of bereaved parents. If you read Mourning Has Broken: Love, Loss and Reclaiming Joy (HarperCollins Canada) you’ll know Leslie’s story: she lost her son Michael six years ago in a drug-related murder (yet unsolved and getting colder by the year) in Kelowna. Hers is a jagged kind of grief where she feels the life he was trying to flee at the time of his death can’t be properly or publicly mourned because of the grief his own life choices brought to others, or the judgment that accompanies her loss.

Like us, Leslie was left with a grandchild when her own child died; also like us, Leslie adores her sweet grandson with all her heart. And so it’s long been a dream that Dominic (who lives with his mother, her partner and their new son, his brother) would one day meet his cousin Colin.

That joyous day came last Thursday when Leslie, along with her daughter Ava and grandson Dominic, came by highway and then ferry for a visit to our island home. Les and I took the boys up island to a beach resort for three fun-filled days and two giggle-filled nights (sleeping together in a Murphy bed).

Before the children had even met, Colin’s sister Jane had decided she already loved Dominic “so much.” And, sure enough, it was only minutes after the trio met that they were running around, laughing, hugging and posing for pictures together.

Our getaway was everything Leslie and I had hoped for. From hours in the pool, to sand-in-your crevices, sun-drenched adventures at the beach, the boys bonded in ways we can only hope they remember as they grow older. Getting them together is a challenge that includes more hurdles than simply geographical ones (Leslie hasn’t even been informed where Dominic actually lives, so there’s that…) but we’ll push through. Family is everything, and grandchildren hold a special place in our hearts; I know of other grandmas who visit here having challenges with estranged inlaws after losing their own child. It’s a heartache you never want to know.

And so on that note – and to turn it into a much brighter end – let me thank a very special birthday girl. Today, just a few weeks before Phil and Brooke’s 5^th wedding anniversary, our daughter-in-law turns XXX years old. (I’m not allowed to say a certain number, but I don’t think she mentioned Roman Numerals…shhhhh!)

Her determination and love for our grandchildren helped bring their family our way three summers ago, and our lives – while so much busier – have been filled with that same joy I mentioned off the top. Thank you, Brooke, for all that you are, all that you’re becoming, and for letting us love you and your children (and husband, of course!) with all our hearts!

I love you more than licorice ice cream – and that’s saying something! You too, Les. Helluva busy visit but SO worth it for us all.

Have yourself a week as tasty and, yes, messy, as these cones were, and I’ll be back here on Monday. A brand new Drift with Erin Davis sleep story is uploading tomorrow: Candy’s Dandy – But Watch Those Magic Bonbons! L. Frank Baum wrote this wizardly tale of what happens when some loaded candies get passed around a staid dinner party. Enjoy! And Lisa Brandt and I return Thursday with Ep. 28 of our Gracefully & Frankly podcast. Join us wherever you download podcasts, won’t you? Both podcasts are 100% free thanks to enVypillow.com.

And oh yes, if you’re on @threadsapp I’m there @erindawndavis. And I wonder why I’m busy…LOL.

Just a thought… Whenever there is a human being, there is an opportunity for kindness. [Seneca]

First off, a very happy July to you, and thank you! You may have been one of the 800+ who answered a question I posed on my Facebook page as to whether it would be okay with you if I went back to posting only a written journal, which is the format I started posting blogs in 20 years ago and to which I only added video three years back during our days of isolation and fear thanks to Covid.

The answer, overwhelmingly, was written (or do what’s best for me) and I’m relieved. My life has been so full, so joyously full, over the past year or so with three podcasts and two grandkids and a dog – all on the go – plus a patient husband on the sidelines, that something had to bend just a bit. SO, thank you again. Of course, I’ll post videos on occasion and let you know when and where to click, but for now, let’s just spend some quiet time together. And if you don’t mind, I won’t do my hair or makeup. Onward we go, and here’s to connection in all its forms.

There’s nothing as connecting as a long talk, spent leisurely catching up with friends or family. We all need to do it more. But sometimes starting a chat with a total stranger can give your heart a spark that you might otherwise have missed! I have two such conversations to tell you about today.

First, one in the dark on Saturday night. It was Canada Day and well after 10 pm when Rob and I took Dottie for one last walk of the night (which, thankfully, ensures a late sleep-in for us all the next day). As we walked down our street on the left side, I was startled to look up and see that, inside the parked, dark car that we were about to walk around, were two people. The driver’s side window was down and to cover my surprise I blurted (as is my way), “Hey, you two, this isn’t lovers’ lane! Move along.”

Of course, I was kidding. As I came up to the driver’s door, I saw a man about Rob’s age, with a bag of popcorn in his hand, and next to him, a lady who was also smiling. He said, “Oh, we’re just waiting for the fireworks”.

I said, “Well, unless you’re creating your own, you’ve missed them; they were last night.”

You see, our nearby town of Sidney, which our street overlooks, holds its fireworks on June 30^th. I suppose it’s so as not to compete with nearby Victoria’s display. In fact, we had just gathered our family in our darkened dining room with chairs, some Stravinsky playing on my iPhone and, yes, bowls of popcorn, to watch the show the previous night.

I imagine there was some embarrassment mixed with their disappointment, but in true Canadian style, we apologized to them that they’d missed them (as if we’re the town criers, for heaven’s sake)!

Our other chance encounter happened Friday in a park near Colin and Jane’s house. (Yes, their parents also live there, but let’s be honest – the kids run the place). Rob and I had walked there with the littles to play and then get a treat and enjoy a perfect summer day together. As they tackled the slides and climbing apparatus, an elderly woman with a cane, dressed smartly with a sun hat and holding a tote bag, asked if she could sit with us on the bench.

As the kids’ pup Sammy said her hellos, we started up a conversation. The woman had been on a long bus trip from downtown Victoria and wanted to catch her breath before continuing her walk home. We talked about the neighbourhood, her penchant for gardening and the hot, dry conditions of the past several weeks. She said she had to go home to water her tomatoes and that she hadn’t planted any the year before.

The reason? Well, I’m glad we were sitting down. In January of 2022 she was given a cancer diagnosis and told she had two months to live. 18 months later, here she was, chatting with us, 88 years old and just having navigated BC Transit to get to and from a medical appointment.

We finished our chat and I was just so grateful she had chosen that bench, that moment, to spend with us. You see, earlier in the day, I’d been part of an online summit talking about grief. I shared our message of hope and finding joy after immense loss. And then we had the chance to talk with her: someone whose life had had a finish line drawn out for her, who managed, not just to erase it, but to continue on through this marathon. The Stoics remind us that we are all facing that finish line – it’s just knowing and acknowledging that fact and living each day the way we’d want to be remembered: with kindness, selflessness and so much gratitude.

It is the latter which fills my heart today.

A reminder to you here that a brand new Drift with Erin Davis sleep story comes your way tonight: a fresh telling of Cinderella that I know you’ll enjoy. It’s free to you thanks to Kathy & Kim at Envypillow.com. And speaking of pals, Lisa and I will be dropping a brand new episode 27 of our Gracefully & Frankly podcast this Thursday. Thanks to Leah who wrote that she’s just getting into it, and catching up with all 26 to date! Oh, and in case you think you can’t figure out how to listen to podcasts, our soon-to-be 98-year-old friend Mira is now listening to Drift on her computer during the day. So there you go!

Talk again soon and thank you again for having your say and mostly for understanding.

Erin.