Erin's Journals

Just a thought… I could never, in a hundred summers, get tired of this. [Susan Branch]

Welcome in to what is a big day in my life’s calendar: it was on this day – also a Tuesday after Labour Day – that I started at CHFI in 1988 and then another 17 years later in 2005. Wow.

And before I go any further I want to thank the woman who made that second debut possible: this woman, Julie Adam.

She’s leaving Rogers later this week and I owe her SO much, in the most improbable and undeniable ways. Good luck, Julie – you’ve got a lot of people in your corner, including me.

So, to 2022. On Saturday, after a glorious 10 days together, I said good-bye to my long-time friend: voice artist, writer, broadcaster and soon-to-be podcaster Lisa Brandt. We’re both hitting a big birthday in a few weeks, so we inadvertently gave each other a gift of firsts during our time up island last week. And each involved thrills.

Up island, about an hour from Victoria, is a place called the Malahat Skywalk.

You climb a very gently inclined ramp some 600 metres…

…and then, 32 metres up, you are treated to some pretty spectacular views, like the one below of Finlayson Arm and so much more: the Saanich Peninsula (literally a case of “I can see my place from here”), Mount Baker and the Coast Mountains.

But that’s not the most breathtaking part…at least, not for us. See, once you get up top you can walk the ramp back down or take the fast way: a tube, a tunnel, made of metal that you go down on a felt blanket, feet tucked in like a toboggan…and it’s fast and it’s fun and it really is nuts.

So…Rob shot video and I swear we didn’t do anything to alter my voice. It’s just what the soundwaves do on your way down. You can see it as part of my video journal on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube.

Lisa made a point of giving Colin a great example of someone who faced her fear and pushed through. She went down and let’s just say that, unlike our seven-year-old guest, she did not run up the ramp to do it again!

Well, that was something we all tried for the first time. Lisa’s treat. Then it was my turn to give Lisa a once-in-a-lifetime experience, in a good way.

We booked this, up near Parksville.

The day we went out, just the two of us, it was 28 degrees and the Salish sea was like glass. We and the other six people on the boat weren’t lucky enough to see killer whales that day, but we did find ourselves right in the middle of what had to be a dozen feeding humpback whales.

For kilometres around us, in the silence when the engine on our small rubber Zodiac boat was cut, we could only hear the thunderous blow holes of all of these whales. And then they came close enough to the boat for a few of us to actually feel their spray.

Sure, we didn’t see orcas, but close encounters of any whale kind are just beyond incredible.

This summer has been a blessed collection of new memories with old friends, young kids, the myriad gifts that Mother Nature has offered so very generously…and a whole lot of love.

And yes, being a day of big starts for me, I’m excited to tell you about something that Lisa and I sparked on just an hour before she caught her plane. I tell you when it’s more of a thing, but you’ll love it and I’m just so excited to be working, laughing and creating with my pal.

Have a wonderful week. And thanks always for sharing my adventures.

Just a thought… Just because you’re naked doesn’t mean you’re sexy. Just because you’re cynical doesn’t mean you’re cool. [Tom Robbins]

As you read this (or watch on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube), I’m at a house on a beach up island with my soul sister and almost-twin (give or take 10 days) Lisa Brandt. I promise to share pictures and stories of our farewell to summer on Vancouver Island next week here and, of course, in Facebook, Instagram and Twitter posts (you can find where I am at the end bottom of this page) but right now, let me tell you what I hope I won’t be sharing: an alarm clock story.

I have a love/hate relationship with the things. From the early days of the flipping, clicking numbers of the first clock radios to the songs and chirps of a smartphone, I’ve had just about every device (except for an actual clanging alarm clock) wake me up for work over the years. 2:30, 3:30, 4:00 am – it didn’t matter what the job or how close to work I lived, I was getting up while most people were just entering their REM cycle. And it was never just one alarm, always two or more. Eventually I moved to a sunrise lamp, and I’ve told you about it here before, but it changed my life.

It seems now, however, that even though I’m done with alarm clocks, they’re not quite done with me.

When I was in a cabin with my sister a few weeks back, I had one night to myself before her flight arrived. I stayed up way past midnight, as I love to do – call it my crazy rebellious stage – and looked forward to a nice sleep-in. However, as I was placing the clock radio on the bedside table, on a roll of toilet paper (so it would be high enough for me to see from my pillow on the other side of the queen-sized bed), I noticed that it was set for 6 am. A-HA! I thought. You won’t get me! And then I thought there ought to be a law forbidding people who set alarms to leave them set once they’ve gotten up and left. Or maybe it was a power outage. I’m not sure, but I figured I’d outsmarted that clock and I went to sleep smug and happy.

Until 6 am, that is. From my deep sleep, I was roused by the sound of electrical chirping. I sat on the edge of the bed and wondered where it was coming from: not the clock in my room, but was it like a carbon monoxide alarm? What was making that persistent chirp?

Without grabbing so much as a robe (and yes, I sleep au naturel) I padded out to the living room. Following the sound, I climbed the open staircase to the loft and, sure enough, that’s where the small round iHome clock was calling out to anyone who could hear (and with the nearby window open, I worried that might be fellow guests) to wake up.

I fiddled with buttons and pushed this one and that one – no luck at all. That thing kept ringing. Why hadn’t I worn my glasses so I could see what the buttons were for? Eventually, and quite by chance, I hit the right one and it stopped. But I left the clock on the bed for Cindy to look at when she arrived; I didn’t want to put it back and forget about its nasty persistence.

Then, oh no. I realized I had to pee. There’s me, no clothes on, trying to run but not end up face first on the landing at the bottom of the carpeted stairs – I’ve had my share of stairs mishaps the past while – and I’m walking as fast as I can with legs nearly crossed to get to the bathroom.

I made it, but barely – I guess in more ways than one – went back to bed and slept another couple of hours before getting up to go back to the city to pick up my sister.

And that alarm clock? It kept going off every morning. We unplugged it. We tried everything. And finally, on the day we were leaving, Cindy found the manual for the stupid thing.

I don’t get along with clocks, especially that little round one. A “timely” reminder to check them when you check in, wherever you are. Like I always say, if you can’t be a good example, at least be a warning for someone else, right?

Take good care and enjoy this last week of August. And I’ll be back with you next week on Tuesday. Have a lovely Labour Day weekend and if getting “back to” is part of your family’s challenge, I humbly suggest sleep stories on Drift with Erin. My great-nephews, who are under 10, listen to them nightly, which I just love….and you can, too, for free, thanks to Kathy and Kim at enVypillow.com. Just click here and sweet dreams.

Just a thought… When you speak up about any sense of unfairness or injustice, you’re told that you’re overreacting, you’re too angry, too silly – shut up already. It takes a tremendous amount of fortitude to be able to live in this world as a woman, let alone a woman who wants things to change. [Kathleen Hanna]

You can watch a video version of this journal on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube.

Hey – hope this last third of August is treating you well. If you were out of internet range or under a nice cool rock last week, you missed THE big story in Canada – media or otherwise – and possibly by now you’re quite possibly thinking: Okay, we’ve all heard enough about Lisa LaFlamme…time to move on. I get that. Just a few more things before we do, though, okay?

Because I also see a lot of conversation – and some really deep stuff – on my social media, particularly my Facebook page, about discrimination, ageism and, of course, sexism as it applies, not only in the media, but in everyday life.

Ageism has become my big thing and partly because I was so afraid of being seen as “old” in the media (terrified of even saying ‘grandmother’). I was pretty sure I’d never be allowed to work to 65+ like my partners Don Daynard or Mike Cooper or good ol’ Wally Crouter.

Of course I didn’t; I left at 54, because I chose to. Given our circumstances in 2016: my unhappiness overall, but especially with my co-host, the perfect house awaiting us in BC and the fact that I had a lot of healing to do after losing Lauren the previous year, it was time for me to go. CHFI was very kind in releasing me from my contract. So yes, there are exceptions to the example I’m about to lay out for you. I was lucky.

Lisa LaFlamme was not afforded the luxury of that decision. She quite likely had another decade or two ahead of her, had she chosen to take them. And I have no doubt that if she chooses to work again, she’ll be welcomed with open arms and hopefully a salary that befits her expertise and reputation.

Bell Media (first and foremost a phone company that answers, not to viewers or listeners, but shareholders) says she got the chance to say good-bye on air and didn’t take it. If that’s true, good for her for saying no! Because you know what happens before they take you out and shoot you, right? After a lovely video send-off, you go on the air and say that you have decided to go, that you are so grateful, that you will miss the viewers and on and on…sometimes they even say they’ll be back occasionally with “projects” that never materialize. Huh.

Whether you’ve known it or not, you’ve seen it dozens of times over the past few years with hosts who were shown the door. They’re told, “You’ll get your good-bye, but don’t go off-script or no severance package. Oh, and no talking about your work situation in a ‘negative fashion’ once you’re gone, either. Or it’s all off the table.”

Oh and, yes, that happens in radio, too.

So, two things I need you to take with you and they’re big. First, stop thinking your opinion matters. Your loyalty does not matter. Yes, it did in my case in 2003-05, but I was lucky and it was rare. You can sign the petitions. Pledge to boycott. Show your anger.

But in 2022, very little matters but the eyeballs on the digital content. TV and, to some extent, radio are killing themselves – destroying loyalty – and wondering why numbers are dwindling. Local content is disappearing, just as the local newspapers are being swallowed up and deleted. That real, heartfelt connection with the audience that Lisa only built on during Covid and letting her hair go grey as so many people were? It does not matter.

Twerps, and I use that word being just as kind as I can, come in from their accounting, consulting or business backgrounds and simply do not understand what makes that connection. So they cut it, and then they feign surprise when people are upset. If you are over 35, 45, 55, most media doesn’t want you. Never mind that we are the generation with the money, the ones who are spending, the ones with houses with no mortgages and doing discretionary spending. Nope, don’t mind us. We stopped mattering when the ratings were focussed on 25-54, and especially the younger end of that group.

Second, please stop calling for other women, like hosts of The Social or veteran fill-in anchor Sandie Rinaldo, to stand up for Lisa. These women have no voice, no say, no power. That’s the way it’s been set up. They’re constantly told, as was ousted CTV Toronto anchor Christine Bentley again and again when work and hours were loaded on with no extra pay, “There are plenty of women who’d love to take your place.”

Eventually they will. So let the ones who do have jobs play out their careers with what little autonomy they’re allowed. Don’t blame them for not raising their heads from the foxholes. You don’t have to watch them, but please don’t call for them to sacrifice themselves for the cause, either. They don’t deserve your disappointment; there are plenty of suitable targets here to go around.

Television is and always was a brutal, petty, sexist, ageist medium. There’s usually just a prettier curtain in front of the manure pile to keep you from seeing and smelling it.

Welcome to a brand new week as we embark on the second half of August. For some, this brings a taste of bittersweetness, as summer winds down. But today I lean into the sweet with the taste of the bounty of the land: corn on the cob.

You may have seen some of these tips before from me; it’s honestly one of the best (and only) domestic hacks I have. But I went to the kitchen and shot an all new video (with new cob knobs to match!) and I hope you’ll visit my Facebook page, or click here for one of the best tricks you’ll ever see; saves time, mess, heat in the kitchen and a whole lot of work.

Enjoy – and I’ll be back with a new journal and video blog for you here next Monday. Take your time, August, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like….

*** It’s taken me a while to put into words how Olivia Newton-John, who passed away today at age 73, made a difference in the lives of so many, including of course, Rob’s and mine. I’ve recorded a short tribute to her, remembering why she is so loved and will be missed so terribly. May she ever rest in the peace she so deserves. Here’s a link if you’re interested. 

Just a thought… Keep your feet on the ground and keep reaching for the stars. [America’s Top 40 host Casey Kasem]

You can watch a video version of this journal on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube.

I want to begin with a thank you. I’m so glad you enjoyed last week’s surprise treat in my vlog from Langley Ukes almost as much as we did in stumbling upon them at the BC Museum.

But isn’t that just like life? Rarely does adventure come to your door if you just stay home. But this week is an exception where something spectacular is quite literally at your doorstep. Only higher.

In these early days of the sultry month of August, we’re being treated to an annual celestial event: the Perseid meteor showers. It won’t be the best viewing this week, as the peak of the showers coincides with the brightest moon, between Thursday and Friday. So those in the know say watch for them now and all week, and you’ll see them best just before dawn.

For Rob and for me, the Perseid meteor showers have a much deeper and higher meaning, and they have to do with connecting with the heavens.

It was August of 2015. We were in Sedona, Arizona, doing some spiritual work in the early months after our daughter’s death. Sedona is known for its amazing energies coming from the earth called vortexes which are said to make trees grow like this, in spirals.

I happen to feel different to my core when I’m there, and so it’s been my place of solace, “soul-ace” you could say, on more than one occasion in this complicated life. And so, when we were broken, this is the place we returned to, to find wholeness within its holiness.

We stayed in a space that allowed us to take in the vast beauty of our surroundings as guests at a house that had a pool deck .

Just watching the storms in the distance at sunset was breathtaking enough.

The play of colours and clouds could bring peace to even the most broken of hearts, even for the shortest time.

But lucky for us, the Perseid showers were happening at that time, too. I wish I had pictures of what we saw, but I’ll use my words instead. (You can easily Google images of Perseid showers; they’re worth the search.)

After a day of gentle hiking, guided meditation and even making a tiny rock memorial…

…we came home to dinner and a quiet evening. Then, as the sun set, we watched the skies, hoping they’d clear enough for that night’s “show.”

We weren’t disappointed. Reclined in loungers and covered in blankets, Rob and I promised we’d stay out until we’d counted 24 of the white streaks across the desert sky – one for every year of her life with us. Gradually we made our way into the teens and finally called it a night at 32. So mesmerizing was the sight, the feeling of connection with the heavens and our girl up there with them, that we didn’t want it to end.

Eventually we called it a night and we both had sore necks the next day to show for it, but the memories of that closeness to the stars long outlasted the far worse pain of those early days of mourning. And those meteors? They come back year after year. Lovely.

Maybe tonight, or tomorrow, or when skies are clear and you’re still up, you’ll look up. You may make a wish when you see that meteor go by; perhaps you’ll just wonder if something was a reflection in the lenses of your glasses.

Whatever is in your heart, I hope you’re able not only to soak in the closeness of these summer days, but, oh, those summer nights (don’t worry, I won’t sing anything from Grease). There are so very few in the calendar, not just of the year, but our lives.

Have a gentle, starry week and I’ll talk to you here next Monday. Please join me at Drift with Erin Davis any night wherever you download podcasts for a sleep story to guide you into gentle dreams. And again, thank you.