Erin's Journals

Monday, May 31, 2021

Just a thought… Reconciliation is a journey, not a destination. [Carey Newman]

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

We leave this month of May today with a mixture of feelings: there’s hope, but there’s also heaviness.

A deep sense of sadness sits within me and many more of us across our land with the news of the horrible discoveries – to some, not revelations, but proof – of the previously undisclosed or unconfirmed deaths of hundreds of children at the Kamloops Indian Residential School (as it was named at the time and Canada’s largest) in lower central mainland BC.

No matter what part of this land you call home, this has been a weekend of heavy hearts, of questions and demands for answers, of prayers up and calls for reparations.

I thought many times over the past few days of an hour I spent on a stage near here as part of an arts festival. I interviewed a beautiful and gifted man named Carey Newman, who is of Kwakwaka’wkaw Coast Salish and settler heritage and whose father was a residential school survivor.

Mr. Newman is an artist who created The Witness Blanket and, while it is not a literal blanket, it is an indelible display. Carey spent a year logging 200,000 kilometres and talking with some 10,000 people in 80 communities who had attended the residential schools or had family who did. He took with him their stories, along with 887 items, some as intimate as cut-off braids, straps for disciplining, hockey skates and even hand-written letters.

Together, these pieces of our darkest era as a country and a people are strikingly mounted, alongside actual floor boards, tiles and bricks from the schools, on 13 wood panels, eight feet tall and 40 feet long. As a whole, I can tell you it is breathtaking to bear witness to in person. But each element of it – large and small – offers a piece of the story detailing the immense atrocities and immeasurable tolls of the era of the residential schools, which housed some 150,000 Indigenous children, many snatched away from their parents, families and communities from 1870 to 1996.

Carey Newman lives near us here on Vancouver Island and is a professor at U Vic. He told me that his own father spoke little of his time in the schools but carried the emotional scars for his entire life – wounds that Carey began to understand on a deeper level as he created The Witness Blanket.

This moving display, and I mean that in both ways – both of the heart, soul and mind, and physically crossing the country – is currently housed in the Canadian Museum of Human Rights in Winnipeg, where it is undergoing conservation after logging so many kilometres enlightening, and reminding us of the system that robbed so many families of so much.

Simply go to witnessblanket.ca or Google the Witness Blanket. There is also a documentary titled Picking Up the Pieces: The Making of the Witness Blanket. It is free online so you, too, may bear witness. Here’s a link. If you do watch, please do so with care and read and heed the call for a connection to support if you or your family members have a history with residential schools.

What we already know is horrific. What we will learn is apt to be more so. The fact that many of these children were buried without last names – some not recorded at all, their parents denied the cold comfort of having their children’s bodies returned to them, or even knowing of their fates – is unforgiveable. Our hearts ache.

Rob WhiteheadMonday, May 31, 2021
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Thursday, May 27, 2021

Just a thought… When you live with an open heart, unexpected, joyful things happen. [Oprah Winfrey]

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

Here we are heading into the last weekend in May and inching towards better numbers and more openings. Getting our shots. Wearing our masks. Being caring and responsible towards our fellow citizens. We can do this.

One of the side effects of this pandemic has been a scarcity of bicycles and many people wanting to buy 0ne have found it to be nearly impossible.

Rob and I already had bikes, but here’s the problem: we live on a mountain – or, at least, a very big hill. And while it makes for views like you’ve seen here on occasion, it also means an impossibly steep climb up and treacherous ride down.

What to do? Well, E was the answer! Our friends found a sale at a big wholesale outlet and alerted us, after having done research about the brand of electric bikes and its ratings. Rob called while I was out one day and asked me, hurry, did I want one?

I honestly hadn’t thought we needed an e-bike. When we wanted to go out, we would put our cycles on a rack on the back of the car and drive wherever we wanted to go, once we’d made our way down that hill. We knew the altitude was going to kill us on the trip home; we’re about 105 metres or 350 feet practically straight up from the main road below that gets us to Sidney in one direction or the kids in the other.

So we took the plunge – so to speak – and got two of the last ones left. After a whole lot of trepidation, I found the bike and its gears and battery assistance to be really easy to maneuvre. Keep in mind, I’m the gal who, while learning to drive Rob’s scooter (which had the heft of a motorcycle), hit a wall at about 40 km/h nine years ago this week. I ended up in a bad way for a few months and I’ve not been brave on two wheels ever since. And I gave up on the motorcycle course.

Touch wood, this is going really well. Most importantly, I can pedal when I want and get my exercise.

But here’s the kicker – or the kickstand: the first day I went out, I tweeted this: 

Yes, I tagged Keith and Josh, my two favourite hosts of our absolute must-see Friday night show. If you’re not familiar with Dateline on NBC, they dive deep into crimes, often disappearances or murder mysteries, that go on for years. In my book, I referred to it as “grief porn,” which helped take us out of our own suffering, if that makes any sense. We’re still hooked.

Well, imagine my surprise when Josh liked it and then tweeted:

I was kind of tickled by that. And then, Keith Morrison, on whom I had a crush back in my teens when he was a CTV News weekend anchor, tweeted in return as well:

No amount of wind whistling past my ears as I rode that day at about 30 km/h down our hill could match the unbridled glee I felt just to hear back from two TV hosts I really enjoy.

I know it doesn’t really matter, but in a time when everything is so surreal, that was kind of the psychedelic icing on the brownies.

Have a good weekend, fit in some fun and we’ll be back with you here on Monday. I mean, I hope. Keith warned me….

 

Rob WhiteheadThursday, May 27, 2021
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Monday, May 24, 2021

Just a thought… If you’re tired, learn to rest, not quit. [Author Unknown]

Happy Victoria Day! In honour of the holiday, an outdoor video journal awaits you, so please go to my Facebook page, or here on YouTube, to watch and enjoy. Also, if you’re interested in seeing the CHEK News piece to which I refer, which aired locally about our journey west and what brought us here to the island as well as the Hall of Fame honour last week, please click here.

It aired Friday on a segment CHEK does in their 5 and 6 pm news packages called “The Upside” about positive things happening in our area and, like the journal, was shot in Iroquois Park in Sidney, near Victoria, at the bench we dedicated to Lauren’s memory and to all moms who just need to take a rest and “dream a little dream.” (Spoiler Alert: duckling sighting!)

Have a lovely week and I’ll be back with a new journal for you on Thursday. Be well.

Rob WhiteheadMonday, May 24, 2021
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Thursday, May 20, 2021

Just a thought… The perfect expression of a lifetime award is to be working when they’re handing it out. [Hal Prince, Broadway producer and director]

I know I usually have a written journal for you here, but this one really needs to be seen to be appreciated. It has a bit of a crazy ending, but it’s so totally me.

You can watch it on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube.

And it has to do with this:

Rob WhiteheadThursday, May 20, 2021
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Monday, May 17, 2021

Just a thought… Wholeness does not mean perfection: it means embracing brokenness as an integral part of life. [Parker J. Palmer]

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

Ah, what to talk with you about today? There is (as there always is) so much hardship in the world. I don’t have an informed opinion on much of it, so I stay quiet, as I should, but at the risk of sounding tone-deaf when there’s so much pain – that hurts too. Can my two cents add anything, or change any minds? When the answer is obvious, I file it under N’s for “Nope” and move on.

In our own lives there is so much joy, so much fulfillment these days, weeks and months that – just as it did during the rising tally of Covid deaths, each of those numbers a person, a loved one – it’s making me feel even more out of step than usual with the “real world.”

But if you wanted that world, you’d go to your trusted news source, just as we do. So let me bring you into mine, once again, on this gentle Monday.

Our yard, as you’ve seen in pictures and do here, is blessed with an array of flowers and trees whose names I will likely never know. But on occasion we are visited by deer. And on Saturday, I squealed like a two-year-old watching The Wiggles meeting Sesame Street (yes, it’s a thing) as a mama deer walked through our yard with her brand new tiny spotted fawn. I don’t have a picture because I couldn’t pull myself away from the window. But you’ve seen Bambi, you get it.

Usually our views (and I) are more sedate. This statue is what I look out upon from our living room. She’s a resting Buddha that I rescued from my sister’s garbage trip when she was leaving BC for Mexico three years ago.

What’s special about this statue? Obviously, her repose, which to me is in sadness but with the smallest smile of gratitude – something to which I can completely relate.

But look at the back of her. 

This is why she was destined for the dump. And I told Cindy I wanted her. I didn’t know why or for where, but I brought her back to the island and now she has a place of honour on our deck, not looking out, as we do, but looking inward in, oh, so many ways.

Because, you see, she makes me do the same; I see myself in her. The rest, the quiet peaceful smile, but the hole, the brokenness that is there, too. It’s not what people see or know me – or her – for, but it’s there and is as much a part of who I am as the serene demeanour that she presents to those who see her.

Am I serene? Well, that depends on the moment, the day and whom you ask! Do I let that brokenness define who I am or what you see? Never. Those who look from afar can’t see the hole, perched where she is and away from close inspection, and that’s perfect. But that hole makes up wholly who and what she is, just as much as that which she presents. And I couldn’t ask for a better representation of me or, for that matter, the world – in my view – than this broken, perfect piece that graces our lives.

There’s a lot coming this week and I’ll keep you abreast daily at my Facebook page and, of course, here on Thursday. And at the risk of jinxing anything, from today’s vantage point, it is ALL good!

As I truly hope that yours is, too. Thank you for coming by.

Rob WhiteheadMonday, May 17, 2021
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