Erin's Journals

Just a thought… When I was little my dad had me convinced that the ice cream truck only played music when it was sold out. Well played, dad, well played. [Author Unknown]

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

On those notes, I have to share with you something I learned about one of the season’s sweetest sounds.

So we’re sitting in the backyard of our grandson and his family a week or so ago, watching the little ones enjoy the perfection of a BC summer day, when suddenly I hear it. Not the tinkling, but a sort of computer-generated version of Frank Mills’ old piano hit, “Music Box Dancer.”

So I say to Brooke, our daughter-in-law: “Is that what I think it is?” And she says, “Yeah, it’s the ice cream truck.” She said it with such nonchalance that the words hardly computed.

I moved like I was going to leap to my feet and she reminded me that we had just had ice cream treats on a stick. “I know,” I said, “but ICE CREAM TRUCK!”

Maybe it’s because we didn’t live in many places that had them come by; perhaps it’s because I tend to be, shall we say, easily in touch with my inner child and the joy of surprises, but I was ready to run out to the street…and pay with what? I only use my phone now to Visa “Tap” this and that and never carry cash. Okay, sit down and just breathe.

So I said to Brooke, out of curiosity, I assure you, because yes, we had just had a treat, “Do they take Tap?” She was pretty sure they do. But here’s what she told me that knocked me sideways: according to the moms on Facebook, you can track the truck and – wait for it – text him or her to come to you. Wait, what?

That’s like getting notification from Santa about what time he’s coming to drop stuff off, what time you should have cookies ready for, and just exactly what you’re getting.

No, no, no! I mean, I understand everyone’s busy and the ice cream guy or gal is probably really getting a lot of business this way, but isn’t the sheer randomness of the truck, of hearing that cheesy little tinkling theme, of leaping off your chair, grabbing your wallet and calling the kids…isn’t that what the ice cream truck experience is all about? And isn’t the ice cream truck experience part of the magic of what summer’s all about?

I’ll never forgive whoever the investigative reporter was who talked about bacteria and so on in the spigots of ice cream trucks. I don’t want to know. If I’m going to die, let it be on a hill of soft serve.

Enjoy the day and may it include ice cream – soft serve or vegan, on a stick, in a cone, in a cup…anything but upside down on your lap. And please, don’t ever let your inner child feel like you’ve forgotten her or him. There’s still so much sweetness to life.

Just a thought… We have always held to the hope, the belief, the conviction that there is a better life, a better world beyond the horizon. [Franklin D. Roosevelt]

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

Well, hello there – if you notice an air of excitement around here, it’s two things really: anticipation and, yes, actually joy.

First off, we’re in a new re-opening phase here in BC, including on Vancouver Island. So this weekend, Rob and I are getting on a ferry for the first time in about two years, and then when we arrive near Vancouver, we’ll head out on the four-plus hours over the scenic Coquihalla through the mountains towards Kelowna. I have flown to YLW twice in the past year, but this is Robbie’s first road trip and he is just terrified of how much he’s looking forward to it.

Who can blame him? We’re all feeling like Charlie Brown, dreading the football being pulled away at the last minute (again) by that nasty Lucy. Rob and I have watched the Stanley Cup playoff games in Vegas and cringed at all the fans in the arena. When I asked Rob, “Do you think they’re all vaccinated?” he’s like, “It’s Vegas. Half of these people would probably argue about wearing a mask. So…what do you think?”

Touché.

We’ll arrive in Kelowna in the lower central mainland late on Father’s Day and see Dad and two of my sisters for a visit, then drive back home for Tuesday evening. The next journal you see will be a road version, so prepare for some different scenery, which will be nice for you and me both, I’m sure.

And, of course, the other reason we’re experiencing excitement is that this past Tuesday, amid some lovely promotion from the shiny people at Apple, my new podcast dropped. As you know by now, it’s called Drift with Erin Davis and this is something I came up with in the past year. I couldn’t sleep at night for this idea nagging at me and telling me I had to do it.

Before I share with you a one-minute video to explain it, let me answer the question that was always at the front of my mind when I was doing radio: what’s in it for the listener? You. There are other story apps and podcasts out there; Drift is a podcast, (my video journal is not) and you won’t find Drift through the app store.

You can download a podcast app through the app store, then search for Drift with Erin Davis. Or, you can go to Frequency Podcast Network and just scroll down a bit.

These are stories told by me for you. Grown-up reads, like a different take on Goldilocks, or a classic by F. Scott Fitzgerald. There are even a few I’ve written myself, to help you embark on sweet dreams. There are free stories there – five this week as we launch – and if you prefer ad-free (and who doesn’t), lots more for a low monthly subscription.

I promise you I’ll keep adding at least two new stories every week. So watch this, and have a wonderful Father’s Day. I’ll be back with you (and maybe even with my dad) next week – either Monday or Tuesday, depending on his availability.

Just a thought… In the rush to return to normal, let’s use this time to consider which parts of normal are worth rushing back to. [Dave Hollis]

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

So we’ll file one this under: All Dressed Up with No Place to Judge. As I told you here a week or so ago, I got a notice in the mail that I was being called for jury selection – 9:00 am, courthouse, June 12, be there. Okay. Then, on Friday I get a call saying, “Your call time is now 12:30 – you’ll be notified if you’re not needed.”

So, lo and behold, I’m dressed Saturday, eye makeup done (’cause why bother with the rest – mask and all) and we’re packing my “go” bag: laptop, part of a manuscript I’m reading, ICE drink, and so on, and my phone rings. Sure enough, it’s Ryan from the sheriff’s office (we have a sheriff?) and they’ve got all the jurors they need.

I asked him if I can expect to be called again in another few months or years and he said it’s random: if you vote, you’re in the pool. So…a great deal: you get none of the people you vote for AND you get to be in the pool for jury duty. Cool.

It was a pretty huge relief to get that call, ’cause an awful lot was put on hold. Getaways up island? Not so fast. Visit to the mainland to see Dad? Better not. Recording sessions for interviews I have to do? Had to let guests know they were in jeopardy.

And then there’s our own home lives: a whole new venture, my Drift with Erin Davis sleep stories are due to drop tomorrow on Apple and wherever you download your favourite podcasts. I’ll do a special journal here when it’s for-sure-for-sure there, but I wanted to give you a heads up. So you can see, a whole lot would have been thrown into the Vitamix if that jury thing had gone ahead.

Hey and thanks for the great birthday wishes for my dad on Friday. He’s doing really well and I think that the end of lockdown has been good for his sense of humour: when my sister asked him, “Hey Dad, you ready for a visitor?” he answers, quick as you like, “Why, am I getting my period?”

Yeah – you can sure tell he was surrounded by five women for a lot of years (mom and my sisters and me). He’s back and we’re so grateful. Dad adds that, come July, choir returns and he says there’s no need to add new material, because they’ve all forgotten what they’d already learned. Oh, Dad.

Yes, there’s a lot to be said for getting back to normal, isn’t there? And I’ll have another new journal for you here soon with good news!

Just a thought… Nothing vast enters the life of mortals without a curse. [Sophocles]

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

It’s been a heavy week – as we’re still trying to come to terms with the pain of Canada’s Indigenous people and what we can do to help, there’s this horrific hate crime in London, Ontario. Four family members, three generations, wiped out while enjoying a walk on a sultry spring evening. A boy left without his family. For some – for me – it’s hard to make this make sense. Any of it. The cruelty of it all.

I do have a few thoughts that just keep coming to the forefront of my mind. If you have seen The Social Dilemma, you’ll understand; if you haven’t – it came out last September on Netflix and this documentary about social media and its reach is mind blowing.

I didn’t want to watch it at first, because I like my social media, thank you very much! Love Twitter and, yes, Facebook or Instagram, through which many folks are finding this journal today. Thank you. So I didn’t want this doc to ruin my fun – and fortunately, it hasn’t. It’s been enlightening. I can decide how much I let it in.

As a parent, grandparent, whoever you are, I’m going to urge you to watch this, not as a fun vampire – like I’m not going to say, “You’ve got to give up this or that…” – but to know what’s happening.

Take, for instance, that crazy uncle you have who keeps spewing this unbelievable BS about vaccines or magnetism or flat earth or deep state or whatever? And then says, “Well, I like to keep informed.” Yeah. There’s a very good chance that, a while back, he was sent a story about, say, flat earth (good band name, bad science) and decided to read it. Then clicked to read more.

All of a sudden, he gets a trickle and then a flood of stories coming in to him that feed the same whacky narrative. And there it is. He’s surrounded by like-minded people all reading and repeating the same insanity.

This was the true eye-opener for me about The Social Dilemma. I suddenly understand how people, who get the same access to newspaper feeds and information as I do, could believe such bat shit crazy nonsense. Because that is what they’re being fed. It’s how some 70% of Republicans believe that their guy won the presidential election. Because it’s what their little BS bubble is telling them.

I’m not for a moment going to give the murderous driver of that pickup truck in London the benefit of the doubt, any doubt, or say “There, there, the internet made him do it.” But instead of saying how much hatred he had to be raised around in his home, maybe take a good hard look at his social feeds: what has been raised around him, what he was surrounded by.

And then, ask who in YOUR life might you have a talk with. Too awkward? Sit with them and watch The Social Dilemma. Especially if you’re a parent. You need to know what’s coming at your kids. It really is well done – entertaining even – and I’m not trying to sound an alarm; just think of it as a poke (which isn’t a thing on FB anymore, but you get my drift).

I’ll be back with you on Monday and thanks for coming by this week.

Just a thought… Trust your Inner-Creator and let go of your inner-critic. [J.R. Incer, author of Mastering Success]

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

I have a guest today in the form of the voices in my head. I thought you might be able to relate, if you have those nagging little thoughts that tell you you’re not worthy, you don’t deserve this (the good things, that is; the bad things you almost always deserve, according to that destructive little sprite) and that you shouldn’t be announcing something big because it sounds as if you’re boasting.

I’ll take you back to give you an example of when that voice was loud and funny. Last month I was delivering an online speech for a U of T group. While it was happening, I could see how many people were online taking part and watching. Okay, cool. I don’t measure my success in numbers anymore…or so I thought.

Because every time I saw “so-and-so has left the group” I’d think, Aw jeez, what did I say wrong? How did I offend them? Was it boring? when, of course, it wasn’t about me. For all I knew, they had an appointment to get to and caught as much as they could. Right?

But it’s always that voice. The one that told me to lay off the mentions here and in my social media of the Hall of Fame induction last month. The one that had me suggesting to my pal Nancy that she not notify the local media, when in reality, the piece that CHEK News in Victoria did was really a highlight – being recognized in my own community. I have been contacted by people in grief and service groups here in the Victoria area who are interested in my message, so that’s a huge positive and really what this is all about: hope.

Then there’s the actual award and the “worthiness” issues that come up. I concocted a list in my head of the things I figured people would be thinking or saying about me getting the acknowledgment, not one of which actually came to my inbox or showed up online. A long public life has me kind of braced for this all of the time. (See: Reasons Erin Drank #14.)

Public or not, I know I’m not alone. I got an email from a brilliant woman just this weekend who specifically mentioned those gremlins as she tackles her next great project. Fortunately, there’s hope, as we are both fans of this woman:

One of the few (and best) researchers and speakers on the subject of shame and vulnerability is Brené Brown. You’ve heard me mention her before and I’ll do it again: her Netflix special, part stand-up comedy and ALL brilliance, The Call to Courage, reminds us that it’s the person who is in the ring, getting bloody and dirty and failing, who is doing the work, not the one in the stands yelling or taunting or, yes, posting. The critic doesn’t win.

So what about when that critic isn’t in the stands but in your head? One of Brené’s books (and each of them is outstanding in its way; I recommend hard copies instead of downloads so you can mark, dog ear and read over and over) has the perfect analogy. Forgive me if I’ve brought this up before, but maybe you need reminding of it as much as I do.

Say you were driving down to work and you had a passenger who was sitting there sipping her coffee and saying things like, “Oh my gosh, that outfit makes you look fat. You’ve got to get more sleep, you look about ten years older than you are. Is that the best you can do? Because what you’re saying isn’t very funny and, frankly, you’re a lousy driver.” You know, stuff like that.

So what would you do? Quite likely, you’d pull over, tell that cow in the right seat to get out and find another ride. You would tell her she had no right to talk to you like that and if she didn’t respect or care for you enough to treat you better, then she could just…well…YOU fill in the blanks. But “take a walk” would be one way of putting it.

Ms Brown’s advice is to let that passenger out of your head. I am telling you this because I let her ride for free far too often. Not only is she annoying as hell, but honestly, all of that nasty heaviness is really hurting my speed and how much distance I can get to the litre.

Enough. Time to ditch the b**ch. Literally.