Erin's Journals

Just a thought… Gratitude is the memory of the heart. [Jean Baptiste Massieue]

I know I’m ahead of the curve here, but I’m having a very Thankful Thursday.

Yes, the holiday of Thanksgiving is marked next Monday and we’ll all be trying to find reasons to count our blessings. (I found a fascinating piece on gratitude in crisis that I’d like to share with you on Monday if you’ll come by.)

For a great many – especially if you’re socially distancing and keeping your celebration bubble small – there are heartaches. Chairs sit empty, and may stay that way for some; it seems we’ve all lost someone or know of someone who has passed in 2020. This Thanksgiving in homes across Canada, memories are being recalled instead of made. And for that, I am so sorry.

On Monday it’ll be three weeks since my dear friend Lisa Brandt’s mother passed away from cancer. You may remember that I mentioned her mom’s unlikely state of gratitude whilst lying in hospice. She found care and peace and said she’d never been happier. (May we all find that feeling in our last days and hours.)

Today, Lisa marks her first birthday without her mother in the world to send a card and a gift, to make a call. Lisa is in my heart every day, but I hold her more closely today. We make fantasy plans – once we can embrace life post-COVID – of spending our time reconnecting, of just being together. With no other plans on the horizon, it’s the misty ones we form in daydreams that keep us going. I’m a believer in holding tight to your dreams.

This year has not been without its good surprises, as many of us have used enforced cocooning to make changes, to re-evaluate and to take stock of what we have instead of what we have not. The challenges have made each tiny victory taste sweeter in light of struggles that have preceded it; the gratitude a little more visceral in its afterglow.

You know that for Rob and me, our lives have, somewhat impossibly, changed for the better in the second half of 2020. The utter, heart-bursting joy of having children around and being close to family has given us a gift that we re-open every day.

This Sunday, our precious Colin will take his turn opening presents, as he marks his sixth birthday. A party that was planned has been postponed for a week as his family (and, if my scratchy throat is telling the truth, ours too) deal with the cold virus that seems to have found us. I actually thought that this year’s back-to-school with its masks and extra hygiene might spare us the fall colds, but no, we don’t get that break!

Still, we’ll have presents and cake for him, a turkey dinner for us all and noisy celebrations amidst the sniffles. We’ll count our blessings that our health is only compromised in the most mundane of ways, and hold in our hearts those who have empty spaces at their table this Thanksgiving.

Thank you for being here and I wish you and yours a peaceful weekend filled with the love – or memories of love – and thoughts of gratitude and hope.

Happy Thanksgiving, my friend.

Just a thought… Many Americans are likely feeling both sympathy and anger today; emotions that don’t necessarily mix well. [Jake Tapper, CNN State of the Union 4/10/20]

I’m keeping in mind that as you read this I may be asleep in my bed three hours’ time difference away; the news out of Walter Reed Medical Center in Maryland could be more dire than whatever updates his health care team has provided up to the time of this writing. Or, the president may be on the road to recovery as his drive by for “patriots” was meant to signal yesterday, safety of the Secret Service in a limo hermetically sealed against chemical attack be damned. So I will apologize in advance if this hasn’t stood up. But I won’t apologize for how I feel.

I received a heartfelt email yesterday that pretty much summed up the tumult of emotions so many of us have been going through when G wrote, “Am I a horrible person?” She worried about not feeling any sympathy after Donald Trump purposely flouted precautions and potentially became a super spreader of the coronavirus himself, then was diagnosed with this virulent disease.

While the timelines about when he knew are blurry, most of us had been wondering how he hadn’t caught it already. He reassured people at every turn that he was being tested on a regular basis (although his team conveniently arrived too late for the mandatory testing that the Cleveland Clinic demanded before Tuesday’s presidential debate). Despite those assurances, you don’t need an MD after your name to know that regular testing is no more effective in preventing a viral disease than pregnancy tests are a great form of birth control.

Why wonder about timing, about subterfuge, about staged photos or probable and inevitable spreading? Because after four years of lies, 20,000 of them according to the venerable Washington Post (and indisputably honourable Torontonian Daniel Dale), why would we believe a single word from Trump, his grifter family, his crooked administration and especially his easily swayed medical team? (Remember: Trump has always manipulated his doctors into saying what he needs said, from bone spurs to “he’ll live to 200!” and that he was taller and weighed less than we could all actually see with our own eyes.)

Setting aside the propensity this man and his sycophants have demonstrated repeatedly to lie and obfuscate on the smallest of details, he could have done so much more to prevent not only his diagnosis but the deaths of over 213,000 people he swore in January 2017 to protect.

Trump knew when he spoke to Bob Woodward back in February. It’s on tape. And despite repeated confirmation from experts that masks help stop the spread of the virus, he defied science and safety and even as recently as last Tuesday (which does feel like ten years ago now) he derided his debate opponent for wearing “the biggest mask I’ve ever seen.” Well, at last check, Joe Biden and Dr. Jill Biden are free of Covid.

Trump’s team, including assistant Hope Hicks, debate prep partner former governor Chris Christie, media manipulator Kellyanne Conway, GOP chair Ronna Romney McDaniel and dozens more, are now sick with a virus that can hit hard (obviously) and leave a lifetime of complications for those who survive it.

Those complications would become pre-existing conditions to keep regular Americans – low income and vulnerable ones like those replenishing the pumpkin cheesecake buffet at the indoor and outdoor Rose Garden event, or coffee at the fundraiser in New Jersey, where Trump travelled for an indoor fundraiser when he most likely knew he had tested positive – from getting healthcare coverage if the Republicans’ plans to scrap Obamacare move forward.

And that’s the rich irony of the Rose Garden gathering last weekend that is emerging as a clear super spreader event: the confirmation of Judge Amy Coney Barrett as nominee to the Supreme Court. Don’t forget, that very action is one that Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, on her death bed, asked to be postponed until after the election.

The temptation to give in to schadenfreude at worst, or call it karma at least, is strong. Taking the high road in regards to a man who has been the very epitome of evil criminality and callous casual racism, eschewing the norms set up by their venerated Constitution since first he rode down an escalator cheered on by paid supporters, is difficult, I’ll admit.

You and I are better than that, but he’s not. When Hillary Clinton had pneumonia during the election race in 2016, Trump ran attack ads and had his friend David Pecker at the National Enquirer post pictures of “Dying Hillary.” Just a reminder of how much he knows about compassion.

So where does that leave us? Wrestling with our emotions, waiting and watching, like much of the world. The anger of which Jake Tapper spoke was that this all could have been, if not prevented, then largely mitigated. That’s the real shame.

213,000+ Americans did not have to die under his watch. He could have implemented and urged precautions as soon as he knew – which we’re told was January – given a strong message to his base, his governors and to all Americans of every political stripe, income, colour and belief to wear masks and follow Dr. Fauci’s guidelines. But he had to be a cheerleader for his precious “numbers” – stock markets, recovery, polls. He had to make it political. He had to deliberately mislead. And, unless he decides to drive by his fans again, there he lies in a hospital bed.

Do we add that “lie” to the impossibly long tally, or take the higher road and hope for his recovery (even if that means to face jail time)? Here’s a way to experience the feelings that so many of us do about Trump and yet still be compassionate: in the words of Jake Tapper on CNN’s State of the Union, “Get well and get your act together.”

Here’s a link to that four-minute piece if you’re interested in watching it. I thought it was perfect.

Just a thought… Be thankful for everything that happens in your life; it’s all an experience. [Roy Bennett]

Welcome to a brand new month. Ah, sweet October: a time of thanksgiving, of pumpkins and spice and whatever else nice you can find to lighten your heart. For us it’s a list of family celebrations: the latest being this little twinkle who turned a whole year old yesterday.

Her brother opened her gifts for and with her, while Rob and I basked in sharing this special milestone. Happy Birthday, Sweet Jane. How lucky we are to be a part of your life. You really are a joy to be around – cheerful, chatty and charming just like your mom.

The living and dining areas in her parents’ home were decorated with streamers and ribbons all laid out for the Insta-moments to come. But Jane, still a little groggy from a shortened late-day nap, was more content just to chill and take it all in. After the presents, she was buckled into her high chair, sung to and presented with a small cake topped with whipped cream and sliced blueberries.

But Jane didn’t do the “cake smash” that is so big a part of many babies’ first birthdays; it was there for the mess-making but she just poked at the topping, tasted a berry or two and that was it.

Over at the grown-ups’ table, we had a delicious and decadent Oreo cake, but curiosity about the organic sugar-free cake Brooke had gone to such trouble to bake got the better of me. I broke off a small bite and put some in my mouth. My eyes wide, I turned to Brooke, sitting next to me and said, “You know I’ll eat anything, but this is garbage!”

We both burst into laughter, as Colin asked what was so funny. See, here it is: I’m usually really careful with my words and I’d never intentionally hurt Brooke’s feelings. She knows this well about me. But on the other hand, she ribs me mercilessly about the fact that I never met an expiry date I didn’t want to challenge to the death (likely mine, she fears). She’s adamant about counting down those numbers on packages like a NASA launch crew, whereas I take them very much as a…suggestion. And while we never argue, it’s quite likely we’ll never see eye-to-eye on it, so we do have numerous funny exchanges on the topic.

Brooke also marvels (or is it recoils) at how I will try just about any kind of food; she frequently teases me with her gagging sound effect when we’re talking about meal choices, menu items or taste preferences. It’s part of how we get along and we both laugh about it a lot. So it was last night that when I actually put something in my face that elicited that kind of almost real gagging response, we both burst out laughing.

The cake was more like Irish soda bread and without that topping (which cost Brooke a fingernail and could have caused more damage when she had a run-in with the electric beaters) it might have been wonderful with a stew or soup. It was made with the absolute best of intentions and so much love and care. And I know we’ll laugh about it for years to come – and *I* won’t be the one who brings it up!

Here’s to the memories, the laughter and the moments of outright silliness. Events never come off the way we hope they will (especially if babies are involved), but it’s the slip-ups that make them memorable and keep us smiling long after the banners have been taken down and the gift bags packed away. (Oh, that’s something else she teases me about: I’m the queen of hoarding and reusing gift bags!)

I love this.

I’ve also had quite enough birthday cake for a while. At least until Colin’s turn a week Sunday. Autumn has come packed in layers of love and celebration. I wish you a slice of the same.

——

And I will tell you that when news came last night of Chrissy Teigen and John Legend losing their son Jack at the halfway point of Chrissy’s pregnancy, I wrote about the bravery that they have shown in sharing their grief to help others. My comments didn’t fit with or within this journal, written on Jane’s birthday, but you are welcome to go to my Facebook page to read more, or to add your voice. E.

Just a thought… Be fanatically positive and militantly optimistic. If something isn’t to your liking, change your liking. [Rick Steves]

Well, what a weekend that was! Thanks to our Friday popcorn-and-movie night, and a PA day for Colin today, we had two little boy sleepovers with him, and on my birthday Saturday, a night at an inn for me and my bigger boy (that would be Rob). I’m feeling mellow and happy and grateful today and frankly, my friend, I don’t know what to do with it.

As we were walking through a beautifully treed area yesterday in Malahat, BC yesterday, the fragrance of the breeze and sunshine on trees and plants recently drenched in days of intermittent rain, I shared with Rob my quandary: I’ve lost my edge.

So why is that not a good thing? I feel that in writing here, I should be more than a big bowl of trifle every time you come to visit: more than fruit and cream and bits of cake, I should use this space to share more, do more.

All around me there is pain and uncertainty. Every feed is filled with angry, acerbic comments. People are suffering from insecurities of every kind as we watch and wait and wonder what a pandemic that never truly went away is going to do next.

The problem is that I’m too damned happy.

Paging Catholic guilt. Catholic guilt – line one, please…. 

I haven’t felt this joyful in five years and I’m not sure how to handle these feelings. I’ve never felt so out of step with humankind in my life. I know, I know: I’ve suffered deeply – we have – for the past five years, in the aftermath of a family tragedy that I don’t even have to name here any more.

The last time we were this blissful, the rug was pulled out from under our lives. As I told you in Mourning Has Broken, I felt as if somehow we deserved it; the Monkey’s Paw effect. It sounds insane, but in trying to find some logic in the enormity of our loss, I had to find a way to blame myself.

Enough time has passed, enough reading done and wisdom accrued that I know not to dread that the universe will tug it again; my job is simply to embrace each day and be joyful for the opportunities that it contains. Live in the moment.

But where does that leave you, my dear reader? I sometimes feel my writings or posts on FB sound as if I’ve been lobotomized (remind me not to watch the Nurse Ratched trailer again on Netflix). A few weeks ago, a Twitter account run by the alleged puppet comic Ed the Sock commented on one of my optimistic posts, saying that he liked that wisdom so much more when it was accompanied by the crispy fortune cookie it came in. Stupid, yes, but that hit home.

I didn’t respond to let him/it know that he/it had gotten to me, opting to block him/it instead, but it gave me pause. My lack of edge was obviously something that he/it found worth ridiculing and although I don’t agree, I get that.

My form of humour has always been not to ridicule (MAGA hat wearers notwithstanding) and hopefully to find more clever ways to be funny than through being mean. I’m not perfect, but I’ve tried. A sock with a cigar in its face (?) can’t be expected to buy what I’m putting out there. But why the follow on Twitter, “Ed,” darn you? (Now there’s some solid sock humour. Darning. Sock. Get it? Ugh. Sorry.)

Back in June when we learned that our Ottawa family – Phil, Brooke, Colin and Jane (whose first birthday is this Wednesday) – would be moving to within a six minute drive of us, I tried to assure both you and me that all of my posts wouldn’t be saccharine, family-related journals. Little did I know that I’d find myself in such a bubble of undiluted happiness, I’d be worried about seeming to be oblivious to suffering.

I will always believe that what we do, who we are, is a result of choices. Did we choose to lose our only child? Well, of course not. It feels ridiculous even writing that question. But how we chose to go on – that was our decision to make.

I never stopped hoping, believing in, writing and talking about joy. I knew it was ours for the taking in little bites, wherever we could find it. And now, when buffets are closed to help save us from a deadly virus, here I am with my plate so full I can barely carry it. What else am I to do when after a day of deluge, this rainbow behind me greeted us at dinner Saturday night?

So please bear with me while I figure out how to balance all of this. In the meantime, have some trifle. There’s no booze in it, but I’m better this way. And right now, it’s all-you-can-eat. Have a good week.

Just a thought… Difficult roads often lead to beautiful destinations. [Zig Ziglar]

So much going on here – not the least of which is a deluge of rain we’re under for a few days – but I’m grateful (with the exception of this afternoon’s community meal deliveries) to pull it all off, indoors.

This half year of COVID has brought myriad changes to people around the world, from how we think (when did science become something people can take political sides on or argue with so confidently?) to how we live our everyday lives.

Much of it has seemed like we’re trying to build a house – or even a sand castle – on a faultline; there’s so much uncertainty from day to day as we eyeball the numbers like a bookie at a sports bar. Are there more cases? Will we be retreating to Stage Two again? Have we entered or are we about to enter the second wave of the pandemic and then what?

So many questions.

As always, when times are uncertain, we take control of what we can: we become part of the solution where possible, instead of adding to the problem. We continue to mourn the death of the normalcy of life before the pandemic and make the best of a bad situation, as we saw last week with so many taking part in Rosh Hashanah services online while missing the usual large family gatherings for the High Holidays.

It’s heartbreaking and, given the cancellations we’ve been witnessing, may foreshadow how the Christmas holidays are going to go this year (that is, if we’re called upon to do so, and then obey the instructions). So much uncertainty.

I’m happy to say that in our professional lives, there has been been growth and even the start of new things! Rob and I had already begun our podcast for the Canadian Real Estate Association called Real Time before the lockdown, having recorded and produced our first episode in California. In a year in which everything could have gone terribly badly, the real estate business has been booming: home sales are up (as are prices) and inventory is at record lows in many parts of Canada. Which brings me to the other new start, which begins today.

In a set-up in our home (our bedroom, which has the best acoustics besides my little studio), we’re getting ready to broadcast live this morning as I host, and Rob makes possible from a technical standpoint, an online annual conference. I’ve had the honour of hosting for CREA at various events across the country, even delivering a keynote when I jumped from emcee into the speaking spot during an Ottawa ice storm in 2018 that prevented Dragons’ Den star Michele Romanow from making the trip. Today, I jump into a different kind of situation.

As of 5:45 am our time, I’m awake and starting to caffeinate (thanks, time zones) and ready for a 7 am PDT kick-off. There are esteemed guest speakers, experts and panelists, and I’ll be tying them all together through the day, encouraging viewer questions and so on. Here’s a shot from our tech rehearsal earlier this week.

I’ll post one pic of the actual event today on FB as it goes on, but we’ve got our fingers crossed that this will go well. Next month, I’m delivering my new keynote speech to a group live via Zoom from the same set-up; in November, yours truly will be called upon to host a big fundraiser for Markham Stouffville Hospital Foundation.

I’m nervous in a different way for each of them, but excited and grateful to have a chance to try new ways to learn my craft. I’ve even informed Speakers’ Spotlight in Toronto, a large talent agency with whom I was just starting to forge a relationship before COVID hit, that I’m doing this now: long distance emceeing and even delivering a keynote, complete with visuals.

The learning curve is steep, but I’m reminded about the new beginnings that come with endings – a perfect message as we segue into the season of fall.

Wish me luck and, if you’re a CREA member, I hope you’ll be joining our inaugural online summit today. I’ve got Rob running the tech as well as scrolling my iPad in a homemade kind of teleprompter behind my computer camera lens.

There’ll be lots of coffee and the voices in my ear will be directing me throughout the six-hour event today. Such a nice change from the usual voices asking me why my Fitbit numbers are so low! You have a lovely day and weekend and we’ll be back with you on Monday. “MAKEUP!”