Erin's Journals

Just a thought… No connection can ever be broken if love holds tight at both ends. [Shannon L. Alder]

Welcome in! You know, after this week’s journals, I said to Rob, “I need to lighten things up today.” So, let’s see…what’s funny? Not a lot, frankly, though I hope you’ve seen the Jerry Seinfeld Netflix special 23 Hours to Kill.

But we find joy in the little things: the Facetime with Colin in Ottawa, who’s already planning his outdoor activities with the warmer weather in the forecast. It looks as if Southern Ontario is jumping from winter to summer again this year. Oh, how we used to anticipate our first walk across the Bloor Viaduct to dine outside on the Danforth! How different it’s sure to be in the months to come.

Our walks are far less eventful and boisterous these days, with the aims of either satisfying Molly or adding steps to my FitBit. Tuesday we walked along the ocean shores down in Sidney. Above us there were eagles and seagulls and there was a lone sailboat on the water, but not much else. Still, it made for a beautiful view and a change of scenery from our usual neighbourhood walks, as bloom-filled as they are.

We sent a quick video to Colin and his family and Brooke videoed him watching our message to them. When I said “Do you see that?” he answered “yes!” everytime he watched it and even ended one viewing with “I love you Grama and Grandad.” It doesn’t get better than this – at least for now.

Our walk culminated in a balcony-to-driveway visit with our friends in town there. It made our hearts sing just to see them face-to-face, to find out that there’s nothing new in their lives either (which we knew anyway, since we’re in touch daily) but that they’re healthy and safe.

As every single event on our calendar is crossed off (the Broadcasting Hall of Fame ceremonies, which were to take place today in Toronto, were rescheduled for September, and then scrapped until next year) we try hard not to think about when next we’ll be flying east to hold the people we love in our arms. And in the meantime, we continue to thank heavens that they’re all safe and healthy.

So…I’ve been on deer watch. On the weekend, while I was editing in bed, Rob spotted a fawn – actually it was already spotted – and by the time he told me about it, the little dear deer had already moved on. I almost wish he hadn’t told me: every time I’m near that side of the house I’m peering out like ol’ Mrs. Kravitz through her curtains on Bewitched. “Abner! Abner! He’s back!!!”

I don’t leave the house without my iPhone in case I see the little sweetie lying somewhere waiting for its mommy’s return. No sighting yet, but when I see him or her, I’ll share the baby I call “Fawnzie” with you.

Yesterday I did observe a couple of more mature deer practising social distancing on the grass below our windows. Sure, they may have ticks, but these beauties aren’t going to catch COVID-19 from each other!

So, on that note, I’ll sign off for today. Tomorrow I have for you Vendredi Video (again, maybe I’m stretching a bit with that!). It gave me goosebumps. Beautiful and Canadian, to boot!

Have a gentle Thursday and we’ll chat soon.

Just a thought… What we see depends mainly on what we look for. [John Lubbock]

Hello! And off the top, if you missed yesterday’s journal because you usually come here through the link I post daily on my Facebook page, you can find it here. Don’t miss the eagle cameo at the end. I missed one little click while posting in advance to FB and so the post didn’t show up. I think you’ll find it thought-provoking as many did. I may do a follow-up on your perspectives in days to come.

But today, I would like to give someone else’s thoughts a spotlight. I saw this the other day and in light of news Tuesday of Ontario cancelling public school classes for the remainder of this screwy school year, I wanted to share it. It was written by Jaime Ragsdale on a website called altogethermostly.com. A different way to turn the prism and see new light.

What if instead of falling “behind” this group of kids is advanced because of this? Let’s talk about helping our kids during social distancing.

Hear me out.

What if they have more empathy, they enjoy family connection, they can be more creative and entertain themselves, they love to read, they love to express themselves in writing.

What if they enjoy the simple things, like their own garden and sitting near a window in the quiet. What if they notice the birds and the dates the different flowers emerge, and the calming renewal of a gentle rain shower?

What if this generation is the ones to learn to cook, organize their space, do their laundry, and keep a well-run home?

What if they learn to stretch a dollar and to live with less? What if they learn to plan shopping trips and meals at home.

What if they learn the difference between want and need?

What if they learn the value of eating together as a family and finding the good to share in the small delights of the everyday?

What if they are the ones to place great value on our teachers and educational professionals, librarians, public servants and the previously invisible essential support workers like truck drivers, grocers, cashiers, custodians, logistics, and health care workers and their supporting staff, just to name a few of the millions taking care of us right now while we are sheltered in place?

What if among these children, a great leader emerges who had the benefit of a slower pace and a simpler life. What if he or she truly learn what really matters in this life? Let’s talk about helping our kids during social distancing

What if they are ahead?

Thank you for coming by and sharing in these daily “chats” we’re having. I’ve a lovely performance for you here on Friday (Video Vendredi – is that too much of a stretch?). Let’s just get through one day at a time and I’ll be back with you tomorrow! ￰

Just a thought… Right now it feels as though we have no present…. We have a past and we have a future and right now we’re in some sort of transit lounge and there isn’t any connection between the past and the future. [Arundhati Roy]

Welcome in.

On 60 Minutes Sunday, we watched an interview with a writer from Delhi, India. Her name is Arundhati Roy and she has written about COVID-19 for the Financial Times.

What she said resonated with me so clearly that I stopped writing my journal about Jenn Casey, and asked Rob to pause the PVR so that we could take it in. She compared where we all are now in this COVID-19 limbo to being in a transit lounge. And I thought how perfect that was.

Here’s how I construed her remarks: our flight has arrived and we’re in a hub – say, Calgary or Frankfurt. We’ve landed and we’re waiting, but the departure board is flickering; we don’t know when or where the next flight is leaving. And so we find a nice corner, plug in our devices and get a coffee to wait this out.

At first, the experience of being in a strange place with just our few fellow travellers is a little exciting. It’s novel to have access to all of the snacks, the WiFi, the magazines and the freedom to do nothing at all while we wait. How often do we get an opportunity such as this?

One hour turns to another. The chairs that were once comfortable, we start to notice, have tears and crumbs in them and don’t feel as welcoming as they once were. Our travel mates are starting to wear on us a little and could use a change of wardrobe. (I’ve no doubt they’re thinking the same of me.)

We start to fantasize about where the next plane is going to take us. At first, we imagine faraway attractions: the gleaming Taj Mahal perhaps, or the winding well-trodden streets of glorious Venice. Reaching into a pocket, we reassuringly pat our passports. Soon, my friend, soon, we think.

Then, as one day blends into another, you realize your sleep was restless and your waking hours are spent pacing the lounge. Has the carpet always been this worn? As we grasp at hopes that are starting to fade, our thoughts turn, not to exotic destinations, but to more familiar ones: perhaps the comfort of the world that we called our lives. The routines and the things we took for granted and yearned to escape as we anticipated adventures worth writing about and experiences that were new. Our existence as it once was is beginning to become a little hazy and we question why we ever took it for granted.

Finally, as we realize the Departures board was unplugged long ago, the days turn into weeks, then months. Will we ever get out of here? We’ve run out of questions to ask and know we would be told “we’ll make an announcement if there are any new developments.”

We’re surrounded in this desolate travel lounge by the same familiar faces day after day after day and, although they belong to people dear to us, our thoughts turn to other people whose hands we want to hold, with whom we long to share a meal. The friends and family whose arms around us make us feel at home because they hold a piece of our hearts – that part of the beating jigsaw puzzle that makes our hearts whole again.

Enough! Some travelers are pounding at the doors, demanding that anyone pull up a plane to take them away, so they can have the vacations they paid for. Get to the adventures they crave. Return to the jobs that are feeding their families.

Outside the lounge, a few shuttles are pulling up, their doors open, but the impatient drivers won’t tell anyone where they’re going and what price we must pay. “Come with us!” they shout. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. There are no roads, but we know the way. And it’s your right to be where you want and live how you want!”

A murmur arises among those of us who have tried to be patient. Do we go with them and take our chances, believing that this was all for nothing, or do we wait in these uncomfortable chairs for word that we’ll be traveling safely together some time in the future? What if the people in charge are wrong and the rogue drivers, ready to take the angriest and most anxious of our fellow passengers away, are right?

We back away from the mob fighting to get through the doors marked EXIT and return to our seats in the transit lounge.

We will wait because that’s what we’re being told to do and we’re trusting those who care for our well-being to send us to the right departure gate when it’s safe for us to go. Does that make us less courageous or perhaps wiser than those who are jamming the exits?

Time will tell. And it seems that’s all we have now – time.

I’ll be back with you here tomorrow. And in the meantime, as I wrote this today (and thanks for sharing this standstill journey with me) I was distracted by this sight outside, above our deck, so I shot a short video. Enjoy. Take a little of his spirit with you today.

Just a thought… There are memories that time does not erase. Forever does not make loss forgettable, only bearable. [Cassandra Clare]

She was one of us.

A young woman named Jennifer Casey died yesterday: a Halifax native who was part of a team of nine Canadian Forces Snowbirds, bringing hope and smiles to a nation in need of a reason to look up – literally.

A year not even halfway through has been rife with tragedy. From the crash of a plane in Tehran in January that claimed the lives of dozens of Canadians and others who had ties to our country, to a horrific, violent swath cut by a madman who took 22 lives in Nova Scotia; it’s been hard for us all to catch our collective breath.

Even taking that much-needed breath has been challenging: a mysterious and deadly virus hit the world and paralyzed our own country, causing some 5800 deaths here in Canada and infecting tens of thousands of others.

Just last month, our Canadian Armed Forces suffered the loss of six of their members, when a helicopter crashed off the coast of Greece. We paid our respects at a distance; people were asked not to line the Highway of Heroes from Trenton to Toronto – a tradition to honour our country’s fallen servicemen and women – so as not to gather during a pandemic.

And then, yesterday’s tragedy. The CF Snowbirds lost a team member. And so much more.

She was one of us.

Taking off from Kamloops in BC’s beautiful but cloud-laden interior yesterday, Jenn and the rest of the team were coming over to Vancouver Island’s YQQ – CFB Comox – to reposition. Like countless Canadians, many of whose feeds I watched with glee to read of the Snowbirds’ passing over the GTA on Mother’s Day, Rob and I were excited at the prospect of watching our red and white team perhaps mark Victoria Day weekend near Victoria!

I had hoped that our view of the city’s airport would afford us some good shots to share with you as we, too, were uplifted and thrilled at the thought of watching these small Tutor jets as they roared over our island. And then the news.

We held our breath, waiting to hear if all had indeed ejected safely; we saw video footage that clearly showed someone getting out as the jet nose-dived towards a neighbourhood in Kamloops.

Thoughts ran through my mind all day; the footage I saw was all too eerily reminiscent of the Snowbird crash that was seared into my brain from childhood when I saw one go down at CFB Trenton. My dad, an Armed Forces pilot at the time, tried to turn us away as he saw what was happening: a crash that resulted in the death of Capt. Lloyd Waterer, aged 24.

We never talked about it as a family over a quiet dinner that night. The sick, sad feelings that we all shared I now realize were overshadowed by the fear that I’m sure my mom must have experienced. There, but for the Grace of God….

Yesterday, the pilot, as it turns out, did eject safely, and according to @CFSnowbirds, did not suffer life-threatening injuries. But Jennifer Casey was not as fortunate.

Although details – some true, some blurry – have come in, I know you’ll have been updated on what happened (as much as we know) by the time you read this.

The sadness of hearing of the fatal crash yesterday was compounded as we learned that Jenn was a former journalist, a one-time member of my Rogers radio family. (Jenn also worked in Belleville, where I got my start. Radio is a small world, and one that is feeling much sadness today, too, I can guarantee you.) She was one of us.

That picture reminds me of the last shot taken of our daughter before her maternity leave; she would not return to broadcasting. Jenn, who had a degree in journalism, had joined the Armed Forces in 2014 and become public affairs officer for our aerobatics team. Having had a chance to fly with the Snowbirds back in the early 90s, I’d have leapt at an opportunity to do their PR. 

photo courtesy Kelowna Capital News

My heart aches for her family, for her colleagues in military and civilian life, and I join your hands in support for them, along with all of us who found or sought the joy that Operation Inspiration was meant to spark.

We grieve for those in Halifax and its surrounding areas who have already suffered so severely this year, and lost another of their own brave women, 23 year-old Abbigail Cowbrough, in the crash of that Canadian Forces helicopter off Greece.

When we ask how much sadness one province – one country – can take, we are coming to fear the answer these days because the tragedies keep mounting. Even a cross-country display of hope and optimism in the form of nine little jets has been hit with disaster.

202o has brought so much sadness and devastation that stopping to take it all in is a heavy task. And yet we must. Rest in Peace, Captain Jennifer Casey. You had the guts to follow your dreams and I hope you knew through your gifts you helped make Canada a happier place, at a time we needed it most.

She was one of us.

Just a thought… Life has its ups and downs, and time has to be your partner. Really time is your soul mate. [Bob Dylan]

Well hello, Friday. This has been a week. If the tone of my journals has been a little less than cheery, I thank for you putting up with me. Like so many of us, I’m feeling the daily ups and downs – sometimes in the same day, several times over – as we wait, watch, wonder and worry.

Of course, the days of Sunday and Monday were especially cruel, and I had put my hopes in a big sign from Lauren. You see, I heard from a NYC agency on Friday that I’d been chosen (just by sending an audition for another product – I didn’t even get the option to read their script) for a big national job.

The product was milk, a word that Lauren would say in a funny voice to Colin. The agent was Brooke. This had to be, right? They even asked what days I was available for a directed session over the phone. So yes, all signs pointed to good things. A real morale booster and something to look forward to.

Until…Monday. That’s when I wrote to the person who’d first contacted me and I asked if I should still be reserving some time for the next day and they gave me the phrase every performer dreads: “The client has decided to go in another direction.” I won’t lie – I cried, which isn’t typical of me.

I cried tears of disappointment, but mostly anger at myself for believing and for setting my sights on something. It’s hard to get your hopes up for anything these days as cancellation upon cancellation clears your calendar, but I had gone ahead and crossed my fingers. I even excitedly told a friend about it. She understands this business better than anyone, and she knew how disappointing it was. She’s been there.

Instead of wallowing (a word I hate), I guess for a little bit I was channeling those feelings into something akin to anger. Frustration. Fed up-edness.

None of this is important in the big picture when so many people are battling for their lives or helping to fight to keep others alive. I try not to let images of a full bar of unmasked partiers in Wisconsin on a Wednesday night get me down, as people just throw any caution to the wind so they can get together; I remember the Serenity Prayer and the wisdom in knowing what I can affect, what I can change, what I can’t.

But I can change my attitude. I can find the joy in a daily dog walk among lilac blossoms that I check for bees, then bury my face in to inhale their sweetness. I can seek the company of a wonderful group of women via Zoom, whose book club meeting I invited myself to (since they were discussing my Mourning Has Broken) and rejoice in the laughter, the frank and open discussion and the connection that we have all been missing so very much lo these past two months. Thanks, Sue, and everyone who made me feel so welcome!

(And I am totally up to doing these for your group, too – just email me. I’ll check my, er, schedule…yep. Wide open.)

I can be grateful for a full fridge, friends in my inbox and texts, an elective but necessary girl-stuff surgery that’s been rescheduled for June 11, just three weeks after it was initially slated, and for the knowledge that my family here in BC and in Ottawa are safe.

And I can also let my heart leap with happiness at being able to watch via FaceTime as our sweet Colin said good-bye to his first baby tooth.

Brooke let us be a part of that and Colin was brave – no tears – and wonderful. He is such a good kid. He’s understandably rambunctious these days, itching to get out and play and burn off some of that energy. But he’s also knee-deep in Toy Story and we’re loving watching that from afar, from donning his Woody cowboy hat to flying his Buzz Lightyear that Grama and Grandad Banana (us) sent him this week.

There’s so much to focus on when we can see through the clouds. As Oprah said in a clip I shared on Twitter this week to a graduating student, she loves flying because as the plane takes off through the clouds, in just moments, you see the blue skies above them – the sky that was always there.

Don’t forget that tomorrow at 8 pm ET all major US networks are airing President Barack Obama’s new graduation address to those whose ceremonies have been cancelled or postponed by COVID-19. I know I’ll be watching. And feeling terribly wistful. And yet…optimistic. There are actually three speeches being delivered (and with special guests). Details are below. Check your local listings for tomorrow’s broadcast, if that interests you.

Sometimes we forget that above the gloom there is sunshine. It’s always there in our days, even if we can’t see it. And that life is good.

We can do this.

I’ll be back with you Victoria Day Monday. I’m going to keep posting on Facebook on Saturdays and Sundays, but I’m cutting back from 7-days-a-week journals if that’s okay with you, as life returns, just the slightest bit, to normal. I hope you’ll understand.