Erin's Journals

Just a thought… Inspiration comes during work, not before it. [Madeleine L’Engle]

It’s funny how 24 hours can pass so slowly – or so quickly – depending on so much that goes outside of us, and within us. We mark our day with meals or the smallest of rituals that help us hold on to a semblance of normalcy. For some, that means sharing time here, and I’m grateful. It’s from you that I get my inspiration.

This connection here means more than my words can express, but I think I’ve tried often enough. So we’ll keep this 7-day-a-week journal going for as long as we need to. I pepper them with videos and light moments, and cherish the thought that we’re spending some time together, just you and I. And say a silent prayer each day that everyone we love stays safe.

Here in BC, we’ve been given an extraordinary gift in the person of one Dr. Bonnie Henry, who has been on this virus since January as our Provincial Health Officer.

A recent article about her told some of Dr. Henry’s backstory: former navy, she’s worked with the WHO on polio eradication and her history includes working in Uganda on an Ebola outbreak. Nearly two decades ago, she worked in Ontario where, after SARS, she talked with every family that had lost a member and knew the impact it had had on them. Imagine that.

Her BC Health predecessor calls her an “example of grace under pressure – of honesty, straight-forwardness, empathy and communication.” He goes on to say that he doesn’t think he’d have done the job as well as she’s doing. It is that care and expertise that she brings with her to shepherd us through these times. There’s even been a sweet ballad written in her honour. Thank you, Dr. Henry!

Even the shoe designer John Fluevog has saluted the good – no, great – doctor. If you’re not familiar with Fluevogs (which I was not until my friend Lisa Brandt expressed her great love for these unusual, Canadian-designed shoes) they’re unique designs that are like pieces of art on your feet and in your closet. I don’t have a pair, but Dr. Henry is a fan. And in her honour, Mr. Fluevog has done this.

I’m hoping that when all of this is over, Dr. Henry receives honours in the form of the Order of Canada and whatever laurels a grateful country and province can send her way. We bow at her feet, no matter what she has on them.

Here at home, my own designer, Rob, has been busy. Remember those extra pillowcases I was sent a year ago by Wayfair, by accident? (I’d ordered a few pair and got a few dozen instead.) The ones that we didn’t give away have been put to further good use: masks.

So proud was I of Rob’s handiwork that I sent the picture of his finished product to my friend Lori, a friend since our elementary school days in Trenton and Belleville, Ontario, who is now an Infection Control Practitioner in the Quinte region. See if you can spot what’s wrong with this picture. And “your roots are dark” is not an answer!

It doesn’t have a nose pinch! For a professional, this mask did not pass the smell (or breath) test. She suggested that, for some who are making their own masks, a plastic-coated twist tie (to prevent rust) is a good nose pincher, while I suppose if you had a nose clip for swimming, that would be super handy too!

Lori sent me an approved pattern of hers and if you’d like, I can forward it to you via email (erin@erindavis.com). But here are a few pics of some very well-made masks that Lori shared with me. They were made by a friend of hers named Bettina.

I understand from emails I received in response to yesterday’s journal and on FB that lots of individuals and groups have put their sewing machines to work for the cause. It’s still incredible that we are doing this now, but here we are. Might as well do it in style!

Have a gentle Friday and if this day ushers in a weekend off work for you, congratulations. YOU are appreciated and loved, and I can only hope you know that. Thank you for what you’re doing to keep us safe; the very least we can do is return the favour by caring enough not to spread this virus.

I’ll be back with you tomorrow.

Just a thought… One of the hardest things in life is letting go of what you thought was real. [attributed to numerous sources]

An update on Miss Molly: turns out, like most of us, she was just bored. I can’t blame her; she’s on a diet for her kidneys and she’s tired of the food. So we shook things up with a bit of egg and some rice, and she devoured it. So on we go…with a question.

What is the mask rule, anyway? (Don’t answer; it’s rhetorical.)

Before Rob went to the grocery store on Sunday, we scoured the house and garage for anything that even resembled a mask and came up empty. Instead, I gave him a linen scarf (a nice dark one, not flowery or anything) and asked him to be sure to wear it, up under his glasses and over his ears covering his cheeks and chin. He promised he would.

He didn’t.

Why? Because when he got into the grocery store, no one was wearing a mask or a scarf. Not a shopper, not a staffer, no one. So he felt really stupid, like he was “overreacting” by putting on a scarf and looking like a bandit.

I can’t blame him; avoiding being embarrassed is a strong motivator for me. And I can hear you yelling, “Getting a deadly virus is worse than being embarrassed!” so, yeah. You’re right. It’s a ridiculous response to a surreal situation and I don’t know why we’re so armed when we leave the house and then when we look around we go, “Huh. Maybe we’re over reacting….”

Well, it is that bad. And lackadaisical attitudes like that will get us – or others – sick. So, as of today: masks. No exceptions. We’re just going to wear them.

There’s this bizarre disconnect between what we read and know, and what we do. Call it cognitive dissonance if you like: the reason we do things even though we know they’re bad for us. (I’m kind of a queen of that.) However, we got this message from the neighborhood (yes, without a “u” in this case) association in Palm Springs.

That’s how serious California is; every place seems to have different rules, but trust Palm Springs to make their posters super artsy!

Speaking of masks, here’s something you’ll want to see. I happened to catch this on the Late Show with Stephen Colbert this week, and I wanted to share it with you. The lovely Matthew McConaughey shot a video to illustrate how to make a simple DIY mask. And although we don’t have bandanas, we do have any number of pieces of material left over from Rob’s sewing projects. So yes, we’re making masks.

Stay safe, stay sane and watch this video. It’s cool and helpful. And you’re going to want to share it with your loved ones…but tomorrow I’ll have pics of the ones Rob has made, plus some solid tips from a nurse pal of mine whose job it has been to supervise mask making and wearing, on what we need to do to make this more efficient. Talk to you then.

Just a thought…

Happiness is pretty simple:

Someone to Love.

Something to Do.

Something to Look Forward To.

[Rita Mae Brown]

These words have always resonated with me, and they still do. But I think part of the challenge that so many of us are feeling is that we’re having to visualize these things differently than we ever have before.

Someone to Love – that’s a big one. As we know, there are many of us who are not with the people we love, but for some it’s the gift of a furry family member; an animal that depends on us for sustenance in almost every way, something even a cat would grudgingly agree on!

Our Molly is not herself these days: she’s not eating, her walks are sluggish and she gets up and off the bed several times a night, which, of course, awakens us with concern. She’s having tummy troubles that are making themselves seen when she sits by the door to go outside far more frequently than usual. And we’re adjusting her diet to try to make things better.

For those we love who aren’t with us, we reach out, we click on our cameras, we even send cards, like this one I got from Cece in Ontario yesterday.

We were able to send an Edible Arrangement to our Ottawa family for Easter; they gave us the gift of video time. We’re all managing as best we can.

And for yet others, the someone they love is their god. I send special good wishes to our Sikh community, celebrating their holiest day of the year (Vaisakhi) this week, too. As we’ve all seen, we don’t have to have physical contact to feel that love and the strength that can come from faith. Even if it’s just in each other.

Something to Do For most of us, we are called upon to do the very least we can do, and that is nothing. It means staying in. Following rules. Doing our part by staying put. Small pockets of COVIDiots are forming and rising against government edicts.

The messages are mixed and many are wrong; we need to listen to the science and the experts. Not politicians or their entitled, nepotism-riddled spawn. Not internet activists tired of being told what to do by “the man.” Not people too stupid to vaccinate their children, who think that their kids should be able to play with each other. Listen. To. The. Experts.

Yes, the Something to Do is challenging, unless that “something” is evening snacking. Thank goodness my two bags of peanut M&Ms are gone. Well, not entirely gone: I’m up two pounds. I’m managing about 6000 steps a day and Rob and I talked about going for a bike ride to shake things up (quite literally) but I’m afraid that is not following the rules.

I just want to do what’s best for everyone. We’re not going out, except for Molly’s necessary walks, period. Overly cautious? Maybe. Or perhaps in a time of a deadly pandemic there is no such thing.

And finally, Something to Look Forward To.

Believe it or not – and maybe you can relate – I’m finding this to be the hardest part of all. How lucky we are not to have a big event like a wedding planned. Yes, there’s our reunion cruise in October, which may or may not be going ahead; everyone is keeping their perspective in check and we’re just watching and waiting.

I get emails like the one from Viola who has a new grandson this week that she can’t wait to hold and from Gilda whose son married last month in a socially-distanced ceremony. These stories abound: the disruptions, the cancelled plans, the disappointment. None compares to planning a funeral and that’s what we’re all trying to avoid. As someone said, “Take your pick: six feet apart or six feet under.” Sometimes these simple, harsh sayings make the point best.

Or you could be this guy, Mr. Noodle (a named I borrowed from a favourite visitor to Elmo’s World). Yeah. Don’t be that guy.

We’ve always managed, Rob and I, to keep up spirits up by staying busy and making plans. Rarely is there a month that doesn’t include some kind of visit to an airport; our calendar is always filled with things to take us out of ourselves. But here we are. Here we all are. The thing we’ll look forward to, without attaching a date or making a reservation (not for dinner, not for a flight and not even for a haircut) is some kind of brighter future.

“I live in the world that I have, not the world that I want,” Dr. Jonathan Reiner said on CNN yesterday. And that’s about the wisest thing I heard all day.

Have a gentle Wednesday and we’ll be back with you tomorrow. Thanks for being what I look forward to these days.

Just a thought… I’d rather be honest than impressive. [Author Unknown]

Well, Dad’s lockdown in Kelowna just got more serious: he tells me now that if he goes out anywhere – including to the drug store to get supplies for his lady friend – he’s got to stay in his suite in his senior living complex for two weeks.

He was lamenting yesterday that it felt like some kind of maximum security ruling for everyone in Sandalwood, but he was half joking. And when he told me that on Easter Sunday they brought by some chocolates to everyone and a glass of “nice wine” as Dad put it, I said, “Yeah, sounds like you’re really doing hard time, Dad,” and he laughed.

As long as he’s laughing, he’s doing all right. Most of us are – including our 90-year-old fit and feisty friend Helen (who will cringe that I just included her age here). I talked to her yesterday and she’s missing hugs; she lives in her own Toronto-area apartment and is usually out at 5:30 am to join her friends in some good mall cardio. That’s walking, not shopping; she and I have differing ideas on that, I think!

But here’s a little slice of her life that I still chuckle about: every single week for over fifty years, Helen has gone to the hairdresser to get her hair washed and styled (and obviously sometimes cut, or her kids could just climb up her braid to get to her apartment). Not these days, though. Her daughter actually had to buy shampoo for her, and last week added hair spray to the shopping list.

I love Helen. She’s independent and proud, and now using some old curlers she had in her cupboard – I picture the grey metal and brush-spiky things my mom used to use in the 60s – and learning how to put ’em in. It’s so good to have a laugh with Helen when we chat, as we did yesterday when I was feeling blue and reached out hopefully to brighten two days at once.

Here’s Helen in happier and well-coiffed days at our place in Jackson’s Point. Molly isn’t missing a moment of the action.

There can be no doubt that by missing visiting with others, getting out to have some much-needed exercise that helps with balance and health, and just receiving that simple hug, the older ones among us (and I’ve been told in no uncertain terms that for Helen “elderly” is a four-letter word) are the ones who have more than their share at stake here.

As I say about grief, there’s no blue ribbon, no contest, in suffering. But my heart is with the older folks, many of whom are having trouble even comprehending why they’re not getting the visitors that they used to.

While Rob and I have each other, so many are alone right now – people of all ages. But I thought I’d link you to an uplifting radio story on cbc.ca about a Toronto man, Brian Corcoran, who actually took a part-time job in a seniors’ facility so that he could be with his mom. Imagine.

There are big stories that make it to the radio or TV or internet of the losses, the sacrifices, the hardships – financial, emotional, physical – and the suffering. But there are the little stories, too.

Some break your heart, some lift your heart. And that’s our life today. An unending tide that rolls in and rolls out again, carrying with it some moments (or as I felt yesterday, hours) of depression and others of hope and inspiration. In and out, over and over.

Please don’t write to remind me of the things for which I should be grateful. I see them and know them and am thankful every day. That’s not what I need. What I need is this here, right now. Some honest interaction that isn’t judged, and that certainly is not meant to put a damper on your day.

At the risk of repeating myself, I am just so grateful to you for being here. For having forged this connection, either recently or decades ago. For being a lifeline. We all need one these days. And we also need to give ourselves permission to put our necessary blessing-counting on hold and just feel lousy.

Luckily for me, I have a few people who are there when the ditch dips begin. And one of them even added an extra Facetime with a special little boy to raise our spirits. Sometimes just watching a kid cut circles out of his Play-Doh will do that.

All we can do is ride that tide and do our part to make sure these murky waters recede by being helpers, doing everything (even when that means nothing) and eventually healing ourselves, our communities and our country. And by keeping that lifeline – our connections – strong.

Because if you’re like me, the time you least feel like chatting is exactly when it can do the most good. Kind of like writing. So, thank you.

I’ll back with you tomorrow.

Just a thought… Hope. It’s like a drop of honey, a field of tulips blooming in the springtime. It’s a fresh rain, a whispered promise, a cloudless sky, the perfect punctuation mark at the end of a sentence. And it’s the only thing in the world keeping me afloat. [Tahereh Mafi]

Did you happen to catch the wonderful performance by Andrea Bocelli yesterday in an empty Il Duomo in Milan? (Spoiler alert: he finishes by going outside and singing “Amazing Grace.”)

I linked to it on my Facebook page if you’re looking for half an hour of inspiration, chills and just the most beautiful Easter gift. What a wonderful way to start our morning – that is, after our Facetime with a certain little boy and his family in Ottawa.

I almost wish I’d included this shorter Canadian video in yesterday’s renewal-themed Easter Sunday journal, but here we are. It’s Monday, and even though so many of us are not in the regular 9-5 (or in my case, the old 5-9) routine, we can all use a little boost.

This was sent to me by Elizabeth and it took me a few days to open it; I’ve found myself getting more emails than usual, as people just like me look for ways to connect outside the four walls of the place where they are self-isolating. (Which just serves to remind me of how lucky I am that you come here to share a few minutes with me.)

This video, according to cbc.ca, is from Voices Rock Medicine. It’s a choir made up of women physicians from the Greater Toronto Area who connected virtually to perform a goosebump-inducing version of the Rankin Family’s “We Rise Again.”

I think of these women, their families, the risks they take every day and the way they’re running into fires from which so many of us are fortunate enough to be able to shelter. The strength and the gifts that these women share with us here and every day are a reminder of the reasons we have to do as we’re asked and stay home, stay safe.

They describe it as a message of “gratitude and positivity during these challenging times.” Enjoy this. I know I did more than once, the second time with tears. Thank you ONE and ALL.