Erin's Journals

Just a thought… The secret of change is to focus all of your energy not on fighting the old, but on building the new. [Dan Millman]

HELLO!!!! So, have we settled on just what we are calling this year? 20-20? Two-thousand-and-twenty? Two-thousand-twenty? I hope that there’s some kind of consensus; I’m tired of recording two or three different versions of a year when I do auditions. “In two-thousand-and-ten…in twenty-ten…” and on and on. An informal Twitter poll I posted showed nearly 100% of us are saying 20-20. So there we go!

OK – confession: I wish I hadn’t put off writing a new journal until the 6th; I figured many people wouldn’t be back in their routine until today if the school board schedules (by which we used to time our radio vacations) are any indication. I have a lot to tell you.

Some of you know from FB and other social platforms that Mourning Has Broken (which comes out next month in soft cover) ended 2019 on some Top Ten lists: #9 on the Toronto Star for Non-Fiction Canadian, #10 in the Globe and Mail; #20 for international authors, non-fiction in The Star.

Rob and I had a joyful morning (on my late, feisty grandmother’s 111th birthday Dec. 28) as the lists were sent our way by readers – thank you all. And the news couldn’t have come at a better time.

My dear friend and radio partner Mike Cooper left the day before the lists came out. The silence in the house was, as the saying goes, deafening. Molly kept trotting around, checking to see where the man with the big voice was. The heaviness of that quiet, the lonely realization that it was back to our “normal” after several boisterous days together, hit hard.

We enjoyed a road trip, a Christmas turkey dinner, a night out together (seen above) and enough moments to hold onto for the months between now and our next visit, likely in May when I return to Toronto for two events.

On December 30th I marked my 6 month “birthday” as they call it in 12-step groups. Yes, I made it to 10 years the first time around, but every milestone is a big one. So yay. More cranberry and soda, please. I posted this on Twitter:

There were literally hundreds of messages and a few dozen extremely personal and touching emails from people wanting to know more. Of course, I answered as best I could, deeply honoured to have been taken into people’s confidence and hearts.

There were two people on Twitter who objected to me using an F-word, even with dashes, to express myself. (One said I was obviously not a nice person. Such a gift he has, being able to sum up another person so succinctly through just one tweet!) I responded this way:

And the tweets that followed were nothing short of hilarious, almost all dipping into their colourful vocabularies as well. Ah, Twitter.

Out of those two tweets came an interview with the National Post. An intern named Merna got in touch on NYE day and asked for a chat. Of course, I obliged, and the result is here.

I did reach out later and offer Merna one correction on the initial print article: I was off work, not for a year, but a month. However, there’s one word that made it into the story that I wish I could change: “advice.” I am in no way giving advice to people who reach out to me; just support. I’m not in a position to offer anything except perspective and what is working for me.

My biggest message is to talk to someone – anyone, even if it’s online – if you think that your drinking is not something you can control any more. (Is that advice?) I cringe to think that my fellow 12-steppers and the folks who have guided me to where I am today think that I, of all people, am giving advice. So please know that’s not the case.

I haven’t gotten a “how dare you?” email yet (and have resisted reading comments on the Post website, as that’s nothing but a cesspool, if past experience with that section of the paper has taught me anything) but with that one word, advice, I would not be surprised at all to get one. I guess I’ve been lucky.

But honestly, there are a great many more things to be concerned about today than one little word that may be misconstrued: the devastation in Australia, the insanity coming out from a grievous gargoyle on a golf cart in Florida. But I’ll keep trying to remember to accept the things I cannot change, and to try to make a difference in the ways that I can – however small.

Have a gentle “first day back” and I’ll be with you on the usual social media platforms, plus here with you Thursday. And I wish all of us a peaceful 2020.

Just a thought… Like snowflakes, my Christmas memories gather and dance – each beautiful, unique and too soon gone. [Deborah Whipp]

Ah, here we are, Christmas Eve EVE.

This is a time so blessed and cursed with memories and feelings that I like to go back to the happiest times. Of course, those are the days and nights around Christmas that are all about a little girl, her short, sweet lists (“a kitar – guitar, that is – and a flashlight”) and the craziness of opening presents for hours on that most special morning of the year. 

This year, as every year has been since 2015, things are much different. There’s no tree, no lights – just a few candles that we would likely light anyway.

We have with us our friend Mike Cooper who is in a similar space of stillness and memories, and that’s just fine with us. We’ll laugh together. There will be quiet. Some tears. And then, because our friendship always buoys our heavy hearts and brings us back to the surface, more laughter.

This is a time of quietly and frequently travelling back to the Christmases when we were children, when the memories of breathless excitement of surprises and delights are etched on our hearts, in our minds. Of the family. The food. The music (and we always had so much in our family of performers) and the warmth.

The laughing and the fighting, the torn wrapping paper stuffed into garbage bags. Full glasses, empty glasses, Pillsbury Grands (which we’ll have this year with Mike in our home Christmas morning) and green paper-wrapped oranges. Stockings. Santa!

The trees – which went from artificial to, in our final two years with them, real and glorious. The tree to end them all, as this was, from 2014.

And then, there were the cards. Some came from afar, some from co-workers and even from our daughter: the ones that we’ve tucked away, the ones we wish we had.

And so I wrap up this Christmas season with not a bow, but a card: this is a poem that my co-worker and friend Jay Kennedy passed along to me years ago. I would share it on our “Christmas Eve at Erin’s” show and I’m so glad to have found it to bring this poem to you once again.

I do so with love. I wish you a heart filled with only the best memories. Put the others aside for another day and wrap yourself in what keeps you warm: love. Family. Comfort. Joy. And always, gratitude – as I have for you every day that we share here.

I wish you a Merry Christmas, a peaceful Holiday Season, a Happy Hanukkah and, again, only the best memories. I’ll be back with you with a new journal on Monday, January 6 (but definitely on Facebook just about daily – so join me there, click ‘thumbs up’ and I’ll invite you to join the page).

One more picture before I sign off from this extraordinary year: here I am with Dad (now 86), Molly (now 15) Colin (now 5) and Lauren (forever 24). 

Christmas Cards

I have a list of folks I know, all written in a book 

And every year when Christmas comes, I go and take a look. 

And that is when I realize, these names are all a part 

Not of the book they’re written in, but simply of my heart. 

For each name stands for SOMEONE, 

who has crossed my path some time 

And in that meeting they’ve become the rhythm of my rhyme. 

And while it sounds fantastic for me to make this claim 

I really feel that I’m composed of each remembered name. 

And while you may not be aware of any special link 

Just meeting you has changed my life, a lot more than you think. 

For once I’ve met somebody, that the years cannot erase 

The memory of a pleasant word or a friendly face. 

So never think my Christmas cards are just a mere routine 

Of names upon a Christmas list, forgotten in between. 

For when I send a Christmas card that is addressed to you 

It’s cuz you’re on a list of folks I’m indebted to. 

For I am but the total of the many I have met 

And you happen to be one I prefer not to forget. 

And whether I have known you, for many days or few 

In some way you have had a part in shaping things I do. 

And every year when Christmas comes, I realize anew, 

The best gifts life can offer, is meeting folks like you. 

And may the spirit of Christmas, as long as it endures 

Leave its richest blessing in the hearts of you and yours. 

Just a thought… At the end of the day people won’t remember what you said or did, they’ll remember how you made them feel. [Maya Angelou]

I don’t know if anyone counts down to Boxing Day (or as they call it here in the US, Thursday, LOL) but here it is, just one week away. As push comes down to shove and the Christmas crunch gets even crunchier, you may be struggling for ideas. (I have a little gift for you when you get to the bottom today – a memory of Mike & Me and a politically incorrect and only vaguely musical version of “Baby It’s Cold Outside” – so, um, you’re welcome? LOL)

Last year, you may recall that I did a “Friday Favourites” thing here, in which I listed a few ideas about things that made my life a little better. By the way, I still love my weighted blanket, although I think I might have gone too heavy in my choice. I’m seeing them in stores everywhere now and they come in a wider variety of weights than when I first saw them. But overall, I am glad I got it; saves piling one or two bathrobes on top of me at night (or hotel towels if we’re out of town).

If you haven’t got a good coffee maker, get one; life’s too short and mornings can be too difficult to face them by drinking weak, insipid coffee. And you don’t have to buy the really expensive makers or beans. Considering ourselves coffee connoisseurs of sorts, we love our Kirkland coffee, both regular and decaf, which we combine and grind. For what that’s worth – and to me, that’s a lot – those are a few little tips to add a bit of “aaaaaaah” to your holidays (and well beyond).

Maybe you’re looking for a gift for that person who’s hard to buy for. I’ve been accused of this by people close to me for years, but here’s the thing: I cherish anything that has come from the heart. My sister gave me some of her kitchen items when she cleared house a year ago and every single time I use one of them, whether it’s a measuring cup, a coffee mug, a candy dish or a candle, I think of her.

I don’t know if that makes me a sentimental twit, but I am always grateful for the warm association that comes with a gift – or even a hand-me-down. It’s the emotional link with the item – whether it’s my Gram’s precious paper-thin Belleek tea cup or my late mom’s super sharp paring knife (which I may or may not have pilfered from my dad’s cutlery drawer before he changed residences) – that truly matters.

So for that hard-to-buy-for person, the experience can make all the difference. Whether it’s the feeling he or she gets when they look at what you gave them, or the actual gift of an experience.

This year on my birthday, I received gift certificates for a float spa near here. You’ve seen me write about these before; almost every city has at least one. You go into a sensory deprivation state in a tub, closed or not, that has tonnes of Epsom salts to make you simply float at your body’s 98.6F degrees. It’s an hour of peace, tranquility and time to think – or not – just to be. Maybe you want to look into that – or run in the opposite direction as some say they would – but it’s just an idea.

My struggle this year (as always) is that Rob and I are intrinsically linked in our financial dealings, so that he can easily see what’s been purchased lately on VISA. We have a “don’t look!” rule for the rest of this month, so as to preserve a surprise or two.

And if you’re thinking of getting one of those devices like Google Home or Alexa or any of the others, I’ll tell you that I’m a big fan. We have one bigger unit (about 5 inches tall) and a small one about the size of a tuna can, so there’s music in whatever room we want (even though we have speakers wired into the ceiling that we don’t use), we get the time, the tunes, the weather, the answers to obscure TV personality questions – all right there. No, we’re not worried about anyone listening in on our mundane lives; I figure that Big Bro is there almost 24/7 so I’m not particularly concerned.

But here’s the one thing that DOES bug me about Google Home. Clearly 75% of the conversation in our house consists of Rob yelling from another room, “What?” and me responding, “I was talking to Google!” Honestly, it’s a real thing. But on the other hand, if he’s near one of our two devices, I can say, “Okay Google, broadcast…” and then talk to him through the device. Again, half the time he doesn’t hear what the speaker said, has to walk to wherever I am and ask me to repeat myself – but it sure does work (in theory)!

The best gift of all, in any life, isn’t your presents, it’s your presence. And the memories that each one comes with. I have a bottle of Silly Cow hot chocolate mix, bought at Winners, from Lauren’s last Christmas with us. Unopened, it was a gift from her that will always stay in the cupboard, although maybe one day we’ll have a cup of that cocoa with Colin. I think she’d like that.

Have a great week and we’ll be with you again (with daily posts at my Facebook page, through Twitter @erindavis and on Instagram @erindawndavis if you’re so inclined). And thanks to everyone who’s clicked LIKE on my Facebook invitations. And if you have been invited and haven’t clicked LIKE yet, what are you waiting for? It guarantees you’ll get a daily dose of inspiration or humour as well as a link to Monday’s and Thursday’s Journals!

Now, here’s a link to my Audio Gallery, where you’ll find a recording of “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” that Mike and I did a few years ago. Enjoy!

Just a thought… There are times when fear is good. It must keep its watchful place at the heart’s controls. [Aeschylus]

Oh my. Three years ago today we boarded our Air Canada flight for BC – just Rob, Molly and me. A new life began…and here we are. I miss you. I miss radio. But I’m grateful for this connection here and for all of the interesting opportunities that have come our way in the past three years. Time crawls, time flies, time moves no matter how we spend it. I vow to spend it more mindfully in 2020.

I have a couple of very interesting pieces sent to me by journal readers and former listeners. One has to do with a beautiful gesture of thanks, the other in response to last Thursday’s phone scam blog. I got a lot of emails and Facebook posts on that one, so this seems like a topic on which we could all use a little more enlightenment. Please take a few minutes to read and share this. Gilda writes:

Hi Erin. As you wrote in your most recent post, crank calls trying to convince you that they’re coming from a legitimate source are a growing nuisance, and increasingly sinister.

Earlier this week, my husband and I listened to a call-in show on CBC (Ontario Today) which discussed this very topic. The host, Rita Celli, had a security expert as her guest, and invited people to call in with their experiences. As you can imagine, there were some horror stories from people who were duped out of money and/or precious identifying information. These were not just confused seniors who didn’t know any better – some were very computer-literate and knowledgeable people who are being targeted with increasingly sophisticated and convincing scams.

Some callers said that they enjoy “playing” with the scammer, joking around, trying to get them to admit they’re frauds. (One caller said that she asked him how he would feel if his mother knew that he’s doing something so evil, only to be met with a torrent of expletives and threats.) The security expert strongly advised against engaging the scammer in conversation. He pointed out that these scammers and their equipment are very sophisticated, and the longer you are on the phone with them, the greater likelihood that they are picking up clues that they can use against you, even though you may think you’re not giving them any useful information at all. His recommendation is to never pick up ANY call that looks the slightest bit suspicious. If you do pick up by mistake, hang up immediately. And never call back on a number that they provide – that’s a sure sign that the number is set up to sound legit, but it’s not.

In your original post, you said, “After a lengthy pause, there was a garbled message from “Service Canada …” The security expert mentioned this specific detail as a telltale sign that you’re about to be scammed. This is how it works. First, they use automated robocall technology to call virtually every phone number in existence. Then, when the technology detects a pickup, it transfers you to a real person who starts the scam process. That pause before you hear a voice is your first clue that you will be talking to a scammer. You’ve already confirmed that you exist – don’t make it worse by actually talking to him.

Unless you are actually expecting CRA, or the bank, or some other official  agency to call you on a matter that you know about, DO NOT PICK UP. These scammers have ways to make it look like they are legitimate, but the odds are highly likely that the phone number has been “spoofed” to make it look real. Even just the act of picking up the phone, or calling back on a number that they provide … even before you say your first word, you are giving them clues that they will use against you.

I now refuse to pick up any call, unless it shows up on my phone display with the name of a person or company on my Contact list. The odds are that any other call is from a scammer with very sophisticated software that masks his true identity, trying to separate me from my money, digital identity, or both. In the odd circumstance in which a non-identified caller is actually legitimately contacting me (for example, a new friend who has not yet been added to my Contact list, or a new medical office that is calling to set up an appointment at the request of my GP), I trust that they will leave a voice-mail message. At that point, I will add that name and number to my Contact list for future reference, so that an actual name will show up on my phone display the next time they call.

So when you said in your Journal that you plan to respond with your “most desperate ‘little old lady’ voice,” I was very worried about you. You are not likely to accomplish anything, and, without even knowing it, you will have just given them more ammunition to use against you. Please think twice, my dear friend, and be safe.

Thank you, Gilda – points well-made, well-taken and extremely well-explained. I hope everyone takes a moment to read this information.

And finally, to restore your faith in humanity today – the brightness to the darkness in the universe’s yin and yang – a note from Claire. This is so beautiful it almost brought me to tears.

I wanted to let you know that I received your  label for the book. Thank you with all my heart for taking the time to sign it, along with the lovely message.

As promised, I went to Tim Hortons and paid your kindness forward to a woman and her son who were in line ahead of me. I briefly explained why I did what I did, and lo and behold, she knew all about you from years of listening in to CHFI. It made my day (especially when the little boy said thank you to me for paying for his donut, lol)!

Sincere thanks, Erin.

Claire

Oh, you are SO welcome! You see, Claire and I met years ago outside a Tim Hortons, as Rob and I were making our way to Ottawa for a visit. We posed together for a picture and her loveliness made an indelible impression. So that’s why Claire chose to thank me for the label (as she did Lisa, too) with a Tim Hortons gesture. It was perfect – and just a beautiful way to honour the spirit of this season: giving, expecting nothing in return and feeling good right to the bottom of your cup – or heart.

Have a lovely day and I’ll be back with you here on Thursday. 

Just a thought… May the forces of evil become confused on the way to your house. [George Carlin] (and yes, I checked to make sure this really is one of his pearls of wisdom, unlike so many that make the rounds!)

My own “knives” were “out” when I got a suspicious phone call the other day and I’ll tell you about it in a moment. But first to the movies: if you’re looking for an update on the old reliable “whodunit” genre of film, complete with twists, turns, eye-popping scenery like, oh, Daniel Craig as the lead investigator, and a great cast, I recommend Knives Out.

In a nutshell, Christopher Plummer’s character, a hugely successful author, is found dead in his study in what appears to have been a suicide – or was it? Only one person knows for sure, or do they?

It is, as one writer smarter than I put it, “Agatha Christie for the Trump Age” and don’t take that in a bad way. The one-percenters are at each other’s jugulars for almost the entire time; who will get the estate?

It’s billed as a comedy, but the laughs are more wry than of the belly variety. Good adult fun with Star Wars: The Last Jedi director Rian Johnson at the helm, and Golden Globe noms to boot! (We won’t miss them January 5th, hosted for the 5th time by the wonderfully irreverent Ricky Gervais.)

Now, to the phone scam I mentioned here Monday. I’m sitting writing when I see a call coming in and it’s a number from Guelph.

In the split second it took me to think it over, I couldn’t rule out knowing this person, so I decided to answer. After a lengthy pause, there was a garbled message from “Service Canada” saying that my Social Insurance Number was being suspended for some reason. Okay, I thought, I’ll bite.

As the message implored, I hit the #1 on my keypad. After one short ring, someone in a busy call office filled with voices and noise in the background answered, “Service Canada….”

I said, “Hello, what is Service Canada?” After a moment, he asked me to repeat myself, so I did.

Then he responded haltingly, “You don’t know what Service Canada is?”

I answered, “No, and neither do you – you’re not even IN Canada, you lying a**hole!”

Well, that did it: he responded with a flurry of expletives that started with an “F-you!” and he got to “Mother Fu…” – before I hung up.

That felt good for about ten seconds. And then I thought, Uh oh – what if that really was Service Canada and that man had a thick accent because he’s new to this country? Did he swear at me for coming off as racist? Did I actually attack someone who is working for the Canadian Government?

Before I got into too much of a cold sweat, I looked up the phone number: 226-500-4649. There was nothing on the internet to suggest that it was suspicious. Oh jeez. What had I done?

I called the number and – surprise, surprise – a recording told me that it was not in service. So that answered that for me: my suspicions were correct.

Next time (although Rob urges me not to get into it with these people out of fear of harassment – even though I block the number immediately) I am going to put on my most desperate “little old lady” voice and plead out of fear for them to help me and not to suspend my number – or whatever it is these nefarious boneheads are threatening to do.

If I’m lucky, Rob’s phone will be nearby and I can record the entire exchange. And I promise to share it with you, but you may not like some of my language, as you can probably already tell!

And now, if I can have a little privacy, I shall remove my fightin’ pants. They do feel good, though…almost as good as my jammies. Have a great weekend and I’ll be back with you on Monday.