That’s how much time I have left as the host of Mainstreet on CBC Radio One.
My encounters at the Farmers’ Market are now solidly with faces that are twisted in a rictus of “I am so SAD you are leaving,” to which I have struggled to find a correct response. I have settled on “thank you for saying so,” which seems to not satisfy any of us involved in the conversation. I am not sad. But I get that you are. And I thank you for feeling so strongly about me and my work. But I will not be changing my mind about this, based on your sadness. So: thank you for saying so. It means a lot to me that my presence on your radio has meant something to you. But I trust the team that makes Mainstreet, and I know you’ll learn to love again. It might take a while, but you’ll get there. The show will still be the show, and the new host, whoever it may be, will bring strengths and talents that will carry you through.
As for me, I keep searching myself for any fear of the future, and it’s just not there. I feel relief. I feel happiness and excitement. I feel deep anticipation about the moment I take my hands off the wheel. I do not feel sad, I do not feel scared.
I am keeping a mental list of Things I Will Miss and Things I Will Not Miss. Guess which one is longer?
I am struggling, a little, with what I will say as the minutes wind down on Thursday, December 17. I will need every minute of the next week and a day to figure it out, I think. Thirteen years at CBC. Eight or nine at this show I have loved. Much, much longer than I imagined I could stay anywhere.
I am so used to asking questions on the air, and so not used to saying what I think and feel (all those who think I talk about myself incessantly, commence rolling your eyes here. Then, do the math on a three-hour show that features at least eight different stories a day, show your work, and tell me what proportion of the day I spend talking about myself on the radio. And then let’s never speak again, shall we?) (I probably will not say that on the radio on Thursday, December 17, but you never know, so you should definitely tune in.).
In any event. I’m open to suggestion. What do YOU think I should say in my final moments behind the mic?
Stephanie Domet, writer at large 
4 responses to “A week and a day”
Hi there Stephanie
I am so happy you are starting a new chapter in your life, pun intended ! My life experience has shown that in order to stretch and grow one must be willing to step out of our comfort zones, take risks and be adventurous . YOU definitely are doing this and from what you say, you are intuitively OK with this process and not one bit upset.
I will of course miss you on the radio but am behind you 100% and sense there is an exciting future awaiting you.
Granny Louise
Louise! Thanks so much for this. I am terrible with faces now, so if I see you around and I don’t say hi, just remind me who you are!
After a bout with cancer (you played ”What a Wonderful World” for me to celebrate my remission) I have a far greater appreciation for embracing life and following your dreams. As much as you will be missed on the airwaves, I wish you every success as you relight your candle. May your flame burn long and bright!
Probably too late to request One Song in a Row, but on your last day would love to hear your favourite song.
Thanks for this note, Brian, and congratulations again on your remission!