Letters from Rona / Sort by date

I can't say it seems like yesterday that some friends took me out to a 50th birthday lunch. Eighteen months ago, maybe. Three years, absolute tops. The merry throng commandeered two tables at the bistro of the moment, which long ago morphed into something else. [more]

Every life is a story, which is why I'm drawn to biography and memoir. In the dramas that someone actually lived, I find insights I can use in my own helter-skelter life, where the lines of the narrative keeping getting lost. I read with pen in hand, thinking, "Yes, that's it!" Here, a few discoveries from the books on my bedside table. [more]

Scene: my den, yesterday morning, somewhere between breakfast time and flossing time. I'm not exactly sure because I can't find my watch. But I could find the computer blindfolded because it's where i start every day, barefoot in my pink plush bathrobe. Including this day, October 20, 2008. The first day of my 60th year. [more]

I thought Steve Martin's memoir, Born Standing Up: A Comic's Life, was going to made me laugh. Instead this startlingly wise and nuanced book made me think in a whole new way about what it takes to embrace the future as your best and boldest self without leaving a painful past behind. [more]

After nearly 38 years with the man I married, I must know at least a smidgen about what it takes to stay together. But when my son and his longtime fiancee finally tied the knot, I didn't want to overload the newlyweds with sage advice. Which life-changing insight to share? My mother's, of course. [more]

When our son moved back home in his mid-20s, we all thought he'd stay for a couple of months until he planned his next step into the adult world. Turned out we had him with us for a couple of years. And by the time he finally moved out (into a house we helped him buy), things had grown a bit tense between us and our beloved only child. [more]

At Harrington House, which has just served as our base for hiking in the Cotswolds, the exposed beams date back to Tudor times and breakfast features an array of choices, all as British as Buckingham palace: bacon, kippers, blood pudding, fried tomatoes and eggs cooked any way you choose. I felt like Christopher Robin when my poached egg arrived, nestled in a circle cut from the surrounding slice of pale whole-grain bread. But breakfast is a highly personal affair, and I missed the familiar pour-and-stir meal that kickstarts my day at home. [more]

Feel free to call me Rona, although Ms. Maynard does nicely if you're the formal type. I don't encourage Ro, much as I appreciate the good intentions signaled by a nickname. What you must ever even think of calling me, unless we're on intimate terms, is "sweetie" or "dear." And there's no excuse whatsoever for the dread "young lady." I have a perfectly serviceable name and I expect you to use it. Especially if you end up serving gluey mashed potatoes in the old age home where I, in my bathrobe, am presumed to be addled just because I'm a little shaky on my feet. [more]

When I read your story about making amends with your sister, I recognized my sister and me. We drive each other crazy and haven't spoken for years. I'd like to make amends but I doubt if my sister wants to hear from me. I so envy women whose sisters are their best friends! What's your advice? [more]

Every time I fill my kitchen with the racy aroma of sizzling Berkshire bacon, so generously marbled that my rashers crisp in a splattering pool of golden fat, I think wistfully to myself, "Will no one ever tell me that this wonderful stuff is good for me?" At last someone has risen to the challenge: Jennifer McLagan, the pleasure-loving author of Fat: an Appreciation of a Misunderstood Ingredient, with Recipes. [more]

By the time you read this, my husband and I will be in London, which as far as we're concerned is the world's most glorious city. We'll have a mental checklist of favourite places to revisit, and far too many ideas for other places we haven't yet seen. But if there's anything we've learned in our travels so far, it's that the best vacation moments can't be scripted. They take you by surprise, and then they take your breath away. For instance, the once-in-a-lifetime Leonid meteor shower of 2002. [more]

These special spots aren't the ones I dreamed of visiting for years. Some I checked out in an idle moment, just because they happened to be there. Others tend to be upstaged by more celebrated sights down the road. What they all have in common is that I can't think of them without smiling. [more]