Letters from Rona / Sort by date

There's not much left in my kitchen these days as we gear up to move. But right until the last day, I'll have the makings of my favourite last-minute lunch: the ultimate grilled cheese sandwich. I've made all-day ragus that aren't nearly as delicious. [more]

A naked home, when you've just acquired it, is like a naked lover who has just left his date-night clothes on your floor for the very first time. [more]

Some people have yard sales to unload their excess baggage. I wouldn't bother, even if I had a yard and a brilliant spring day for displaying my cast-offs to the world. Too much work, I say. And besides, I get a buzz out of giving dust-catchers away to people who will really use them. [more]

I hadn't even heard of the Open Directory when they "cooled" my interactive web site, which just goes to show the limits of my coolness. Just when I got excited, my cool rating disappeared. Now it's back, for now. But like other good things in life, coolness is a temporary pleasure. [more]

It was my husband of 37 years who handed me the March issue of The Atlantic and told me not to miss a punchy piece called "Marry Him," in which rueful never-married mother Lori Gottlieb makes "the case for settling for Mr. Good Enough." [more]

I'm not sure what I expected to find at the Grand Canyon. Beauty, certainly, but that's the wrong word for a chasm so vast and start, you can fly over it and see no end. A remarkable short story, "Abyss" by Richard Ford, took me straight to the dark heart of that feeling. [more]

You wouldn't think there's any call for fake rocks in southern Utah. The place teems with real ones, majestically sculptured by nature over many millions of years. But the strangest things happen when you start paving paradise. [more]

She used to be my protegee. Now she's my friend and peer. As her mentor, I learned that the greatest reward of leadership is preparing others to lead. So I was proud and delighted to recommend her for a well-deserved award. [more]

Monday's post about Val Ross, my friend and colleague who died last weekend at age 57, has touched off a continuing flurry of messages from visitors to this site. Some of you say you wish you could have known her. You can, through her captivating words. Here is an excerpt from You Can't Read This, Val's history of lost and forbidden books through the ages. [more]

The 20-something waiter called my husband "sir." He addressed me as "young lady." He did it once, he did it twice, and at the rate we were going he'd be doing it all evening, this rosy-cheeked kid who was younger than my son. The last time this happened, I bit my tongue. But the best part of growing older is the freedom to speak your mind. [more]

Readers knew Val Ross as an award-winning journalist and author. Countless people knew her as a friend of rare integrity and grace. I was blessed to be among them. This is my tribute to Val, who died in Toronto of a brain tumour on February 17, at age 57. [more]

A great first sentence pulls the reader into the story. Even more important, it gives the writer heart to keep on telling the story in the first place. Here, a baker's dozen of the best, culled from novels I've loved through the decades. [more]