Letters from Rona / Family ties / Sort by date

In Henniker, N. H. (population less than 5,000), you can't order sushi, watch Toy Story 3 or buy gladiator sandals with platform heels. But this time of the year, if you know where to look, you can pick enough unsprayed, explosively flavourful blueberries to fill any number of pies, and you won't pay a cent for the privilege. Whoever owns the berry patch can no longer be bothered to charge the pickers who tramp through a tangle of weeds to claim a share of the bounty. My niece Audrey, who lives nearby, is a picker so keen, she drives around with her gear at the ready. [more]

"I'm so over your desk," my son said with a faintly dismissive look at the desk where I'm sitting right now. And a fine desk it is: keyboard tray, two drawers, made right here in Canada, not in some Third World sweatshop. He had planned to buy one just like it for the house he and my daughter-in-law have bought. Now he covets a designer desk with neither keyboard tray nor drawers. Oh, well. These days no self-respecting husband takes decor direction from his mother---or his wife, for that matter. There's something about owning a marital home that transforms the modern male from a schlepper with a TV and a plywood futon to a furniture maven whose domestic visions feature Barcelona chairs and dish racks that double as countertop sculptures [more]

This time last year, my husband and I had 10 nieces and nephews---a full complement, we assumed. With our respective siblings well past 50, we'd begun buying onesies for the next generation. Then a couple of months ago, my sister Joyce adopted the two lively and loveable girls you see with me here ---effervescent Birtukan (left), who's just started kindergarten, and watchful Almaz, in grade four. I knew right away, with disarming force, was that these two sisters from the other side of the world---born in a mud-floored hut, raised until now in an orphanage---had already claimed their place in my life just by being their resilient and endearing selves. [more]

So there you are, a grownup with at least a couple of the following: job, mortgage, vet bills, kid. You have friends who laugh at your jokes, colleagues who ask your advice and may even think of you as their mentor. You also have a family. And when you're with them, you're not your usual assured adult self. You revert to the child you used to be as if pulled by invisible hands. At least you're not playing this game by yourself---your siblings know all the moves and share your wild delusion that someone can win this contest. [more]

I've been told more than once, by more than one exasperated person, that my cell phone habits leave much to be desired. "You must have called during Pilates," I explain. Or "The battery was out of juice." Or "The phone was buried at the bottom of my purse and I couldn't fish it out in time." My most annoying answer seems to be "You called? The traffic must have drowned out the ring tone." [more]

An old friend of my mother's was refreshing my teacup when she said, looking wistful, "It must have been hard for you, knowing that your sister was her favourite." So it was at the time, and the memory of early slights dies hard. But I've realized not being the family darling has at least one distinct advantage. [more]

In the eyes of our 13-year-old grandson, who flew home yesterday after four days with us in Sarasota, the full-body scanner is neither an invasion of privacy nor a prudent concession to the new risks of air travel but an incredibly cool and brag-worthy device from which he had the bad luck to be excluded. Which just goes to show that to entertain a grandchild is to learn how little you know about what currently qualifies as cool. [more]

You know the old saw "Never go to bed angry?" Don't believe it. I learned in the first few years that there's just no hurrying a truce when we both need some breathing room. Here's why we're still together, and what I'm still trying to learn. [more]

In just a few weeks my sister Joyce will arrive in Toronto to promote her new novel Labor Day. This is big news for a number of reasons. She's the only person left from my family of origin. She'll arrive just in time for my birthday. She lives in California, too far away for weekend visits. And the last time she came to my city, 14 years ago this fall, we had a bitter fight that led to a years-long silence. [more]

I've often wondered why no support group existed for frustrated parents of live-in adult children who expect to hang around for as long as they please---no chores, no house rules, no move-out date or action plan. A group of these parents has been gathering here at my site, learning from one another's stories. Now they've launched that much-needed support group, Enablers Anonymous. [more]

Our grandson, at 12, is much amused to learn how my husband spends untold hours of time. Genealogy! Now there's a word to get a 12-year-old rolling his eyes. Think about it: why would anyone choose to study...genies? Hasn't Grandpa heard of Harry Potter? Kidding aside, I too have been perplexed by this midlife passion of my husband's. [more]

Just after my most recent speech on dealing with difficult people, a 40-something woman approached me and confided in a desperate half-whisper, "My problem is my 22-year-old daughter who lives with me. She's a single mother with no job and no plans. It's not working. I don't know how much more of this I can take. What should I do?" [more]