Letters from Rona / Sort by date

Eight years ago, I made a decision that changed my life. I stopped pretending that my hair was still a rich, dark brown. At the time I was Editor of Chatelaine, where we featured my makeover from brown to gray. Next thing I knew, grateful middle-aged readers were pulling off my hat to admire my silver tresses. [more]

I thought it must be a crime or an accident that had brought police and paramedics to a busy intersection in my city. In fact it was the cortege for a Canadian soldier killed in Afghanistan. And a woman he never knew was determined to him [more]

From a botched Toni home permanent to the risks and rewards of going gray, the story of my hair has been the story of my life. Let's face it, to be female iis to struggle with your hair. [more]

Growing up, I never knew I had a first cousin named Rosemary Woolery. Her father and mine were brothers in a complicated family where people seldom to spoke to one another. She died years ago. But thanks to her daughter Louisa, I've met her right here on this site in the Mother/Daughter Gallery. [more]

I thought I must be the only Rona Maynard until I Googled myself and found another one online. Who was this woman? And why did it bother me to share my name with someone else? [more]

The Toronto I've called home for my entire adult life is becoming an angrier, lonelier place. I could rage against this trend, but I know I'm complicit. [more]

The real meaning of "million-dollar view," "executive home" and other terms that perplex the weary home buyer. How do I know? I've been out there pounding the pavement and I'm here to share my hard-earned wisdom. [more]

Looking for a home is like looking for love. You hope the next listing will be The One. You tell yourself you can make this work. But when you realize it won't, there's always tomorrow. [more]

Meeting with book clubs is as much a part of being an author as rewriting the same pesky sentence 129 times. Thank goodness book club meetings are a lot more fun. [more]

Now that I'm about to be homeless, I finally understand that home is a state of mind. [more]

One of the hardest things for every more or less grownup person to understand is that our parents had complex lives, full of dreams and hopes and fears, before we came along. [more]

It's not quite acceptable to admit it, but a parent's death can free the children to become their best selves. [more]