Your capacity to turn a phrase is breathtakingly fresh. I'd list a few here, but it is more fun to let you guess, for in that way you might even find a few more than I do to admire your own work. After all, that is part of the work of writing: a brave exposure of that which is admirable in our lives. Peeling life open with word craft, as we discover even our so called foibles and deficiencies sparkle and glint with keen light when the facets are rotated to reveal our true face. A face which is ever morphing into new sounds, like a playing card trapped in the music of a never-braking wheel.
A moving essay as always, Rona. At 75, I don't have a car, so ride my bike everywhere. But every time I go out, I expect the worst from speeding cars and now speeding e-bikes and scooters. You're safer on the sidewalk. But have to say, there's great pleasure in zipping around the city so handily. For me, the challenge is piano; I quit lessons when I was twelve and took up again at 66. But it's hard and time-consuming, and I lose heart, and then begin again. Here's to the effort!
The sidewalks are a tad less safe than they were now that people are riding bikes on them. I’ve witnessed some noisy and profane confrontations. And don’t get me started on scooters. One of these days you will play for me.
what a delightful post. I loved this: “At the thought of staying upright on two wheels, I don’t feel the wind on my cheek. I feel the pavement cracking my bones.” let’s face it. I love the whole thing!
Admitting you don't know how to ride a bike ( or drive a car or even whistle! ) made me laugh. But I learned something new about the source of the quote "A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle." I first heard it from Florence Kennedy in the late 1970s and knew it had been misattributed to Gloria Steinem. But I had no idea of the original source! Thanks for that.
I hadn’t heard of Dunn either and a good check on my limited knowledge of what was really a global movement. When I recently read @Ann Kennedy Smith describe visits of first wave UK feminists to meet American suffragettes, I was reminded that resistance to misogyny knows no borders.
Thanks for the mention, Jill! The first women cyclists in Cambridge got lessons in how to cycle (hence the Victorian bicycle advertisement as my logo). Great post from Rona.
I haven't been on a bicycle in years, but what a liberating form of transportation it must have been in the Victorian age. I know I felt liberated by my first Schwinn bike when I gained my independence on wheels.
I took up the cello at 42; and learned to downhill ski at 43. I became a semi-serious horseback rider at 50. I started an entirely new career at 65 — I recommend it.
I love how you describe your pathway to the wellspring of delight: solitude. “What counts is this: I arrived.” It’s that skill that resonated with me, not a skill that I may never have mastered.
Your writing style is luscious, mine is sparse...and yet my blog is named Still Amazed and I just noticed yours is Amazement Seeker. Those moments of little surprises enchant me. Thanks for your beautifully written stories.
You recognize my name because I’m the woman that went to the psychic who wept for our entire time together. Since I wrote that blog I’ve been visited by waves of inexplicable sadness…I guess that makes sense
The last article I posted on Still Amazed is about a parting gift I received from a Multiple Personality Patient I treated. She created a board game about therapy with me. It is truly amazing…I promise
Speaking of fish, I never learned to swim. I tried and tried to learn, even well into adulthood. It's mortifying, of course. But I find putting my head under water to be immediately life-threatening. Relax! my many instructors have told me. Fat chance! You might as well tell me to relax in front of a firing squad. Alarms go off in my body and don't turn off till I'm on a dry patch of earth, which I then realize I never should have left in the first place.
Oh, well! Over the years, I've had two essays published in the NYTimes about not being able to swim. (Failure sells so much better than success, and besides, part of my arsenal has always been self-deprecation.)
But I'm wondering, is it always worth it to conquer every one of these childhood demons? Don't they make us who we are -- these flawed and flailing creatures who embrace their shortcomings along with their successes, and then, of course, write about it? I've always held out the hope my failures, at least, make me more interesting. In the meantime, I'm not taking more swimming lessons, but I am working on my Spanish.
In my 40s, I hired a coach and overcame lifelong fear of a wet face and water up my nose. I graduated from sidestroke to front crawl, but then my shoulder acted up and that was the end of the crawl. Many of us have these peccadilloes, and I’m with you—they’re part of who we are. In a different life, you might have a compelling reason to swim and I to cycle, but let’s stick with the lives we have.
I loved every word and picture of this heartfelt essay. In 4th grade, my dad took me down to the local Sear's shop and purchased my first two wheeler, a Blue beauty with whitewall tires and a button horn . I was so proud of that bike and rode it everywhere. That was my first and last bike until I graduated to a car when I was 16, but how I loved it. It took me all over our neighborhood both solo and with friends. I didn't really slow down again and smell the roses until a year ago when I moved to a senior development as an 86 yr. old and my daughter said to me, "Now, Mom, you can enjoy new friends and activities" to which I replied, " I'm really not interested"! Now, looking back over the past year , I find I have joined a water aerobic's class, and learned to play MahJong and Bunko. I'm even revisiting my Bridge skills again as they were put away back in 1968. Oh, the joy's of rediscovery have loomed large in my lovely new life. We're never too old to learn new tricks. I'm a fish out of water always looking for a new bicycle, I think!
What a happy, leaping fish you are. Learning new skills is said to be key to bain health as we age. Bunko? I’ve never even heard of it. Go, Vi! You’re setting a fine example.
Bunko is a social dice game played by 12 or more participants divided into tables of 4 featuring rolling numbers, changing partners, laughter and snacks. So much fun! No skill needed just a good sense of humor.
I loved this! I'm ashamed to say I still haven't learned to ride a bike. Because of my unusual body I would have to get a bike especially adapted for me, and as a kid it seemed too overwhelming, and now as an adult I feel like I'm too late to start. But recently I've been growing more curious about it -- riding a bike looks so free and relaxing. Maybe I'll give it a try.
There are many tips and videos online for adult learners, Alison. The world has changed since I gave up on bikes. Good luck, and thank you for visiting.
Here in Toronto, we also have many bike lanes and cyclists. To the extreme annoyance of pedestrians, some cyclists are encroaching on the sidewalks, which is illegal, and insist on their right to do so.
Wow, how wonderful is this, your essay on biking, or lack-of. I was in a neighborhood kid group called the Wheelers, and I was the fastest! I hope that you bought your son another bike. How do you make your sentences so beautiful? Please teach me how.
I had tea with Nadine Gordimer once, meeting her as part of a delegation from PEN Canada. I am here to inform you that during breaks in the conversation, she whistled happily to herself, little birdy trills. A Nobel prizewinner. You've set yourself a high bar, but I'm sure you can reach it.
I thought she was great. Amazingly sharp. Her questions were skewers.
The only other person I knew who whistled like that was my Aunt Margaret, another small non-nonsense woman. My aunt was also an optimist who bought a new car when she turned 90, and drove it until her stroke four years later. No fools suffered as she barrelled through traffic, scaring me half to death.
I was a late bloomer when it came to learning to ride a bike compared to the rest of the kids on my street. Shaming from them got me working the pedals eventually 😆
Love your writing, Rona. It reminded me of the bike I once had. Also, no helmet, going down a hill with lightning speed, tassels on the handlebar blowing in the wind, and then the handlebar became completely undone. There I was, going down that hill with no handlebars. Let's just say it wasn't a happy ending, but I did survive, barely hurt. Those were the days, huh? Thank you for sharing this.
Choosing a theme and writing about it so that everyone who reads it has and un anticipated memory and can enhance that memory bicycling at some point in their life.
Your capacity to turn a phrase is breathtakingly fresh. I'd list a few here, but it is more fun to let you guess, for in that way you might even find a few more than I do to admire your own work. After all, that is part of the work of writing: a brave exposure of that which is admirable in our lives. Peeling life open with word craft, as we discover even our so called foibles and deficiencies sparkle and glint with keen light when the facets are rotated to reveal our true face. A face which is ever morphing into new sounds, like a playing card trapped in the music of a never-braking wheel.
Thank you, Paul. I can tell you appreciate word craft.
A moving essay as always, Rona. At 75, I don't have a car, so ride my bike everywhere. But every time I go out, I expect the worst from speeding cars and now speeding e-bikes and scooters. You're safer on the sidewalk. But have to say, there's great pleasure in zipping around the city so handily. For me, the challenge is piano; I quit lessons when I was twelve and took up again at 66. But it's hard and time-consuming, and I lose heart, and then begin again. Here's to the effort!
The sidewalks are a tad less safe than they were now that people are riding bikes on them. I’ve witnessed some noisy and profane confrontations. And don’t get me started on scooters. One of these days you will play for me.
The chances of my playing for you are not good, Rona, but I'll keep that possibility in mind!
what a delightful post. I loved this: “At the thought of staying upright on two wheels, I don’t feel the wind on my cheek. I feel the pavement cracking my bones.” let’s face it. I love the whole thing!
Good morning, Laura! What a delightful comment. I’m glad you started your day with me.
Admitting you don't know how to ride a bike ( or drive a car or even whistle! ) made me laugh. But I learned something new about the source of the quote "A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle." I first heard it from Florence Kennedy in the late 1970s and knew it had been misattributed to Gloria Steinem. But I had no idea of the original source! Thanks for that.
Jill, I was about to attribute the quote to Steinem but checked in time. I had never heard of Dunn until then, but she’s still going strong.
I hadn’t heard of Dunn either and a good check on my limited knowledge of what was really a global movement. When I recently read @Ann Kennedy Smith describe visits of first wave UK feminists to meet American suffragettes, I was reminded that resistance to misogyny knows no borders.
Thanks for the mention, Jill! The first women cyclists in Cambridge got lessons in how to cycle (hence the Victorian bicycle advertisement as my logo). Great post from Rona.
I haven't been on a bicycle in years, but what a liberating form of transportation it must have been in the Victorian age. I know I felt liberated by my first Schwinn bike when I gained my independence on wheels.
Yes! Liberating indeed. I do enjoy cycling around Cambridge, and even London is more cyclist-friendly these days.
I took up the cello at 42; and learned to downhill ski at 43. I became a semi-serious horseback rider at 50. I started an entirely new career at 65 — I recommend it.
I’m impressed. Learning a new skill is supposed to be one of the best things you can do for your brain. You’re giving yoyr brain quite a workout.
I love how you describe your pathway to the wellspring of delight: solitude. “What counts is this: I arrived.” It’s that skill that resonated with me, not a skill that I may never have mastered.
Hi, Kathy. It comes so naturally to me, it’s more an inclination than a skill.
Your writing style is luscious, mine is sparse...and yet my blog is named Still Amazed and I just noticed yours is Amazement Seeker. Those moments of little surprises enchant me. Thanks for your beautifully written stories.
Amazement is life-saver, and I’m always glad to meet another writer who gets it. I recognize your name and am delighted you’re enjoying my work.
You recognize my name because I’m the woman that went to the psychic who wept for our entire time together. Since I wrote that blog I’ve been visited by waves of inexplicable sadness…I guess that makes sense
Yes, a memorable story.
The last article I posted on Still Amazed is about a parting gift I received from a Multiple Personality Patient I treated. She created a board game about therapy with me. It is truly amazing…I promise
The last article I posted is about a parting gift from a Multiple Personality Disorder patient of mine…it’s truly amazing what she created
What a wonderful essay, Rona.
Speaking of fish, I never learned to swim. I tried and tried to learn, even well into adulthood. It's mortifying, of course. But I find putting my head under water to be immediately life-threatening. Relax! my many instructors have told me. Fat chance! You might as well tell me to relax in front of a firing squad. Alarms go off in my body and don't turn off till I'm on a dry patch of earth, which I then realize I never should have left in the first place.
Oh, well! Over the years, I've had two essays published in the NYTimes about not being able to swim. (Failure sells so much better than success, and besides, part of my arsenal has always been self-deprecation.)
But I'm wondering, is it always worth it to conquer every one of these childhood demons? Don't they make us who we are -- these flawed and flailing creatures who embrace their shortcomings along with their successes, and then, of course, write about it? I've always held out the hope my failures, at least, make me more interesting. In the meantime, I'm not taking more swimming lessons, but I am working on my Spanish.
In my 40s, I hired a coach and overcame lifelong fear of a wet face and water up my nose. I graduated from sidestroke to front crawl, but then my shoulder acted up and that was the end of the crawl. Many of us have these peccadilloes, and I’m with you—they’re part of who we are. In a different life, you might have a compelling reason to swim and I to cycle, but let’s stick with the lives we have.
I loved every word and picture of this heartfelt essay. In 4th grade, my dad took me down to the local Sear's shop and purchased my first two wheeler, a Blue beauty with whitewall tires and a button horn . I was so proud of that bike and rode it everywhere. That was my first and last bike until I graduated to a car when I was 16, but how I loved it. It took me all over our neighborhood both solo and with friends. I didn't really slow down again and smell the roses until a year ago when I moved to a senior development as an 86 yr. old and my daughter said to me, "Now, Mom, you can enjoy new friends and activities" to which I replied, " I'm really not interested"! Now, looking back over the past year , I find I have joined a water aerobic's class, and learned to play MahJong and Bunko. I'm even revisiting my Bridge skills again as they were put away back in 1968. Oh, the joy's of rediscovery have loomed large in my lovely new life. We're never too old to learn new tricks. I'm a fish out of water always looking for a new bicycle, I think!
What a happy, leaping fish you are. Learning new skills is said to be key to bain health as we age. Bunko? I’ve never even heard of it. Go, Vi! You’re setting a fine example.
Bunko is a social dice game played by 12 or more participants divided into tables of 4 featuring rolling numbers, changing partners, laughter and snacks. So much fun! No skill needed just a good sense of humor.
I loved this! I'm ashamed to say I still haven't learned to ride a bike. Because of my unusual body I would have to get a bike especially adapted for me, and as a kid it seemed too overwhelming, and now as an adult I feel like I'm too late to start. But recently I've been growing more curious about it -- riding a bike looks so free and relaxing. Maybe I'll give it a try.
There are many tips and videos online for adult learners, Alison. The world has changed since I gave up on bikes. Good luck, and thank you for visiting.
NYers bicycle a lot, thanks to the CitiBike program and to the increasing number of available bike lanes.
Here in Toronto, we also have many bike lanes and cyclists. To the extreme annoyance of pedestrians, some cyclists are encroaching on the sidewalks, which is illegal, and insist on their right to do so.
Yes. And here they run red lights and seriously injure pedestrians.
The worst are the electric bikes, which go way too fast and also ignore the laws!
Wow, how wonderful is this, your essay on biking, or lack-of. I was in a neighborhood kid group called the Wheelers, and I was the fastest! I hope that you bought your son another bike. How do you make your sentences so beautiful? Please teach me how.
Susan, our stories could not be more different on the surface, yet here we are, connected. That’s beautiful to me.Did you know I offer coaching for writers? https://ronamaynard.substack.com/p/writers-you-asked-me-to-coach-you?r=ngwcq&utm_medium=ios
I had tea with Nadine Gordimer once, meeting her as part of a delegation from PEN Canada. I am here to inform you that during breaks in the conversation, she whistled happily to herself, little birdy trills. A Nobel prizewinner. You've set yourself a high bar, but I'm sure you can reach it.
What a revealing and utterly lovely detail. The playful side of an icon.
I thought she was great. Amazingly sharp. Her questions were skewers.
The only other person I knew who whistled like that was my Aunt Margaret, another small non-nonsense woman. My aunt was also an optimist who bought a new car when she turned 90, and drove it until her stroke four years later. No fools suffered as she barrelled through traffic, scaring me half to death.
What an image. We should all have such a blithe old aunt.
I was a late bloomer when it came to learning to ride a bike compared to the rest of the kids on my street. Shaming from them got me working the pedals eventually 😆
And another reader here got cycling because his parents tried to keep him off the bike. So many motivations…
Love your writing, Rona. It reminded me of the bike I once had. Also, no helmet, going down a hill with lightning speed, tassels on the handlebar blowing in the wind, and then the handlebar became completely undone. There I was, going down that hill with no handlebars. Let's just say it wasn't a happy ending, but I did survive, barely hurt. Those were the days, huh? Thank you for sharing this.
Oooh… ouch! (And a loud scream, if only in shock.) So glad this resonated with you.
Choosing a theme and writing about it so that everyone who reads it has and un anticipated memory and can enhance that memory bicycling at some point in their life.
I love what you bring to life and these incidents
It’s my pleasure, Jill. I love to see what floats to readers’ minds.
It really helps communicate doesn't it?