<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?><rss xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" version="2.0"><channel><title><![CDATA[ronstempkowski.com]]></title><description><![CDATA[Authentic Stories, Genuine Connections]]></description><link>https://www.ronstempkowski.com/blog</link><generator>RSS for Node</generator><lastBuildDate>Thu, 09 Apr 2026 11:41:46 GMT</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://www.ronstempkowski.com/blog-feed.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title><![CDATA[Book Launch Day]]></title><description><![CDATA[When I woke up on launch day on Monday, I thought of the 13-year-old version of me jumping up and down and screaming with excitement because his book had been published. His thoughts and words have been perfect bound or electronically transmitted to share with anyone! This introverted kid holed up in his room with a piece of plywood as his lap desk so he could scrawl on college ruled notebooks, telling stories and imagining all kinds of things. He was quiet, kind, and shy, but in his mind he...]]></description><link>https://www.ronstempkowski.com/post/book-launch-day</link><guid isPermaLink="false">69d5304910427b2b31499f65</guid><pubDate>Fri, 27 Mar 2026 16:09:46 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b9509b_0751ef23fe884490a4a927e1689eddc9~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_1000,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Ron Stempkowski</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Today Is the Day. The Luck We Carry Is Here.]]></title><description><![CDATA[I've been rehearsing this moment in my head for a while now. Not the launch itself—the feeling I thought I'd have when it finally arrived. I imagined something cinematic. Maybe a swelling soundtrack. At minimum, a sense of profound certainty that I'd done something meaningful. Instead, I woke up this morning, made coffee, and sat with Hudson for a few minutes before my brain fully caught up to the date. March 23, 2026. Launch day. And then the other thing hit me. Twenty-five years ago today,...]]></description><link>https://www.ronstempkowski.com/post/today-is-the-day-the-luck-we-carry-is-here</link><guid isPermaLink="false">69d5304910427b2b31499f64</guid><pubDate>Mon, 23 Mar 2026 13:09:25 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b9509b_ddf77e2f8ff34c7ea27162a12995753a~mv2.png/v1/fit/w_295,h_202,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Ron Stempkowski</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Guy on the Screen]]></title><description><![CDATA[I was interviewed recently about my upcoming book, The Luck We Carry: Love, Loss, and the Stories That Shape Us . I was a little nervous going in, but I kept talking myself down. What question could the host possibly ask me about the book that I couldn't answer? I wrote it. That helped. Mostly. But once the show started, none of that mattered. All I wanted was to be present — to engage with my friend Alan Locher, and talk about one of my favorite subjects: Ken, and the book that grew out of...]]></description><link>https://www.ronstempkowski.com/post/the-guy-on-the-screen</link><guid isPermaLink="false">69d5304910427b2b31499f63</guid><pubDate>Sat, 14 Mar 2026 13:47:23 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b9509b_b956bffe64164e2fb1dd3666ce5c8f5c~mv2.png/v1/fit/w_1000,h_723,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Ron Stempkowski</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Nobody Tells You There’s a Third Option After Loss]]></title><description><![CDATA[“Moving on” never felt right. Here’s what I found instead. It was August, a few months after my husband Ken died. I’d poured a glass of cabernet and carried it out to the garden he’d tended for years. The angel trumpets were in bloom, their sweet scent lingering around me. Their aroma competed with the way summer evenings smell when you’re simultaneously grateful and gutted. I was about to read a message Ken had left me—words I didn’t know he spoke. Words I didn’t think were possible to...]]></description><link>https://www.ronstempkowski.com/post/nobody-tells-you-there-s-a-third-option-after-loss</link><guid isPermaLink="false">69d5304510427b2b31499f53</guid><pubDate>Tue, 10 Mar 2026 17:35:18 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b9509b_72f3448aa47d492787f158c7497c2960~mv2.jpeg/v1/fit/w_1000,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Ron Stempkowski</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Listening to History Instead of Reading It]]></title><description><![CDATA[I went to the theatre knowing what had happened. Like many people, I knew the story of Emmett Till. I knew the facts in the way history books and documentaries present them. I knew the names, the verdict, the unfairness. I knew the headline version of the injustice. What I didn’t know, or maybe hadn’t fully absorbed, was what it would feel like to sit in a room and listen to the trial unfold word by word. “Trial in the Delta: The Murder of Emmett Till” does something deceptively simple and...]]></description><link>https://www.ronstempkowski.com/post/listening-to-history-instead-of-reading-it</link><guid isPermaLink="false">69d5304510427b2b31499f4d</guid><pubDate>Sun, 01 Mar 2026 01:02:39 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b9509b_b31004edefce46bfb80326a66a8e03b4~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_1000,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Ron Stempkowski</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[What It’s Like to Watch Your Story Land]]></title><description><![CDATA[I didn’t expect this part to undo me. I expected nerves. I expected vulnerability. I expected that familiar, low-grade panic that comes with handing someone a piece of yourself and saying, "Here. I hope this connects with you." What I didn’t expect was the kindness to come back so clearly. So specifically. So generously. Over the last few days, some of my advance readers have been finishing The Luck We Carry , and their messages have been landing in my inbox and on my phone at odd hours....]]></description><link>https://www.ronstempkowski.com/post/what-it-s-like-to-watch-your-story-land</link><guid isPermaLink="false">69d5304510427b2b31499f4f</guid><pubDate>Mon, 09 Feb 2026 12:13:24 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b9509b_a98d03bcbba74c519109e5d31c5f2b91~mv2.webp/v1/fit/w_480,h_640,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Ron Stempkowski</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Holding Proof]]></title><description><![CDATA[I didn’t expect my eyes to well up, but they did—fast and without warning, like a sudden summer storm you swear you didn’t see coming. It caught me off guard mostly because this wasn’t supposed to be that  moment yet. It’s just a proof. Not the finished book. Not the one that gets stacked on tables or slid into bags at events or signed with a Sharpie that never quite works the first time. And still. Holding it in my hands made everything real in a way my brain hasn’t quite caught up with....]]></description><link>https://www.ronstempkowski.com/post/holding-proof</link><guid isPermaLink="false">69d5304510427b2b31499f51</guid><pubDate>Sat, 07 Feb 2026 13:05:41 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b9509b_b4f02f59c55c4f1ebc618f5d10b15cb9~mv2.jpeg/v1/fit/w_480,h_640,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Ron Stempkowski</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[I Sent My Book Out Into the World Today (Please Advise)]]></title><description><![CDATA[Today I did a thing that felt both thrilling and mildly unhinged. I sent my book to advance readers. Not the  world yet. Not strangers on the internet with profile photos of sunsets and opinions about commas. But still. Real humans. People I know. People who can text me. This is the part of writing no one quite prepares you for. You spend years alone with a document. You revise. You cut sentences you loved. You move commas around like they’re furniture in a very small apartment. And then one...]]></description><link>https://www.ronstempkowski.com/post/i-sent-my-book-out-into-the-world-today-please-advise</link><guid isPermaLink="false">69d5304510427b2b31499f4e</guid><pubDate>Mon, 02 Feb 2026 01:46:38 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b9509b_d3c6602283964c3d85a41301fbfca3f8~mv2.webp/v1/fit/w_480,h_640,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Ron Stempkowski</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[I've Been Calling It "The Book." Not Anymore]]></title><description><![CDATA[The title of my upcoming book is " The Luck We Carry: Love, Loss, and the Stories that Shape Us .” The title comes from an essay I wrote last year about an experience that really touched me and solidified the idea for this book. At the library book sale where I volunteer, I helped a woman out to her car with her bags of books. Along the way, she wondered aloud why so many people seemed to have such an easy life—particularly, health-wise. But she wasn't complaining. As a survivor of cancer and...]]></description><link>https://www.ronstempkowski.com/post/i-ve-been-calling-it-the-book-not-anymore</link><guid isPermaLink="false">69d5304510427b2b31499f4c</guid><pubDate>Tue, 20 Jan 2026 15:24:37 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b9509b_ee239372cd5c47c8b823a0338a0ea44e~mv2.webp/v1/fit/w_480,h_640,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Ron Stempkowski</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Feedback I Wasn’t Ready For]]></title><description><![CDATA[I expected notes. That’s what you brace for when you hand something precious to an editor. You expect margin comments. Structural concerns. A polite but firm list of things that need work. What I did not expect was to be told, in calm, measured language, that the book already does what it set out to do. The response began by describing my manuscript as “a collection of well-crafted essays assembled as a sort of episodic memoir,” and went on to talk about how grief is present but not...]]></description><link>https://www.ronstempkowski.com/post/the-feedback-i-wasn-t-ready-for</link><guid isPermaLink="false">69d5304510427b2b31499f52</guid><pubDate>Sat, 17 Jan 2026 16:52:05 GMT</pubDate><dc:creator>Ron Stempkowski</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Promise I Made Before He Died--and Why I'm Still Keeping It]]></title><description><![CDATA[My upcoming book exists because of a promise. Ken was full of kindness, grace, and humor. So much so that even our hospice experience together held moments of joy. Not because it was easy. It wasn’t. We had hard conversations. Honest ones. The kind you’re grateful for later. I have no regrets. I got to tell him everything I was feeling. Before he died, he made me promise one thing: to never stop writing. This upcoming book is me keeping that promise. Page by page. Essay by essay. It tells our...]]></description><link>https://www.ronstempkowski.com/post/the-promise-i-made-before-he-died-and-why-i-m-still-keeping-it</link><guid isPermaLink="false">69d5304510427b2b31499f4b</guid><pubDate>Sun, 04 Jan 2026 19:08:16 GMT</pubDate><dc:creator>Ron Stempkowski</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Year I Finally Say It Out Loud]]></title><description><![CDATA[When I woke up on New Year’s Day 2026, the first words* out of my mouth were, “This is the year my book comes out.” (*I did say good morning to Hudson first. Priorities.) Still, saying it out loud mattered. It felt different than thinking it. Different than quietly working toward it, which is what I’ve been doing for a long time now. This wasn’t a resolution. It was a declaration. 2026 is the year this book steps into the world. I’ve been writing since I was thirteen, but this book asked...]]></description><link>https://www.ronstempkowski.com/post/the-year-i-finally-say-it-out-loud</link><guid isPermaLink="false">69d5304510427b2b31499f50</guid><pubDate>Thu, 01 Jan 2026 15:40:15 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b9509b_92e547dd2deb4d9a8368644788b67789~mv2.webp/v1/fit/w_480,h_640,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Ron Stempkowski</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Reflecting on 2025 with my New Year's Eve Ritual]]></title><description><![CDATA[It's my fourth year, sitting with a stack of envelopes packed with selected memories from the past year since starting the practice for 2022 . It's the perfect way to slow down, stay in the moment, and reflect on the big events that defined this year for me. Give it a watch, and let me know if you might try something similar for 2026. Or tell me what your ritual is. I'd love to hear!]]></description><link>https://www.ronstempkowski.com/post/reflecting-on-2025-with-my-new-year-s-eve-ritual</link><guid isPermaLink="false">69d5304510427b2b31499f4a</guid><pubDate>Wed, 31 Dec 2025 16:07:15 GMT</pubDate><dc:creator>Ron Stempkowski</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Quiet Gift of a Christmas Day Walk]]></title><description><![CDATA[Christmas Day walks with Hudson have a different kind of quiet to them.  The streets are empty. The world feels paused. No rush, no noise, no expectations. Just cold air, steady footsteps, and a very good dog taking everything in like it’s sacred. I always forget how much I need that kind of stillness until I’m standing in it.  These walks don’t ask anything of me. They don’t need to be productive or meaningful. They just are. And somehow, that’s enough.  If you’re craving more moments like...]]></description><link>https://www.ronstempkowski.com/post/the-quiet-gift-of-a-christmas-day-walk</link><guid isPermaLink="false">69d5303fd3b1a3633e6d20a5</guid><pubDate>Thu, 25 Dec 2025 17:10:32 GMT</pubDate><dc:creator>Ron Stempkowski</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Something Big Is Coming in 2026]]></title><description><![CDATA[I’ve been working quietly toward something for a long time now. Longer than most people realize. 2026 is shaping up to be a year of intention, creativity, and a big chapter finally stepping into the light. Not overnight. Not out of nowhere. But built slowly, honestly, and on paper. I’m not ready to share all the details just yet. But if you’ve been following my writing, my journaling practice, and the way I tell stories about love, loss, and reinvention, you’re already closer than you think....]]></description><link>https://www.ronstempkowski.com/post/something-big-is-coming-in-2026</link><guid isPermaLink="false">69d5303fd3b1a3633e6d20a1</guid><pubDate>Mon, 22 Dec 2025 20:47:55 GMT</pubDate><dc:creator>Ron Stempkowski</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Quiet Gift of Being Seen]]></title><description><![CDATA[While I was outside with Hudson yesterday, one of my neighbors was out with her dog, Ripley. Hudson and Ripley like to "talk" and play without regard for the fence between them. As I turned to leave them to their games, my neighbor Barbara said, "Merry Christmas," and handed me a gift bag. Inside were a few thoughtful things. Frangos. Fannie Mae. A treat for Hudson. Simple, kind, not over-the-top. Tucked in with it was a handwritten note that stopped me in my tracks. “To Ron &#38; Hudson. Best...]]></description><link>https://www.ronstempkowski.com/post/the-quiet-gift-of-being-seen</link><guid isPermaLink="false">69d5303fd3b1a3633e6d20a6</guid><pubDate>Thu, 18 Dec 2025 15:00:00 GMT</pubDate><dc:creator>Ron Stempkowski</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Gift of Unplugging]]></title><description><![CDATA[The holidays can be loud. Not always in the obvious ways. Sometimes it’s the noise of schedules and obligations and travel plans and inboxes that refuse to quiet down just because the calendar says “holiday.” Sometimes it’s the internal noise. The pressure to show up cheerful. The comparison spiral. The sense that you should be more grateful, more social, more productive, more present… all at once. For years, I carried all of that straight through December. Laptop open. Phone buzzing. One eye...]]></description><link>https://www.ronstempkowski.com/post/the-gift-of-unplugging</link><guid isPermaLink="false">69d5303fd3b1a3633e6d20a4</guid><pubDate>Wed, 17 Dec 2025 15:17:49 GMT</pubDate><dc:creator>Ron Stempkowski</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Permission to Pause]]></title><description><![CDATA[Here’s the thing about the holidays that no one really says out loud. They give us permission to pause. Not the kind of pause that comes from burnout or hitting a wall. The gentler kind. The intentional kind. The kind where you step back before you actually have to. This year, I’m letting myself take that break. For a long time, rest felt like something I had to earn. Finish the thing. Cross the line. Then maybe you can exhale. But the older I get, the more I realize that taking a break is...]]></description><link>https://www.ronstempkowski.com/post/permission-to-pause</link><guid isPermaLink="false">69d5303fd3b1a3633e6d20a9</guid><pubDate>Tue, 16 Dec 2025 15:48:56 GMT</pubDate><dc:creator>Ron Stempkowski</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Resilience Isn’t a Personality Trait. It’s a Practice.]]></title><description><![CDATA[People talk about resilience like it’s some inner superpower you either have or you don’t. I’ve never bought that. Most of the changes that shaped me didn’t arrive with a cape. They showed up as ordinary days that asked a little more of me than I felt like giving. Some moments knock you flat. Some just take the wind out of you. And every so often, something small—a memory, a sentence, a golden retriever staring at you like he already knows the answer—nudges you forward again. I’ve learned...]]></description><link>https://www.ronstempkowski.com/post/resilience-isn-t-a-personality-trait-it-s-a-practice</link><guid isPermaLink="false">69d5303fd3b1a3633e6d20a2</guid><pubDate>Thu, 11 Dec 2025 13:34:46 GMT</pubDate><dc:creator>Ron Stempkowski</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Celebrating 15 Years of Showing Up]]></title><description><![CDATA[Fifteen years. I had to sit with that number for a minute. I started this blog in a very different version of my life, long before I knew how much the words would hold, or how many times they’d help me climb out of whatever I was carrying. Back then, I didn’t have a plan. I just knew I needed a place to put the truth. I look at those early posts now and see a writer who was still figuring out how to speak without apologizing for it. I also see moments of joy, grief, reinvention, and a kind of...]]></description><link>https://www.ronstempkowski.com/post/celebrating-15-years-of-showing-up</link><guid isPermaLink="false">69d5303fd3b1a3633e6d20a7</guid><pubDate>Sun, 07 Dec 2025 14:25:23 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b9509b_9254aaa4551c4914a799da48e2ebd7b3~mv2.jpeg/v1/fit/w_480,h_640,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Ron Stempkowski</dc:creator></item></channel></rss>