I didn’t have boyfriends in high school. When I was 15, I met a cute guy at a girlfriend’s house in Newport Beach, and he was a musician. He must have been 16 or 17. We exchanged phone numbers. He was playing at a club called Gazzarri’s on Sunset Boulevard. It was a big venue in the ’70s. I asked my parents if he could take me out on a date, and they agreed, but when he showed up, he had a van to transport drums, guitars and amps. My dad took one look at the van and said: “You’re not going out with him.” The next time he came to take me out, we went on a double date with my sister and her boyfriend and saw him play at Gazzarri’s. My mom made my sister and I matching dresses, which were shocking pink with puff sleeves. Think very ’70s. We were innocent girls going to a rock’n’roll club where everyone was wearing tie-dye and fringed jackets.
I always loved music. I took piano lessons when I was little but I had a strict Austrian piano teacher who was very rigid about classical piano. If only she had let me learn a Beatles song. She was so uncomfortable to be around that I told my parents I didn’t want to take piano any more. I loved the stories in songs. I was obsessed with a couple of songs. One of them was Ode to Billie Joe by Bobbie Gentry. It’s about a family at dinner, and they have a conversation about a boy who’s taken his own life. To me, it was evocative and mysterious. This bombshell information is dropped and they are just saying: ‘Can you pass the peas?’ Songs were like movies in my head. My mom would tell me to sing Ode to Billie Joe when they had friends over. Imagine this 11-year-old singing this very dark song. But I loved it.
Read more:
I had a job at a concert venue when I was a teenager. Everyone I loved came through. Joni Mitchell, Carole King, Linda Ronstadt, Jackson Brown, Elton John. They all came through this beautiful outdoor venue on the lot of Universal Studios. I was the ticket taker, and then I would go and sit on the stairs and watch the concert. I had a feeling in my gut that was like an ache. How do you find a band? I had no idea how to make it happen. It took me a while, but I did it.

I’m proud that I started songwriting in my 50s. I don’t believe there’s any clock on creativity. I don’t believe there is a window that passes and it’s like: ‘Sorry that passed you by, it was supposed to happen in 1983.’ I don’t care what anybody thinks. I am compelled to do this because it’s something I’ve always wanted to do.
I’m proud of the Mamma Mia! [as producer] and Greek Wedding movies. I’m proud to have recognised material that would make a good movie and bring people joy. I’m proud of the last movie I did, A Man Called Otto. If my film company had a mission statement, it would be to find material that connects people.
I’m proud of the daughter I was to my parents. The sibling I am to my siblings. The mother I am to my children. The wife I’ve been to my husband. I don’t know if women ever give themselves enough credit, because it’s like it’s a given that you are going to be all those things. But there are always choices that are made that align with your values. I was privileged to have a huge foundation, starting from the very minute I was born, to be surrounded by love and to feel safe. My parents never stopped me from doing anything I wanted to do. They trusted me. My mom used to say: “Your kids teach you.” I know that now from having children.
I was engaged before I met my husband [Tom Hanks]. If I could give my younger self advice about long-term relationships, I would tell her: ‘Don’t marry him if you don’t feel it’s right.’ Sometimes you feel like you should be engaged by a certain age or married or having children. You can be on that train without asking yourself if that is right. I’m glad I didn’t marry that person because I’m sure I would be divorced pretty soon after.
You’re a different mother at different phases of a child’s life. When they’re babies, you’re one way; when they’re teenagers, you’re another. Their needs change and you shift with them. Sometimes those shifts can be challenging. You have to give them autonomy. Teenagers can be scary. My kids are older and I have grandchildren. That’s beautiful because you have a whole different approach.
If I could have one last conversation with anybody, it would be my parents. And my grandmother, who died when I was four. And Nora Ephron, who was a dear friend. I would gather them all together. I would tell my parents how much I loved them and how grateful I was. Right before Nora died [in 2012], I was doing my first-ever show in New York at a place called Joe’s Pub. She knew she was ill but no one else knew. She said to me: “I want to host a party for your first show.” It was the sweetest thing on the planet. When the show finished, I came out on stage and I thanked Nora for believing in me. Nora was smart, funny, opinionated and tough. I’m glad I got to thank her. Three weeks later she passed away. I’d thank them all again, and then I would cook them an amazing meal. I would do my dad’s barbecued chicken that is Greek-style with olive oil and lemon and garlic, my mom’s rice, and Nora’s praline yams.

I was diagnosed with breast cancer and had a double mastectomy in 2015. That taught me about how powerful the body is. The earlier you can learn to accept yourself, the better. There are too many unhealthy external influences on young women. Nora Ephron has that quote: “I regret not having worn a bikini for the entire year I was 26. If you’re young at all, go put on a bikini and don’t take it off until you’re 36.” I look back at pictures and remember thinking I wasn’t thin enough. What a terrible waste of time that is.
How do I feel about myself now? Thrilled. My body isn’t the same as it was. I don’t care because I’m here and I recognise the power that the body has to heal, to give you strength, to keep you going. My younger self would be surprised that I created a creative life for myself, at the same time as having a family, a long-term marriage, and still be living in my hometown.
I would tell my younger self to break some rules. I was such a good kid and I really didn’t want to disappoint my parents. I wish I had been more of a rebel. But there’s still time. I’m living my teenage years now.
Sound of a Woman by Rita Wilson is released on 1 May
Do you have a story to tell or opinions to share about this? Get in touch and tell us more.
Change a vendor’s life.
Buy from your local Big Issue vendor every week – and always take the magazine. It’s how vendors earn with dignity and move forward.
You can also support online:
Subscribe to the magazine or support our work with a monthly gift. Your support helps vendors earn, learn and thrive while strengthening our frontline services.
Thank you for standing with Big Issue vendors.






