Ronda Rich's blog

Southern pots and pans

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Whenever I take out my biscuit pan — and every Southern cook worth her salt and grease has one — I can’t help but shake my head.

It is not, as my friend Karen would say, “a purdy sight.”

I have more than one, of course, for when guests come and I need to make two or three pans of homemade buttermilk biscuits, but the main one is large, round and very black from all the years of baking in 500 degrees with Crisco smeared generously on the surface. Read More»

Ignore what they think

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One day at lunch, I ran into a beautiful older woman, a friend from years past, whom I hadn’t seen in quite a while. She had changed very little since I first met her when I was in college.

She’s one of those lovely Southern women whose voice softly lilts with each word and her mannerisms are subtly small and lovely. She looked so pretty. Her silver hair was cut stylishly, sweeping across her brow and framing her bright blue eyes.

Our chatter at first was courteous with each asking how the other had been and mentioning what we knew of mutual friends. Read More»

Hume & Scotch-Irish

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A couple of years ago when I deemed it absolutely necessary to cross the big pond and investigate my heritage that had been seeded in Northern Ireland, I had the good fortune of being introduced to a renowned historian who, through greater good fortune, has become a friend.

Dr. David Hume is all eat up, as my people like to say, with the history of those wily Scotch-Irish and from his post in Belfast continues to research, write and lecture on what some see as an odd collection of humanity. Read More»

Dale was in a hurry

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Several years ago, I was in Talladega for the NASCAR race and had stopped by the Number 3 truck to see Richard Childress and Dale Earnhardt.

Earnhardt, as usual, was picking and poking at me over one thing or the other. I threw back a quick quip over something and he chuckled merrily, characteristically lifting one corner of his lip and mustache as he snickered. Read More»

Let’s keep the mail comin’

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We all need to be worried about the health of the postal service and, as good neighbors, we all need to pitch in and do what we can to keep the mail comin’.

In full disclosure, my sister is a postmaster. She does not know about this column so she has neither encouraged nor influenced it. Secondly, I have keynoted at national postmasters conventions across the country from Philadelphia to Ft. Lauderdale to Las Vegas to Anchorage. As far as I see it, this only makes me more an expert on what I’m about to say. Trust me. There’s a story in it. Read More»

Grammar vs. truth in telling

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Someone wrote to complain about my grammar. This isn’t new, though it doesn’t particularly irritate me. This gentleman was especially kind in his admonishments, noting first and foremost how much he enjoys my writings.

“I would never presume to edit your excellent work,” he wrote. “But I would like to recommend a book for you.” It was a book on proper grammar.

He was so gentle in his suggestion that I took the time to write back and explain that, basically, I know better than I do. I just choose not to do better. Read More»

Gifts of an obituary artist

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A friend of mine who has a penchant for sending along lovely, thoughtful gifts outdid himself a while back. The contents of the package quickly became one of my favorite gifts ever.

I called him up immediately. “Oh thank you! I can’t recall receiving ever a better gift,” I gushed softly but sincerely. “I dearly love it.” Read More»

Helping others by praying

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It’s just funny, I guess, the way I get caught up in the lives of other people, folks I don’t even know. Yet I share their sorrow or rejoice with their successes. And they feel like friends, though most of them I have never met and suppose I never will.

A woman sent me an email the other day. I didn’t recognize her name at all. The message was simple, “Thank you for helping my aunt during this sad time since she lost my uncle.” Read More»

Helping others by praying

Ronda Rich's picture

It’s just funny, I guess, the way I get caught up in the lives of other people, folks I don’t even know. Yet I share their sorrow or rejoice with their successes. And they feel like friends, though most of them I have never met and suppose I never will.

A woman sent me an email the other day. I didn’t recognize her name at all. The message was simple, “Thank you for helping my aunt during this sad time since she lost my uncle.” Read More»

Good old King James

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Perhaps you’ve heard. It’s been the source of newspaper, magazine and television stories as they all pay tribute to the anniversary of the King James Bible. It’s a sprightly 400 years old.

On one point do all writers and reporters seem to agree: It’s old but not particularly cherished because few people read that version of the Bible these days. It’s once solid popularity has been eclipsed by the wildly successful New International Version (NIV). Read More»