Ronda Rich's blog

A home for my friends

Ronda Rich's picture

In this house of wood and stones that I call home, there are books scattered and stacked hither and yon.

Some might say this house is cluttered with books, but I would never be that irreverent for cluttered seems to mean “unnecessary” or “junk.” Not one book I own would be categorized as either.

Books spill through the rooms, starting on my nightstand where Bibles and reference guides reside. On a leopard print footstool by the door, there are two dozen books, all I have purchased but have yet to get around to reading. But I live in hope. Read More»

‘Gone with the Wind’ novice

Ronda Rich's picture

When I breezed into the beauty shop amidst the chatter of voices and clatter of hair dryers and curling irons, I noticed the thick book dropped casually in a chair and it struck me as a bit strange. It’s rare to see anyone reading that book these days. It was probably the first time in decades that a copy of it has seen the inside of a beauty shop.

My attention was quickly diverted as Sandy gaily called out, “Hey there!” and thus we began our own chatter, adding to the commotion and chaos. Read More»

The baby calf

Ronda Rich's picture

It was a sweet sight, no doubt. My heart is always drawn to God’s animal creatures, especially those who have found themselves abandoned young.

Nicole and I were working out in her basement one afternoon when Rodney stomped down the stairs and ambled in.

“I got a pen,” he said to her. “Where do you want me to set it up?” Read More»

My rotten parents

Ronda Rich's picture

One day I asked a friend how her son was doing in college. She smiled, then began a discourse on how he was enjoying his field of study and what he could do with his degree when he graduated.

Then she sighed deeply. “I’ve got to find him an internship for this summer.”

It was the next morning, in truth, before it occurred to me what rotten parents I had. Neither of them ever thought once, let alone twice, about finding an internship for me. They threw me out to wolves and made me find one for myself.

Boy, what rotten parents. Read More»

Optimism and Miss Loretta

Ronda Rich's picture

Several years ago, I befriended a woman in Cincinnati, Ohio, but then you know that, don’t you? I’ve told you all about Miss Loretta.

If you’re new to this column, I’ll fill you in. She is the widow of a Cincinnati policeman. She did not marry until she was 37 because when she was 20, her mother died at 42 and left a passel of children behind. The youngest was 2 years old so Miss Loretta stepped up and took over. Only when the last child — a boy — was raised and on his own did she allow herself to find love. Read More»

Picture of a poor childhood

Ronda Rich's picture

A picture — even one old that has faded from black and white to soft gray — can a tell a story, long and true. That one certainly did.

It was made somewhere in the late 1920s and showed three children, ragamuffins really, who did not have the happiness that most children show in photos today. Read More»

If nothin’ don’t happen

Ronda Rich's picture

There is a friend of mine — one of the heroes I have known and loved — who is fascinating in the life lessons he shares and the accumulation of wisdom that seems to come so easily to him.

He came to the Deep South as a young man, having grown up in California without the benefit of his father who had died bravely in the Battle of the Bulge. He became an attorney. A brilliant one. The kind who rarely loses. The Perry Mason-type who can take what seems like a certain loss and uncover the hidden truth which turns it into a winner. Read More»

Karen the actor

Ronda Rich's picture

It was all my idea. As immodest as that might sound, it’s true. Now that my friend, Karen, has made it to the big time, she should be reminded that it all started with one of my hair-brained schemes.

Though she laughed it off at first, she eventually agreed. There we were — Lucy and Ethel at it, again. Thelma and Louise headed off on an adventure and there was no stopping us. But, first, as usual, I had to convince her of the brilliance of my plan. Read More»

Mama’s ring’s new sparkle

Ronda Rich's picture

It would never have occurred to me that it would mean as much as it has, never cross my mind that I would cherish it as I have. I suppose that’s what makes it even more meaningful.

Mama wasn’t fancy by any stretch of the imagination. A small cake of cornbread and a cold glass of buttermilk often sufficed just fine for her supper, a home-grown, juicy tomato thrilled her beyond measure and presents were often wrapped with masking tape. She was sturdy and solid, not fancy or frivolous. Read More»

Legacy of compassion

Ronda Rich's picture

Daddy and Mama both spent a lot of time seeing after the needs of others. They comforted, called and cooked for those who were, in some way, suffering.

And if it came down to it, and sometimes it did indeed, Daddy gave away the last dollar in his pocket to someone in need.

“He needed it more than I did,” he would say. “Never turn your back on a soul in need.”

As he was oft to say, “You can only help someone when they need help. All the other times that you think you’re helping, you’re just pretending for the sake of your own conscience.” Read More»

Recent Comments