Ronda Rich's blog

Ronda babysits

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If you ever hear that I have been babysitting, know this: It was an absolute act of desperation on the part of the mothers. It means there was no other option.

And it does occasionally happen.

As in the case of Nicole, who had a doctor’s appointment and called. “Are you up for a little babysitting? I won’t be gone long.”

“Gone long.” Key words here because that means “such an abbreviated time that even Ronda can handle it.” So, I agreed. Read More»

Stevie and the Hall of Fame

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The text from my friend, Stevie, popped up on my phone. “We made the Hall of Fame! Woo Hoo!!!”

I already knew. I had just read the news story announcing the next five inductees into the NASCAR Hall of Fame and knew that Stevie’s husband, Darrell Waltrip, was included. I had seen the photo from the moment of the announcement in Charlotte that showed Darrell with tears streaming down his face and Stevie laughing happily.

I replied to the text with my congratulations then re-read hers again, struck by one word: “We.” Read More»

Dixie Dew speaks . . . again

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Hello, Readers, it’s me, Dixie Dew again.

There was such an overwhelming response to the column I wrote a few months ago, that I was asked to give y’all an update.

For those of you who might be so uninformed as to not know who I am, let me fill you in. Read More»

Julia Reed & stories

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Once I was aboard a riverboat called the American Queen on which I had spent several days cruising along what I consider to be the majestic Mississippi River. I boarded in New Orleans and, along with the other passengers, crawled toward St. Louis.

It was my blessed fortune to be hired by the riverboat company to entertain its passengers with Southern storytelling.

For two scant hours of telling stories, I had both been paid and given the privilege of 10 days on the river I love best. Read More»

Claudette is so blue

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I guess it had been more than a year that I had been thinking that I wasn’t as funny as I used to be. When you make your living with witty observations and entertaining stories, this isn’t an asset you want to lose.

I fretted a bit, thinking that stress and problems were slowing the quick draw of my wit.

“You find something funny about everything,” my sister complained one day. “I can tell you the most serious problem and you’ll start grinning then come up with something funny.” Read More»

The best tellers of stories

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Out of the blue one day, I got an email from an old, beloved friend from my NASCAR days. In the days when first I met him, Jim Freeman was the public relations director at the Talladega track. That was when the publicity at all the tracks was run by men, some college educated, some not, who were amicable, back-slapping and well-liked. Read More»

Woman needed to get story

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A couple of years ago, I was in Fayetteville, Ark., having dinner with a few folks including two of the loveliest people I know – Gen and Frank Broyles. Read More»

Rodney tries to help

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My brother-in-law, Rodney, called me up one day. He’s one of my favorite people and even when I should get mad at him, I never can. He’s so charming and funny.

“I found you a good one to go out with,” he began.

“I’m not looking,” I replied.

“Well, I know that but still this would be a good match for you, I think.”

“Who is it?” I asked with a great deal of wariness in my voice. Read More»

When a woman leaves

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When word filtered out that she was gone, just packed up and disappeared like a vapor in the broad, bright light of day, I found no surprise in it.

There was a substantial part of me that had expected it all along.

A woman who is restless with her serving of life is dangerous in a way that a man who is bored with a woman is dangerous. Sooner or later, both will find a path to escape. You can’t stay where you don’t feel at home. Read More»

The Great Depression

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Jerry and I were talking the other day. We’ve known each other since the day I was born, he having entered this earth the day before I did. It was there in the hospital nursery we first met and the friendship has endured through the years.

His dad, a man of the old school who believed in helping a neighbor whenever there was a need, had sat with Daddy in the waiting room of the hospital as Mama labored with me. Read More»

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