Ronda Rich's blog

Gary was my friend

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It started one Sunday when I slid into the third row pew next to a slender man with rumbled silver hair just as the first notes of the organ announced that service was starting.

He wore a blue polyester sports jacket, plaid knit slacks, a crumbled shirt and an incredibly wide tie. He nodded and I smiled, as I noticed that one of his clear blue eyes drew inward toward his nose. A moment later, he reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a piece of hard caramel candy and, unsmiling, handed it to me. Read More»

St. Simons, yes or no, & destiny

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There is a seaside village on the coast of Georgia that my heart, in fact my entire being, is summoned to at fairly regular intervals. It is as much home to me as the red clay hills of North Georgia.

I understand why it is so about the mountains. My family, at least nine generations of them, has been embedded in those hills so deeply that it’s hard, impossible really, to separate the land from our souls. There is no dividing line where the land ends and our flesh begins. And St. Simons? Why does it has such a mystical draw over me? That, too, is easy to explain. Read More»

The gift from a writer

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You cannot be a writer without being a reader. It’s a simple observation but no wiser words have ever seen ink on paper. For writers are always drawn to and mesmerized by words. We drink up pretty syllables like drunks depend on cheap wine. Read More»

Falling from great heights

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Haughtiness and arrogance has always perplexed me for I’ve never understood those traits. “Pride goeth before destruction,” declares a book known for pulling no punches.

I have always thought that too many people are not aware of how a twist of fate can snatch away fortune, beauty or health. In the twinkling of an eye, it can all be gone. Read More»

Women who chase men

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One day, I realized that a guy friend had mentioned a woman several times over a couple of weeks, saying in casual conversation that she had called and invited him to various places.

“She invited me to the ballet on Saturday night. I don’t really want to go,” he said. “But I probably should do it, rather than sit at home.”

This upcoming piece of advice has nothing to do with the story I’m telling but I’ll offer it nonetheless: Women, if you are interested in a man, do not invite him to the ballet. It will not further your romance. Trust me on this. Read More»

Reading the obits

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Oh, the ironies of life.

My godmother and I were going somewhere one day when she said, “Did you read the obituaries this morning?”

“Yes, I did.” I read two newspapers every morning and check the obituaries for national and local deaths.

“Who is being buried at Mount Vernon?” she asked, referring to a local church cemetery. Read More»

A quick, sharp tongue

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My niece, Nicole, was saying the other day how a quick, sharp tongue is built into our DNA and how we need to watch what we say and how we say it.

If you haven’t already read between the lines, that was her attempt to be subtle and encourage me to watch what I say. Of course, it was a waste of her sweet breath, but I pretended to pay attention and agreed with what she said. Read More»

Sexiness of gun metal

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Just when I thought I knew most of what there was to know, or at least that which was mostly worth knowing, about what is alluring to men about women, I uncovered a stunning new truth.

I believe that I can now say that it is neither sleek high heels nor lace-trimmed lingerie that tantalizes them most. It is definitely not figure-defining dresses, the perfect shade of lip-gloss, long, glossy hair or lashes that are curled and tinted. It is something that is bolder, more smoldering, more dangerous. Read More»

When love goes bad

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There wasn’t very much of me back then. I was a tiny girl, just big enough to reach up and grab hold of the wooden counter top in that old country store and lift my chin enough to allow my eyes to peer up in quiet fascination at the man who rang up the items that Mama had laid down.

Though there wasn’t a lot I knew at 6 years old, this much I did know: The man ringing up the groceries was handsome with an easy smile. He patted my head and winked and I suppose it was my first fleeting brush with a crush. Read More»

Why are things so hard?

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It is one of the great mysteries of life. Why are some things so hard? Why, if some things are meant to be, is it so difficult sometimes to make them happen?

A friend asked me that the other day. Then I, in turn, asked another friend. “Why are some things so hard to overcome? If they’re really meant to be, why would they be so difficult?”

She knew no better than I. She responded, “I don’t know. Some things are just harder to make happen.” Read More»