Ronda Rich's blog

The calling of a screen door . . .

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There is something about the banging of a screen door – soft, sweet and low – that warms the innards of my being.

Perhaps it is that it takes me back through a journey of memories to a time when everyone I loved was still alive. That is, I suppose, the greatest loss of innocence for me, though there have been many. For I failed to realize then that so many folks I cherished would all too soon become mere memories decorated by names etched in stone. Mortality was something I simply did not understand nor cared to comprehend. Read More»

Judy, the sad girl

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The other day I took a shortcut down a back road, the likes of which I had not seen since I was a child in petticoats and Mary Janes and rode the big, yellow schoolbus.

The road was dirt and gravel back then, twisting sharply from corner to corner as it wound itself around mostly pastures and creeks. There were, perhaps, three houses on the road, one of which was a white clapboard farm house with a front porch, steep steps and a postage stamp-sized front yard. Read More»

Fried okra and corn syrup

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A while back, I was on book tour when my publicist called to say I had been asked to cook on a television show.

“They just want you to come on and share three of your recipes,” she explained. “One, you will prepare on the air and the others you’ll just show and talk about.”

Later, we discovered that the show wanted three fully prepared dishes “for show and tell” and we were to have all the ingredients on hand for the one I would demonstrate. Read More»

Rediscovery of Mama

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It is my strong and abiding philosophy that good springs forth from the midst of whatever bad happens to us. In the recent days that now trail behind me as time spent sweetly, I have luxuriated in the good that came from the water line break that practically demolished my childhood home.

It was shocking to see the devastating damage and all the material possessions lost, many of no value monetarily yet invaluable to my heart. Read More»

Strength of Southern women

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The text that my sister sent was simple yet so powerful: “He is gone to be with God.”

For 36 hours, we had expected the inevitable but it is also inevitable that tears will come in times like that.

Richard, whom I had known since childhood, and who was much beloved by our family had succumbed to the curse of his bloodline – a heart disorder that has methodically, relentlessly claimed members of his family. His 36-year-old niece had died from it just a few weeks earlier. Read More»

Coming out even in the end

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There was a man I knew once, who lived for a good time. Work, he believed and ardently practiced, was only good for providing a means to an end, the end result being that of his vigorous pursuit of wine, women and song.

Of course, in the case of any decent, self-respecting, old-fashioned Southern redneck, for him it was beer, not wine, but as any Puritan will tell you: The devil’s brew is the devil’s brew, no matter what it’s called. Read More»

Things I learned from Lee

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The other day I ran into General Robert E. Lee, along with his wife, and his arch nemesis, General Ulysses S. Grant.

I had just finished a speaking engagement at the TRR Cobb House in Athens, Ga. (Mr. Cobb, among many accomplishments, co-founded the University of Georgia Law School. He died at Fredericksburg defending the Confederate Constitution which he had authored). Read More»

Beauty and the beast

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It is possible that I could say that I didn’t believe my eyes. The truth is, though, that when it comes to the bizarre, the absurd, the downright unnatural, my eyes pretty much believe whatever they see.

Such as the world has become. Read More»

The Scott Family Gospel

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My friend, Linda, is one of those kinds of friends that drift in and out of my life. The kind of friend that I see infrequently but when we gather together over lunch or dinner, it’s as though we’ve had coffee together every morning for the past six months. Our conversation isn’t constant but our friendship is. Read More»

New year & I: no sequel

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It sounded like a great idea at the time. Most of my ideas do. “Hair-brained scheme,” is what Mama sometimes called them.

Last year, I greeted the New Year with the proclamation that I wanted to make it a “year of me.” I groused over how life had taken control of me and that I did too many things that I didn’t want to. I declared that I would begin saying “no” to that which did not interest me instead of saying “yes” out of courtesy. I planned to be selfish not selfless, to maneuver life, not be manipulated by it. I declared that 2010 would be all about me. I was giddy with anticipation. Read More»