Ronda Rich's blog

Dixie grits meet Las Vegas glitz

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Like any self-respecting Southerner, it’s hard for me to pass up reading a well-written obituary. Especially when it runs in the Wall Street Journal and begins with she was “a dash of Southern class in a raucous old boys club.”

Thus began the ending of the life of one Claudine Williams, a Shreveport, La., native, who remarkably showed her Southern prowess and charm in the toughest of worlds – the mob-run Las Vegas of the 1950s and ‘60s. Read More»

Comforts of simple things

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It is the absence of simple things that has made life so complicated. Those simple things cost nothing yet can make you feel like a million bucks.

One night during late spring, a friend, who is a legend in the Hollywood movie industry, called and we set about the business of catching up since it had been a couple of months since we had talked. He was tucked away on his getaway place near a rushing river in the mountains and I was in a similar simple place, though I was clear across the country from him. Read More»

Ghosts of Southerners past . . .

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When our friendship was new and still most interesting, Poet sought to impress me. But when the new wore off, Poet cast me into the ring with his other friends who are familiar and comfortable so there is no longer a need to impress.

This was evident when he arrived at my hotel in Jackson, Miss., to pick me up for dinner. Poet, you will recall, rises up from generations of very old Mississippi Delta dirt and is what he calls, “a gentleman farmer.” Cotton, lots of cotton, is the family business for over a hundred years. Read More»

If you can’t tell a story, then just be quiet . . .

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There is a friend I have who cannot, for the life of her, tell a story.

Sadly, she thinks she can.

This often leads to drawn out phone conversations, dinners and afternoons over coffee that can be nothing less than a yawning bore.

First, she has very little sense of humor. At least when she’s the one doing the talking. Now, she laughs merrily at others and often at my witticisms, proving she knows a good punch line when she hears it. She just can’t conjure up one of her own. Read More»

The allure of full moons

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For some reason, I’ve always loved full moons. Every time I see one, I stop in my tracks, fully absorb and appreciate its beauty and then thank the good Lord that I lived to see another beautiful full moon.

It is a gift, you know.

One night I walked out on the ocean front balcony of a condo in St. Simons Island and discovered a picture perfect, marshmallow moon hanging out above the glistening sea with its gently rolling waves. I was on my way to bed, for it was late. Instead, I pulled up a chair, plopped down and stared at the white magic in the black sky. Read More»

Entourage encounter

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It’s true. Some things you have to see to believe. And then, even though you’re certain of the reliability of your own eyes, you don’t believe it.

While touring with my latest book, I trudged through the unglamorous moments and carried on with the hard work of it all. In short, that means long days and long miles that brings on a bone-deep weariness that is hard to describe and harder to endure. It means being up at 4 a.m. or sleeping late to 5 a.m. and then heading out to be bright and perky on early morning radio or television in a different city every day or so. Read More»

Wayward pup brings some tears

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Funny how situations in life can slip up on you and turn your feelings completely around.

Sometimes it’s downright tragic.

It began one morning as the sun had barely begun to rise. I was tired and prone to wanting to sleep a bit longer because a friend, a legendary Hollywood stuntman and actor, had called and kept me up until almost 2 a.m., riveting me with the kind of stories that only he can tell. Even a good night’s sleep will not lure me away from a great story. Read More»

2010: The Year of Me

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Unlike many people, I’m not a maker of New Year’s resolutions. Mainly because when I see the need for change or improvement, I resolve to fix it then, even if it’s July 23 or Oct. 1. I don’t wait until the first of the year.

But I have discovered the need for sweeping change in my life, so large that I have spent the past couple of months putting a strategic plan in place to accomplish it. Read More»

Christmas gift: NYC

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Last year’s best present was from neither friend nor loved one. It was gifted to me by life: One of those rare lessons that grows more beautiful in memory as time passes.

But when life tried to give it to me, I threw a bit of a tantrum. I did not want it. I stomped my feet, sniffed hard, determined not to cry though I wanted to, and did everything within my power to keep from taking it.

But life persisted. She was insistent that I accept it and when, at last, I did, I was amazed by its gorgeousness then stunned by how close, due to my stubbornness, I came to missing it. Read More»

The beauty shop and the beast

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Every trip to the beauty shop is, for me, an adventure in some way. And, without fail, it’s immensely entertaining.
First of all, Sandy, my hairdresser, is one of the most delightful women in the world. She is fall-down funny so it’s worth the visit just for the sideshow.
Then, there are all the stories that come out of going to the beauty shop. Read More»

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