Random Connect Points:
Reba's Stories

As young people in the workplace seem to get younger faster than I’m getting older, I increasingly notice the role of traditional mentor relationships evolving to adapt to younger professionals’ inherent confidence, use of technology and varying styles of communication. Today’s young professionals have an entrepreneurial spirit that was less evident in generations past. Even those in government, non-profits and education seem to bring a spark of individualism to the workplace that we haven’t seen before. These differences among generations mean the relationships between mentors and those they advise has changed substantially in the past 25 years. I remember college advisors and professors telling everyone to find a mentor. In those days, that meant seeking out an older professional in a similar business and asking for direction, help or advice. Admittedly that was an intimidating challenge to a young professional just starting out. For my generation, professional or industry-spe

My friends and the bride I don’t even remember what was so funny the first time it happened, but it happened countless times over the course of a long weekend celebrating a friend’s daughter’s wedding. The laughter. We laughed until we cried. Really big tears. The kind that needed a man-sized handkerchief. A nd not just once. Probably dozens of times. I hadn’t felt so good in ages! I have a crowd of five girlfriends who came together 30 years ago in Washington, D.C. as young professionals, young marrieds, young parents. Our families formed a supper club connected by the shared experiences of growing up in the south, attending SEC colleges, and (for the most part) working in politics. At the time, we thought of the supper club as just a fun way for some southern ex-pats in D.C. to come together over food, football and kids. Little did we know we were starting to set the table for a lifelong friendship. Just so you get the picture … this supper club didn’t require f

The place was hopping when we peeked out from the stage door. The mosh pit was packed with anxious fans waiting for the performers to take the stage. People in the audience were milling around with anticipation. Their necks craned for a quick glimpse of the performers entering the venue. The bartenders were busy. T-shirts on the merch table were selling briskly. But…this was no rock concert at a sold-out coliseum. It was a Sunday afternoon at the Vista’s Tin Roof for Freeway Music School’s winter student showcase. The mosh pit occupants were elementary school-age siblings of the performers. The audience was parents trying to get a glimpse of their kids who were about to go on stage. The bartenders were serving up more diet cokes than fireballs. The t-shirts were reasonably priced. Still, the air was electric - the same feeling you’d experience before any long-anticipated rock concert. Back in my day, we called this kind of event a recital. You take music lessons. You suffer

Year-end invariably brings nostalgia, gratitude, melancholy and appreciation as we reflect on what we’ve gained, lost, learned and shared over the past 12 months. Over the Christmas break, I spent a lazy morning reading back over the 40-something posts on this blog (no editing allowed, just reading). Back in early 2013, I started the blog as just a filing place for my personal writing. In April this year, I decided to tidy up the space a bit and push it out publicly. The name, Random Connect Points, seemed appropriate since a common theme of much of my writing centers around the connections forged through the randomness of life. While I was a little nervous about putting my writing out there so deliberately, I'm grateful for the random connect points resulting from sharing some of these pieces here. Until yesterday, I’d not looked at the analytics and am stunned by the number of readers who have stopped by.  (If you're so inclined and would like to subscribe to get an em

Everyone has “that dream.” You know the one that lives in your heart rather than your head. For most of us, it’s a dream we logically know in our heads will never come true. But we keep it tucked in a place our hearts that holds on to possibilities - being an astronaut, wining a Pulitzer Prize, touring with the Grateful Dead. They are fun fantasies, but we don’t invest a lot of time pursuing them knowing the slim possibility of their reality. My dream is performing on the Grand Old Opry. I recognize there are several logistical roadblocks to this, starting with the fact I can’t sing. It’s not the “I sing softly in church” kind of can’t sing. It’s the “I only sing in the convertible with the top down to avoid offending others” kind of can’t sing. But it’s still fun to envision myself in front of hundreds of people … sassy cowboy boots, tight jeans, glittery top, pouffed up hair, guitar strapped around my neck, belting out with a voice that combines the best of Dolly Parton, Loretta

House concert: (hous KON-sert) - A gathering of friends and neighbors in an intimate home setting to celebrate and support local musicians. OK … so I kind of made up that definition, but that does describe the concept. The practice of house concerts goes back generations to Appalachian traditions. Performers en route to another gig may have a free night so they would play at a host’s home along the way in exchange for a good meal and place to lay his head. The host would charge a small ticket price with proceeds going to the performer. So that’s what’s going on October 28 – a house concert featuring the fabulous Danielle Howle. And actually Danielle is kind of en route to another performance (she kicks off touring with the Indigo Girls out west starting November 11), and this will be her last hometown date before she takes off … so let’s give her a huge Columbia send-off. If you aren’t familiar with Danielle’s work , you need to be! Friend her on Facebook and follow her o

The end of summer means cleaning out the beach leftovers from my car…the orphaned flip flop, a broken beach chair, fraying towels, empty sunscreen bottles. Then there's that LL Bean bag stuffed with books I had planned back in June to start, finish or re-read. A quick inventory tells me I've gotten at least halfway through almost every book. The same is true for a similar bag stuffed with yet more books I keep in the house. Plus, I also always have a book in my computer bag, bike backpack, car, gym bag and travel carry-on for those unanticipated moments where I can read a few pages. Almost every book is about words. If someone who loves all things about food is a foodie, I guess those of us who love words could be called a "wordie." Not much makes me happier than an hour just browsing in a bookstore - independent, not a chain, of course (this earlier blog post  makes the case for an indy bookstore in Columbia). I’ve developed a travel habit of seeking out loca