Random Connect Points:
Reba's Stories

On this day in 1970, a young family moved into a house they had just built. Nothing spectacular about this. Definitely the American dream … a house in a nice quiet neighborhood with lots of kids. Friends and family members were already living nearby. It was close to schools, church, work and everything important to this family. This house is special to me because it was my childhood home. It was standard 1970s ranch construction with a facade that exactly mirrored a home in historic Colonial Williamsburg that my mother loved. That house grounded me with security, family, friends, comfort and familiarity. Although I moved out for college eight years after we moved in, that house continues to live in my heart as my “childhood home.” The word “home” can have so many different meanings at various times in your life. A childhood home evokes different feelings than your first young-married home. A retirement home is different from a vacation home. All gin up a variety of emotions, ...

Every Tuesday night when I take my place around the table at our weekly Sip N Strum gathering, I’m reminded why this is my sacred time each week. For ten years, we’ve been doing more than just learning to play the ukulele. We’ve been building a community, establishing friendships, sharing talents and just plain having fun (not to mention occasionally sipping a fireball)! Nine years ago, I wrote a post on my Random Connect Points blog about my experience playing with this crew on stage at Tin Roof in Columbia . I went looking for it today knowing the SNS crew will be celebrating our 10th anniversary this Saturday when we participate in the St. Pat's parade. I wanted to remember that early rush! What fun it was to re-read my early musings about playing music as a middle-aged wanna-be musician without any natural talent, rhythm or skill. That post led me to search further back in my archives to dust off the one chronicling the first performance of my fledgling music “career.”  It des...

As a self proclaimed “policy nerd,” I was excited to receive “A Concise Guide to SC State Government” by Vincent Sheheen as a Christmas gift. I found it easily readable – dare I even say a “page turner.” Sheheen comes by his expertise in state government loaded with credentials. He served in the SC House from 2001-2004 and the state Senate from 2004-2020. He hails from Camden where he now serves as mayor. His family is seeped in the politics and history of South Carolina. Sheheen also hosts a successful podcast with his friend and fellow retired state senator, Joel Lourie, where they interview political and policy leaders from both sides of the aisle. If I judged the book by its cover, I would almost guess it’s a textbook (and the author has noted in interviews that he hopes it will be used that way). But there’s plenty of vivid storytelling and well-written narrative to keep someone without my interest in politics engaged. For anyone who has heard the often ...

It's National Handwriting Day which got me to thinking about why handwritten notes bring me such joy.  (I've written before about the magic and mess of handwriting on a blank page. Read that post  here. ) When I was growing up, the family mailbox was a magic chamber that delivered cards with good wishes, post cards from interesting places and an occasional gift from a far-off relative. Today's mailboxes, however, often are more of a torture chamber spewing out political post cards, overdue bills and unwanted solicitations. What used to be a daily treat of checking the mail has now become just another chore.  Think about how you react to what you find in your mail cubby at work or in your mailbox at home. What’s the first thing you automatically throw out? But more importantly, what’s the first thing you put aside to read? Human nature will likely take us to the piece of mail that looks to be the most personal and least threatening…the handwritten, individually stamped en...

I do love the mess of a post-dinner dining room table!          It means favorite people in my life have lingered around this table. We enjoyed each other's company. We ate good food. We laughed. We may have stumbled down memory lane. We definitely had fun.  And that makes a mess worth every second of the little bit of extra effort it takes to bring out the "good stuff."  I love setting a pretty table. That means bringing out the "good stuff" that may have belonged to a grandparent or been a beloved wedding gift. On a recent Saturday night, I brought out my mom's good china when we hosted a very last minute, very casual supper for dear friends. A fancy table didn't mean we had to dress up or plan a formal meal. David whipped up a lovely dinner using recipes he wanted to try out. I set out my mom's silver goblets alongside our wedding crystal. The place settings mixed and matched our silver pattern with David's grandmother's. Candles flicke...

I've loved writing for Columbia Metropolitan Magazine for some 30+ years. My favorite assignments are features about people whose work I admire.  This month, I got to write about Columbia native Barrett Smith who has gained national fame as a member of the Steep Canyon Rangers . He was an absolute delight to interview and has such an interesting story to tell about his path to success. He loves Columbia and the people here who believed in him.  For anyone who remembers the bluegrass jams at El Burrito, have been to BirdFest or took guitar lessons from Robert Newton, you may find some familiar themes in this article .  As a fun aside, I was thrilled to be one of the featured writers in this month's issue . And this month's cover photo is spectacular!

I celebrated my 65th birthday this week secure in the fact I’m not yet “old.” That’s because I continue failing to check the boxes that I believe would qualify me for that definition. When I was growing up, “old” meant looking, dressing and acting a certain way. That involved wearing pantyhose, keeping a weekly beauty parlor appointment, never sleeping late, and always wearing lipstick. If that’s the standard, I’m not old yet … and I really don’t plan to be. I haven’t bought pantyhose in 25 years. I go to a salon, not a beauty parlor - and only every couple of months for a trim and touch-up. The closest I get to lipstick is Burt’s Bees tinted lip balm stashed in every pocket, drawer and bag. And yes, I can still sleep late like a teenager. But hitting the Medicare-qualifying milestone of “old” in the eyes of the government prompted me to consider more deeply this whole idea of “aging.” What exactly is old? How old do you have to be before you qualify as “old”? Is it when yo...