Random Connect Points:
Reba's Stories

There's nothing better than walking on the beach at the end of the day. In the summer, the end of the day could mean as late as 8:00. In the winter, it's more like 5:15.  Heading to the beach late in the summer means I can usually nab a prime parking spot from one of the vacationing families loaded down with buggies that overflow like grocery carts on BOGO days at the Kroger. By this time of day, the college kids have exhausted the supply of beer in the cooler, had their fill of corn hole, and set off for a nap and change of clothes for the evening bar hopping. There are just a few straggler rental chairs and umbrellas that the lifeguards are patiently waiting to stow for the night. The winter brings a different feel to late afternoon at the beach. There are no frenzied vacationers struggling under the weight of a day's worth of food, toys and wiped out kids. The coolers give way to dainty picnic baskets the snow bird couple totes down every evening with a bottle of...

I flew out for a long-anticipated trip Italy with three friends the first week of October. We took off on a Wednesday thankful to leave behind the impending hurricane warnings and paid little attention to the flash flood alerts for Columbia. Little did we know we would spend the better part of our trip watching international news reports showing deadly floods sweeping away friends' homes and devastating our hometown. We stayed glued to international news feeds. We watched our friends' usual social media posts about kids' activities become hourly missives of who needed help where. One friend showed up in a yellow raincoat on international CNN. Yet another was interviewed on the Weather Channel. National news correspondents broadcast from neighborhoods where just days earlier I'd been riding my bike. For several days, I struggled with finding right word to describe what I kept seeing and hearing from the people back home affected by the flooding. A recollection o...

This is a throwback Thursday post - it ran last October in a couple of publications but I never posted it here.... 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 bring about a variety of emotions, memories and feelings.   But one thing is for sure. A house isn't necessarily a home. A real estate agent says he’s showing a “house” to a potential buyer, but that person will probably say he’s buying a “home.” The saying goes “home is where the heart is” not “house is where the heart is.”   A house becomes a home when its walls get covered with photos, its closets bulge with familiar items and stuff you can’t bear to part with, there are stacks of magazines around your favorite chair, and fuzz bunnies from the much loved dog thrive under the furniture. Relative to most people my age, I lived...

This appeared in Midlands Life on September 26, 2015 My job involves working with SC cities and towns as part of an organization sharing information to help their leaders make their hometowns the best they can be. I really love what I do and particularly love the fact that I can often overlay my daily work with my personal interests. Because of several articles I've written for work publications about the growth in and around Travelers Rest , I was recently drawn to try biking the Swamp Rabbit Trail . This nine-mile bike trail was built on an old rail bed that runs between Travelers Rest and Greenville. It has helped transform this small Upstate town into a biking mecca with great restaurants and retail shops. Earlier in the year, I'd written about a local entrepreneur recounting his positive interactions with the city's mayor during a scouting visit that convinced him to locate his business in Travelers Rest . Both he and the mayor spoke with such passion about...

One of the best parts of my job is getting to really experience the cities I visit for meetings and conferences. Working for an organization that helps build strong cities, I love the chance to explore a city's story beyond the everyday tourist sites. A conference I attend every summer typically takes us to locations that aren’t at the usual conference sites like New Orleans, Seattle or Orlando. In recent years, we've met in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, a state park in South Dakota and downtown Minneapolis   - places that never would have hit my radar for travel otherwise. Original interior of the Guardian Building in downtown This year, the meeting was in Detroit. I’ve never been to Michigan and, other than checking my bucket list item of visiting every state, I probably would have had no real reason to visit the state. I will admit my perception of Detroit was that it was unsafe, dirty and with no real attractions to make it an interesting destination. Part of the deca...

When I made an impulse purchase of a shiny yellow bike during a recent trip to Greenville, I had no idea how much I'd learn from those 30 pounds of metal. Just to be clear, this isn’t some fancy multi-speed bike that requires special shoes, flashing LED lights and an expensive water bottle. Think Pee Wee Herman on his cruiser not Lance Armstrong speeding through France.   Swamp Rabbit Trail I'd bought the bike after spending two afternoons in Greenville riding the Swamp Rabbit Trail on a rented bike that was a perfect fit for my small frame. The trail is a converted rail bed that runs nine miles between downtown Greenville and Travelers Rest.  It's a peaceful ride with scenery as diverse as the back of industrial buildings to the rolling campus of Furman. Curiosity about the bike I'd enjoyed riding led me to ask the folks at the rental shop about it. The shop, with the cool name of Pedal Chic, focuses on bikes and equipment for just for women. The sales ...