Random Connect Points:
Reba's Stories

Throwback Thursday post: This appeared in Blue Fish magazine in May 2014 but I never posted it here. I have only a few patches of memories of my grandmothers. They both died before I hit my teen years, and my recollections are hazy at best. My mother’s mother died when I was five. My recollections of her are of a tiny wisp of a gentle lady who wore shoes so small they almost fit me for dress-up when I was a very young girl. My father’s mother died when I was 12. She lived 500 miles away in Virginia, and we saw her a couple of times a year. She would visit at Christmas dressed in lovely church clothes as she emerged from the Piedmont Airlines flight at the Columbia airport. Both of my grandmothers were in professions traditional for women who worked in the mid 1900s. My dad’s mom, Granny, was a teacher of gifted and special ed children. My mother’s mom, Butter, was a much-beloved church secretary. Recently Granny sat on my shoulder for a few minutes. My husband and I had met u

With so much attention focused on all things local these days, we need to start a campaign for a locally-owned bookstore in downtown Columbia. While Columbia has a good variety of specialty, used, religious and chain bookstores, I’m hankering for a place to find best sellers alongside home-grown poetry collections, quirky humor shelved with local history. This bookstore would be locally-owned with a “Cheers factor” where everybody knows your name, your reading preferences and your coffee choice. It would cater to local people who love books of all types regardless of whether it’s writing them, reading them or talking about them. Authors could give informal talks about their work. Book clubs could meet. Aspiring writers could gather. Musicians could have jam sessions. Readers could sit and read while sipping tea and nibbling on a cookie. Kids could enjoy story time. I think back to the days of the Happy Bookseller and realize its owners were probably just ahead of their time wit