Random Connect Points:
Reba's Stories

The work of journalists has always intrigued me. I went to college thinking I’d be one. Even after I decided to get my degree in PR, my senior project focused on journalistic ethics and the first amendment. Working with words and telling stories as a career had been on my radar since grade school. A series of Facebook posts over the weekend showing the final press run at The State paper’s printing operation got me to thinking about my early interest in local news and local stories. As a fourth grade Girl Scout, I was mesmerized by a tour of The State/Record’s printing operation. In sixth grade, I “published” a neighborhood magazine in the summer. I still have stacks of notebooks from middle school where I chronicled vacations, crushes, classes and thoughts about life. As a ninth grader, I had a class assignment to interview someone in the career field I thought I’d like to pursue after college. There was no doubt in my mind that I wanted to interview a newspaper reporter. A frien...

Last July, I read Jennifer Berry Hawes' book, "Grace Will Lead Us Home ," about the Emanuel Church shootings. It shifted how I think about our state's history and race relations. The review I wrote last July feels even more relevant today than it did then. Here's a link to read the review. Over the past week, I read the book for the third time. This time with the overlay of our world's racial strife. Wow. If you don't have time to read the book, link to SC Public Radio's podcast, the SC Lede , to listen to an interview with the author. It's the next best thing.

When I went to vote absentee on Friday, I assumed with absolute confidence that my vote would be accurately cast. I’ve been voting for 41 years and never once have I questioned my assumptions about the process. That changed on Friday. I arrived at the election commission as one of many errands on my list for the day. When I saw the line of 30+ people waiting in the more-sunny-than-shady line, I didn’t hesitate to join the wait. The line moved quickly. I wore my mask as did most people in the line. Everyone respected the tape marks indicating social distancing. A staffer from the election commission walked up and down the line offering bottles of water. Once I got into the building, the process was efficient, and the staff was gracious in spite of the heat and long lines. I signed my paperwork with a properly sanitized pen at the plastic shielded window. I turned to give my paperwork to a staff member who inserted my paper ballot into the machine. It took a couple of tries to ge...

Hearing someone’s voice encourages a connection that’s completely different than just exchanging a text, an email or even a handwritten letter. In today’s culture, technology often means we are losing the connection forged by voices. A voice is as distinctive to a person as his fingerprint or handwriting. The spoken word is intimate in a way the written word can never be. Over these weeks of quarantine, I’ve thought a lot about the voices I’ve let into my head through earbuds. I’ve listened to lots more music, podcasts, audiobooks and radio shows than ever before. As the days droned on, I came to realize a large part of what drew me to various programs, hosts, singers or narrators wasn’t just the stories they were telling or the information they were imparting, but it was the voice itself. There are four voices that I will always consider my “soundtrack of the pandemic” because they’ve been in my head through earbuds almost daily on  miles of walks or bike rides. Thes...

First office on Capitol Hill Not sure why, but I can always remember the date when I started my "real job" after college (May 23). Over the years, I've come to call this my "adultiversary." It was ten days after I'd graduated with a Journalism degree from UofSC. That day, I arrived on Capitol Hill sporting big hair, a shoulder-padded power suit and aspirations to be a press secretary. My first job was the front office receptionist for a freshman Congressman from Florence, SC. Each year on my adultiversary, I’m grateful for the fact I was able to land my dream job as my first job (or at least the "foot in the door" job that got me to my dream job). This year, however, this milestone feels a bit bittersweet as I see all the new graduates flooding the market with no jobs to absorb them. This school year, I taught a UofSC journalism class that prepared students for advertising careers. Each semester, I found myself not only teaching ab...

It's National Dog Rescue Day. I can't say it any better today than I did in my tribute to Flossie on this day last year. Read it here.

Our little Medway Road family lost one of our long-time and beloved neighbors this week with the death of our sweet friend, John Ledlie. When we bought our house next to John and Peggy 27 years ago, we never imagined we would also hit the jackpot for neighbors. For years, John and I exchanged hellos from our adjoining driveways in the mornings when he drove grandkids to school each day. When I would do my late night dog walk around the block, I’d often see John in his kitchen window. He’d knock and wave as Flossie and I left the driveway, and he was usually there waiting to ensure my safe return a few minutes later. He never told me directly he was keeping an eye out for me, but it always gave me great comfort knowing he was there. John would often show up at our door with fresh produce he had bought, fish he had caught on his many outings along the coast or random frozen pizzas he had “overbought” at the Kroger. Our delightedly inter-generational neighborhood loves...