Random Connect Points:
Reba's Stories

I hate to think how many gatherings I didn’t host over the years because I worried that my house wasn’t _______ enough. Fill in the blank - clean enough, straight enough, decorated enough. Too much dog hair and too many fuzz bunnies. Too many magazines stacked on the hearth and too many guitar cases crammed behind the sofa. Finally, after years of struggling with this, I think I’ve finally beaten the house perfection gremlins into submission. This week, I hosted my annual holiday “soup supper” for a group of girls I’ve known for well over 40 years. It’s a simple affair. Chili and two soups. Some years, I’ve made all three. Some years, I’ve ordered in all three. This year, my cook-of-a-husband made the soups, and I made the chili. I wasn’t sure I was up for hosting this year. One friend offered to pinch hit at her house knowing the holidays might be dicey after my father’s death in October. I considered it. My house is still a mess from moving in furniture from my parents’ recently-shut

This wonderful lady took a piece of my heart with her when she left us last week. She’s been part of my life since she and my mother got Katherine and me together as two-year-old little girls in smocked dresses and red Mary Janes. It wasn’t until the past couple of years that I felt like I could call her anything other than “Mrs. DuBose” -   we finally settled on “Big Katherine” a few years ago. My growing up years were shaped by her grace, kindness and elegance.  When I was too scared to spend the night out as a little girl, she made sure I felt comfortable and safe in their house. When I stayed with her family at the lake, she always remembered I couldn’t stand tomatoes. When I got married, she hosted my bridesmaid lunch. My mother has always said that she knew when she sent me to the DuBose’s house to play, her rules were our rules. In more recent years, with her living in the same Still Hopes building as my parents, I loved seeing her deftly navigate around the campus on her mo

We lost our dad yesterday afternoon. I thought I’d have words for an elegant post when the time came. And I will. But I just can’t yet today. In the meantime, you can read his obit here. I know he’s enjoying his scotch and soda in a short glass, ribbing with the angels, reeling in a salmon and seeing his golf buddies again.        

Seems there's "day" for everything these days. Today it's #NationalPodcastDay. Seems fitting to fall on the last day of the month that my article on the topic is on the newsstands in Columbia Metropolitan Magazine. Read it here if you've missed it in your mailbox or in the grocery store line. This article gave me the chance to interview lots of interesting folks who are jumping on the podcast trend. From real life public radio podcasters Gavin Jackson and AT Shire to Laura Smith, a UofSC journalism professor who teaches a podcasting class, readers can learn about some of the really well-done local podcasts and find out more about what it takes to get a podcast launched. I also dig into music and lifestyle podcasts with interviews with Anne Smith of the But Not All at Once podcast and John Furr who hosts Cola Town Underground about the local music scene. who  Read the article here. And as a bonus for my RCP readers - I'm sharing one interview below that got c

It's been three years ago today since I drove over to PetsInc in W. Columbia to walk dogs that had been evacuated from the coast during Hurricane Florence. I had no intention of bringing home a dog.  But my heart had different plans. ( Read that story here.) Since I was set on a golden - and figured it was pretty unlikely to find exactly what I was looking for that day – I wasn’t too worried about being tempted to bring a dog home. A series of God-winks, encouragement from a friend who happened to be at PetsInc that day, and a locking of eyes with this beautiful homeless dog allowed me to make the extremely impulsive decision to put this dog in my car and take her home with me. I named her Florence after the hurricane but quickly shortened it to Flossie which seems sassier and less formal. Three years later, Flossie brings a calm and sense of peace to our lives. Turns out she was perfectly pre-packaged for us with excellent manners, a calm presence and loving nature. She was my

It's National Record Store Day so I dusted off one of my favorite articles I've gotten to write for Columbia Metropolitan Magazine - it was  about record stores in Columbia.  Who remembers Meri's at Richland Mall? I got to interview Meri's son and gin up some great memories about the rite of passage to browse the bins and pick out a 45 to take home to spin on my "close and play" record player.

Columbia cookbook author Mary Martha Greene comes by cooking and storytelling naturally. Both are as an integral a part of her life as waking and sleeping. She grew up with meals made from handwritten family recipes, parties thrown using family china and silver, and tables lovingly set with crystal vases filled with fresh flowers. The people who know Mary best reflect on her love of telling humorous, inspiring and sometimes raucous stories about her family, their adventures and their cooking. This combination of food and stories produces the perfect recipe for Mary’s recently released cookbook, The Cheese Biscuit Queen Tells All, which hit bookstores around the country on Mother’s Day in May.  Mary's young years were spent in Beaufort where she cultivated her love of cooking. The pleasure she gets from sharing her cooking with others is directly attributable to her grandmother, her mother, and her two aunts whose names she bears and who are frequently referenced and credited thro