Random Connect Points:
Reba's Stories

I started the year trying to resume the discipline of keeping a handwritten journal. This process of deliberately writing by hand has reminded me how it so often results in a flow that’s very different from writing using a keyboard. Research abounds about how hand-writing spurs creativity and encourages memory paths in ways writing using a keyboard doesn’t.  This Fast Company article  references  research that  says p ressing a key doesn’t stimulate brain pathways the same way writing by hand does. “It’s possible that there’s not the same connection to the emotional part of the brain when people type, as opposed to writing in longhand.” This got me to thinking about a poem I’d written several years ago  about writing by hand . Normally I don’t write poetry, but it just kind of flowed out of me in a writer’s workshop. On the first day of the workshop, the instructor said we would be writing by hand. Write with a pen? On paper? Surely, you’re kidding, I thought. I write with a pen only w

It felt awkward in my hand like what I wrote had to be right the first time. Doesn’t everything have to be right the first time? Scribbling with the pen is messy I can’t fix what I get wrong A drop from my tea cup smears the ink a bit It’s messy What if I think of a better way to say it? I can’t delete it once it’s there How do I fix it without being messy? My head goes faster than my hand can write I can’t keep up It's getting messy What if I miss words or lose them to another random thought It’s messy Words are now tumbling too fast Fingers with the pen can’t keep up It's messy My fingers get a little tired from the pen There’s a ridge on my finger It looks messy from leaking purple ink Writing becomes illegible scribble I’m getting lost in this stuff that’s tumbling out It’s getting really messy Ink shows thru from the other side of the page Makes it hard to read through that mess This doesn’t happen with keys It’s

"Practice makes perfect.” Surely a mantra we all heard as children…whether it was in sports, spelling, music or math. This was a standard line repeated by grown-ups who were just trying to help us learn. Practice is a good thing…right? But perfect? Rarely possible. Over the years, I’ve come to understand perfection is a false master regardless of the task. My perfect custard might look like your messy pie. My perfect swan dive might be your belly flop. Perfection is subjective. It’s as inaccurate a measure of success as coloring in the lines is for creativity. In her new book, The Lives We Actually Have,  author Kate Bowler tackles the gremlins of perfection this way in one of her 100 blessings for imperfect days: “ … In this culture of more, more, more, make me less. Less tidy and afraid, less polished and buttoned up, less prideful and judgmental. Turn down the volume of my expectations, and let me hear the birds sing…” These beautiful words lead me toward th

Reading has always been a delight for me. I loved the library’s summer reading clubs when I was a kid. Browsing bookstores is a favorite pastime when I travel. Countless books on writers and writing are scattered around my house. In recent years, however, I found myself reading books less frequently. And the ones I started, I tended to abandon more often. Last summer, I set out to change that. I knew that I’d gotten too attached to my devices. I was scrolling far too much and reading books far too little. Over Memorial Day, I challenged myself to read a book a week until Labor Day. My accountability was writing a quick book review (I called them “blink book reviews” to keep them short enough to be read in a blink). Going into 2023, I made an intention (not a resolution) to read more. I started actively asking friends for book suggestions and deliberately making the time to read. I sought out hints from friends and strangers about how they make time for reading and

We’ve just returned from a glorious two-week adventure in Germany, Austria and Hungary - most of it spent travelling with friends we’ve known since our young adult days in DC. During the trip, I posted photos of the lovely scenery, the magical markets and our laughing, giddy faces. But they tell only a part of the story of this trip.  As I’ve eased back to real life trying to unpack, sort out gifts we bought and get holiday plans finalized, I’ve happily shuffled through slideshows of our daily outings in my head and smiled. But I suddenly realized that – during this season when we often forget to be present with our blessings – I was overlooking the biggest blessing of all – the gift of presence. It was our good fortune to spend so much of our time on this trip being completely present with each other and acknowledging our deep gratitude for this gift of friendship we were able to live out while travelling together. Thirty-plus years ago in DC, a group of young couples with Mississippi

What started out as a personal discipline this summer to get off the screen and back to books turned out to be a fun exploration of different reading genres and books I might not have considered reading otherwise. I'm so grateful to the more than 200 people who ended up joining my Blink Book Review Facebook group , offered book suggestions and participated in conversations.  Mini-reviews and suggestions came in from as far away as Israel and as nearby as up the street. My "to-read" list is bulging, and these suggestions have gotten me out of my rut of reading the same authors and genres.  In addition to the books that got full reviews in this series , I don't want to overlook several others I read or listened to: "South Toward Home" by Julia Reed - This was a jewel. Another collection of essays kind of like Ann Patchett's book I reviewed. Even if you don't like Julia's writing (which would be really hard to do), just listening to her read in her

The 50 th anniversary of Watergate this summer struck a real chord with me bringing back snippets of news stories from the summer I was eleven and heading into the sixth grade. An NPR podcast got me curious to dig a little deeper into that dark time in our nation’s history where trust in government was at a low point (sound familiar?). After reading old news stories, listening to several podcasts, and browsing through a number of books on the subject, I settled on reading "In the Shadow of the White House," a memoir by Jo Haldeman, the wife of Nixon’s chief of staff, H.R. Haldeman. She wrote the book in 2017 when she was 88 to make sure her grandchildren understood their grandfather’s role in history. Jo Haldeman was a devoted housewife, stay-at-home mom of four children and LA native in 1968 when her husband, Bob, was picked to be Richard Nixon’s chief of staff. Jo embraced the family’s move to DC and her role as the wife of a senior White House official, tending the h