Ronda Rich


RICH: The cranky Yankee

I refer to my husband quite often as a Yankee. I introduce him as a Yankee.

RICH: Where have all the renegades gone?

There are a lot of renegades who could teach a lot of people I know a thing or two about business.

RICH: The forgotten names on the wall

There is a difference, though, between those who died with sacrifice and those who are barely living with sacrifice.

RICH: Mama’s thriftiness catches on with Tink

All my life, as long as I can recall, Mama saved things. Not because she was sentimental but because she had grown up Scotch-Irish poor so any little bit of something might be valuable down the road.

RICH: The lost art of sitting and pondering

I learned a lot from Mama but, without question, one of the best lessons she taught me was to be still and quiet.

RICH: The melody of our words

It is fortunate for me that I was birthed and raised in the South, a place of magical, moonlit and sun-kissed areas where the landscape is the melody and the people are the harmony in our stories.

RICH: Dead conferderates and live yankees

A speaking engagement in the Chattanooga area landed us within a few minutes of Chickamauga, the site of one of the Civil War’s bloodiest battles, so I insisted that we take a side trip to the historic battlefield.

RICH: The preacher and his kindness

The moral of this story is simple: There are people and churches in need of kindness and generosity. We can each be a blessing in meaningful ways. Just look around.

RICH: Missing mom and dad, no matter your age

No one, regardless of how old we are, likes to be an orphan. It feels oddly like a ship that has been securely moored in a harbor but then is set free to drift without anchor.

RICH: Hollywood gets the South wrong — again

Watching some movies set in Georgia, you’d think a screen writer has never visited the South.

RICH: Sticking together 150 years later

Sticking together 150 years later

RICH: The yarns of life

Something the other day took me back to a time, many years ago, when I followed the tight, winding roads of the mountains to present myself at the door of my maternal grandmother’s house.

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RICH: There’s something about having a pick-up truck

In the South, having a truck is akin to being free.

RICH: A father to remember

It happens all the time. Tink will meet someone new around where we live and, invariably, that person will mention my daddy.

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RICH: Remembering the great ones like Jim Lofton

There were several of these coaches who I found admirable, albeit sometimes gruff and rough-spoken. All refused to suffer fools or encourage them. I suppose it isn’t fair to single out one, but Jim Lofton always stood out.