Ronda Rich is the best-selling author
Ronda Rich, an eleventh-generation Southerner, is the bestselling
author of What Southern Women Know (That Every Woman Should) and a popular
national columnist. She is a regular contributor to Georgia Public Television
and Radio and speaks with Southern charm and humor at over a hundred events
each year. She has appeared on dozens of television and radio shows. Ronda and
her dachshund, Dixie Dew, make their home among the red clay hills of her
native homeland where both spend a significant amount of time on the back
porch.
Ronda Rich, best-selling author, Southern humorist and Women’s
College alumna will speak on Tuesday, May 14 at 6:30 p.m. in Pearce Auditorium
on Brenau’s Gainesville campus. Admission is free. Rich, whose storytelling
column appears in 53 newspapers across the Southeast, will share her stories of
humor and inspiration told as seen through the eyes of Southerners, which will
be recorded for a DVD.
By: Ronda Rich
#For years, I blamed it on those richly royal blue suede high heel pumps.
The ones with the ridiculously tall, spiked heel and absurdly pointed toe. I
was 22 when I bought them, 36 when I donated them to the Salvation Army.
#Those shoes had a history, one that made me smile. I was a young sports
reporter on assignment at USA Today in Washington, DC. I had a terrific blue
and black wool suit that Mama had made which matched them perfectly. The first
time I wore that outfit, I was covering the Cotton Bowl in Dallas, Texas and
wore it to a coaches’ press conference. I felt so grown up and glamorous. Those
shoes were what I like to call a “chat maker” because both men and women, often
strangers, would comment on them and a conversation would begin.
#One day I was cleaning my closet. You know those days. You aren’t
thinking clearly, the job becomes too time-consuming so you start tossing away
things that, in your right mind, you would never discard. Those fantastic,
still perfect blue shoes went into the donation pile. Later that afternoon, I
hauled several bags down to the Salvation Army, dropped them off, took my
contribution receipt and headed home. It was a couple of hours before the
regret set in. It grew stronger to the point that I couldn’t sleep. Finally, I
promised myself, “First thing in the morning, I’ll go back and retrieve them.
I’ll even buy them if necessary.”
#But the shoes were gone. “One of our volunteers saw them as soon as they
came in and bought them.” I was sick, a symptom that has lingered for many
years to the point that it makes it hard for me to give away something. I’m
afraid I’ll regret it.
#At times, I have thought I had a bit of hoarder in me or that I’m
indecisive or that I can’t move on without looking back but now I know better.
The point of clarification that turned into crystallization for me came when it
was time for Tink and me to merge our furnishings requiring me to purge some
things from my life to make room. I discovered that it wasn’t the affection
that I had for a sofa or a lamp but rather the journey and how it detailed the
roads of my life. Just like the shoes which represented my first big sports
reporting assignment — a week covering the Cotton Bowl — and the months I spent
at USA Today.
#The grandfather clock that stands in the corner of the living room
reminds me of youthful determination. Though I had a full-time job that paid —
barely — the monthly expenses, I took a part-time job cleaning a wing of an
elementary school every afternoon. I vacuumed and scrubbed the bathrooms where
six-year-olds had been sick on the floors, walls and everything in-between. I
netted $80 weekly and saved every penny to buy that clock. It reminds from
where I’ve come and where I can return if necessary to make a living. It cannot
go.
#In the closet are dozens of suits in nice fabrics that I sewed when
there was no money to buy clothes and when I could make three beautiful suits
or dresses for the cost of one. They are meticulously sewed and hand-finished
with satin linings and covered buttons. I need to keep every one for two
reasons: When I depended on the workings of my hands to carry me through, those
hands did it beautifully. Two, it brings forth gratitude that I no longer have
to set up my sewing machine in my kitchen and sew long into the night just to
have a new dress.
#It’s not the materialism, I realize, that makes these items valuable.
It’s that they ground me and keep me from thinking too much of myself. The less
you think of yourself, the more you can accomplish.
#That’s priceless.
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