Author Archives: Carolyn Dennis-Willingham, Author

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About Carolyn Dennis-Willingham, Author

Author of two published books – No Hill for a Stepper, 2001, and The Last Bordello, 2016, and numerous children's books. Her third novel, Distilling Lies is set in 1928 and will be released on May 9th. A former early childhood specialist, she taught bias-free education to teachers at the local, state, and national levels and applies this fundamental principle in her writing. Whether writing for adults or children, her stories revolve around empowering the readers (and listeners) to believe in their potential, to appreciate diversity, and to believe in the power of imagination. When not on her laptop, she willingly serves as the lap-top for her five young grandchildren. In addition to writing, she enjoys boxboxing, hiking, dancing, strength training, and traveling. Occasionally, she pulls out the oil paints to see what emerges on a blank canvas. In addition to her blogging website, cdwcreations.com, you can find her on Facebook and on Instagram @cdwwrites .

Thoughts about racism

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Great insight from a great writer. I hope the 35% get ABC’s message loud and clear – most of us will NOT tolerate this kind of racist bullying – or any kind for that matter.

ends and beginnings blog's avatarEnds and Beginnings

Today, right now, Starbucks will close 8,000 stores across the nation for an afternoon of anti-bias training. What Starbucks will attempt to do in just the three hours is undo centuries of generational racial bias in this country. Sounds like a pretty heavy task. In the meantime, television “star” Roseanne Barr compared a black woman, Valerie Jarrett, to a monkey in a tweet recently and then later apologized for making “a bad joke”.

It’s easy and even convenient, to blame this new age of racism on Trump. The reality is this, though the racist rhetoric seems to be more public and in your face since Trump took office the truth is this, it is the same as it has always been, ugly and just as prevalent as it was 100 years ago. Why it seems more widespread has more to do with “us” than “them”.

The “them”, the racist, the bigots and…

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When the Bull Gets the Last Laugh

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texas-longhorn

Maybe it was a low point for Dad but for me, it was anything but.

We were living at the Dennis ranch, when Dad came home drunk and decided it was time to act like a real rodeo star. I was standing outside the corral, where we kept one of our two-year-old bulls. Dad saunters over to me and slurs, “ Cono, grab that bull o’r yonder. Hold’em still ‘til I get on. I’m gonna ride this son of a bitch”

“Sure I will, Dad.”

It was better than watching a picture show. While I was putting the rope around the bull’s neck Dad went over and fixed Ike’s spurs to his shoes! Not to his boots because he didn’t even own a pair of boots, but to his shoes! Then he slapped on Ike’s chaps. I helped him get on top of the bull and stood there holding his rope.

“Whenever you’re ready,” I said.

“I’z ready,” he slurred.

I let go.

Dad put one hand up in the air and said, “High, ho, silv……”

That bull didn’t even buck. He just turned around real slow, like he was trying to see what kind of idiot wanted to sit on his back. That slow turn-around was all it took. My Dad fell right off that lazy bull and straight into the dirt, Ike’s spurs dangling from Dad’s shoes.

I turned around and looked in the other direction, so Dad wouldn’t see the laugh in my face. If he was paying attention, he would have seen my shoulders quivering with the same laughter.

He got up and staggered back to the house, mumbling something about killing steak for dinner. Some things sure were funny back then, but other times? You couldn’t find “funny” anywhere you looked.

 

Excerpt from No Hill for a Stepper by C. Dennis-Willingham

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The Rooster Produces

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A little note from this all-over-the-map Rooster writer:

Yes, my blog post themes hip hops from poetry to politics, from novel excerpts to photography.

For this post, my former profession has returned. I have once again dipped my toes into that magical pond of childhood.

The following is one of many finger plays/songs in my repertoire.

When you share this with a young one, don’t forget the gestures and enthusiasm!

Bubbles 4

 

 

Now, the chances are pretty good you might see more future blogs for parents and teachers – or anyone who loves interacting with young children.

Note 2: author of this poem is unknown

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The Worry Wrestler

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Ike Dennis

Ike, my grandfather, ain’t mean like his son. Unless he’s breaking a horse or doing something else with purpose, he’s got a smile perched on his leathered face.

He stays cool as a cucumber even when times are hard. I hardly ever see that worry bubble dancing over his head like a cloud of Texas dust that most of us stand under.

He got rid of his worry a long time ago at the age of two when Great Grandpa Jim put him on top of a horse. If  T-R-O-U-B-L-E comes knocking on his door, he just wrestles it off until all that’s left is the T.

 

Excerpt from No Hill for a Stepper by C. Dennis-Willingham

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Do You Like Children?

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Not everyone does, you know. Some adults think that those little human “beans” should sprout somewhere else, anywhere but in their close proximity.

Yes, children are loud and can irritate and inflame every nerve to the point where anti-inflamatories don’t work.

Children are curious to a fault – “How come?” “Why do I haf-ta?” “What’s that?” Those questions sometimes makes us grown-ups feel stupid because we don’t always have the internet at hand for research.

But I know that children are magic.

They help us remember what our long-ago years were like.

They remind us of that feeling of satisfaction when the “ah-ha!” moments pop out of nowhere land.

They refill our imagination bucket with all kinds of sweet nuggets of creativity.

Screen Shot 2018-05-04 at 8.31.36 AM

 

Three years ago and four grandchildren later, ribbons of creativity, once hidden in my DNA, have sprouted again. Thanks to those growing “beans,” the product of their influence is now available here.

Screen Shot 2018-05-04 at 8.15.23 AM

Thank you for taking a look.

An abrupt rush to judgment

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One thing I’ve learned over the years is to take responsibility for my mistakes. No, it wasn’t a big one, but still. Why was I so head strong that my first thought was, “damn, how could they have made me the wrong molds for my teeth?”

I made the call to the orthodontist’s office.

Receptionist: You need to come in so we can see why they don’t fit and do a rescan.

Me: I know why they don’t fit. You didn’t take into account my new crowns. But the ones before fit fine. I really don’t want to have to come in again. (continuing with more blah, blah, blah)

Receptionist: Can I put you on hold for a minute?

NEW receptionist: So how can I help you?

Me: (repeat, sigh and more blah, blah, blah)

NEW receptionist: We really should see you and we’ll make time for you at your convenience.

Me: (sigh) Today at 11:00?

NEW receptionist: Perfect. We’ll see you then.

Sitting in the orthodontist’s chair and ready for them to rectify their mistake, I became enlightened. I had pulled the packet of invisalign’s from an old box and had plunked the wrong set of invisalign’s in my mouthy mouth.

Me: (looking at the orthodontist’s assistant) So my other two boxes at home are the right ones?

Assistant: Should be.

Me: (thinking of time wasted on both our parts because of my blunder) Crap.

Assistant: (smile) Don’t worry. It’s happened before. If you have any problems once you get home and try them, feel free to email me.

And so I did. But not because I had a problem.

Screen Shot 2018-05-01 at 11.45.35 AMReminder: Admit mistakes and move one.

Note to self: check future emails for typos.

via Abrupt