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The soul and spirit can be stubborn
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When the Universe pushed her buttons, she pushed back too hard. And, since the soul and spirit can be stubborn, it took a long time to find her Center. But when she did, she discovered that Life is a Cabaret.
One of my first paintings.
Nervous Sweat
Frank’s nervous, too. The way he strangles the steering wheel reminds me of the time Daddy taught Mama to drive. Mama had Jiggled nervous sweat. Daddy stayed calm and quiet like he was reading the death notices in the Galveston Post. I sat in the back giggling my socks off.
Mama kept turning to see if I was still alive. “You okay, baby? You okay?”
“Bernice, sugar. You have to keep your eyes on the road.”
Daddy and me didn’t have much to worry about. She never went more than five miles an hour.
Daddy had tilted toward me and winked, “Hope you’re not too hungry, Little Tulip. This might take a while.”
When we got home, Mama had to change out of her sweaty clothes. Daddy gave her a big hug and said, “Bernice, you make me proud.”
But that was then.
Excerpt from The Moonshine Thicket
From Arid to a full belly
1940: Fresh Air and Dusted Britches — Last weekend Mr. Green asked Delma and me if we wanted to spend a night with him and his wife. I think maybe he’d heard a few things about what was going on at my house, about how Dad was treating me. Either way, it sure was good to get away for a night.
Mrs. Green made us corn on the cob with fried chicken and I ate every bit of mine. Then we played checkers, and even taught Delma how to play. It was like a vacation from the desert with no water into a place with fresh air and cold iced tea. It was a full belly.
The next morning before we were about to leave, Mrs. Green hugged Delma, turned to me and said, “Now Cono, you keep sittin’ on the shiny side’a that star.”
It sounded like a real nice thing to say, but I’m still trying to figure out what in tarnation she was talking about.
Excerpt from No Hill for a Stepper
Not always “home” on the range
Right before it’s time to go home, Mrs. Alexander starts to teach us a new song called Home on the Range. “Oh give me a home, where the antelope roam and the deer and the antelope play. Where seldom is heard, a discouraging word and the skies are not cloudy all day. How often at night, where the heavens are bright with the light of the Glittering stars, have I stood there amazed and asked as I gazed if their glory exceeds that of ours. Home, home on the range….”
I like those words. They make me feel almost as good as when I’m riding on ol’ Polo, free and easy like deer and antelope playing together without any bickering. I like that she tells us what the words mean, words like “discouraging.” She says that “discouraging” means that you don’t like something much, like something makes you feel uncomfortable, something that spoils your spirit. So now I can say, that “Home on the Range” is my new favorite song. I can also say that recess today sure was discouraging.
Excerpt from No Hill for a Stepper
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“Be anything but predictable.”
I was born in Adelaide south Australia in the 1980s, a time of big hair, big shoulder pads and big cartoons (He-Man, She-Ra). I grew up on a farm in Victoria, raised by ex-hippy parents, weaned on …
Source: “Be anything but predictable.”
It Ain’t About Hooch
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I need to say something. Something to calm Brandon’s storm. “So Brandon. Remember that Possum Piss you forced me to swallow?”
“Shut up, Emma June.”
“Just saying. I wouldn’t have minded so bad if you’d poured what we’re selling down my throat. Best in the south.”
“Best in the south,” Scoot mutters.
Brandon’s black eyes coil like a snake as he stares at me. “Ain’t about hooch, stupid ass.”
Scooter makes a slow-go at standing up. He sticks his hand inside Knife Pocket. I get closer to him and whisper, “It’s okay, Scoot. We’re going home soon.”
Frank’s eyes go wide, his fists clenched at his sides. “I didn’t touch your sister, Brandon.”
“Yeah? And I trust you? You’re nothing but a gigolo from New Orleans.”
“Nah-Len’s,” Frank says.
I try not to laugh at Frank’s Seriousness. He’s never pronounced the town like that.
Brandon spits again. I want to tell him I know what he did to Carla. I can’t. I promised. But I never promised one thing.
Excerpt from The Moonshine Thicket
What am I getting myself into?
My ideas always come at the last moment. I’m trying to make stuffed animal snakes as a valentine’s present for my grand kids and I barely know how to sew! EESH!
I must have rocked it!
‘Cause this is what greeted me after my kickboxing workout tonight!
During the interrogation, Possum speaks lovingly about his wife
Possum bolted out of his chair, knocking it down. “I swannin’, I never kilt nobody an’ I don’t plan to. I ain’t an eye-fer-an-eye kinda feller,” he said, looking at me.
Giovanni picked up the chair. “Hell, we know that, Possum. Calm down.”
Sheriff Tobin removed his hat and patted the table. “Just sit for a spell and hear us out.”
O’Connell did as told, rubbing his beer gut.
Sheriff Tobin stuffed his hands casually in his back pockets. “Miss Duecker, here, says you remember seeing Miss Sanders, the lady with the yellow scarf, at Menger’s.”
Mr. O’Connell let out a shiver. “Gotta show…show…show y’all somethin’.” He retreated to his bedroom and returned with a cat under one arm and a yellow bonnet under the other. “This here,” he said, lifting the cat up to his shoulder, “is mine.” He placed Dawg on the floor and held out the bonnet. “This here belonged to Edna. She loved this head wrap. Had it fer many years. Thought about burying her in it, but I jest couldn’t do’er…couldn’t do’er. Wanted to have it to remember her by.”
Van Riper shifted his weight from one leg to the other and heaved a deep sigh.
“Anyhow,” Possum continued, sitting again, “that’s how I come to remember that yeller scarf. Bright as this here bonnet. I’d been drinking Menger corn juice thinkin’ ’bout Edna when I saw that scarf round that woman’s neck. Almost like Edna done sent me a wink, wink, wink from heaven.”
Excerpt from The Last Bordello
Carolyn Dennis-Willingham 