When Words Kill

Posted on December 2, 2016 by Carolyn Dennis-Willingham, Author

Cono Dennis, after realizing his father read his private letters.

37-119-19_pt_instr-verticalcrop_quote_2-jpg

Cono Dennis, my father, age 18

I might not have sparred with him but I stopped him cold and I don’t just mean by showing off my defense skills and putting him in a head lock. As sure as a sharp axe can cut through and splinter a log and slice a thin piece of paper, a sharpened pencil can do the same thing. Words are powerful; they can be weapons as sharp as an axe. “Gene, I want to kill my Dad,” words that must have reverberated and Echoed in Dad’s ears just as loud as a sawed off shotgun, or blue lightening bouncing off a cow’s head. And just as loud as his slap across my face. I don’t think I meant for him to find all those letters, but he did.

From No Hill for a Stepper, the novel based upon my father’s life from age two till age eighteen.

Better now, without teeth

Posted on November 21, 2016 by Carolyn Dennis-Willingham, Author

Cono visits his grandpa. (No Hill for a Stepper, except- based on a true story)

unspecified-2

Pa and I are sharing a piece of Ma’s famous peach cobbler when I ask, “Pa, what happened to yer teeth?”

“Cono, now I’ll tell ye. My teeth started to achin’ and smellin’ so bad that I figured I needed to take ‘em out, harvest ‘em like an overripe crop.”

“All of ‘em? Ye pulled all of ‘em?”

“Shor’did. I got myself a pair’a pliers, sat there on the front porch and pulled out the ones that were botherin’ me the most. The good ones left felt funny bein’ in there without company, so I jes’t took them out too.”

“Damn!” I say. “They don’t stink no more?”

Pa laughs. “Ain’t nothing left te sniff.”

“He’s an old coot’s what he is,” yells Ma from the kitchen, overhearing the story.

“I’m surprised ye noticed, Ma,” he yells back. “Ye cain’t see two feet without yer glasses.” He turns back to me. “Don’t ye fret none about it,” he gums out. “Ever since them holes healed up? I kin eat a steak jes’t like ever’ body else. I chew a little longer s’all. But my whistlin’s gone to hell in a hand basket.”

Daily prompt: Aromatic

The Shape of Cono’s Being.

Posted on November 18, 2016 by Carolyn Dennis-Willingham, Author

In a previous post titled, The Shape of our Being, I mentioned how experiences shape our humanness. Here’s another example of the “shape” of Carolyn’s Being that shows up in my novels.

Disclaimer: I’m betting on my ‘underdog-ness’ again–that part of me who feels uncomfortable with self-promotion. But try, we must. Right?

NOTE: No Hill for a Stepper, is about Cono, my father (and a huge piece of my heart) who died in 2009 before its publication. Don’t worry, he read and loved the first draft.

In 1942, victimized his entire life by his own father, fourteen-year-old Cono must stand up against him an protect his mother and little sister.

Excerpt:

I hear Mother scream. I snap back into the present, out of my daydream. Maybe she’s woken up, has seen blood on her sheets reflected in moonlight, seen the blood on Dad’s face. I start to get up, but the quiet has taken over; but only for a moment.

I hear a voice I know is Dad’s but different somehow, guttural like a wolf’s growl. I hear Mother say, “Stop it Wayne!”

My feet touch the floor before the rest of me knows what it’s doing. I open my door. Mother is backing towards me, but away from the bloodied-face man holding a butcher knife, glistening from moonlight, shiny like a raccoon’s mirror. He’s stumbling towards her. My mind freezes. It’s a scene from a scary picture show. No, Cono, I tell myself, this is real. Real life, real time.

Dad’s stopped walking. He’s swaying back and forth like an old porch swing. No, more like the swing of a hanged man’s noose. His eyes are glazed like a film of anger is laying on top that he can’t wipe away. He glances once over to the couch where Pooch is sleeping.

“Mother, keep backing up towards me,” I tell her.

She stares at my father but listens to my words. Dad stops at the kitchen table, he puts his empty palm on the table for balance, the butcher knife in the other hand swaying by his side.

“C’mon, Mother, keep coming to me,” I say softly, feeling a surge of calm and determination at the same time.

Mother has backed all the way up me. I pull her behind my door into the bedroom where Delma is still sleeping. Mother is shaking. My hands are doing the same now. I see our .22 sitting on the open shelf just a few feet away. It’s so close I can almost feel it. It’s like the .22 Hoover found, the one I felt in my hands, the cold steel of it. Now, I want to feel the warm safety of it.

A fear invades my body like a sickness. I’m drowning, but not in water. I’m drowning in the fear of what to do next, what I need to do to protect my family from a madman.

Here’s Cono, my dad. My sister had the novel photoshopped into his hands and gave me this awesome framed photo.

Booger Fishin’

Posted on November 14, 2016 by Carolyn Dennis-Willingham, Author

Daily Prompt: Fish

“I stand there waiting for Dad to say something about my tied shoes, how I’d done it all by myself without breaking a string. I probably could stand here all day waiting, but he doesn’t say nary a word. He’s got a newspaper to read. I don’t care. They’re my shoes, on my feet, tied my way.

We eat some beans and cornbread and Aunt Nolie stops chewing long enough to say, “Cono, yer Mom and Dad have business to attend to this afternoon and you need to stay here. Punk Squares is comin’ over and he’s bringin’ his son, Freezer. Yer gonna have somebody to play with.”

“What about Delma?”

“I cain’t watch her, so she’s gotta go with yer folks.”

I don’t ask Aunt Nolie why she can’t take care of Delma. I don’t complain about that good-for-nothing kid coming over. He’s younger than me and acts like a baby, always booger fishing and eating his catch. No, it’s best to stay on Aunt Nolie’s good side.”

Excerpt from No Hill for a Stepper.

unspecified-2

Getting to the point

Posted on November 8, 2016 by Carolyn Dennis-Willingham, Author

images-8

My blog posts are and will be short. I know, they’re supposed to be and I like it that way. I don’t have to spend years writing one.

My books on the other hand…

Geez! It took me three years to write No Hill for a Stepper and five to write The Last Bordello.

So, now that I’m getting older, who would have thought I could speed along at a faster pace?

unknown-4

You see, I started my new book, The Moonshine Thicket, this summer.

IT’S DONE!

Well, except for … you know, that thing called Ed-I-Ting.

images-7

Truth be told, I Knew a Man …

Posted on November 5, 2016 by Carolyn Dennis-Willingham, Author

… and the man grew up in poverty during the depression. He protected his mother and little sister from his father’s outbursts.

I knew a man.

In the late 1930’s and early 40’s, he had two role models, two men he looked up to.

One was William H. Govan, the “water boy” for a small town football team. The “Negro” man, who served in WWI, showed compassion for the young kids, gave them doses of support and kindness, showed them how to stand up for themselves, and when they grew old enough to fight in WWII, he wrote to each and every one of them.

I knew a man. And he told me, “H. Govan was one of the best men I ever met.”

The second person he looked up to was his grandfather, a true Texas cowboy who could roll and light a cigarette with one hand while leading a string of 18 horses into town. Because of his grandfather’s teaching, this man learned to be a cowboy. So I painted his grandfather’s picture from a photo and gave it to him.

20161103_130036

When the man joined the Army in 1942, he became a boxer. I painted this from a photograph.

Then, he met a woman, the love of his life. They had two children.

The four of them lived, loved and grew. Then, many years and anniversaries later, his wife died.

On this man’s death bed, I painted him another picture. I hung it on the wall next to where he lay, eagerly waiting to join his wife in the hereafter.

The man I knew said, smiling, “That’s me riding off in the sunset, ain’t it?”

20161103_130229-1

“Yes, Daddy,” I told him.

“You gonna publish that book about me, No Hill For a Stepper,?” he said.

He’d read the draft and kept it next to his recliner in the family room for visitor viewing.

“Who do you think will play me in the movie?” He’d said it so seriously it made me smile and ponder at the same time.

Two years after he died, No Hill For a Stepper was officially published in 2011.

I knew a man. That man was my father. He wasn’t flawless. None of us are. But he told me stories, taught me how to throw a football, and when I was faced with a challenge, he said, “Hell, Carolyn. That ain’t no hill for a stepper.”

This man, Cono Dennis, is still one of the best men I’ve ever met.

Now What? I’ll tell you…

Posted on December 27, 2011 by Carolyn Dennis-Willingham, Author

For readers, one book closes while another one opens. I suppose this is true for authors as well. However, No Hill for a Stepper is not only my first published book, it is my father’s story. Aside from the story itself, it is a reminder of the two years spent beside him taking notes and recording his comments on a cheap Sony recorder. It is a reminder of the trip we took back to his roots both in conversation as well as physically to Rotan, Ranger, Roby, Sweetwater and Temple, Texas. Although Dad did not live long enough to see the published version, my sister gifted me with a fabulous present. She looked at me and said, “This is a present from Dad and I.”

“Dad,” I asked. “Our Dad?”

“Yes.”

And there it was, my favorite photo of Dad sitting on the front porch at our homestead except this time, he was holding a copy of my book in his hand.

After the book was published, I began asking readers to send me pictures of themselves reading my father’s story. Not only did the photos make me feel proud, it made me think of how much my father enjoyed sharing his story with others.

So what’s next? An author’s pen is always close at hand. Meta, one of the central characters in my new book, was the first to introduce herself to me. Other characters have either snuck up behind me and tapped me gently on the shoulder or have introduced themselves quite spontaneously, yelling “here I am! Put ME in your new book.” Each time I sit down to write, I am eager to learn what they will do or say next. I have little control over these characters.

It is 1910. There is a farm girl who lives in a German community outside of Fredericksburg. There is a prostitute in a bordello in San Antonio, a thirteen-year-old newspaper boy with a rolled cigarette in his mouth and a wise great aunt. There is the madam of the bordello with her trusty assistant who is laced with spice and grit, and a young man with a deep scar across his face. There are strangers and connections. There is murder. There is innocence and guilt. There are lies and deceit. There is only one truth.

THAT is what is next.

But No Hill for a Stepper? It rests comfortably, open, in the center of my chest.

There is Always Hope

Posted on November 16, 2011 by Carolyn Dennis-Willingham, Author

Erin Moffett was one of the nine participants in the “No Hill for a Stepper” essay contest. It takes courage to write about difficult things but by doing so, maybe Erin has taught other kids that they are not alone and to never, ever give up! Here is her essay…

“Bullied”

Being bullied can be an emotional rollercoaster for people. It also leads to depression in kids. A lot of people around the world have to deal with being bullied on a daily basis. This isn’t even limited to school it can also be at work or at home from your mom or dad. You also never know if the person you’re being bullied by has to deal with the same thing, by one of their own family members. It also can be over the silliest of things like the color of your skin, or the clothes you wear. I know personally how this feels, because I have been bullied most of my life.

Being bullied started back in kindergarten. I have never been popular or all that pretty. When we went out to play in the play ground I never played with anyone. I sat all alone at the top of the slide, talking to myself. I always had the feeling of loneliness, because I really never had anybody to talk to. I really didn’t have a so-called “friend,” I just had acquaintances. With all that loneliness I fell into a state of depression. That led me to tell myself that I would never have any friends, or that I could never amount to anything. If you never have noticed, when you walk into a cafeteria you see different kinds of groups: preps, jocks, or academically intelligent kids. I have never been part of any of those groups. I have always felt that I needed to be popular or wanted. With the depression, I had the thought of killing myself. Then I thought that if I died, who would come to my funeral besides my family? I didn’t really have any true friends that would go, and nobody would miss me. If anybody from school came they would probably say that I was just doing this for attention. Even back when I was in kindergarten, nobody would stand up for me, and even to this day, most people won’t stand up for me because they think that if they stand up for somebody else they would lose some of their friends. There are a couple of friends that I wouldn’t know what I would do without them. There is Blanca she is an awesome friend she holds me accountable for what I do and the mistakes that I have made even with the mistakes that I have made I know that she will always be there for me. There is also Kristie even though she doesn’t always care about what I have to say she will always be there for me to talk to. And last but not least Nancy she has been through everything with me I love her to death. If I didn’t have these people in my life I probably wouldn’t be where I am today. And I probably would have went through with killing myself

Having been bullied I can help other people realize that they never know what somebody is going through, whether it is at home or at school. I have not had a good home life either, but I try to stay positive and look forward to the future. I learned with this that there are good friends out there for everybody. To help you with the depression and loneliness you have to find solitude in friends and family. No hill for a stepper means to me that there isn’t anything out of reach, always stays true to what you believe in. Don’t ever let your circumstances outweigh your future.

For the Love of Tio Chango

Posted on November 14, 2011 by Carolyn Dennis-Willingham, Author

John Flores is a Senior at Rotan High School. He is on the Varsity Center for the football team, and the current Valedictorian of his class. “My dream is to go to Rice University and Baylor college of medicine so I can become a psychiatrist and help people. Neither of my parents work as they are both disabled. My mother has Multiple Chemical Sensitivity and is bedridden, while my father has severe back problems that require surgery.” Congratulations to John for being a first place winner in the “No Hill for a Stepper” essay contest! Here is his essay:

“It’ll get ya’ one of these days…”

Alcoholism is a very prevalent problem within society. It can also be down right devastating to the family affected by it. Both my parents have been able to beat their addictions, but my uncle had the hardest time of all. “Tio Chango” is Spanish for “Uncle Monkey” , and that was my uncle Julian’s nickname. It was appropriate, because he liked to climb stuff when we was drunk, which was everyday. I grew up with my uncle being known as the town drunk, and seeing him beg for money to go buy another beer made me sick to my stomach.

Unfortunately, the years of alcohol abuse rendered his body helpless to diseases and infections. It took my sisters and I a whole year to convince him to stop drinking, for his sake. When he saw our determination, and the pain he put us all through, my uncle Julian was finally able to rid himself of his demons once and for all. He told me, on his death bed, that his only regret was not doing it sooner and not being able to spend more time with me.

After his death, I heard whispers around town, satisfied that the “menace to society” was finally gone. Sure he may have been a drunk and hurt quite a few people, but I was still proud of him. From the time he became ill and the time he died, my Uncle had been sober for almost two years. It was hard letting him go, he was like a second father to me, but solace came when I considered that he at least wasn’t in pain anymore.

Some people aren’t as strong-willed as my Uncle was. That’s not to say, however, that it is impossible for them to put down the bottle. Alcoholics Anonymous is the most effective form of therapy and is the number one leading treatment for alcoholics. It provides privacy, a safe environment, encouragement, and offers several tips on how to stay clean. Rehab is another way to help alcoholics free themselves of temptation. Rehab is usually a an in-patient retreat to a hospital ward, where they can monitor your progress more thoroughly. Finally, for those that couldn’t afford anything else, there is hope. As simple as it sounds, showing the alcoholic that he/she is hurting someone they love and that their family is willing to help could be enough to scare the alcoholic. Support throughout the entire ordeal is a must. This is the method that helped kick my uncles bad habit.

Without perseverance, the options listed won’t work . However, with the love and support of family and friends, there truly won’t be “No Hill for a Stepper”. Alcoholics just need to feel their support take each step with them.

Escape of the Everyday Yelling

Posted on November 10, 2011 by Carolyn Dennis-Willingham, Author

Darrell Buratti is a senior at Rotan High School. He plays football, basketball, and works at the grocery store. “I love to go out and have fun with my friends but I also know when to buckle down and get serious.” Darrell was a second place winner in the “No Hill for a Stepper” essay contest.

“No Hill for a Stepper” essay contest – by Darrell Buratti

Many people in today’s society have family problems. Family problems harm a child not only in their adolescent years; they can continue to follow them through their adult and parenting years as well. In this essay I will tell you the story about one of my closest friend’s family disputes growing up in the house with an alcoholic father and a deceased mother.

On the outside Richie is just like any other kid in America, he loves to have fun with his friends, party when he gets the chance, and watch sports. His mother died from illness when he was only ten years old leaving him with only his dad rich and his little brother Chris. As the days grew on rich began to try drinking away the pain of losing his wife, which led to becoming an alcoholic. Richie has told me on many occasions how much he wishes he could leave his house and escape the everyday yelling and bickering that his dad dishes due to one thing or another. Richie thanks god every day that his father is not physically aggressive towards him or his little brother, even though they’re scared that passiveness will one day end. I find that Richie can relate to “No Hill for a Stepper” because he is on an ever climbing hill trying to escape his everyday life of yelling and screaming.

There are numerous ways to try to resolve situations like Richie’s. One of the most common ways of family resolution is therapy. Therapy comes in all shapes and sizes, there are some families that choose to go to therapy many times a week; there are others that only go twice a month. Another big factor is choosing your family’s therapist. You want to find a very knowledgeable, experienced, and licensed therapist who has some family experiences of their own childhood which he/she can compare to.

Before you enter into your therapeutic sessions you should first understand your rights. Children under eighteen are allowed to say whatever they feel to the therapist without the parents knowing. Counselors are also not allowed to share any family information with anybody other then the family itself. Some families choose to take a religious route when it comes to therapy. Followers of God usually find great comfort in sharing their disputes with a pastor or minister; church counselors can be astounding for great moral support. However, if you are part of the gay community then I wouldn’t recommend going to a church counselor for fear of judgment and shun. Gay families should search for someone who is understanding and knowledgeable of today’s modern cultural differences.

My beliefs on these different types of therapy are shared by many. I believe that therapy should not be your first or your last resort. What I mean by this is that a family should not simply decide that they cannot talk to each other in order solve simple problems instead of going to counseling. On the flip side however, a family should not wait until it’s too late. One individual cannot make the decision to go to therapy, both sides of the relationship must agree on the decision.

Carolyn Dennis-Willingham

author perfectly flawed

Tag Archives: no hill for a stepper