I am the oldest of eight, with all the expectations that come with it.  Because I'm also a writer and an artist, I have disappointed my siblings, and my father thinks I'm very successful -- he has to think that, I"m the oldest.  My father was a demanding man, a World War II veteran, and a man who dreams of working on his tractor again. He doesn't remember the whippings he gave me, and I barely remember it myself.  This year, he's been named the Valentine's Day King at the nursing home where he lives here in San Antonio.  I cut his hair last night and gave him a manicure -- "you better make me look good, mija."  He's excited, and so am I.  He says I'm gonna live to be 100, and that he's gonna leave me his Social Security check.  I don't want the first, and I can't get the second.  Here we are on his birthday last month.  It was his second pinata, ever, and he made a speech thanking all the residents for coming to his party. 

Willie Velasquez was a voting rights pioneer, and is one of three Latinos to receive a Presidential Medal of Freedom.   When I tell this story to children, they cry and cheer -- and want to vote. http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/willievelasquez/the-boy-made-of-lightning For more information: http://www.wix.com/ anabarbararenaud/willie

When I was in my twenties, I was fresh out of a graduate program, newly married and totally stupid about professional men in the office.  Daddy just didn't prepare me enough, as I suspect happened to Anita Hill.  Sad but so true.  It was the late seventies, and my boss, who headed a non-profit organization in Austin, Texas, said so many things I don't know where to begin.  Here is a sampling: 1.  "I'm gonna sleep with every woman in this organization."  (I guess this included me). 2.   "Did you have good sex over the weekend with your husband?" 3.   "Can you get her for me?"  (On a return trip from Washington D.C. to Dallas) 4.  "We call you Miss Prim and Proper."  Because I had told the young women in the office about the sexual harrassment legislation, how they didn't have to sleep with him or any other "boss." 5.  "Your problem is that you aren't nice to the boardmembers."  (Mostly men and mostl...

www.wix.com/anabarbararenaud/willie Children deserve to know their stories, especially the stories of struggle, faith, love, and sacrifice.  It's time that writers tell great stories, and may this be just the beginning.

A miracle happened. Fluffie, the maltese-poodle mix, escaped the Dog Pound some weeks ago:  He was my dog, cause after the Dog Pound picked him up -- looking like a rastafarian with very bad hair, it cost me $50 to save him from death row at the Pound.   Why do you want this dog, lady?  Fluffie isn't tame you see.  He's Street. Not a bad type, just keeps a safe distance from people.  At the pound, on Death Row, I explained my whole year of trying to catch this cabron.  So, they felt sorry for the little hellion, and he got registered, neutered, shots, micro-chipped, and shaved down to his nakedness. I guess Lady Destiny had something to show me, cause when I went to get him the next day, he slipped under his collar and ran for the hills as he was getting into the back of my car, thanks to the help of a Dog Pound staffer who thought I was abusing Fluffie who was doing some twisty-tango moves.  It wasn't all my fault, I asked the Dog Pound Clinic to...

This is Fluffie, a dog from the Westside that I've been trying to catch for a year.  He's a mustang-poodle.  I've tried dog traps from the Animal Defense League, dozens of weinies, and almost illegal drugs.  Nothing worked.  He's a sweet dog, but afraid of people.  Two days ago he finally got trapped in a yard on Colorado Street, and Mike, a man who was my lookout called me and I went right over the next morning.  He was already on Death Row, curled up in a corner.  I paid to get him fixed, his shots, microchipped, the works.  I went yesterday to get him, ready with weinies, a training leash, a collar and leash.  He's a Maltese Poodle, apparently, but who knew?  Weighs about 15 pounds, so the dreadlocks weighed more than him. I told the woman in the Clinic to please make the collar tight so that he wouldn't get away, told her he was a wild one.  She told me that no way could he get away from the collar, though it wasn't as snug as ...

Ay, let's come together  and   behold  the cemented and unforgiving mind of our Governor in Texas.  There are pregnant teenage girls everywhere, sometimes you see girls with a baby and pregnant again.  Sometimes you see them on the bus with three children. These are girls who look like they're 14, 15, 16 years old. Can't get birth control in Texas, thanks to our Governor who wants to be President, and says our abstinence policies work -- well, they worked for him. The only reason I didn't have sex in high school was because I was afraid of Daddy's wrath -- but even that doesn't stop the young from the conspiracy of nature and hip-hop.