Dennis with an E

The painting on the moving truck Since it was almost lost yesterday to a pair of ambitious movers, I thought I would document the story of this painting by Arlene Loretto. It starts with LaDonna Harris. My father first met her when she worked for him at the Council on Foundations. While Ms. Harris was in our social sphere, it was her former husband, Senator Fred Harris, that I met first as his student at the University of New Mexico in Albuquerque. He taught American Politics and it was a fascinating class. As a reminder, Sen. Harris served on the Kerner Commission. One of my favorite things to do in class was to ask him about his Senate days, as he would always tell the most interesting stories. I digress.  Ms. Harris was very active in American Indian rights as well as supporting the traditional arts. My father would support some of her work with grants. This led to Ms. Harris inviting my father to a charity event in Santa Fe, NM. As I was living in Albuquerque at the...

My first step out of the Crud and back into the world. Photo by Alex Woods on Unsplash A co-worker recently called the Covid epidemic, “crud.” I thought it was the perfect word for the past couple of years. It feels like we’ve been in this cesspool of human waste that has led us from a moment of darkness to an illuminated path forward. Wow. What an icky metaphor. Bear with me for a moment. By human waste, I’m referring to the ugliness that accompanied the pandemic, not necessarily the physical waste that  piled up as people produced more trash while sheltering in place became the new norm. I am referring to the humanity’s treatment of each other during one of the most difficult times in modern history. I am using this Election Day, before the results are known, to reflect on what is happening in this nation and within my own sphere of influence (as Covey would say) to organize my thoughts on my path forward. How do I become my best self when so many, including myself, are tryin...

The first thing you should know is that my name is Denise. Lately, I've noticed a lot of confusion around my name. I've seen a lot of people spell it Dennise. Others, particularly anyone who comes from an Asian-based language, pronounce my name Dennis. I've decided to embrace it. Dennis has been my secret identity from childhood as my mother called me Dennis the Menace. A moniker that was earned.  A girl named Dennis with her mom Don't misunderstand, I was not a troublemaker. I simply had a lot of brilliant ideas that were not so brilliant upon execution. I did wondered what people thought when we were out in public and my mother called out for Dennis to which I'd answer. Not a typical name for a girl.  It was interesting she would call me Dennis when you consider how I came to be Denise. You see, my mother's name was Doris. When she was in high school taking French, they asked her to take on a French name, Denise. My mother loved the name and knew she'd giv...