Journey into the Wiley Chronicles
Step into the sun-drenched fields of Mississippi and the memory-lined porches of a family unlike any other. The Wiley Chronicles is a rich, multi-voiced tapestry of real-life stories told through the eyes of Clemonteen and Tealy Wiley’s children. Nineteen siblings bound by blood, grit, humor, and the red dirt roads they ran barefoot as children.
Told in their own words and colored by their unique personalities, these stories capture the beauty and burden of growing up in a house full of mischief, music, whoopings, whispered secrets, hand-me-downs, and home-cooked miracles. From cotton-picking days to backyard games that turned into family legends, from deep sibling rivalries to deeper love. This book is a celebration of roots, resilience, and remembering where you come from.
More than a memoir, The Wiley Chronicles is an invitation: to laugh out loud, cry softly, nod knowingly, and reflect on the power of family to shape who we are. Whether you're one of many or one of a kind, you'll find pieces of your own story in these pages.
Come meet the Wileys. There’s always room at the table.
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REAL VOICES, REAL FEELINGS
It speaks of so many families that made that great migration and your sisters and brothers have wonderful stories and family values. i can see all eight of my brothers and sisters in your family. Your sister Louise is surname after my mother and she acts just like her.
DANA WASHINGTON, PROFESSOR
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I was extremely fortunate to preview a few chapters of this book, I found it absolutely fascinating. Bringing a tale of each sibling's personal story to life and making it impossible to wait for the next chapter. I absolutely cannot wait to purchase my copy of the entire book.
ROBIN V. ROBINSON
CHICAGO, IL
GET TO KNOW THE WILEY CLAN
Take a peak inside...
Mama didn’t need to raise her voice to be heard. Her power was in the way she
moved, calm, sure, deliberate. When she said, “God will make a way,” she wasn’t hoping, she was declaring. The way she stirred the pot, the way she mended a tear, the way she looked at you when you were about to lie, all of it was gospel. Even now, when we walk through the old house in our minds, we hear her: “Keep your hands busy, your heart clean, and your faith strong.”
Daddy went ahead first, a scout with calloused hands and quiet faith. By the time
he sent for us, the Great Migration was nearly over. Folks had already filled the trains to Chicago and Detroit, chasing opportunity and dry ground. But Daddy wasn’t chasing, he was planting. He said, “Y’all get ready. Mississippi raised us, but Chicago gon’ change
us.” When we boarded that truck, we didn’t just leave a place. We carried it with us, red dirt under our nails, hymns in our throats, and hope that the North held something more than just cold wind.
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