Author: Denis Wilhelm

Lucky Man

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The past several weeks have been particularly challenging. Work has been crazy – staff performance issues; vendor failures; unreasonable customer expectations. The tension in our office is palpable. On a personal level several friends are facing serious health issues – some of which are heartbreaking and completely hopeless. One aunt recently suffered a stroke and another slips further into the murky waters of Alzheimer’s each day. Our friends who are consecrated religious sisters are facing a showdown (of sorts) with church hierarchy in St. Louis. Our beloved priest here in England has been hospitalized with serious mental health issues (and he seemed to be the most sane priest I’d met in years!). A trip to Rome for Deb’s birthday had to be canceled/rescheduled due to the chaos at work. The hostility between friends and family members over the upcoming November elections in the U.S. is escalating. And I miss my grandkids desperately.

Lately I have not been in a happy place.

I spoke to a friend in New York the other day and she said, “I’m just so tired!” “I’m tired of politics; I’m tired of the people I work with; and I’m tired of always trying to be the voice of reason.” “I just want to tell everyone to go to hell and leave me alone!” I share her pain.

I must admit that burying my head in the sand is appealing at times but I just can’t do that. So I pick my battles. I stay quiet (yes I do!) at times. I encourage those that I love. I influence those that I can. And I thank God for what I have been given. And I realize how lucky I am.

I have been blessed with an amazing wife – who has given me an amazing life. And we still love each other (some days I make it hard for her) after all these years.

I have been blessed with remarkable children, who are kind, loving, responsible adults. They have learned compassion from their mother and determination from me.

I have been blessed with beautiful  grandchildren who are as loving as the parents who are raising them. And the joy that they bring me is boundless.

I have been blessed with a family that surrounds me with love. We are connected emotionally and spiritually even though we are physically apart.

I have been blessed with friends that have NEVER let me down. They have stood the test of time. They are the “family” I have chosen.

Things may not always go my way. And some days go ‘from bad to worse’. But I have a wife who supports me; a family that claims me; and friends who stand by me. And a faith that sustains me.

Sharing this crazy life with the one that makes the crazy fun…

For the most part, I believe that we make our own luck in this life. Things don’t just happen – we make them happen. The choices we make; the opportunities we take (or don’t) all determine what life holds. Even the disasters, hardships and setbacks that we face are ours to deal with (or not). We can ‘be lucky’ if we choose to be but we can’t do it all alone – we need our family, friends and faith. Sometimes we just need to readjust our perceptions.

So I know that sometimes life can be tough but I am reminded every day that I am still a lucky man.

Peace,

Denis

Funny Trumps All

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In our family we have a saying, “Funny trumps all!” We’re a family that likes to laugh – a lot. In fact it’s hard for me to remember a day that I haven’t shared a laugh with my wife of 37 years. Sometimes we’ve even laughed through our tears. And Deb has taught our children and grandchildren the joy of laughter, too. Of course it helps that we’re all very funny as well. Or at least we think we are. Okay – we are!

Sometimes the need to be funny can be a challenge. Because I come from a family that tells jokes at funerals (my dad) and will make faces when you’re trying to have a serious telephone conversation (Deb and our ill-behaved children). And then of course there’s the deadpan sarcasm (my mom) and the dry sense of humor (my sister-in-law Pat) which at times leaves you wondering if it’s really a joke and that perhaps you shouldn’t be laughing.

And we find situations funny all the time. Our humor is not sophisticated. We will laugh at your jokes (even if we’ve heard them or told them before). We will laugh if you stumble and fall down. We will laugh if you fart. We will laugh at the absurd (like a waitress that has giant “cotton candy” hair) or the mundane (like the way my father-in-law ALWAYS warns us to look out for “the crazies” out there – who are the crazies?). We will laugh at spills, mistakes, mispronunciations, missteps, goof-ups, and someone who has missed a belt loop.

But mostly we laugh at ourselves. And that is the healthiest laughter of all. Being truly funny means understanding and embracing your own foolishness. There’s something disarming about laughter, especially when the laughter is at your own expense.

And remember that God must have a sense of humor, too. If you don’t believe me, take a good look in the mirror first thing in the morning.

Nothing feels better than a belly laugh

So when it doubt, laugh! Laugh out loud. Laugh a lot. Giggle. Snicker. Guffaw. Snort. It feels good and is good for you. I believe a good laugh can clear the cobwebs from your brain. It can ease your burden. Dull your pain. Lift your spirits. And lighten your load.

This being funny thing has successfully been passed down through the generations. My grandkids are funny and they know it. Once when our granddaughter was being scolded (I’m not sure what her offense) our daughter told her “Anna, you are not funny!” Anna responded with a wry smile, “I’m a little funny.” And the scolding ended.

I suppose that funny does trump all.

Peace,

Denis

London 2012 (Olympics British Style)

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Welcome to London (sort of)

I find it a bit amusing that the Olympic Games are here in London and I’m in England and doing my level best to avoid it all. Traffic is being diverted or restricted. There are special “Olympics” lanes on the Motorway and on the streets in London. Heathrow has designated special “Olympics only” car parks. We are constantly being told via the telly and the radio to “avoid the games” or to “plan ahead” or “be prepared for long queues”. It’s not that daunting to me but I’m not English.

I love sports. I love the competition. I love the history. I love the National pride teams get to put on display. I love the celebration of it all. But I would be the odd man out if I got too excited about the Games.

I think it’s because here in the United Kingdom we are a bit too pragmatic. We (collectively) are convinced that for most of us the Games will be a bother. Things will go wrong. And it will cost the taxpayers money. Some of this is proving to be true. The security firm that was awarded the contract was woefully unprepared and understaffed, so British troops have been deployed to support the security effort. Delays with traffic and congestion at the airports is only being magnified by a threatened strike by the Public and Commercial Services Union (those joyless souls that stamp your passport). Somehow this will probably cost the public, too.

Now there have been some bright spots along the way, such as Bradley Wigguns winning a gold medal in cycling and strong swimming by Michael Jamieson. And a gold medal win for Women’s rowing. It was also fun to see Zara Phillips’ (Queen Elizabeth’s granddaughter) Esquestrian team win silver. She’s the first royal to win an Olympic medal.

Of course the joy is dampened by reports of empty seats while there is still a shortage of tickets for events and the rain (literally). Not to mention controveries with Badminton and Gymnastics and the Chinese and South Korean teams and a fatal crash with an official Olympic coach bus and motorcyclist.

My workmates say things like, “I knew it would be a disaster” or “none of this is a surprise to me”. Always the glass half-empty! There seems to be some perverse pleasure from being right about things going wrong. I’m not sure if this is a British thing or not but it seems pretty prevalent with the folks that I’ve come to know here. It’s almost as if there is some honor in being able to suffer through and make do with disappointments – keep a stiff upper lip – if you will.

So yes there is Olympic pride and there is a great amount of patriotism but it will be tempered with the almost certain disillusionment that we will all feel when things go wrong. Then the only joy we will have is being able to say, “I told you so…”

Cheers,

Denis

Make A Joyful Noise

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My son-in-law is not a very good singer. No, that’s not quite accurate; he’s a really bad singer. Poor guy couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. But you what? He sings. He sings out loud. He sings with his kids. And most importantly, he sings in church. He makes ‘a joyful noise’!

Sing out your love!

Travis is an example of how children learn by modelling their parents’ behaviour. Both of Bess and Travis’s children love music and grandson Noah really loves to sing. He loves to sing in church just like Daddy. In fact, he so loves church singing that while he was in England every time we entered a church or abbey or cathedral Noah would sing Alleluia. Of course at 21 months old his ‘alleluia’ sounds more like al-lay-loo-la. All the more beautiful and endearing! Somehow a baby singing al-lay-loo-la at the top of his lungs has a transformative power. And Noah has brought joy to many with his vocals. Recently at Mass back in the U.S. he asked the song leader (and our good friend Tracy) for “more loo-la; more, more loo-la!” And together she and Noah made ‘a joyful noise’.

So God bless Travis for singing his heart out heedless of being off-key and for remaining confident that God loves all voices; perhaps especially those that struggle with melody, lyrics, tone and rhythm.

Granddaughter Anna likes to say “that’s the way God made me” or “I’m still learning.” Usually she invokes these sentiments when she has failed to meet some challenge or doesn’t want to try to learn something new. Example: “I’m sorry I didn’t pick up all my toys but I’m not as good at that as you are because I’m still learning” or “I can’t reach the pedals very well on my bike because this is way God made me” (meaning short). But Travis doesn’t seem to care if he is singing is off-key and maybe he celebrates his singing because that’s exactly the way God has made him.

Regardless, his example of ‘joyful noise’ has reverberated in our worship and made an impression on my grandchildren that will last their lifetime. And I thank God for his gift to them and to me. I’m not a good singer either (although I’m better than Travis) but I now sing out  loudly in church, too. Travis and Noah have taught me how to ‘make a joyful noise’, and let go of my fear of not sounding good enough. I’m still learning to love my own voice (warbles and all) and I’m reminded that it’s okay because this is the way that God has made me.

Al-lay-loo-la!

Denis

I’m A Yankee Doodle Dandy

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I love my life abroad. Living and working in England has been a dream come true. And I will be sad to see it end in a few months but I realized (again) this week how much I love my country, too.  And how proud I am to be an American.

Freedom. Liberty. Equality. Justice. America.

Coming home to celebrate our nation’s Independence Day on the 4th of July with friends and family has been a civics lesson. Once again I am reminded that life is a never-ending classroom (if you pay attention). Here we are in the middle of an election year. Temperatures and tempers are rising. Public discourse is at times very discourteous, if not downright ugly and the mud-slinging has begun (does it ever stop?). Politicians and political action committees are vying for your money and your vote. And yet we set aside our differences and  come together as a nation to celebrate our independence. America.

Freedom of speech, freedom of and from religion, the right to peacefully assemble, and the right to petition government to redress grievances (in effect to amend laws deemed unfair). The First Amendment to our Constitution. Simple. Honest. Powerful. America.

So after a fun-filled day on the Fourth, playing in the pool and grilling hot dogs and enjoying a few cold beers with neighbors and watching the grandkids play with sparklers, I took a moment to contemplate the significance of our Independence Day and what it means to be an American.

For me it’s pretty simple: I’m a flag-waving, patriotic softy who gets misty-eyed hearing the “Star Spangled Banner”. I am humbled when I see people in uniform quietly serving our country and defending our freedom. We are a big, messy, diverse, collection of individuals that has somehow made this experiment called Democracy work.

And it’s the land that I love. America.

Peace,

Denis

Heading Home

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We’re off to America this morning. It will be a quick visit and then back here to England. I’m excited to see family and friends and catch up at with my associates at my U.S. office (the main purpose of my trip). Deb’s coming, too. And Bess and Travis and Anna and Noah will be on our flight. Sadly, it’s time for them to say goodbye to England.

It’s been a wonderful three weeks having them here but alas all good things must end. I will hold on dearly to the memories:

At Bourton on the Water, Gloucestershire, England

Noah running to great me at Heathrow; jumping up and down while shouting, “Pawpaw, Pawpaw, Pawpaw!”

Anna loving all the animals at the farm; especially feeding the lambs and ‘bunny cuddle time’.

Bedtime rituals replete with prayers, kisses and tight squeezes.

Raincoats, umbrellas and wellies. And splashing in puddles!

Playing in our back garden; watching for tractors, trucks and airplanes.

Giggles and belly laughs.

Watching Anna and Noah trod on sacred ground and walk through historic places and hoping that some of this will be a memory for them one day.

Listening to Anna speak with her ‘English accent’ and wondering if she was even aware that she was. “Nana, would you like a cuppa tea?”

We’ve had some big adventures, we six. We’ve been to castles and cathedrals. We’ve toured big cities and small villages. We’ve seen some amazing places together. We’ve walked through history. But for me it’s always the little things that stick. And this morning I just need one more tight squeeze and one more special England kiss.  Make that two…

Peace,

Denis

The Vatican Seems To Want It Both Ways…

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Those of you who follow my blog know that I am Catholic (unless of course I’ve been excommunicated and haven’t received the paperwork yet). My conservative Catholic friends would say I’m not the average Catholic but I’d disagree. I’m probably more mainstream than they are – just more vocal.

Anyway, Catholic leaders mobilized earlier this year when the Obama administration announced that church-affiliated organizations would be required to provide health insurance plans that include contraceptives for women free of charge. Angry Catholics insisted that the ruling infringed on the their first amendment right to freedom of religion.

Can’t we all just get along?

Recently Pope Benedict stated: “Defending the institution of marriage as a social reality is ultimately a question of justice since it entails safeguarding the good of the entire human community and the rights of parents and children alike.”

So now I’m confused. On this issue of contraception Church leaders say in effect, that government should stay out of our bedrooms. Because insistence upon government mandated coverage of contraceptives is a violation of our religious beliefs – okay, I get that. But then the Church says who we decide to share our bedroom with should be ‘Church sanctioned’. It seems that Church leaders want the government involved in this most intimate decision. That the sanctity of marriage should be defended by government; in essence the government should stay in our bedrooms. Therein lies the conflict.

So separation of Church and State is a “pick and choose” kind of thing? I’m often accused of being a ‘Cafeteria Catholic’ – one who chooses which teachings to follow and which to reject or ignore. Never mind that I have a conscience, my arch-conservative friends would be more comfortable with me if I would just blindly follow the hierarchy’s rules. But that’s too easy and an insult to the intellect God gave me.

Here’s what I propose:

Church take care of Church things. Exclude whomever you want. Make up whatever rules you want to impose upon your faithful. And deal with the fallout.

Government (read conservative politicians) stop pandering to the fears of the citizenry. People of reasonable intelligence can (and should) decide with whom to share their life. And when (and if) to have children. If the faith community that they belong to can’t embrace their love and life decisions; it’s that community’s loss.

Blimey, I’m even more glad to be living in England right now!

Peace,

Denis

Nothing Lost in Translation

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Two of our grandkids are in England. They arrived here last week and they don’t leave until next week. That’s three weeks of grandparent time! Anna is now four and Noah will be two in September. For the record, they brought their parents along but this week Mommy & Daddy have taken a little side trip to Scotland. So it’s just Anna, Noah, Deb and me at home this week. It’s sublime.

My favourite times with them are the quiet times. Like when Noah sings “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” or when Anna tells me, in a whisper, that she has been missing me very much since I moved to England (pronounced Ing-Gull-land). This morning I got Noah out of his crib and his sweet sleepy morning smile nearly made my heart burst. And last night Anna curled up with me on the couch while Deb got baby brother to sleep and gave me kisses that would have melted the coldest of hearts.

The active times are fun, too. Probably more fun for Anna and Noah. They are happy, loving, active children – with an emphasis on active. Noah is like a baby Houdini. He can escape any high chair or car seat and climbs, jumps and runs (even indoors). Anna is a girl who has a lot to say – a whole lot. She often engages in a running commentary and is very well-informed about things beyond most four year-olds’ grasp. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining. I cherish every moment of our time together. It’s just that I realize now why God gave us our children when we were younger.

Last night I was greeted in the garden by both of them running toward me when I got home from work. You can’t buy that kind of love. Tonight we played in the back garden while dinner was being prepared. It takes quite a bit of energy to keep up with these two. But it’s worth it. They’re worth it! I love them so much.

Angels at Winchester Cathedral

And they’re funny, too. In our family we say, “funny trumps all” and we have shared lots of laughs. Noah thinks it’s hilarious when I make a funny noise (and of course it’s only truly funny when he then mimics me). After being presented with “Union Jack” pinwheels, Anna informed us that they’re called “wind-blowers in her country.” And she thinks that English Olivia is very humorous (Olivia is an animated pig who speaks American English at her house and the Queen’s English on our telly here). This evening Noah dipped his little hand in the bird bath next door, made the ‘sign of the cross’ and started singing Alleluia. O holy Noah! Have we visited too many churches and cathedrals?

We’re having a big adventure with our grandchildren. And we’re all learning some new things. And confirming some things that we already knew. Like how much we love one another. And how it’s okay to be apart for a while because we’ll always be connected.

Nothing is really lost in translation. Love is universal and is not bound by geography, custom or language. Children are called by many different affectionate names in Britain. They might be called dear, dearie, flower, love, chicky, duckie, or wee ain. I like to call my grandkids ‘Tunia & Buster even if their given names are Anna & Noah.  After all, wasn’t it Shakespeare that said “a rose by any other name would smell as sweet”?

Cheers,

Denis

Rogue Nuns

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A plaque at Plaza Mayor depicting the punishment inflicted on the unorthodox during the time of The Spanish Inquisitions

The Vatican recently accused U. S. nuns, specifically the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR), of radical feminism because they focus more on the human rights and the poor, rather than pushing Church doctrine against contraception and homosexuals. 

This was the lead article that I was reading on my iPhone that was streaming from The National Catholic Reporter the day that I happened to be sitting in Plaza Mayor in Madrid, Spain. The irony did not escape me. The Vatican, particularly arch-conservative Cardinal Raymond Burke and pedophile protector Cardinal Bernard Law, is now targeting “rogue nuns”. As I sat in the very place that The Spanish Inquisitions took place, I couldn’t help but think that Burke and Law, like Ferdinand and Isabella, must feel very confident that they are purifying the Church and maintaining Catholic Orthodoxy – cleansing it of those who would dare to question the hierarchy.

God bless our rogue nuns! What the bishops fail to realise is that WE are the Church and that WE have been heavily shaped by the love and nurturing of those religious women in our lives. Cradle Catholics like myself were often taught by sisters who sacrificed their personal lives to enrich our own. My own three aunts were Sisters of The Most Precious Blood and tirelessly gave of themselves day in and day out – building up the Kingdom of God on earth. But mostly the nuns that I knew (and know) loved us. Lived with us. Laughed with us. Cried with us. And faced the joy and heartache of life with us. If they questioned official Church teaching it was only because they walked with us as we ourselves questioned a hierarchy that at times seems woefully out of touch with our lives.

So bring it on Vatican! Silence the nuns! Demand obedience above all! Threaten excommunication! But the love that these women have inspired and The Church that they have built will never go away!

I think of my Aunts Lucy, Noel, and Gene Marie and thank God daily for their presence in my life. I think of great teachers: Thecla – who inspired in me a love of architecture and design (and was instrumental in my career choice), Jeanine – who gave me the opportunity to speak in public (some folks wish I would shut up now), Fidesta – who always made learning fun (even when she was a little bit scary), and so many more. I think of friends like Lucille who gave my family refuge when I transferred to Wisconsin for a new job (and left Deb alone with 3 small kids), Nivard who welcomed me to a new city when I was feeling very alone. And Helen, Dorothy, Mary, Ruth, Annette, Carol, Cindy, and countless others that have lived, loved, laughed, cried and walked with me.

We all know that the Spanish Inquisitions were really about power and never about love. The WE that is The Church will never abandon the Sisters that have built US. And loved US.

Come Holy Spirit Come!

Peace,

Denis

Holidays, holidays and Bank Holidays…

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No one in the U.K. takes a vacation. They go on holiday (small “h” – pronounced “haytch”). Which is, you know, a vacation. We celebrate Holidays in the U.S. – Memorial Day, Independence Day, Labor Day, etc. (capital “H” – pronounced “aytch”). And then there are Bank Holidays in the U.K. which are similar to our Holidays; Boxing Day, Whit Monday, and St. David’s Day (in Wales) to name a few. So here in England we go on holiday and we have Holidays but those are called Bank Holidays. Are you still following me? It all gets very complicated for this American.

Dancing in honour of Her Majesty in Warwickshire

Of course the Bank Holiday that we’re most looking forward to here in the United Kingdom is The Queen’s Jubilee. Next Monday and Tuesday we will have two days to celebrate Elizabeth II’s 60 years on the throne. Already many towns and villages have begun celebrations. Union Jacks and bunting abound! Street fairs, barbeques, and garden parties are being held in honour of Her Majesty.

But it has occurred to me that celebrations for Elizabeth’s Jubilee are not that different from our Memorial Day celebrations in the U.S. in the sense that the reason for the holiday seems to sometimes be lost in the revelry. Do we really pause on Memorial Day to remember our fallen heroes – those who have offered the ultimate sacrifice for our freedom? Is the dancing at the beer gardens in the village pubs truly a celebration of the Queen’s realm? I’m not so certain.

Memorial Day tends to be the official kick-off of summer in the United States. Swimming pools open. Burgers and corn-on-cob are grilled. School is out (or almost). Shorts, T-shirts and flip-flops are the order of the day. Of course we wave a flag or two but mostly it’s a day off work for most folks and a nice day to enjoy the outdoors.

I suppose that it doesn’t matter if EVERYONE celebrates the Holiday (or Bank Holiday, if you will) as it is intended. Lots of folks enjoy a day off at Christmas and it doesn’t diminish my celebration of my Saviour’s birth.

So grab a flag (or grab a beer) and hail the Queen or honour your war heroes. And remember at some point if you can’t give thanks for those being honoured on these special days, at least be thankful for the politicians who had the good sense to set aside some days for rest and celebration. You see – government’s not all bad.

Cheers,

Denis