Author: Denis Wilhelm

Time For This One To Come Home…

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Does anybody remember the cartoon from the ‘60’s with Tooter Turtle and Mr. Wizard? Tooter would be granted some opportunity for adventure by Mr. Wizard only to have things go terribly wrong. He would then frantically call out, “Help Mr. Wizard!” With that Mr. Wizard would chant: “Frizzle, frazzle, frizzle, frome, time for this one to come home.” And Tooter would return home safely. The end.

Well like Tooter, I did ask for an adventure and was granted my wish: Life in England! Plus we’ve been able to travel to Paris, Madrid, and Rome. But unlike Tooter things haven’t gone terribly wrong – well a few things might have been better; after all, the economy here is in a shambles, Prince Harry was caught partying naked in Vegas, Chris Moyles has been sacked from BBC Radio One, Princess Kate has been photographed topless, the ITV morning news show ‘Daybreak’ has been revamped and it’s atrocious, Shirley MacClaine is pathetic on Downton Abbey, autumn has arrived and it’s cold & rainy & miserable and Henley’s (our favourite sweet shop) has stopped selling fudge. So I suppose “it’s time for this one to come home.”

Truth be told; we have loved our time here. But it is time to come home!

It will be nice once again to drive on the right side of the road (and on roads that are wide enough for two cars). Car parks – sorry parking lots – will seem luxurious with wide lanes and big spaces.  And even though television shows will be mostly reality stuff and stupid sitcoms they will ‘feature’ American accents (sadly no more Kirsty & Phil on Location, Location, Location; or Benidorm or Poirot).  And the adverts – sorry commercials – will be 99% political ads (which I kind of miss in a weird way). My radio will play country music (on several stations), NPR, oldies, real rock and R&B.  No more Olly Murs or Jesse J (I swear if I hear Domino one more time I might actually weep). We can have pizza – deep dish, or New York style or Chicago style, or St. Louis style. Cold beer, ice in soft drinks, free re-fills, ‘all you can eat’ buffets, and ‘Chik-fil-A’ are all in our not too distant future. And of course we will be home in time for the election brouhaha! We’ll be just in time for the debates. (Wonder how many friends I’ll lose this election year? Oh well, I suppose if they stop speaking to me because of how I vote they weren’t real friends to begin with.)

God Bless America! There’s nothing quite like it. I’m very happy to be coming home. I miss my kids and grandkids terribly. I need to be surrounded by the love of family and friends. England and our life here will always hold a special place in my heart but I need the comfort and security of home. “Help Mr. Wizard!”

“Frizzle, frazzle, frizzle, frome, time for this one to come home.”

Peace,

Denis

Noah Boy

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Tomorrow is grandson Noah’s second birthday. It’s hard to believe that two years has passed since that miracle occurred. But here he is: a two year-old!

Noah is all-boy. He is fascinated by airplanes, trains, trucks and helicopters (real ones and toy versions). He loves to kick or throw a ball; climb a wall (or a hill, or tree, or table, or railing, etc.). He loves to run, and play rough & tumble. And he always has a smile on his face. When he gets hurt (which is more often than not – a side effect of rough & tumble play), he usually shrugs it off, picks himself off and moves on to the next challenge. He’s undaunted. He’s joyful. He loves to laugh – and does it often. He is absolutely tireless and runs at full-throttle.

Noah is also a lover. He worships his big sister Anna. Of course he loves his Mommy & Daddy, too. He even loves the often unlovable (me) and can make the hardest heart melt away with his sweet-boy charm. One of his hugs and sweet kisses can sooth the crankiest of beasts and turn a lousy day into a vague memory (I know this from personal experience).

Mostly Noah is just Noah. In two short years he’s managed to carve out a special place in our hearts that only he can fill. I can barely remember life before him and can’t imagine what life would be if he hadn’t been born. Fortunately I don’t have to. He’s my grandson and I’m his grandfather. And our souls are entwined.

And life is good…

Happy birthday Noah Boy! I’ll be home soon and we can share some birthday cake.

Love,

Pawpaw

Bittersweet

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In October we will be returning to our home in the United States. This means of course that we have one month left here in England. Yesterday while in Cirencester, the market town nearest our home, I began to feel melancholy. It’s a strange range of emotion: so happy to soon be back home with family and friends and at the same time sad to be leaving the home that we’ve made here.

But time marches on. Now we must box-up and pack-up our life (once again) and head for our new (old) life in America. And even though we are moving back to what is familiar and what is “ours” nothing will be the same. Our lives have changed and our perceptions about life abroad have been shattered. This is all good. I now have an even greater appreciation of our place in the global community.

I imagine that England will always feel like my second home. I have loved (for the most part) my time here. We have been blessed with this experience and I believe that we have become better persons from having lived here. Certainly I have gained a greater appreciation of world events. On a more personal level we have made friends here and have shared times that will last forever in our memories. Of course there have been castles and abbeys and cathedrals aplenty but I think the things that will remain in my heart are the memories of the people: my work mates, our neighbours, the Sweet Shop Ladies, June  the lady who often shares a pew with us at tiny St. Peters Church and Ann & Mike who have given Deb nearly weekly tours of the Costwolds.

For me it’s usually the little things that last: the cup of tea made just right, the Steak & Stilton pies, the (countless) sticky toffee puddings, the fields of rapeseed in spring, driving down some unknown ‘goat road’ looking for someplace that Deb thought was “just around the bend”, learing what “nicked” and “nackered” means and ‘discovering’ the Tesco Super Store after driving past it for a couple of months unbeknownst to both of us that it even existed (inspite of repeated adverts on the telly).

I am also thankful for our visitors that have come to share part of our lives here and I will cherish those memories, too. Not least of which is Anna & Noah at a nearby farm playing with the bunnies, feeding the lambs and milking the goats and splashing in the mud puddles. I will relive that day time and time  again.

 

Of course we’ve had big moments here, too. We’ve celebrated along with everyone else the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee and cheered on the athletes at the Olympic and Paralympic Games. 2012 has been a great year for Britain and we have been here to enjoy it as well.

But it’s time to go home (and leave this home). So packing and goodbyes will soon commence. I’m sure that there will a tear (or two) shed but life goes on…

And isn’t it grand?

Peace,

Denis

Fear Not

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In his first Inaugural address Franklin Roosevelt said “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” That was nearly 80 years ago and sadly today our nation seems to be more fearful than ever. Shouldn’t life in America be better than it was in Roosevelt’s day? Advances in medicine alone should make life today less fearful – no Polio or Rubella or Small Pox. Technological improvements make communication instantaneous – my mom will tell you about writing letters to my dad 60 years ago while he was overseas and not getting a reply for months. My blog is free but you might have spent 5 or 10 cents on a newspaper in the 1930’s to read drivel like this. So life is better today! Then why do so many people live in fear?

Politicians seem to be great fear mongers. So are media personalities, insurance sales persons, and some clergy. Fear can be a powerful tool; just look at any political ad. Listen to any talk radio loud mouth or attend a church service and you likely be warned about some impending evil – life is scary but if you vote for me, buy my product, or follow my religion you will be safe (or safer anyway). Fear is an excellent marketing tool.

Fear has fuelled hate and prejudice. Fear has gotten us into wars. Fear begets fear. Be afraid – be very afraid!

But I for one refuse to be ruled by fear. I will not vote for you because you want me to be afraid of your opponent. I will not buy your product, listen to your propaganda or read your book because of some vague threat of evil or danger (despite your warnings). I will not buy into your fear game. And I will not follow your religion (and your rules) because of some fear of hell.

Instead I will hold my head up high and embrace the good in this world. I will take an active role in promoting peace and justice (if only in my small circle of influence). I will love God and be thankful for life in all its forms.

I want to be a role model to my grandchildren. I want them to explore the world and all its wonder and be forces for good. I want them to be ambassadors of good will; agents for positive change; lovers of justice and protectors of our planet.

Sometimes we have to stand up for what is right. And shout down the hate and inequality in our lives. Some of us will take the lead, some will follow and still others will stand silent.

But fear should never motivate us. Love should.

Peace,

Denis

P.S. Emeli Sande’s song speaks to triumph over fear – give it a listen or better yet, let it be your anthem.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eFXRQKYFbXE&feature=related

School Days

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My granddaughters have returned to school – Charlise second grade; Anna pre-Kindergarten. Both love school and are happy for the school year to begin.

Of course it’s impossible for me not to think of school years past – my children’s and my own. What an exciting time: new pencil cases, new notebooks, new folders, new Trapper Keepers®, new lunch boxes. A new beginning…

I always love a new beginning. And a new school year is exactly that. It’s a clean slate. Even someone who doesn’t like school (as I sometimes didn’t) is usually happy for a new school year. Maybe you’ll get a better teacher, find some new friends or have easier classes. At the very least (in theory) you can leave behind the baggage of the previous year and try again. And for those who are good students you can continue to build on your good reputation, Grade Point Average, and PERMANENT RECORD.

As a grown-up I sometimes long for a new school year. A clean slate. A do-over.

And I’ve discoverd it’s possible! I start by first looking inside myself and examining what’s in my heart and soul. Then I pray. I first ask God to forgive me (and my PERMANENT RECORD). Then I ask for the courage to leave behind ‘the baggage’; to let go of the hurt, anger, and dissapontment that breeds bitterness. And finally I ask for the wisdom (still trying to learn) to live a new life. To love a new life. To be an example to my children and grandchildren.

And of course I will fail. I will behave badly. I will refuse to love and be loved. And I will forget to thank God for the gift of my life.

And then a new school year will come ’round again…

Peace,

Denis

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