Author: Denis Wilhelm

Bill, Silent Guy, and Dumb-Dumb

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Last week I was at a Macy’s Store in Milwaukee for a Designer Accessories Shop installation.  That’s what I do or I should say that’s what the company that I work for does.  We manufacture and install custom retail store fixtures.  As the V.P. of Operations I have project managers that are working all over the country (and sometimes internationally) setting up new stores or handling remodels.  Often our customers’ shops are inside a department store – we call those ‘shop in shops’ (don’t blame me – I didn’t make up that name).  Occasionally when my project management teams are spread too thin I will go to installations to meet with a customer rep or just to make certain everything is completed correctly. 

That’s what I was doing this past week.  I usually don’t announce to the installation crew that I’m a V.P. because it tends to make people nervous.  I’m just Denis.  Last week the crew that was at the Macy’s store was ‘contracted out’ – meaning that are not employees but instead they are hired for a specific location.  We may or may not ever work together again. 

I was told by the Installation Company that Mike would be the supervisor of the crew.  When I arrived and asked for Mike I was greeted by Bill who explained that Mike was not there.  Bill seemed okay so I wasn’t too concerned.  His ‘crew’ consisted of two others that I nicknamed ‘Silent Guy’ and ‘Dumb-Dumb’.  Let me explain:  First of all, I know that it’s not nice to call people names but for the record I only called them names in my head (or behind their backs – I have manners).  Secondly, ‘Silent Guy’ never spoke – he only sort of grunted.  And thirdly, well – we’ll get to ‘Dumb-Dumb’ later.

Initially things went well.  Our truck was on time.  The dock was available.  The store personnel were friendly and cooperative.  But as the morning progressed it became painfully obvious that Bill and his crew were  S   L   O   W !  I couldn’t have lit a fire under their asses with a blowtorch.  And time was slipping away!  Plus I discovered Dumb-Dumb down in the stockroom arguing with the ‘Trash Lady’ about why he should have to “breakdown” cardboard boxes!  Really Dumb-Dumb, you’re going to argue with the 80 year old lady who is kind enough to help you?  Taking care of your trash is not her job!  The store was scheduled to open at 10:00AM and after 2-1/2 hours of slowly dragging stuff to the sales floor, unpacking fixtures and wiping things down “at a snail’s pace” I finally (kind of) lost my cool.  We had 30 minutes to clear the aisles, remove all the debris, and make the space ready for the store opening.  Concerned that the store managers as well as my customer contact would “flip out” because everything was in complete disarray – I yelled at Bill and crew.  I told them to stop what they were doing (whatever that was) and to get EVERYTHING cleaned up, cleared out, and ready for merchandise.  Bill explained that they didn’t usually do things that way and I responded that “today is a new day – we’re doing it MY WAY”.  I went into full V.P. mode!

Within a few minutes the space was much more to my liking.  Lots of clearing, cleaning and straightening was happening.  The merchandise specialist arrived and began arranging handbags.  While Bill and his ‘crew’ were still sulking, I was strutting around quite pleased with my command of the situation.  Then it happened…

The Operations Manager for Macy’s came by to ask if everything would be ready to go by 10:00AM.  I was certain I was ready for a verbal “beat down” because of my installation crew’s lack of efficiency and orderliness.  Instead her reply was:  SUPER-DEE-DUPER!  And then she proceeded to tell me how much she enjoyed working with Bill and “The Boys” – what great guys they were; how they made each install easy because they were so relaxed in their approach. That it was ALWAYS a stress-free experience for all involved.  That all the store personnel LOVED working with them, etc. etc.  And that I was really smart to have hired them because she wouldn’t want anyone else working in her store.  I sheepishly thanked her knowing full well that Bill and his ‘crew’ heard every word she had said.

In my uptight and reactionary way, I had forgotten where I was.  This was Wisconsin not New York.  Not L.A.  These folks at this Macy’s loved ‘shooting the breeze’ with the installers.  They were more interested in knowing about the fish that Bill had caught at his cabin up north than whether or not everything was perfect in the shop at 10:00AM.  The Packers upcoming football season took precedence over the placement of fixtures.  In Wisconsin Aaron Rodgers is way more important than Michael Kors.

I had forgotten the most important rule of customer service – Don’t treat people the way you want to be treated – Treat them the way they want to be treated.  Bill and his ‘crew’ remembered that.

So who’s the Dumb-Dumb now? 

Peace,

Denis

Don’t Worry – Be Happy!

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I’m a natural-born worrier. My mom is a worrier. My grandpa (her dad) was a worrier. So I come from a long line of worriers. I’m sometimes frustrated that others (Deborah) don’t seem to worry at all. I actually worry that she’s not worrying enough! Okay so I’m a little neurotic – and I’m worried about that, too.  So you see worry ‘breeds’ more worry.

Don’t confuse my worrisome nature with fear. I’m not really afraid of much (except that some people don’t worry enough). But fear is different. I know that I will face heartache and disappointment in my life. I know that there will be great sadness at times. I realize that I can’t control ANYTHING except my response/reaction/acceptance of the shitty stuff that life sometimes deals. And I’m (mostly) okay with that. Prayer helps. So do loved ones. And the knowledge that we are basically equipped to handle most of life’s challenges.

But I worry about stupid stuff that doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. AND I know that my worrying won’t help anyway. So why worry? Or as Deb suggests, “don’t worry so much”. I wish it were that easy – to “let go and let God'”. To “not sweat the small stuff”. To “relax”. It’s easier said than done. And of course, as I’ve said, I worry about worrying. Am I taking years off my life? Am I sapping the fun out of life’s little joyful moments because I’m worried about some foolish things? Probably.

I’m trying – really trying to be more relaxed. Starting today I’m going to not let inconsenquential stuff drive me so crazy. As God is my witness – I AM GOING TO BECOME CAREFREE. I’ll let others do the worrying for a change (maybe even for good?)

Of course right now I’m sitting in an airport terminal and a baby is crawling on the floor – YES, the filthy floor at the gate and the mother is oblivious to the harm she may be doing to this child. Did I mention that said baby is also putting her hands in her mouth? Fat little hands on filthy floor – fat little hands in mouth! Geez! I want to go ‘Purell’ myself after witnessing this. Hey lady, why not just lay your baby down on the public restroom floor? Plus there’s a guy with his shoes off! Big, gross, hairy feet – crawling baby. I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit!

Holy crap – this not worrying thing is going to be harder than I thought.

Peace,

Denis

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d-diB65scQU&ob=av2e

Baby, Oh Baby!

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Our daughter Bess is due next weekend. Seems like we’ve waited a long time for Baby Number Two – and now all of sudden it’s time! I don’t why I have to be ready but I feel like I do.  And how exactly am I supposed to ready myself?  Third grandchild.  Second child of my daughter and son-in-law.  We’ve been down this road before.  We’re experienced.  And yet this morning I was praying for Bess and Baby and I remembered how excited we were when our third child was born. 

Bess is ready!

I’ll never forget the nurse in the hospital that thought Blake was our first child because we were so happy.  And how much her surprise at finding out he was our third disturbed me.  Oh sure, there’s some stuff we thought we knew but we didn’t know him and we hadn’t ever had three children  before.  And maybe it was just a little bit scary but it was wonderful!  How could we not be excited?

Bess is ready.  Travis is ready.  The nursery is ready.  Anna is as ready as a two year old can be (her going to Nana & Pawpaw’s suitcase is packed).  All necessary preparations have been made.  We’re all prepared.  But babies have a funny way of changing the rules.  They come when they’re ready.  They sometimes come with a roar.   They sometimes come with a whimper.  But Baby will come and be loved and our lives will be filled with more joy.

I’m out of town right now and I feel a little anxious about Baby arriving while I’m gone.  As if she or he needs me to be there.  I guess it’s selfish but I want to be there and see that face and meet that little person that will change our lives and win our hearts – yes it’s been done before but not like this and not with this little individual.  God continues to bless us.  I just want to be there to give thanks.

Here’s my prayer:

All loving God,

Hear my prayer for my daughter Bess who awaits the birth of her child.  She has cooperated with you in giving life.  Assist her as she prepares to give birth to her baby.  May she be filled with your peace and blessing so that she may bring her child into this world safely and in good health.

Amen

My prayer is also that all babies could be loved as much as I know this one will be.

Peace,

Denis

Brotherly Love

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This past weekend my nephew Dave married his love Laura.  It was a beautiful wedding and a fabulous family celebration!  Relatives I hadn’t seen in a while were in attendance and new friendships were formed with Laura’s family.  Phenomenal weather, beautiful ceremony, fun reception – all around great day!  Our granddaughter Charlise was the Flower Girl.  Of course Deb and I were proud and pleased to see her be part of the wedding ceremony.  And while my heart was over-flowing with emotions – my nephew getting married; my beautiful granddaughter; recollections of my own wedding (centuries ago) – I couldn’t help but feel a little sadness, too.  You see our son Tyson, Charlise’s father, wasn’t able to be with us on Saturday.  Tyson is in the Air Force and is currently stationed in Germany awaiting orders for Korea.  He’ll be home on leave in November but needless to say, he couldn’t be with us at Dave and Laura’s wedding.  So it was bittersweet watching his little girl walking down the aisle knowing that her Daddy was in Germany alone.  Such is the life of a military man – sacrifice.

Fortunately our daughter Bess, our son-in-law Travis, our son Blake and his girlfriend Julia were with us.  And each of them seemed to step in for Tyson when the need arose.  Before the wedding when Charlise was getting a little ‘antsy’ her Uncle Blake amused her and kept her ever-joyful.  Her Aunt Bess helped her with last minute adjustments to her dress/hair/flowers.  All of them doted on her and made her feel like the center of attention (and at times she seemed to be).  Between the wedding and reception our family along with my niece and her fiancé went to a local restaurant where Charlise was treated as a princess by all – even the wait staff.  She was beaming! 

Later while I was dancing with Charlise at the reception I noticed Bess and Travis and Blake and Julia all eagerly awaiting their turn to dance with her.  Her Aunt and Uncles were proxy Daddies on Saturday and Charlise never lacked for attention or love the entire day.  Did they do this for Charlise or Ty?  I’m sure that they didn’t give it that much thought.  It’s just what they do. Our kids (and the ones they love) have an extraordinary capacity for caring.  Debbie and I have made lots of mistakes (well mostly me) but one thing I am sure that we did right along the way was to teach our children how to love.  How to give.  How to care.  And on Saturday my heart nearly burst with pride for the way they ‘loved’, ‘cared for’ and ‘gave to’ Tyson in loving, caring and giving to his daughter.  He may not have been there to share in the joy of the day but he can rest assured that his siblings were there for him.  It’s just the way they’re made – from love.

Peace,

Denis

Self-inflicted Pain

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Last year I decided to “get in shape”. Now for the record I wasn’t actually out of shape because technically I had never been in shape. I liked being kind of soft and mushy and my solution to my ever-expanding waistline was brilliant: buy new clothes. But after a high blood pressure reading, some aches and pains and a general feeling of fatigue; I decided that I didn’t want to be fat, frumpy and fiftyish anymore.

So I embarked on my odyssey of self-improvement or as I prefer to call it – self-inflicted pain. I know that diet and exercise is more appealing when we refer to it as “a lifestyle change” but let’s not kid ourselves – it’s still DIET and EXERCISE. What’s particularly frustrating (to me anyway) is that it works. I wanted to take a magic pill or buy some fancy machine that would transform me into my vision of health and fitness. The infomercials on T.V. make it look so easy – hmmm, could it be that those ads are deceptive? What really helped me get kick-started was a “Biggest Loser” competition we had at work – I love to win stuff! So I started counting calories, making healthier food choices and began the dreaded exercise regime.

Turns out exercise isn’t that much fun. But I’ve learned to adjust my way of thinking and I usually start my day out on the treadmill. I have an hour of quiet time – sometimes I pray; often I listen to music via my iPod; and sometimes I just enjoy the peaceful silence (although my panting and gasping initially was a distraction). I give myself the morning for me – the fact that I’m walking has become incidental – I have reserved that time just for me. And that’s the beauty – it feels a little selfish and indulgent – and I like that!

BEFORE

As far as the DIET, I have just increased the good stuff and decreased the bad stuff. Again, pretty simple concept. I was fortunate enough to meet with a dietician and get some sound advice: DON’T DRINK YOUR CALORIES – FIBER IS YOUR FRIEND – EAT SMALLER PORTIONS – BLAH, BLAH, BLAH. And I love my new foods and I’ve learned that water really is God’s perfect beverage. So I guess it is “a life-style change” and it works. But I hate to admit that sometimes I have ‘doughnut dreams’.

I also joined a gym and I had a few sessions with a trainer named Jake (but after the first session I had another name for that little sadist). We worked on ‘my core’. Which was startling to me because I didn’t know that I possessed a core and I didn’t’ realize that ‘working’ on it would make me want to cry like a little girl and then throw up. Did I mention that I HATE Jake? Now I go to the gym a few days each week and I continue to work on my core and well as cardio and other stuff. I still give Jake the ‘stink-eye’ whenever I see him – that little jerk! But each day at the gym is a day that I’m not sitting on my bottom. So I guess it’s true – that you can either use it or lose it. I’m not power lifting or anything like that; I’m just hoping to hang on to what I’ve got – it seems that after 50 what doesn’t fall off – falls apart. I’m just trying to slow that natural progression.

AFTER

The good news: Diet and exercise works! I’ve lost 50 pounds. My blood pressure is great. My cholesterol is low. And I feel better than I have in years. So it seems that my self-inflicted pain has paid off. And my reward is that I can (maybe) look forward to a longer life.

Now I had better start thinking about making some changes on the inside – that’s where the real work is needed. More acceptance – less judgment. More tolerance – less prejudice. More joy – less regret. More love – less hate. This change won’t require self-inflicted pain. It should be the opposite. Surrendering to God’s love won’t be easy (for me) but the only painful part will be letting go of my need to be in control. This past year I transformed my body; it might take a little while longer to transform my soul but I’ve got an excellent trainer in Jesus…

My soul, be at rest in God alone, from whom comes my hope. Psalms 62:6

Peace,

Denis

Put Your Play Clothes On!

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Last week my two year old granddaughter Anna met me at the back door.  It had been a long and stressful day –unreasonable customers; blundering suppliers; disgruntled employees; disappointing profit margins; idiot commuters; and me!  Me: all serious and angry and full of spite.  And Anna: all smiles and giggles and full of joy.  I hadn’t even entered the house and she was there jumping up and down; excited and happy to see me.  What had I done to deserve such a welcome?  It didn’t matter.  Before I could scoop her up in my arms she asked me, “Pawpaw, you wanna put your play clothes on?”  Those words were music to my ears!

Who wouldn’t want to drop EVERYTHING (bad mood, shitty day, lousy traffic) and put their play clothes on?  Anna and I then ran to my room and while I changed my clothes something magical happened – I changed; I really changed.  I felt better instantly!  Anna didn’t care about profits or schedules or developmental deals.  She just wanted to play with her Pawpaw.  And so we did! 

I shed more than my business attire when I put on my play clothes.  I let go of my day.  And I was able to focus on what was really important – my loved ones.  I listened (really listened) to Anna.  She had so much to tell me about what she and her Nana had done that day.  And her happiness was contagious.  Soon I was happy, too.  I guess it took putting on my play clothes to see through the eyes of a two year old.  I thanked God right then and there for sending this little angel into my life.  Maybe she knew what I needed – when I couldn’t see it myself.

We went outside and watered flowers and she drank from the garden hose – which is very exotic when you’re a two year old.  We played with the dogs.  We laughed.  We ran around the backyard.  I got lots of kisses and hugs (and returned the favor, too).  And she told me that she loved me for no apparent reason. What a difference a change of clothes makes! It was really nothing remarkable, just simple fun with my granddaughter – which is what made it so special. 

So the next time you’re having a lousy day and your world is a little more than you can handle, I recommend that you “put your play clothes on”.  I’m willing to bet that you will change more than your clothes.

Peace,

Denis

The First Day

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On August 31, 2010 our granddaughter Charlise starts kindergarten.  She’s our first granddaughter, so she gets to do all the ‘firsts’.  Tomorrow is a big day for her and for us, too.  It seems like just yesterday that she was born.  Now she starts kindergarten.  She’s ready; we’re not.  She’s still our baby girl (and always will be).

But I’ve been thinking about ‘first days’ a lot lately: 

Charlise starts her first day of school at Central Elementary – it sounds so official.  Do I need to go there and make sure that the teachers and principal know how special she is?  I know that they will teach her.  But will they protect her?  Love her?  Care for her?  Will they know that she’s too precious to be considered “just another kindergartener”? 

My nephew David is getting married this weekend and he and Laura will soon have their ‘first day’ as husband and wife.  Do they understand what this all means (does anyone)?  Are they really prepared to love, honor and (I don’t know – do we still say “obey”)?   Will their ‘honeymoon’ last forever?  Is their life together going to be ‘The Excellent Adventure’ that marriage is meant to be?

My daughter and son-in-law are about to welcome a new baby into their home.  And his or her ‘first day’ will change EVERYTHING.  Bess is due in just a couple of weeks and right now the anticipation of a new baby is a little nerve-racking but the miracle of another new life makes it all worthwhile.  This baby’s ‘first day’ will be a cause for joy and celebration and will become this special little someone’s ‘birthday’ to be celebrated each year! 

All ready for her first day!

These ‘first days’ are only important because they mark the start of something bigger:  a new academic beginning; a new marriage; a new life.  ‘First days’ are full of emotion and joy and apprehension and unknown.  Imagine if each day was treated like a ‘first day’.  Think about how exciting your job would be if you looked at each day as a ‘first day’ – dressing up and having your picture taken before you ventured out.  Wonder, if you will, about how much better your marriage could be if you were as excited about rolling over in bed to kiss goodnight as you were on your wedding day.  What if you could get ‘butterflies in your stomach’ just thinking about sharing breakfast together?  And what if each day was celebrated as a ‘birthday’?  What kind of change in attitude might we experience if we thanked God each day for our life and the lives of those we love?  How different would we feel if we celebrated the miracle of life constantly – even the cranky middle-aged lives like mine?

Tomorrow will be Charlise’s ‘first day’ and I will be proud and happy for her and a little emotional.  There will probably be a special ‘first day’ breakfast before she leaves the house.  There will be excitment all day and lots to talk about when she gets home.  What fun!

I’m praying that I can be just as excited about coming to work tomorrow.  Maybe I’ll dress up and have Deb take my picture before I leave the house.  Who knows it could the ‘first day’ of my new attitude!

Peace,

Denis

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QWfZ5SZZ4xE&feature=fvw

“The Customer’s Always Right” – right?

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There’s an old adage that says, “The Customer’s Always Right”.  I grew up believing that.  And in retail stores, as in most businesses, customers ultimately pay the employees salaries. Without customers, there is no business!

Working from that premise I decided to take my complaint to The Store Manager.  The Store Manager is one of those lofty individuals that can say YES after other store employees, that have been programmed to do so, say NO.  So when I ask to “speak to the Store Manager” I’ve come to expect that my concern/complaint/issue will be given the proper solemn important attention that it deserves.  After all, MY PROBLEM is of the utmost significance to me, and therefore should be to The Store Manager as well.

Well that’s where I was wrong!  Let me give you a little background:  At issue is the fact that while still under warranty our television lost video and audio reception.  It was wrongly diagnosed twice by The BIG BOX STORE’s repair dude and the manufacturer’s Support Team and finally after more than 6 months of on-again off-again T.V. it was determined that the panel is bad (whatever that means?).  Of course now our television is no longer under warranty.  Had the correct problem been identified back in February, parts and repairs would have been covered.  Now we are looking at a $1,280.00 part plus labor costs of several hundred dollars!   

So I went to speak to The Store Manager to see what she could do to help me.  After waiting the better part of an hour (several other assistant managers and such tried to intercede on her behalf but I knew that my problem was likely out of their authority to resolve – so I waited) the Store Manager finally arrived clearly annoyed that I had insisted on speaking with only her.  Immediately her demeanor was combative and extremely rude.  When I asked her why she had kept me waiting so long, her response was, “You are not my boss and I don’t have to explain myself to you!” 

Wow!  I worked in retail years ago and that would have been cause for immediate termination ‘back in the day’ but this was THE STORE MANAGER – I guess things have changed.  Wowzer!  Needless to say, she did not appreciate my “rightness” and I am now dealing with her supervisor, and The Better Business Bureau, and The CEO of BIG BOX STORE and God only knows who else.

I’ve been assured, by a VP of BIG BOX Something or other, that EVERYTHING will be repaired at no cost to us, but I’m still waiting.  And I’m still waiting for my letter of apology from The Store Manager.  Hope hell doesn’t freeze over the day that arrives!

Is it so wrong to be right?

Peace,

Denis

Please Hold Your Applause

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All three of our children graduated from Homestead High School in Mequon, Wisconsin. Homestead was consistently ranked near the top of all high schools in Wisconsin for academic excellence. We were blessed to live in a community with such a great public high school. Homestead rivaled most private high schools in our area.

During the years our kids went to Homestead there were roughly 1,300 students; so graduating classes were typically about 300-350 kids. Because of the large number of graduates, each year at the graduation ceremonies they would ask all those in attendance to hold their applause until ALL students received their diplomas.

This worked. People complied. Except for the families of black students. Homestead had a minority student population of about 10% – most of those kids were black. There were Hispanic and Asian kids but they probably made up less than 2% of the total student body. So while most of the graduating class’s families sat politely quiet about 8% of those in attendance would cheer loudly for their graduates. I never found this particularly disturbing but it was always interesting to me – there’s probably a sociological study in there somewhere. The clapping and cheering likely only added an additional 20 – 30 minutes to the graduation ceremonies. So no big deal (or so I thought).

Our youngest child Blake was (and still is) an enigma! He was a National Merit Semifinalist. He was offered a full-ride scholarship to Ball State University in Indiana. He had been accepted (and enrolled) into the University of Wisconsin. And yet, we didn’t know until the day of his graduation whether or not he would actully graduate! It seems that he had not done most of his homework or term papers for the last quarter of his senior year. Furthermore not until we received his progress reports (lack of progress is more like it) did we even know that there was a problem.

Needless to say, graduation day for Blake had us on ‘pins and needles’. What would we tell grandparents that had made the trip from Missouri? What would it mean if he didn’t graduate? Would Wisconsin withdraw their acceptance? Would he have to stay home another year? God help us all!

But Blake turned in all his missing assignments; took make-up tests, finished term papers. And we waited. Because grading wasn’t complete until the Friday before Sunday’s graduation, we wouldn’t know whether his “make-up work” would work.

So on Sunday we sat in the Field House listening as names were announced (and I was silently cursing the fact that our last name begins with a “W” because we had to wait through nearly the entire alphabet). We sat for what seemed like days – and then a miracle: “BLAKE WILHELM”! And then the cheers! Why were people cheering for Blake? And why was it all the black families? And with that, I witnessed another miracle, Blake parading in with Honor Cords; not only had he graduated but he apparently managed to do work good enough to make the honor roll. I was torn between being relieved, proud and wanting to strangle him with those gold cords!

And why were the black families cheering for him anyway? Did they know what he had managed to pull off? Did they admire his ability to overcome his obstacles? Or did they just love Blake because he’s such a great kid? NO – none of the above. Turns out that Blake had gone to every black kid in his graduating class and asked them to ask their families to cheer when (if) his name was announced.

Life with Blake has always been like a roller-coaster – lots of ups and downs. But the ride is a hell of a lot of fun! Thanks for the ride Blake – I love you (and I’m still cheering, too).

Peace,

Dad

The Wads

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Our daughter Bess’ first college roommate was a one of her best friends from Homestead High School.  Down the hall from her dorm room was one of her other best friends from grade school and high school.  So leaving her at the University of Wisconsin that freshman year didn’t seem quite so daunting because she had good friends nearby.  That year she would meet two other girls – one from Cedarburg High School just north of where we lived, and another from Minnesota.  Even though Bess and Laurie had been friends the longest (since 6th grade) and she had known Kristy since freshman basketball in high school, all five girls bonded pretty quickly.  They became a pack and carried (or were carried) by one another for the next four years.  Their friendship continues to this day and I suspect it will last their lifetimes.

Their junior year at Wisconsin it was decided that they would leave the dorms and move into a townhouse apartment – the five plus one more.  Six girls in a townhouse with 2 bathrooms – that’s three girls per bathroom – you can do the math yourself.  College-age girls share EVERYTHING.  They shared one another’s clothes; they shared each others cosmetics; they drank and ate after one another (I found this particularly disgusting); they even shared one another’s beds – perhaps if it was a stormy night or if they had nightmares (and probably when a roommate had a boy spend the night – I’m just sayin’…).  It was this habit of being so TOGETHER (literally and figuratively) that garnered them the nickname ‘The Gay-wads’.  Now for the record that nickname came from one of the other dads – not yours truly!  I’m not certain what he meant exactly (probably just that they were too close and that outsiders might think they were gay, I suppose) but the girls thought it was hysterical and after that they referred to themselves as the ‘The Gay-wads’; later shortened to ‘The Wads’. 

The following year the ‘plus one’ moved on and ‘The Wads’ moved to yet another place (sans Laurie who was studying abroad in Spain).  This time they lived in a converted bungalow with an additional couple of new girls.  But ‘The Wads’ remained solid.  I’ve only been allowed a glimpse or two into their world – the shared stories have been altered (and sanitized).  There’s a reason that the University of Wisconsin was voted the #1 party school.  I’m sure ‘The Wads’ helped maintain that reputation.  In spite of all the partying, I know that these girls were there for one another time and time again.  I’m certain that some actual studying took place, too.  After all, they did all five graduate!

Graduation from Wisconsin was bittersweet – they would all be moving on.  Some of them would work after graduation; some would continue on to graduate school.  But one thing was certain:  LIFE WAS CHANGING. 

Our daughter graduated with a double major in Political Science and Spanish and went to work in Human Resources at a large hospital in Milwaukee.  Kristy went on to a doctoral program in Boston via Purdue and Austin.  Laurie went to law school at Marquette in Milwaukee.  Katie went to work as a nurse in a hospital in Boston.  And Amanda joined the Peace Corp, eventually ending up in grad school in Michigan.  The ‘Wads’ were officially grown-ups (sort of).

Today all five are married (to people that I approve of – as if that matters).  Our daughter, Bess was the first to marry – seven years ago.  Katie was the last – two weeks ago.  Their lives have taken each of them in different directions and they all have a world of opportunities and experiences still awaiting them.  But when they get together once or twice a year they are still the ‘Wads’.  They laugh at the same silly jokes and reminisce about the same crazy adventures (or misadventures) that they shared.  The spouses have been allowed to come along on this journey and it’s a testament to their love that each husband or wife seems to enjoy/tolerate ‘Wad Weekend’.  I believe the spouses may have formed a support group of their own.

Sometimes I miss those girls that were – before jobs and spouses and children.  There was once an innocence about them and it seemed like collectively they would one day rock our world!  But you know, the reality is they are rocking our world.  They are all contributing members of our society.  They think before they act.  They work for positive change. They care for those in need. They are stewards of our planet.  They are the teachers, nurturers, builders of a future that embraces diversity and opportunity of all.  They are the best our world has to offer. 

When they get together they might still be “Gay-wads”.  They might giggle and act like 18 year-olds again but something happens when they go home.  They become the women of integrity and substance and beauty that they were meant to be.  And I am honored to know them. 

Our daughter Bess is raising her own beautiful daughter now and will give birth to baby #2 in just a few weeks.  My prayer is that someday my grandchildren have their own group of ‘Wads’ and that they will know that kind of true and lasting friendship.

Peace,

Denis