Author: Denis Wilhelm

Don’t Say No

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Recently my daughter suggested that I need to tell my granddaughter no.  The conversation went something like this:  Daughter – “Dad, you need to learn how to tell her no!”  Me – “Why should I?”  “You think I need to learn how to tell her no?  I don’t think so!”

Seriously, could you tell this face no?

And really, why should I?  Anna (the angel-faced granddaughter) and I have a deal.  She asks for something and I give it to her.  It’s a great system – she’s happy; I’m happy.  We like being happy – it’s the parental units that are such spoil-sports.  And when Anna says. “Peez, Pawpaw…?” Who am I to deny her?

Now in fairness, I don’t let her have EVERYTHING she wants.  But really is a little ice cream or another episode of “Wonder Pets®” or “Dora the Explorer®” going to do any permanent harm?  She’s two; I’m fifty-five and we really like ice cream and Dora!  I will admit that I’m a soft-touch.  Those big green eyes and that sweet smile melt my heart like butter on a summer day.  But I don’t let her have EVERYTHING; only mostly everything.

Actually the STUFF that I try to give her is time, attention, and love.  Not that toys, ice cream and the occasional Nick Jr.® don’t sometimes work their way in there.  But being the grandfather of a two year-old is the very essence of freedom.  You get to abandon social norms.  Giggling and making silly faces is mandatory.  Hugs and kisses are acceptable barter for more of whatever is needed (not needed – wanted according to responsible adults – see above).  

I figure I’m living on borrowed time.  Someday Anna will figure out that I’m just another cranky old man.  It won’t be exciting to go to the Dollar Tree® and pick out anything she wants when she’s 12 and my very presence embarrasses her.  She won’t want to snuggle when she’s a teenager and HATES EVERYONE.  Right now my jokes are funny and my silliness is ‘de rigueur’.  Soon enough I will be someone she doesn’t really have that much time for.  Oh, she’ll be kind and loving but it won’t be the same.  

But right now we revel in our two year-old silliness and I continue to say YES.  My daughter and son-in-law can say no all they want.  Heck, they can tell me no (as if it would do any good!), but I’m sticking with my ‘Don’t Say No’ policy.  After all, that’s what Pawpaws are for.

Peace,

Denis

The Daughter I Never Wanted

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One of our daughter’s best friends is named Kristy.  I call her Wooder (as do many of her friends).  She calls me Big D (but no one else does).   When Wooder’s parents moved out of the country due to her dad’s job transfer, Wooder moved in with us.  The girls had just graduated from high school and were both headed to The University of Wisconsin that fall.  Wooder spent part of the summer in Italy with her folks but the rest of the time she lived with us.  Weekends home during the school year were spent at our house and she also stayed with us the following summer, too.  Holidays she would fly to Italy and on at least one of those trips she took Bess with her. 

That first summer I joked that Wooder was the “Daughter I Never Wanted”.  Now I realize that nothing could be further from the truth.  But that first summer Wooder was a ‘third thumb’, a ‘fifth wheel, a ‘fish out of water’.  You get my drift: she didn’t fit in.  Our family, my wife, our daughter, our son, and myself all worked – ALL SUMMER.  Bess worked as an intern at my office.  Blake worked on a seed farm.  Deb was a parish secretary.  I was a project manager.  And Wooder slept in.  Some days we would all come home from work in time for Wooder to announce that she would be “taking a shower now”.  Her only responsibility was to let our little dog Sadie out to “go potty”.  Poor Sadie – good thing she had a strong bladder!

It wasn’t that Wooder was lazy – she just didn’t need to do anything on weekdays.  Saturdays were different.  We all cleaned the house and did chores.  At first I believe that Wooder thought I was dictatorial – GET UP!  VACUUM!  NOW!  My kids were used to this but Wooder probably thought she had been sold into bondage.  But we all adapted.  I realized that Wooder was very helpful when asked to help (my wife recommended this tactic) and she began to understand that my bombastic approach to household chores was just so much bluster and posturing – no one really took me seriously.

Pretty soon Wooder was part of our family and joined in with dinner table debates.  Often she would be my ally when some of our ‘discussions’ got heated in that kitchen on Westfield Road.  She agreed with me that the guy that my daughter was dating was all wrong for her – of course we were both wrong about that!  (Sorry Travis, I love you!  I just didn’t know you then.)  She shared family birthdays and cookouts and running errands with us.  Once, when it was just Wooder and me, a deer leapt over the hood of the car as we were driving down Cedarburg Road – no one would believe that story today if Wooder hadn’t been there!

Cindy and Wooder

Today she is Doctor Wood.  She’s a bio-medical something or other.  I know she wears a lab coat and works on really important stuff that I’m too dim-witted to understand.  I’m proud of Wooder.  I’m proud of the person that she’s become.  Life hasn’t always been easy.  Wooder is gay and not everyone can handle that.  Truth be known, it kind of  “threw me for a loop” at first but I love Wooder and I’m proud of her.  So maybe it’s gay pride that I feel and that’s okay with me.  She and her wife Cindy (yes wife – it’s legal in Massachusetts – get with it, rest of the country) are blessings to all who know and love them.  And even though Wooder’s the “Daughter I Never Wanted”, I’m glad that she’s a part of our family.  And I hope she’ll always know that she has a place in our hearts and our home.

Peace,

Big D

Is God a Man or a Woman?

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If we are all created in God’s image; what about women?  In Genesis we read, “God created man in his image; in the divine image he created him; male and female he created them.  Wow, we are made in God’s own image – male and female!  So ‘God the Father’ is just as likely ‘God the Mother’.  Back in 1978, Pope John Paul I said, “We need to call God ‘mother’ as well as ‘father.’ ” And still over 30 years later the Catholic Church continues to disallow women a place at the table.  If God is male and female, then why deny ordination to women?  If God is feminine and masculine why not celebrate God’s femininity as well as his masculinity?  I love the image of God as father/protector but I find equally comforting the image of God as mother/nurturer.  The Church hierarchy appears afraid of either losing control or they think that a female clergy might reveal how deeply our Church has been wounded by the patriarchy currently ‘running the show’.  If these guys were smarter, they would let the women join in to do the ‘heavy lifting’.  The gals could be balancing budgets and dealing with those pesky laypeople while the boys were busy working on their golf games or their homilies (now there’s an opportunity for improvement!). 

It seems to me that if God has ‘gifted’ women with the joy of being co-creators by carrying the world’s future persons in their wombs the least our Church should do is allow them to approach the altar.  The denial of ordination for women suggests that women are still considered second class citizens.  Please don’t misunderstand me:  I know and love some amazing priests and I know and love some dedicated and gifted women religious (nuns) but would it be so bad if one or a thousand of these dedicated religious women became priests?  What are we afraid of?

Women of spirit, love and intelligence have so much to offer our Church and the continued denial by Church hierarchy only adds more wounds to an already wounded Body of Christ.  Years of apostolic scandal and deceit only further alienate a fragmented Church.  The idea of God as ‘mother’ as well as ‘father’ shouldn’t frighten us.  It should liberate us.  If a male-dominated clergy is about control then it stands to reason that an inclusive clergy would be about deliverance.  I will admit that thinking about God as woman is a paradigm shift for most people.  God the Father, after all sits up in the clouds with a long white beard – even Gary Larson the cartoonist believed that.  And a mother-God makes some people fearful because it brings to mind thoughts of witchcraft or sorcery or some New-Age Earth Mother image. 

Perhaps the problem lies not in whether God is a woman or a man but in our human need to make God smaller; to envision God in strictly human form.  It is very limiting to put God in that box. God is not human and can’t be defined in simple human terms.  God’s power and majesty is only equal to God’s love and forgiveness.  Jesus who was human and divine was God’s sacrifice offered for all of us.  Jesus was male but that doesn’t restrict God to only human characteristics.  I personally don’t want a small, limited God.  My God is boundless and eternal.  God is not human; therefore human descriptions of God are always flawed.

I have Evangelical friends that will consider my opinions heresy – I KNOW WHAT THE BIBLE SAYS.  And I have conservative Catholic friends who are convinced that when they’re in Purgatory working off a few thousand years for eating meat on a Friday during Lent, they’ll be looking down at me in HELL for just thinking about this stuff!

I may be all wrong.  I usually am.  But when I get to heaven (oh yes, I’m planning on going there), I will ask God if He/She is male and female.  And then I’ll have an eternity to ‘wrap my head around’ whatever the answer may be.

Peace,

Denis

Wilhelm and Sons

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I’m always a little amazed when I see family businesses that are named So-and-so and Sons.  I love my sons but I can’t imagine the three of us working together.  For that matter I can’t imagine the three of us spending that much time together.  What must that be like – forty plus hours a week working side by side with your sons?  Do you ever get to quit being the boss and just be the Dad?  Or do you ever get to quit being the Dad and just be the boss?  It’s mind boggling!

One thing is for certain:  I will never find out.

My sons and I have all taken very different paths.  I for one think it’s a good thing.  Too often Dads think that Junior should be little reincarnations of themselves.  I’ve seen so many unhappy sons and frustrated fathers that one of my goals in life was to NOT have my sons take after me!  Except for loving their children – which they should do. 

My son Tyson is a military man.  He is career Air Force and has worked/lived in several states as well as in Europe.  This fall he is headed to Asia.  He is orderly, disciplined and totally committed to serving our country.  He is a model Airman.  And as a 31 year old Master Sergeant, he has done extremely well in his career.  His life is routine, structured and regimented.  He sees most things in life as pretty much black or white!

My son Blake is a cook and a Sous-Chef.  He is artistic and musical.  He was a theater major in college but his passion is cooking!  In 2001 he left home for the University of Wisconsin in Madison and he’s been there ever since.  At 27 he’s still finding himself.  He often lives on the edge. Sometimes he hangs over the edge!  His life is messy, rebellious, and chaotic.  Everything for him is a shade of gray.

Wilhelm and Sons in Heidelberg Germany

I’m a strange combination of both of them.  I desire structure and routine in my life but I become bored and distracted easily.  I love to give orders like Tyson but I loathe taking them as does Blake!  Like Tyson, I would be too panicky ‘living on the edge’ but I’m little envious of the freedom that Blake has.  Ironically I see a bit of myself in both my sons, even though I have always tried to discourage any “following in dad’s foot-steps” hooey.  Maybe some of it is genetic; maybe some of it is modeled behavior.  Either way, it’s amusing to see them (sort of) become like me at times – they’re probably not amused at all!

My boys are different from one another in so many ways but they share many of the same qualities, too.  And the things in common are the important things:  love for one another; love for their mother and sister; love of family; concern for those less fortunate; and even a ‘soft spot’ for the Old Man. 

As a father, I have a strong devotion to Saint Joseph the patron saint of all fathers.  My prayers always include my boys (and my girl) but while asking God to take care of them, I sometimes forget to thank God.  So thank you for my children!  You did a good job.  And God, thanks for letting me have a hand in it, too.

Wilhelm and Sons? Kind of has a nice ring to it after all!

Peace,

Denis

Catholic Inter-Scholastic Speech League

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Recently a friend from high school, who is now a Facebook friend, asked if anyone remembered a nun that taught English and did dramatic readings.  There were some responses and some of my former classmates think her name was Sister Judith Ann.  But I remember a Sister Jeanine that was also an English teacher and was the Theater Department sponsor.  My memories of Sister Jeanine aren’t necessarily pleasant but reminiscing about high school and teachers made me remember C.I.S.L. (Catholic Inter-Scholastic Speech League) – another memory that wasn’t particularly pleasant!

C.I.S.L. was an inter-Catholic school speech competition.  There were several categories:  Debate, Public Speaking, Extemporaneous Speaking, Dramatic Reading, and Duet Acting.  Somehow I managed to find myself on the ‘Duet Acting’ team.  My acting partner was Margaret, a girl that I had gone to school with since 1st grade, and she and I were really bad actors – REALLY BAD! 

Duet acting competition involved taking acts from plays that had two main characters.  Performances were usually just one-act.  Most of the other schools had teams that were doing scenes from contemporary popular plays in the 1970’s – “You’re A Good Man, Charlie Brown” was a perennial favorite.  Maggie and I wanted to do a scene from “Butterflies Are Free” – remember the movie with Goldie Hawn and that guy with the dimpled chin?  Anyway, Sister Jeanine insisted that Maggie and I do a scene from “Victoria Regina” – seriously.  So there we were all pimply faced and gawky trying to “be” Queen Victoria and Prince Albert – what in hell was Jeanine thinking?  Needless to say, we were awful.  No.  Awful would have been an improvement – we were wretched!  But we toured all the local high schools – Dominic, St. Mary’s, Rosary, JFK, Aquinas, Mercy, etc.

I guess because I have a German sounding last name, Sister Jeanine thought I could play the German Prince Consort – who knows?  And Maggie?  Well she was better than me but that’s like saying rotten eggs smell better than dead flesh – it really doesn’t help much.  We used these phony accents: She the English monarch.  Me the German Prince.  Usually somewhere in the middle of our ‘act’ we would somehow switch accents.  All of a sudden Albert would have a ‘veddy‘ English sounding voice and Victoria would begin to sound like a German peasant.  And being the consummate professionals that we were, of course we would laugh.  We would laugh so hard at times that we completely forgot all our lines.  That’s when we became truly entertaining – “Victoria, what on earth is making you giggle, so?”  or some such nonsense would come out of my mouth!  I can still see Sister Jeanine fuming on the sidelines while we slowly ‘self-destructed’. 

Once at Bishop Du Bourg High School some kid offered Maggie a hit off his joint (remember this was the ’70’s and we were in Catholic Schools).  Ironically, that was her best performance.  Needless to say, our poor performances never earned a ribbon nor even an honorable mention.  And those pompous Debaters and snotty Extemporaneous Speakers HATED us because we always brought the cumulative team score down.

But Maggie was cool and we had fun.  We never expected to win OSCARS one day.  We were just high school kids having a good time.  And if Sister Jeanine had let us do “Butterflies Are Free”, like we wanted to, we could have kicked some serious butt. 

I wonder where Maggie is today?  Heck, she might be a great actress with a new name, but I doubt it.  I just hope her memories of C.I.S.L. and our high school high-jinx make her smile.  I wonder if Sister Jeanine ever thought we were funny?  She could have used a hit off that joint! 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LHHbSsdc0gk

Peace,

Denis

Baby Sister

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Our 2 year old granddaughter Anna is about to become a BIG SISTER.  Our daughter’s second baby is due next month.  It’s amazing how the baby becomes the big brother/sister literally overnight.  When our daughter was born our son Tyson was only 19 months old – instantly he became THE BIG BOY.  Of course he was still sleeping in a crib and he was still in diapers but in comparison to his newborn sister, he was a big boy.  The same will be true for Anna – she’ll always be our special baby girl but next month she’ll be the BIG GIRL when compared to her infant brother or sister.  And so it goes…

When I was ten years old I was still the baby of our family.  I had two older brothers and it seemed that I was destined to always be the little one.  But then the most amazing thing happened:  My baby sister was born!  Being 10 years old and having a baby sister might have been traumatic to some kids (I think my parents were secretly worried that I might strangle her in her crib) but I was the happiest kid on the block.  The baby was OUR BABY.  We (my brothers and I) all got to share her.  Mom allowed (or needed) us to help out with diapers and bottles and babysitting.  I felt so big!  I wasn’t the baby anymore.  And I loved it.  Even more – I loved her.  And I still do!

Kay and me - Christmas 1968

My sister Kay will always be my baby sister.  She’s a grandmother now but she’s still my baby sister.  I often think about how God has blessed me with Kay.  The obvious blessing was that it got me out of being the ‘baby of the family’.  But more importantly I got “hands on” training with an infant, and then a toddler, and then a  preschooler, and so on.  When I became a parent myself, I wasn’t afraid of my own baby like some young parents – I’d already done a lot of this stuff!  Plus I learned some important LIFE STUFF, too – like how to share and how to love someone more than myself. 

I can still remember so vividly that tiny pink bundle in Mom’s arms the day she came home from the hospital.  I knew then that was I the luckiest brother in the world (and I still am).  I became a dorky teenager and while kids my own age were interested in things that I lacked the maturity to handle (they likely did as well) I could retreat into play-time with my little sister.  As we grow older we grow even closer emotionally.  We are joined in a way that brothers and sisters are meant to be – emotionally, spiritually, eternally.  I talk to her most every day and she understands things about me that only she can – we were raised by the same two parents (it’s called sibling empathy).  Even though we are ten years apart we have many of the same emotional triggers and we share a lot of the same quirks.  We laugh at the same lame jokes and we sometimes “get it” when no one else does.  We have shared good times and bad.  And we will always be there for one another, even for the shitty stuff. 

I hope that Anna has the same joys and blessings with her baby brother or sister that I have had with mine.  I thank God each day for her.  At ten years old I didn’t know what was coming my way – God’s plan is still being revealed to me even today.  But I do know that my baby sister is one of His many blessings and I will always be a grateful BIG BROTHER.

I love you, Sissy!

Peace,

Denis

Entertainment Value

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One of the guys on my staff has told me that he comes to work sometimes purely for the entertainment value.  I have to admit that sometimes I do too.  Our office is probably not unique with its assortment of odd inhabitants but they’re the ones that I have to deal with everyday; so it’s all I know.  Some days are weirder than others and usually all you can do is laugh (screaming and cussing is frowned upon even when justified – stupid HR rules). 

There is a person in our office that appears to be a cross between “Doc Brown” from “Back to the Future” and ‘The Clown’ from Stephen King’s “It”.  But he acts stranger than either of those characters.  There’s the ‘Office Know-It-All’ – if you ask that person for the time, they tell you how to build a watch.  No office would be complete without the ‘Brown-noser’, although as the boss I’m only slightly annoyed by this one.  But then of course, there’s the woman who always gives ‘left-handed compliments’ – she can insult you with a smile!  At times I am truly in awe of her ‘gift’.  And then there are our customers and vendors – we have, “The Drama Queen”, “The Jerk-ass” and there’s the overbearingly loud woman, who if she were Native American would be named, ‘One Who Shouts Constantly’ – even her e-mails are in ALL CAPS!  I could go on and on.  And I’m sure they all have their opinions of me – no matter how wrong they are.

The good news is that for every weirdo in any building there are at least two normal people (or people like me that think they’re normal) and of course the weirdos in every office have weirdo friends that think that they’re normal (like me) – don’t think about this too long or you’ll get a headache. 

What a wonderful world we live in!  A world where we can come to work and be entertained by others’ odd behavior and appearance or we can be the entertainers.  Either way it makes work fun and I believe that it helps relieve stress.  As the boss, I like to think of myself as a benevolent dictator – I try to allow a certain amount of foolishess in the workplace.  So if we can laugh at one another and be playful without being hurtful then I’ll be the ‘biggest duck in the puddle’.  Some things are off-limits and common sense should always prevail.  But let’s all try to lighten-up.

Personally I’m glad that God has a sense of humor – he created me didn’t he?  And if I can provide some entertainment value for my staff, customers, and vendors so be it.  Just take it easy on the skinny-leg jokes!  YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE.

Peace,

Denis

It’s Not The Heat; It’s The Humidity

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We’re having a heat wave in Saint Louis right now.  Triple digit temperatures with heat indexes nearing 120 degrees.  When people complain about the heat around here, you often hear other people say, “It’s not the heat; it’s the humidity”.  We actually make excuses for the weather – like somehow the heat doesn’t mean to be so hot; “if it just weren’t for that darn humidity!”

How often do we all make excuses (or allowances) for other people’s bad behavior or bad manners or bad mood?  I used to make excuses for my kids all the time – “he’s tired” or “she didn’t mean to…” or “he’s just being a boy”.  And we make excuses for bad adult behavior, too – “everybody knows not to talk to her before she’s had her coffee”.  Often women will make excuses for their husbands – “he doesn’t know how to do anything around the house”.  REALLY?  Doesn’t know or doesn’t want to know?

My point is that we seldom hold people accountable for their actions.  If someone behaves badly there MUST be a reason – something is beyond their control.  Or maybe if I really took the time to figure out what was bothering them, then I could help.  Or perhaps I just misunderstood what they said or did, etc., etc.  I have a friend that CONSTANTLY makes allowances for everyone.  She has such a good heart and is so trusting that she always believes in the goodness of others.  I used to joke that in High School she was probably voted ‘Most Likely to Date a Serial Killer’.  She shames me with her kindness!

Now I know that I tend to be a little cynical at times and I might sometimes jump to the conclusion that someone is just being a lout.  But really, I think that sometimes some people are just being a–holes.  I don’t know; maybe they just like being jerks.  But I for one refuse to accept boorish behavior.  Sadness, grief, pain, heartache – okay.  Simply being bombastic because you can?  Take it somewhere else! 

Starting today, I am going on notice that I will no longer tolerate, accommodate, or otherwise make excuses for ANYONE that can’t be civil or won’t grow up and deal with their own issues.  IT IS THE HEAT AND THE HUMIDITY!  DEAL WITH IT!

Sorry for the rant but this heat has really taken a toll on me.  I usually don’t go on like this…

Peace,

Denis

Happy Birthday Deborah!

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Today is my wife’s birthday – I won’t tell her age.  Let’s just say that we’ve spent a few birthdays together in the last 35 years.  Birthdays sort of lose their excitement after too many years.  Birthdays are lots of fun when you’re a kid – balloons and cupcakes!  And then when you’re REALLY OLD and Willard Scott announces your name on T.V. they get exciting again – can you believe he or she is still alive?  Deb and I are in-between the excitement.  But that doesn’t mean we won’t celebrate in our own way.

Daughter and son-in-law have suggested dinner and cake but Deb’s a little ‘under the weather’ today so that may have to wait.  Of course my gift to her won’t arrive until tomorrow – damn you UPS!  So this birthday is going to register near the bottom of the GREATEST BIRTHDAYS EVER list.  But still we will celebrate.

We’ll celebrate another year together.  Another year of life.  And look back on all the great times we’ve had and look forward to all the great times ahead.  We have lots to celebrate – next weekend my best friend’s son is getting married; in 4 weeks my nephew is getting married; in 6 weeks our third grandchild is due; and in 3 months my niece is getting married.  And in November our son Tyson will have 30 days of leave and will be home!

So even though today is not going to be “Birthday-palooza”, Debbie will have some cheer.  Hopefully her aches and pain will give way to a moment or two of joy, even if the real celebration has to wait until a better day.

Happy Birthday Deb!  I hope that I’m still somewhere in one of your wishes when you blow out the candles.

Love,

Denis

Cousins

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Our granddaughters are cousins –  five year old Charlise is our son’s daughter and two year old Anna is our daughter’s daughter.  These two really love one another and they love being together.  It’s pure joy to watch how they talk and play and care for each other.  They live about an hour apart now and we try to have them spend time together as often as possible.

I love to eaves-drop on their conversations when they’re playing. They play a lot of “pretend” and Anna usually follows Charlise’s lead but sometimes Anna decides to do things her way and Charlise usually obliges. Depending on what the “pretend” game is the conversations vary but generally it’s some variation on Disney Princesses or Dora the Explorer.  Most often Charlise is Dora and Anna is Boots, Dora’s faithful monkey friend.  Pretty fitting actually – Anna climbs on everything and Charlise likes to wear a backpack.

Yesterday they were playing together in the ‘blow-up’ pool on our patio.  Charlise has been taking swimming lessons and was showing us how she can hold her breath and swim underwater.  Of course whatever Charlise does, Anna MUST do as well.  When Anna put her head underwater she took a big gulp and came up coughing and frightened.  She started to cry and immediately Charlise held her in her arms gently and sang very softly “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star…”  The two of them held onto each other until the song was over.  And then Anna let out a little ‘fake cry’ and the process started all over again – both of them embraced, Charlise singing and Anna being comforted.  How I wished I would have had a video camera – talk about your Hallmark® commercial moment”! 

But unlike Hallmark® commercials this moment was completely unscripted.  And it wasn’t done for attention or approval.  It was just one sweet girl cousin comforting her baby girl cousin because she loves her and because she cares.  And I was blessed for having witnessed this.  These girls will grow up and may grow apart (but please God don’t let that happen!) and they probably will choose different paths.  Like many cousins they may have very different lives some day.  But for this one brief moment they connected in a way that was so profound it brought me to tears.  And I thanked God at that instant for granddaughters that love one another.  And I thanked God for parents that have taught their daughters so well.  I can’t help but wonder how many times Charlise has been comforted with “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star…”  And how good it must have felt in her little heart to share that gift with “Baby Anna”.

Dear God, thank you for our beautiful granddaughters.  It’s true that You give us more than we deserve!

Peace,

Denis