Author: Denis Wilhelm

Please Hold Your Applause

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

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

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

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

Momma’s Boy

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

My son Tyson is a ‘Momma’s Boy’.  I don’t say that with any disrespect or condescension.  I just mean he is unabashedly a man who loves his mother.  And he ALWAYS has.  He has never been afraid to openly show affection toward her.  His concern and love is at once both honorable and heartbreakingly beautiful.  I’ve heard it said that “the greatest gift a father can give his children – is to love their mother”.  I wonder if anyone has ever considered that “the greatest gift a son can give his father – is to love his wife”?  Ty loves his Mom and of course she loves him, too.  But I get to live with the comfort of knowing that should anything ever happen to me – Tyson would be there for Deb.  That’s what a ‘Momma’s Boy’ does: he loves his Momma!

When Ty was a little guy he needed his Mom like all little boys do:  He needed to be nursed; he needed dry diapers; he needed to be comforted in times of sickness.  As he grew older his needs changed but they still involved Mom: help with homework, lunch for school, clean uniforms, car-pooling to and from sports, scouts, etc.  And as he got even older:  wise counsel, a shoulder to lean on, endless moral support, and undying love.  All provided by good ol’ Mom. 

Once when Tyson was in grade school he came to me to upset because he cried too easily.  He always seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve.  Of course this made him a target for other kids at school.  I explained to him that he was like Mom – people that have really big hearts will get them bruised more easily.  I told him it’s the price that you pay for being tender-hearted; that when you have a greater capacity to love, you also have a greater chance of being hurt.  At the young age of 7 or 8, he seemed to understand this.  He decided then that his ability to “love like Mom” was worth the risk of an occasional broken heart. 

Tyson never shied away from hugging or kissing his Mom is public.  I still remember ‘Parents’ Night’ each year for the wrestling squad at Homestead High School.  The team would be presented and then the parents would be called forward.  Each wrestler had a bouquet of flowers for their mom.  Tyson always hugged and kissed Deb while presenting her bouquet – most of his teammates sort of sheepishly handed the flowers to their mothers.  I still feel tremendous pride for those evenings.  What a beautiful way to honor his mother.  And he didn’t flinch when ‘the guys’ would snicker or smirk – he was too proud of her to allow their immaturity to ruin his moment.

Momma and her boy

Tyson is a smart guy – smart enough to know that Mom is the rock of our family.  She’s the one that will sit up all night to listen to your heartache.  She’s the one that can provide emergency medical care in a pinch.  She’s the one that will put on a meal, make up a bed, throw out the welcome mat or get on a plane if you NEED her.  And it’s not always necessary to ask – Mom knows!  She’s got that ability (call it woman’s intuition or something supernatural) that makes her able to sense stuff that mere mortals can’t see or hear.  She’s like an oracle.  I swear she anticipates calls for help from her children and she’s always ready to spring into action.

When I say Ty is a ‘Momma’s Boy’ I don’t mean he’s a wuss or a cry-baby.  I mean that he’s a man who loves his mother.  I know that he understands what an amazing woman with which God has blessed him. And I know that he will be forever grateful for the man that she has helped him become.

Peace,

Denis

Petite Chérie

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

My friend (and work associate) is having a baby!  Her baby is due in January – new year; new baby.  Sherry will make a wonderful mother and she’s been waiting a long time for this opportunity.  I won’t tell you her exact age; let’s just say she’s in her 40’s.  Many women would be apprehensive about starting motherhood after 40 but Sherry seems to be embracing it with all her heart and soul – mostly soul.  Her husband has four grown daughters but this is Sherry’s first child and it will be a girl, too.  She just had the ultrasound last week to confirm that she is indeed carrying ‘Petite Chérie’.  This is not going to actually be the baby’s name but it is the name that I’ve given her – Little Dear One.  What could be more fitting?  Sherry is LOVED by everyone in our office and it stands to reason that her baby girl will be loved by us all as well.  She will be our ‘Petite Chérie’. 

I love babies!  What a ingenious way for God to start people.  Yet proof again of God’s supreme plan for Creation.  If we were born as our adult selves no one be nearly as excited about it.  Congratulations – here’s your middle-aged, balding, more than-slightly overweight son.  Or here’s your pre-menopausal, daughter with ‘crows feet’ and a bad dye-job!  No thanks! 

But babies come to us pure and unspoiled.  They have ‘sweet baby smell’ and make gurgling sounds and they are completely helpless AND completely adorable.  I know why Sherry wants a baby – because babies are God’s reminder that the world deserves another chance.  ‘Petite Chérie’ will change our world (or at the very least, Sherry and Rodney’s) one heart at a time.  She will be loved and she will love and serve God and mankind.  She will be a joy to all around her because of the tremendous example she has in her parents. 

‘Petite Chérie’ means Little Dear One and that is what she will be!  I hope that I will get to see her grow up; but not too fast.  I want to relish her first steps and her first words even if it will be vicariously through Mama Sherry.  I pray that in the future she will know how much she was wanted and how patiently her mother waited for her.

I also pray that she has the same patience with her parents when someday she wants to hurry things along a bit too fast.  Be still Dear Little One your time is at hand!  You’ve been waited for so long; please let us “baby you” for awhile.

Peace,

Denis

God, Are You Out There?

/ Denis Wilhelm / 2 Comments

If you’re anything like me from time to time you probably find yourself asking, “God, are you out there?”  This morning is one of those mornings. I’m in a true-blue funk.  Work has been particularly stressful lately – extremely busy with a staff that has been stretched too thin (apparently this is a trend in businesses today – I’m sure some CEO is making even more money for that idea!); I have a friend that is dealing with a heartbreaking situation with her daughter; Debbie’s dealing with some health issues; and our son’s impending divorce and the consequences of what that will mean to our granddaughter has been keeping me awake nights.  

Not that there haven’t been joyful things happening but sometimes the bad stuff just outweighs the good stuff.  And I start asking, “God, are you out there?”  Of course in due time I realize (remember?) that God is not out there; God is in here.  In me.  And you.  I’ve come to believe that we must be Christ to one another – to share the Holy Spirit dwelling within us.  G0d’s not sitting out there on some mystical cloud looking down with a heavenly ‘remote control’ – “I think I’ll smite Wilhelm today – ha, ha, ha!”  God sent his Son to earth to redeem our sins and the Holy Spirit is with us always – especially when we don’t know it (or feel it).

I try (I really do) to be Christ to others – I mostly fail.  But I am blessed with others who are constantly being Christ to me.  And during these difficult times I will find comfort and solace being in their presence.  When I pray for God’s help, I am always rewarded by an intervention from one of his disciples – right here; right now!

My best friend’s wife, Ronica, is one of those disciples of Christ.  And I doubt that she realizes that she has ever brought Christ to me.  That’s how she is:  self-deprecating, unpretentious, and modest.  She doesn’t like attention (which I really don’t understand – it’s something I crave), she won’t take credit for most of the good that she has done, and she is really kind (especially to old people – which will come in handy for me someday).

Now it’s not that Ronica has had an easy life or has all the answers but she listens – really listens.  And she always puts aside her own heartaches to deal with yours.  I’ve seen her stop to help total strangers, when most of us would just walk on by.  She’s not doing it because she’s some kind of living saint – she just helps people.  And she befriends people that most of us would avoid (or run from!).  She has the uncanny ability to ask an amputee “how they lost it” without being offensive or intrusive.  I just marvel at her! 

What’s most amazing to me is that when you are in need, Ronica will bare her all to help you.  I mean that literally – If I fell down and Ronnie had to show her ass to a roomful of people to help me up off the floor, she would do it without a moment of hesitation.  She will put aside her own vanity or embarrassment to aid a friend (or stranger).  I’ve seen it happen many, many times and I’ve been the welcome recipient a time or two.

I’ve known Ronica for 35 years.  When we first met she was like a lamb; painfully shy and very quiet.  Now she is a like a lioness; brave, loyal and fiercely protective.  Deb and I love to be together will Alan and Ronica – we always share a good time and exercise our ‘laugh’ muscles.  But we’ve been together through some tough times, too.  That’s what friends are for.  And I know that I can always count on their friendship.

Saturday their younger son Dustin was married – what a great day!  During the recitation of the vows, his soon-to-be wife, Jessica was overcome by emotion.  She began to cry and Dustin stopped everything and just held her and allowed her to compose herself – he didn’t care that there was a congregation of people with their mouths gaping open wondering what might happen next.  He just held her in his arms and became Christ for her at that moment.  I couldn’t help but wonder if Ronica knew that she had modeled that behavior for him? 

I know now that when I cry, “God, are you out there?”  He is not.  God is in here.  In Ronica; in Dustin; and hopefully sometimes in me, too. 

Peace,

Denis

Don’t Say No

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

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

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

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?

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

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

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

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

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

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