April In Paris

Two weeks ago Deb and I fulfilled a life-long dream. We went to Paris. The real Paris; the one in France.

Turns out the real thing is way cooler than the ‘Paris Hotel and Casino’ in Las Vegas or the Paris section of Epcot in DisneyWorld. But part of me kept expecting to see Louis Jourdan or Leslie Caron stepping out of a five-star hotel with Charles Boyer or Maurice Chevalier at their side. I suppose I thought that La Vie En Rose would be playing on every corner. Everyone wearing berets and eating baguettes.

Growing up in the sixties Paris was the epitome of class and style. Everything French was fabulous. I watched movies like ‘Gigi’ and ‘An American in Paris’ and ‘Paris When It Sizzles’ and all of the ‘Pink Panther’ movies. I thought that French Provincial furniture was the pinnacle of design and good taste. And Paris fashion was, well, haute couture. Everything that was French or Parisian seemed to me to be jet-set, sophisticated and très bon. For a boy living in a small town in the Midwest it sadly also seemed unattainable.

Of course as I got older my perception of Paris has changed but only slightly. No longer did I expect to see the Hollywood version of Paris but a more crowded, grittier, busier, less glamorous version.

Turns out most of my assumptions were wrong. Paris is beautiful and very assessable. Most of the major tourist attractions are an easy walk or Metro ride away. Like London and New York it is a busy city but not overly crowded (at least where we were). Generally speaking the hotel staff, café waiters and museum personnel that we encountered were friendly, helpful and appreciative of our feeble attempts to speak a few words of French.

But being there – walking through the streets of Paris is hard to put into words. I just kept being overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of it all. The monuments – Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomphe, The Obelisk in The Place de la Concorde were all more impressive in person than what I have seen in photos. Notre-Dame Cathedral and The Louvre are simply magnificent. The River Seine was amazing. And a personal delight were all the statues, plaques, and place-names in honor of St. Denis patron saint of Paris.

But being in the ‘City of Love’ with the one that I love was the greatest experience of all. Deb and I started out young, poor and in love. Dreams of one day walking arm in arm through Paris seemed like that – just a dream. But there we were.

Sometimes dreams do come true…

And by the way, we did eat baguettes and listened to La Vie En Rose compliments of someone playing an accordion on the streets. It was sublime.

La paix et l’amour,

Denis

 

Ten Things Americans Should Know About England

After living here for 4 months, I am now of course an expert on all things British. Please don’t be intimidated by my vast knowledge of the culture, the geography, the history and the people of this great place; this Great Britain. Just learn from my wisdom.

Here are (in my exalted opinion) the top ten things Americans should know about England:

  1. Brits don’t understand (or care to understand) anything about American baseball. Don’t try to explain it to them, it will only make you crazy (or in English parlance: mad). Really, don’t bother.
  2. No one in England drinks beer from a bottle. They may drink it from a (sometimes less than clean) glass at a dodgy pub but they won’t drink it from a bottle. Only Americans and Barbarians drink beer from bottles.
  3. Left is right. The origin of driving on the left allegedly has something to do with jousting but that sounds like bollocks to me. I think it’s retaliation for our Independence from England – that and the bloody roundabouts. Just remember to stay on the left and yield to the right – you’ll be fine.
  4. “I need to spend a penny.” A quaint expression meaning ‘to use a public toilet’. Never leave the house without 20 or 30 pence in your pocket. Most toilets don’t give change and none take bills even though there have been times I would have gladly paid £5 for much-needed relief.
  5. People are really very friendly. If you’re in London you may not encounter the most welcoming folks but it’s no different from New York. When’s the last time someone in New York held a door for you or smiled at you? Plus the majority of people you’ll encounter in London are likely tourists. If you want friendly, come to the towns and villages. People there are truly nice; proud of their homes; and happy to meet you. Plus a pint is cheaper in a pub in the Cotswolds or Midlands than some posh pub in Central London.
  6. Don’t wear big white tennis shoes. Also don’t wear your favourite team’s jersey or T-shirt unless of course it’s Manchester United or Liverpool (but then you could still be in for a fight). The white tennis shoes and “I love Opryland” T-shirt just makes you a target for ridicule, not to mention pick-pockets.
  7. Brown Sauce. The most popular brand, HP, has a malt vinegar base, blended with tomato, dates, tamarind, and spices. Good on everything, particularly fish and chips.
  8. Garden Centres. Not to be confused with the garden center at your local Home Depot or Lowes. This is not just an area of the parking lot cordoned off for seasonal sales of shrubberies and manure.  These are permanent structures with toys, apparel, garden furniture, giftware, butcher counters, bakeries, wine bars, cafes and playgrounds for the kiddies. Additionally they sell plants, flowers, shrubberies and all other garden necessities.
  9. “You alright?” The equivalent to our “Morning, how are ya?” or “Hi!” No real response is expected here. Just a “Hi” or “Fine, and you?” will suffice. Or “Okay.” It’s one of those mindless greetings that we are all familiar with. No one really wants to know ‘how you are’ or ‘if you are alright’.
  10. Long Live The Queen! Although it’s been bandied-about that the Royalty is outdated or unnecessary; don’t be confused. She’s beloved. She’s an institution. And Elizabeth has NEVER brought dishonor to the Crown. Suggestions that she should step down and let Charles become King are ridiculous and American. Her Diamond Jubilee is receiving more press here than the 2012 London Olympics. Plus two days off work!

Who can resist the charm of an English pub?

I hope that this helps those of you that are planning travel here, or even better, those of you contemplating “taking the plunge” and actually moving here as we have.

We’re traveling to Paris this weekend and then I have business in Portugal next week. Stay tuned for my Continental wisdom. Rick Steves – watch your back!

Cheers,

Denis

Little Peeper

Thirty two years ago my life was changed forever. Our daughter Elizabeth Grace Wilhelm was born. It seems like yesterday – she was like a rosebud wrapped in a blanket. 6 bs. 10 oz. & 18″ long. So tiny. So pink. So beautiful.

Elizabeth Grace was too big a name for such a tiny little girl – almost at once she became Bess and because of her big blue eyes I often called her Peeper. She stole my heart and I was immediately wrapped securely around her tiny little finger. Speaking for all daddies of daughters – it’s a place we love to be!

Bess has been trying to “get big” her whole it seems. As a toddler she wanted to be as big as older brother Tyson and for a while at about age 10 or 12 she might have been a half-inch taller (although there seems to be significant debate concerning that assertion). At age 3 she became a big sister to baby brother Blake and assumed the role with confidence. A favorite family photo is one of her holding baby Blake while she is really still a baby herself.

Bess then...

Always the peace-maker and diplomat of the family. She has made the boys be better brothers by her very existence. She is the heart and soul of our family. Her beauty, like her mother’s, comes from deep within – she makes everyone she encounters better for having known her. She is her mother’s daughter!

And she’s fun and funny! Laughter has always been held in high regard in our family and she has provided much of it through the years. She’s almost as funny as I am.

She was a determined student and athlete. Although she was smaller than most of her classmates she never “took a backseat” to anyone in her class. Playing basketball when you’re 5′-1″ takes guts (sorry Bess – I know that you’re really 5′-2″). She graduated at the top of her high school class and went on to win scholarships to the University of Wisconsin where she graduated with a double major.

She’s now a wife and mother of two and that is without doubt her greatest accomplishment. Her daughter and son are reflections of the love that she and Travis share. Their faith, their love, their hope for the future is wrapped up in those two wonderful little creatures. Amazing!

...and now.

So there you have it. She is big now. Big life. Big dreams. Big hope. Big love.

But today she’s still my little girl. My Little Peeper. And I hope she never gets “too big” for that.

Peace,

Denis

P.S. Peeper, I’m glad you’re my Peeper, Happy Birthday! – Love, Dad

Alleluia!

Easter. Spring. Rebirth. Resurrection. New Life. Alleluia!

On Easter Sunday after six weeks of Lent, the Alleluia returned. Triumphantly we proclaimed that He is risen – He is risen indeed! And we sang Alleluia. And we shouted Amen!

Easter Joy!

This Easter Sunday was exceptional because I was shouting and singing Alleluia because He is risen and because we were re-united with our children and grandchildren. All the more reason to shout Amen! And so there is new life and rebirth and hope and joy and love in our lives. We are experiencing the eternal springtime that we find in Christ.

Next week we will head back to England but we will carry with us a rejuvenated spirit in our hearts and we will fill our home there with it until we are re-united again. Don’t misunderstand me. Our life in England is good. And we are thoroughly enjoying it all – the travel, the sightseeing, the new experiences, the new people but I miss my life here, too.

So this week we are savoring simple pleasures and quiet moments. We are sharing time with family and friends and filling up those empty places in our soul. And it is wonderful. And being here this week and tucking my grandkids in at night after bathtime and bedtime stories and prayers is the sweetest reward life has afforded me. It’s God’s gift to me; so precious and true. And waking up to smiles and hugs and kisses. And chants of “Pawpaw, Pawpaw, Pawpaw!” is music to my ears.

We’ll head back to England next week and make more memories and have some experiences of a lifetime (I hope). And we’ll remind ourselves (most days) how fortunate we are to have this opportunity.

And when we get homesick and melancholy we’ll remember that just like the Alleluia, our life here will return, too.

Peace,

Denis

Waitrose, Sainsbury, Tesco and clotted cream

Salad cream?

Grocery shopping in England is an adventure. We generally shop at Tesco because it’s close by and reasonably priced by UK standards. It’s clean and well stocked. Deb prefers the more posh Waitrose and I like Sainsbury near my office for quick pick-up items and great (and cheap) wine selections.

Onion marmalade - really?

Regardless of where we shop, I’m amazed (and often puzzled) each time by some of the products available. Our shopping trips are getting shorter but my attention span in grocery stores is shorter still and I am not as fascinated by the 17,000 varieties of olive oil as my dear wife.

In all fairness, Deb is an excellent cook and knows what she needs to prepare fabulous meals. The challenge is sometimes finding the proper ingredients, especially with me standing on the sidelines tapping my foot or grimacing. “Oh, for the love of God just pick an olive oil!”

Spanish, Italian, Greek, Israeli...

Because I’m bored and to “help” I have become Deb’s ‘advance man’ in the grocery markets. While she leisurely glides the trolley through the aisles, I run ahead like a dog in search of the elusive rabbit for the next item on her list, which I retrieve and return to her usually to find it’s “not exactly” what she wanted. Defeated I return said item back to its proper place like the sad pup that I am and try again.

This game continues throughout the store. Next item and I’m off in search of the ‘Holy Grail’ of vanilla paste or clotted cream or lemon curd only to have my hopes dashed again and again and again. But I can’t stop myself! Deb and I are like the tortoise and the hare of Tesco: me madly dashing from aisle to aisle while she calmly (painfully) examines each of the items and makes her careful selections. And she ALWAYS wins!

Of course this is further complicated by the multitude of varieties and British names of items on her list. Who knew grocery shopping would be so challenging? And so fun. I love my wife; I love my life. I’ll meet you at the till!

Peace,

Denis

Contemplating Stonehenge

Last Sunday we visited Stonehenge. And I must admit that initially I wasn’t all that thrilled about seeing it. My mates here in England apparently have traveled to Stonehenge through the years on school trips, family outings, etc. and have “seen enough of it”. Some friends in America who have toured the site reported that “it wasn’t worth the trip”. So even though Stonehenge is just an hour from where we live, I hadn’t been highly motivated to make the journey south. What could I see there that I hadn’t already seen in books or documentaries?

But all my preconceptions were wrong! Stonehenge is massive, that I knew, but the magnitude of the work involved in carrying and assembling the stones is astonishing. More interesting to me of course is the ‘why’?

The true purpose of Stonehenge remains a mystery. The massive stone circle was erected 4,500 years ago by ancient people using simple tools. Was it a temple, or a burial site or maybe some kind of solar calendar?

Legends and theories abound. One of my favourites is that the wizard Merlin magically transported it to Wiltshire from Ireland. Some folks believe aliens built it as some sort of celestial observatory. Others are convinced that it is some great spiritual destination and that stones have healing powers (we even encountered a few self-proclaimed Druids on our journey).

Walking through Stonehenge I was struck with a great sense of loss. These giant stones were assembled by ancient people using tremendous strength, spending countless hours, and employing precision calculations. This must have been an important place! How sad that today we have lost whatever significance was once attributed to this great monument?

Will our own churches, mosques, and temples someday only be a curiosity to future generations? Will our places of worship become just tourist destinations? Will they someday only be a place for smiling photos with friends with no consideration of the significance of our beliefs?

Recent trips to great cathedrals, abbeys, and ancient churches have made me ponder if my own Church is not at risk of someday becoming extinct. As I’ve walked through many hallowed buildings it seems there is more tourism than worship; more photography than prayer; more indifference than belief.

I believe that Stonehenge may be a cautionary tale. Were the “men in charge” more interested in ‘the rules’ than they were in the worshippers? Were some people deemed unworthy and forbidden entrance to this sacred place? Did Stonehenge become a center for intolerance, derision, oppression, discrimination and hatred based on nonconformity or failure to walk in lock-step with those in authority? Were wars and tyranny justified in the name of Stonehenge?

In my opinion, my church, the Catholic Church, can avoid becoming obsolete (and a hollow ruin) by embracing the love that Christ preached. We should be building bridges; not walls. We should be reaching out to all peoples with open arms; not turning our backs on those with whom we disagree.

During this Lenten season I am trying once again to embrace Jesus’ love for all. And struggling in my own humble, flawed way to follow His tremendous example. I’m reminded that God didn’t create me to hate me. Why should I be any less loving to others?

Peace,

Denis

I Give Up!

It’s Lent and Catholics are expected time to ‘give up’ something. In years past I believed that by  ‘giving up’ or ‘doing without’ I was able to prove my mettle. I could wear it like a badge of honor – “Look at me – I’m stoic.” “I must be holy and worthy because I gave up eating chocolate or drinking alcohol, or stopped using curse words (a personal favorite) for forty days!” But didn’t that miss the point? Could I continue to be a jerk and give up candy and God would still be pleased?

I don’t mean to trivialize something that millions hold so dear and I also know that many people choose to make Lenten sacrifices to honor the great sacrifice that Jesus made for us. But for me at times it all seems so silly – so superficial.

“When you fast, anoint your head and wash your face, so that you may not appear to be fasting, except to your Father who is hidden. And your Father who sees what is hidden will repay you.” Matthew 6:17-18

This year, “I give up!” I will let go of my need to ‘let go’.  Instead I will make a concerted effort to ‘do something’. A few years ago a friend sent this to me. It’s not necessarily a Lenten ‘to do list’ but it could be. I’m going to give it a try:

This Year

Mend a quarrel ~ Seek out a forgotten friend

Dismiss suspicion and replace it with trust

Write a love letter ~ Share some treasure

Encourage youth ~ Appreciate one another

Manifest your loyalty in word and deed

Keep a promise ~ Find the time

Forgo a grudge ~ Forgive an enemy

Listen. Listen. Listen. ~ Apologize if you are wrong

Give a soft answer ~ Try to understand

Gladden the heart of a child

Examine your demands on others

Think first of someone else ~ Be kind; be gentle

Laugh a little ~ Laugh a little more

Deserve confidence ~ Flout envy

Take up arms against malice ~ Decry complacency

Express your gratitude ~ Welcome a stranger

Take pleasure in the beauty of the earth

Speak your love ~ Speak it again

Speak it once again

Peace,

Denis

A Tale of Two Countries

At home again in England after a week of traveling in the United States. And this feels like home now (albeit a quiet one without kids or grandkids) because Deb has filled this place with love and comfort that only her special touch can provide.

So now I’m a man living in two countries at one time. My heart is in both places and my head – well my head bounces back and forth between the two – how to drive; how to speak; what to eat; how to tip; what to watch on the Tele (or T.V.); etc, etc.

Traveling to America with my work-mates was great fun. I felt like a cross between a tour guide and an indulgent parent. In New York between customer visits we managed to see The Word Trade Center, Central Park, Rockefeller Center, Times Square (at least twice), Bryant Park, The Empire State Building, Grand Central Station, and St. Patrick’s Cathedral. In St. Louis they were forced to go on “The Denis Wilhelm Boyhood Tour” complete with a drive past most of the important places of my youth. In Las Vegas (well what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas) let’s just say a good time was had by all.

A bittersweet goodbye

A bittersweet goodbye

Of course for me the best part of the trip was the evening I spent with my daughter, son-in-law, granddaughter and grandson. Deb was there, too (she had spent the week with them while I was traveling about). The welcome that I received from Anna and Noah can’t be put into words. It’s suffice to say that their cheers of “Pawpaw, Pawpaw, Pawpaw!” are still ringing in my ears and will live in my heart forever. And my tears of joy were mixed with sorrow the next morning on my departure.

In New York I had the opportunity to attend Mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral and while there amidst all the grandeur I found myself missing St. Peter Church in Cirencester (our tiny Catholic Church here in England) and wondered if others there were missing their home churches, too. It’s odd (to me) that I didn’t think first of St. Joseph in Cottleville – our U.S. church.

So I’m happy to be back in England and I know that I can leave and return and leave again because there’s a piece of me in both places now. And I believe that’s how it should be.

Peace,

Denis

The More Things Change – The More They Stay The Same

This Wednesday is Ash Wednesday. Lent, like most everything else in England, will be different this year.

Saint Peter Roman Catholic Church - Cirencester

We’ve been attending Mass at St. Peter R.C. Church in Cirencester, Gloustershire. It’s quite a departure from St. Joseph in Cottleville, Missouri. First of all, there is only one Sunday Mass – 11:00 a.m. Secondly it is a very small church; my guess is it might hold about 200 hundred people but 150 seems more likely. Thirdly it’s old; not English old but about 120 years old which is more than 100 years older than St. Joseph’s. And finally, it’s poor; the weekly collection is averaging £240.00 – that’s approximately $380.00. St. Joseph usually takes in $40,000.00 weekly. I suppose the numbers tell a story but only part of the story.

We are proudly Catholic here at St. Peter in Cirencester. Perhaps it’s because our numbers are small and our voices are so few. We are clearly in the minority – dwarfed by The Church of England. But there is great joy and there is much hope and there is abundant love. Our priest, Father Michael Davies, works two parishes – ours and St. Michael’s Tetbury.  He’s not a young man but has an indefatigable spirit and a self-deprecating sense of humour. His energy and his wit belie his years. And his gentle approach to our faith is a nice respite from some of the heavy-handed demands being made by our bishops in the U.S.  today – none of the “my way or the highway” mentality. On Sunday he actually ‘invited’ people to fast and abstain on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday – inviting instead of obliging or demanding. Maybe it’s only because of my pride that I prefer to be asked instead of being told what to do; but ‘asking’ instead of ‘telling’ made all the difference to me.

My yes is yes! to a request, an invitation; not an edict. And that’s what Jesus does – He invites us to share in His passion during Lent. He invites us to journey through His pain and suffering. He offers us His sacrifice – we can accept (or not).

Years ago at a retreat in Wisconsin the priest/facilitator suggested that the Church should be in the business of asking, not telling, so that we can all freely say yes to God’s call.

And so here I am twenty years on and the answer is still yes (when I’m asked).

Peace,

Denis

A Sunny Day In England

There is always something for which to be thankful. Today I’m thankful for a sunny day. Yes, the sun is shining and the temperature is about 9 degrees Celsius (or 48 degrees Fahrenheit). It’s a nice change from our snowy and cold weekend.

I tend to be a “glass half full” kind of a guy and I try to stay positive but there are times when circumstances become overwhelming (like moving to a place far away from loved ones, where everyone thinks that you talk funny). And then sometimes I am inclined to have a little ‘pity party’ which never really helps and just adds to the general feeling of negativity. The best way (for me) to get over my melancholy is to make a list in my head of all the things for which I am grateful.

Today I’m starting with the sunshine. The rest of my list today (in no apparent order or importance) is as follows:

Sunny day in Oaktree Business Centre

  • The beautiful blue sky.
  • Kissing Deb goodbye this morning and getting kissed back.
  • My work mates; especially John who brought me a lovely cup of tea this morning.
  • A video that Bess sent yesterday of Anna wishing us a Happy Valentine’s Day (I’ve played it several times already today).
  • Mid-term school holidays this week – because traffic is much lighter.
  • Normal traffic – because it’s never really that bad.
  • The kindness of strangers – most people here have been very welcoming, helpful and patient (especially the cashiers at the markets while I struggle to determine which coin is £2 and which one is 2p).

So I have a few things to be thankful for today and I’ll hopefully have a few more tomorrow. And isn’t that all we can really hope for – blessings and thankfulness?

Peace,

Denis