Big Brother

I grew up with two older brothers – Dave and Dean. My brother Dave, the oldest, has always been my protector, counselor, advocate, defender and friend – in short he’s my big brother and my hero.

Today it seems that we’re in short supply of heroes. Politicians lie to us. Church leaders have abused us (and their authority). Sports stars are too often arrogant jerks. And movie stars, rock stars and television stars seem to be mostly self-absorbed narcissists. So I’m blessed to have a hero in my family. And I suspect that some of you may have once shared a bunk bed with a hero, too.
 
My brother Dave is only a few years older than me but at times it seemed that we were a generation apart. He was a teenager in the 1960’s and I was one in the 1970’s. He was all “crew-cut and skinny neck ties” and I was all “moppy-haired and platform shoes”. The sixties were way cooler than the seventies – he had the Beatles and Route 66 on TV. I had the Monkees and Marcus Welby, M.D. When Dave was a teenager I was still in grade school and in complete awe of his coolness. I would secretly listen to his Motown LP’s and douse myself with his English Leather® while he was away. 

One of the best Christmas presents that I ever got, The Kenner Girder and Panel Building Set®, came from Dave. He bought it with money he earned working part-time at Standard Drug Store. He could have spent all his money on himself. He didn’t have to get me a gift but that’s just the kind of brother he was (and is). I credit Dave for instilling in me the love of design and construction that I still possess today (and have made my career).
 
Dave was born responsible. Which is perhaps the curse of the ‘first-born’. Parents seem to place all their hopes and dreams on their first child. “Make us proud!” is the command to the oldest. By the time parents get around to the third child the command becomes a plea, “Don’t shame us!” And with the exception of those aforementioned platforms shoes, I believe that I held up my end of the bargain. Oh, and that time that I wrecked Mom’s Corvair (I still say it wasn’t my fault). But while the expectations were lowered for Dean and me, Dave was charged with making them proud. And he did! And he does.
 

Little Brother ~ Big Brother

Growing up, Dave did all the tough stuff. He was the trailblazer. He was the trendsetter. Dean and I were the followers. Dave did all the heavy lifting. We reaped the rewards of his older brother wisdom and hard work. He took care of us even when Mom and Dad didn’t ask. And long after he should have. When you have a reliable older brother it’s easy to think that he should just take care of it – whatever it is. Such is the blessing of being the younger sibling.

 Dave has always been there when I’ve needed him and has shouldered his responsibility as the oldest with grace and generosity. Anytime that I’ve asked for his help the response has ALWAYS been the same – What, where, when? No hesitation. No resistance. Just support.
 
So Dave here I am again and of course I am in need. What I need is for you to know that I love you – here, now and always. And you are my hero. I keep hoping that someday I’ll grow up to be like you.
 
Peace,
 
Denis

Remembering…

This morning I read names at the Mass of Remembrance. Our parish celebrates the lives of those that have died each year on the first Saturday in November. I’ve done this a few times and it’s a beautiful ceremony and I believe it’s especially healing for those that have recently lost loved ones. Of course the physical challenge is pronouncing the names correctly – particularly the Polish, Italian and Chinese names. I always ask the Holy Spirit to help with that and I suppose even if I butcher a name or two it won’t be the first time that these families have had to endure some clod that can’t pronounce ‘Um Sung Huan’ (somehow that makes me feel better – my apologies to the Sung Huan family, oh and to the Szcgielski family, too).

But my ability (or inability) to pronounce names doesn’t diminish the significance of this day. As Catholic Christians we believe in life after death. Further we believe in some type of purgation of our souls. We believe some folks go straight to heaven; others may exist in a state of being somewhere between life on earth and eternal life with Christ. It’s a sticking point with my Protestant friends but it is Scripturally founded.

If he were not expecting the fallen to rise again, it would have been foolish to pray for the dead. But if he did this with a view to the splendid reward that awaits those who had gone to rest in Godliness, it was a holy and pious thought. Thus he made atonement for the dead that they might be absolved from their sin. 2 Maccabees 12:44-46

I’m not trying to convert anyone here; just trying to explain my own faith tradition. But my traditions are beside the point. What I experienced this morning was joy through sorrow. Which is exactly what Jesus offers us each day. And it’s only in our darkness that we can truly find the light. This morning as I read each name I felt honored to speak the name of a loved one; someone who was being lifted up in prayer or more likely being asked to pray for the loved ones remaining here on Earth. Afterall, my personal saints are in all heaven (Aunt Noel, Aunt Minnie, Mimi, Grandpa Tony, Aunt Sha, Uncle Ted, and countless others). Who better to ask prayers of than those who are experiencing the eternal light of God.

Not long ago my granddaughter Charlise told me, “Pawpaw someday you’re going to die.” I have to admit that I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that truth. I think I told her that I would like to be very old when that happens but I assured her that I would be in heaven ALWAYS smiling down on her.

Today I was reminded (again) that I may need her help getting there.

Peace,

Denis

Big Girl Now

My granddaughter Anna is officially a “big girl” now. She’s in preschool two days a week. (She thinks) she’s in charge of baby brother Noah. She knows (better than I) how to use the DVR, iPad, and just about any other electric gadget placed in her hand. It used to be that our granddaughter Charlise was the “big girl” and Anna was the “little girl” but that has all changed – now they’re on pretty equal footing. Of course Charlise is 3-1/2 years older just don’t tell Anna that!

And it’s not just that her knowledge has grown – she’s physically grown, too. Her baby face is being transformed into a kid face before my very eyes. And she’s getting taller too (taller for her anyway). All of this growing up stuff is a little unsettling for me. But I will learn to cope. Time marches on. And babies become kids and kids become parents and parents become grandparents and on and on…

All the more reason to savor those precious moments of life. Sunday night Anna regaled us with songs that she’s learning at preschool – Jingle Bells and Joy to the World. And she really SINGS! Sings her little heart out. And even though this is big girl territory – learning songs at school – her innocence and pure delight in mastering something new made my heart leap for joy. Joy to the World indeed!

Not too big for Daddy's lap

So I’ve decided that this old Pawpaw will embrace the big girl who Anna needs to become. I’ll struggle at times when she asks to “do it myself” or not hold my hand on the sidewalk “because it’s safe here Pawpaw” but I will accept her need for more independence. And along the way we may learn some new things together.

But deep down she’ll ALWAYS be my baby girl. That’s just a grandfather’s prerogative. Maybe the part that’s scary for me is that as Anna grows older so do I. We’ll just have to help one another with the challenges of getting older.

God will take care of the rest.

Peace,

Denis

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

Do you remember the movie Chitty Chitty Bang Bang? I remember it as the first time I ever saw a car with the steering wheel on the right (or the left if you’re facing the car, but you know what I mean). At the time I thought it was movie magic. Now I know that there is nothing magical about it.

I’ve spent the last 40 years driving on the right side of the road. Now much to my chagrin the right is WRONG. Driving here in England is like trying to write with my left hand – I can do it but the results aren’t all that good. So I am driving very S L O W L Y. I’ve garnered lots of attention with my careful driving and in a Peugeot® to boot! Actually I’ve only been honked at once but I’ve been stared at quite a bit whilst making my WIDE LEFT TURNS. Oh well, I’ll just keep a stiff upper lip (actually my bottom lip is numb from biting it).

Peugeot - French for lousy

Yesterday was my first official day of driving ‘the correct way’ as my English colleague Mark calls it. Turns out yesterday was also my first official driving incident as well. After leaving the village of Cricklade on my return to the hotel in Swindon I noticed the car driving roughly. Keep in mind it’s a Peugeot® so I wasn’t initially alarmed. But when the car began shaking violently I knew it wasn’t just poor French engineering. I had a tire blowout on the A419 Carriageway, which is a highway by U.S. standards but with no shoulder.

I prayed and then cursed (or maybe it was the other way around) but thankfully was able to get the car to a grassy shoulder. I wasn’t hurt, the car wasn’t damaged (except the left front tire which is shredded) and Avis had the emergency road service lorry there within an hour or so. Things could have been much worse.

So my day of sight-seeing and exploring Wiltshire came to an abrupt end. I did the ‘drive of shame’ back to the Blunsdon House Hotel with a tiny front tire on my rental car. Defeated, I parked the car and went to my room.

My Saturday adventure was more adventurous than I had hope. Chitty Chitty Bang Bang never got a flat tire on A419! All in all, it was still a beautiful day and perhaps I’ve gotten all my driving bad luck out-of-the-way, but I doubt it. The good news is that I was back out today with no incidents to report. I found my way to ASDA® (it’s the Super Wal-Mart® here in the U.K.) and back to the hotel with a little the help from the GPS – she has a really lovely British accent. So with my confidence restored, I’ll keep motoring on.

See you on the round-about!

Peace,

Denis

Change

When you’re an old dog, learning new tricks can be daunting. I like to think of myself as someone who is open-minded, likes a challenge, loves adventure, is willing to try new things and embrace change. But truth be told, I like a little routine now and again. There’s something comforting in those ‘old tricks’ that I have mastered. Still change is inevitable.

So I’m pushing myself out of my comfort zone and I have to say that it’s been fun and invigorating (even if  it’s a bit scary at times – The Autobahn at 120 miles per hour). And it turns out that you’re never really too old to learn something new. My new job responsibilities have brought me to England and I will be working extensively throughout all of Europe. It’s strange being ‘the foreigner’ but I believe this experience will enable me to become more tolerant of others and gain a global perspective of human rights. But before I achieve those lofty goals I will need to learn to drive on the left side of the road in a car with the steering wheel on the right and understand the difference between a lorry and a lift! At times I feel I’m better understood in Germany or Spain than in England. At least in Deutschland or Espana I’m not expected to understand what’s being said to me. Bullocks!

Today I met a with an Indian who lives in Dubai and has businesses in Turkey, India, China, Russia and the United Arab Emirates. We were discussing global partnerships and emerging markets in Uzbekistan and at some point my mind wanders and I begin to think, “I wonder how the St. Louis Cardinals will do tonight?” And I wonder how Anna will do at preschool today, and if is Deb packed yet for her trip over here? So I silently scream at myself, “Focus, Denis!” “Focus.”

But that’s whole point isn’t it? Things change but we remain the same. We might live in new places and learn new things and meet new people but we are who we are. That doesn’t mean that I won’t stretch myself a little and embrace new ideas and new ways of doing things but fundamentally I am who I am. My heart, my soul is grounded in the love of my family and friends. My faith remains in God, my Creator and Redeemer. I am the same husband, father, son, brother and friend today that I was yesterday and will be tomorrow. I may gain some new insights along this journey and meet some new friends but my true self remains unchanged.

And that’s the beauty of change – change of jobs, of scenery, of locales, of time zones. It only makes us truer to ourselves. Even on the days of uncertainty and new discovery I know where I belong – in the hearts of those that love me. And that never changes!

Peace,

Denis

Sleepy in the “City That Never Sleeps”

“New York, New York it’s a wonderful town, The Bronx is up and The Battery down…”

Rockefeller Center

I’ve been in New York since Sunday. Today is Wednesday but it seems like I’ve been here much longer. I like New York. I like the diversity. I like the energy. I like the pace. I like all the sights and sounds. I like the food. I like the architecture. I even sort of like shopping here (don’t tell Deb). But this has been a busy week with meetings and store tours and I’m TIRED. It’s hard to stay upbeat when you feel beat-down.

Today is another day of meetings and then dinner with a client. Which, truth be told, will be a lot of fun. And I’m not really complaining because I love my job and I realize that sitting in some meetings and hailing taxis to get to your next appointment is not REAL WORK, especially compared to someone who is doing an important job like performing brain surgery or delivering hearts for transplant or saving souls. And while I’m well aware of where my job falls on the scale of significance to humanity, I’m still tired. Doesn’t matter if some of what I’m doing at times is trivial, it still takes time, energy and some brain power. You try getting cross-town in Manhattan during rush hour!

I passed by St. Patrick Cathedral earlier today and couldn’t help but stop and think about how it is this bastion of holiness in the midst of the unholy commercial madness on Fifth Avenue. And here I am contributing to the unholiness of it all! But somehow God (and Saint Patrick) reminded to think about the more important things: life, love, laughter. So there I was in front of Saks Fifth Avenue having a “conversion moment” and thanking God for a faith that sustains me even through the madness of my chosen career.

I’m sleepy in the “City That Never Sleeps”. But I’ll just stop at one the gazillion Starbucks® that appear to be on every corner here in Manhattan, fuel up and keep on keepin’ on. I can sleep tomorrow on the flight home.

Peace,

Denis

Boys Will Be Boys…

Well maybe it’s true that “boys will be boys” but it’s also true that boys will become men. And as I prepare to celebrate my grandson Noah’s first birthday this weekend, I can’t help but wonder what kind of man he’ll be someday. Certainly he’ll be strong and kind and generous like his Daddy and smart and loving and faith-filled like his Mommy.

Noah already has a distinct personality. He’s happy. He’s curious. He’s affectionate. He’s fearless. And he is single-minded in his determination (he gets what he wants through sheer brut force, when flashing those big blue eyes fails – which is rare). He looks up to his big sister who will no doubt someday have to physically look up to him. But Anna is clearly in charge and Noah seeks her approval in all things. This will likely be a life-long goal.

"Do it again, Pawpaw!"

He’s a Momma’s boy but he’s Daddy shadow. He loves to hang on his Nana but Pawpaw can make him giggle the loudest. He likes to play “rough and tumble” but he still likes to cuddle. He’s just a sweet boy. And I suspect that he will be a sweetheart of a man one day, too.

He’s blessed with loving, caring parents, a sister that adores him, and doting grandparents. Some people might say he’s a lucky boy, but we’re the lucky ones. We get to take part in the life of this beautiful gift from God who fills our days with so much joy.

I pray that he always knows how much he is loved. And I hope that all his dreams come true.

Noah, Here’s a little video I made just for you. ~ Love, Pawpaw

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1zhI-UZOWSQ&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Moving Across The Pond

One of the things that I’ve always wanted to do is live abroad. I recently got my chance and have decided to take it. This coming January, Deb and I will be moving to Swindon, Wiltshire, U.K. for one year. I’ll be assisting with setting up my company’s new division in England. But in addition to working and living in England, we will be traveling all over Europe with my new job responsibilities. In between business meetings and touring retail developments, there should be plenty of time for castles, cathedrals, museums and the occasionl glass of wine. That’s the good news.

This will be our mantra

The bad news is that our children and grandchildren will be living in the United States. After serving six years abroad in the Air Force our son Tyson is returning stateside whilst (I’ll probably be using that word a lot in England) we’ll be living in Europe. And our grandbabies won’t be nearby (something we’ve grown accustomed to) – not to mention our daughter, son-in-law and our younger son, as well as our parents, siblings, cousins, friends, etc. If I focus on the negatives I start to question my decision. But then I remember that it’s only a year. And it’s a year in Europe!

So we will adjust, even if we shed a few tears along the way. We pray that God continues to bless our family and keep us together (even though we are apart). And as we have for the last 36+ years – Deb and I will carry one another on this journey. There has been so much racing through our heads since we made the decision to live abroad for a year : “Big things” like leaving family and friends (especially Charlise and Anna and Noah). “Little things” like not getting to watch our favorite TV shows in England. And “other things” like learning how to drive on the “wrong side” of the road.

In the meantime, we need to close up our house here and begin the search for our new home in England. Our goal is to immerse ourselves in the culture and community. We hope to live in a town or village that is primarily English – not some enclave for expatriots. We will be traveling to Swindon this fall to begin our search for housing. Fortunately, my work associate, Mark is British and has offered to help us with that task. Deb and I have lots to do and much to discover and explore. My HR Director is assisting with much of the mundane stuff – work visas, cost of living adjustments, cultural integration, etc, etc. That frees us up to do more important things like figure out where to get our hair cut and take our dry-cleaning and to look for good restaurants and pubs.

We will strive to really make England our home in 2012. Of course we hope to have lots of visitors. And we expect to make some new friends along the way, too.  Please keep us in your prayers. As always, I will share whatever and whenever I can.

Cheers,

Denis

If The Prodigal Son Had A Sister…

I have two sons and a daughter. The sons both live a distance from us – one in Wisconsin and one in Korea. The daughter lives nearby. We see the sons (if we’re lucky) a couple of times a year. We see the daughter (and we are lucky) several times a week.

When we talk (Skype) with the sons, it’s usually about important upcoming events and significant happenings – weddings, births, travel, careers, etc. When we talk to the daughter, it can be mundane – what’s for dinner, aches and pains, the weather, etc.

It occurred to me recently that perhaps our daughter might sometimes feel like the older brother of the Prodigal Son. Needless to say, she’s here day-in and day-out listening to our latest complaints and answering our latest requests – always supportive, always cheerful, always ready for more. When “the boys” come to town it’s cause célèbre. And she often helps plan and carry out whatever festivities take place. By contrast, when she comes to dinner, she’s expected to set the table, help prepare the meal and clean up afterwards. Hardly seems fair…

Lucky Dad with Best Daughter in the World

But fairness is never part of the equation. Bess (our beautiful and gracious daughter) has inherited her mother’s gift of charity. She seldom thinks of herself first. She wants EVERYONE to be happy (and cared for, and well fed, and loved, etc.). She always gives of herself and she rarely expects anything in return. Her cheerfulness is contagious and she makes others happy by just being around her (again – a gift from her mother).

She’s here. She’s available. She’s constant. And I know that they say (whoever they are) that familiarity breeds contempt. But in our case it seems to me that familiarity creates family. We are family. And I need my daughter. And I hope she knows how much I love and appreciate her. I try to tell her in lots of small ways because we don’t have big celebrations for her and Travis and their children. We just have small celebrations and familiar and comfortable times together. And for me those small intimate gatherings are almost always more meaningful than the grand events planned for our sons.

And because of who she is, I doubt that Bess has ever resented her brothers or felt pushed aside when we “slaughter the fatted calf.” But just in case, she should know:

My (daughter), you are here with me always; everything I have is yours. ~ Luke 15:31

Peace,

Denis (Dad)

Did He Crack It?

My eleven month old grandson Noah is a rough and tumble boy. He started walking about a week ago and now he (sort of) runs. Keep in mind, he has a 3 year old sister that he’s trying to keep up with. Also he is fearless (or clueless) about careening through dangerous piles of toys or around sharp corners or heavy objects that are easy to pull off of a table. He is just a curious little guy that deals with the consequences of his curiosity on an “as needed” basis.

Fearless Noah

Because he has excellent parents that run a lot of interference he luckily has had a lot of near misses. Only on occasion does he really get hurt. And most of the time when he stumbles and falls (or pulls something down on top of himself) he doesn’t show any signs of hurt or distress. Usually he just shrugs it off and moves (quickly) on to the next adventure. Always with a smile. Always with renewed determination. Watching him (and his parents) is like watching a finely tuned and well rehearsed ballet. It just flows – effortlessly.

Now I will admit that my heart has stopped a time or two while snatching Noah out of the jaws of a near calamity. But then he looks at me and smiles that big toothy smile and I just want to join him on his further adventures (but with everything padded and all the dangereous stuff put up!).

His big sister Anna has coined the phrase, “Did he crack it?” Which means: is there blood? It (this usually means his head) is not cracked unless there is actual blood pouring out from somewhere. Thankfully this rarely happens. And even more thankfully I have only witnessed it a time or two. But even without blood there are lots of little bumps and lumps. And I’m dreading the day when I’m the ‘adult in charge’ and there is more serious injury. It happened to Nana (Deb) on Friday and I think she cried harder than Noah. I know that I will get my turn – I just hope he doesn’t “crack it” on that fateful day.

It’s exhausting at times being a grandparent. Still it’s the best fun that I ever get to have. And as long as Noah keeps smiling (even after a few tears) he and I will just keep stumblin’ along.

Peace,

Denis