Commentary

‘Gnomeo and Juliet’ and What I’ve Given Up For Lent

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

Last Saturday I took my two granddaughters to see “Gnomeo and Juliet” an animated re-telling of the Shakespeare classic (Shakespeare’s lead was named Romeo, but you get the idea). Anyway it’s a cute movie about star-crossed lovers that are actually garden gnomes featuring Elton John music. I enjoyed it as much as the girls plus there was a bit of a morality tale included – which is never a bad idea, especially in a kid’s movie.

What does this have to do with Lenten sacrifice? Let me explain. At the end of the movie Anna (the almost three-year old) asked, “Pawpaw, can we clap now?” My response, “Of course we can!” So the three of us sat there, while watching the closing credits, clapping and cheering. I must admit that we received some stares and some looks of bemusement by our fellow theater goers but I didn’t care because my girls were so delighted.

And there you have it. I’ve decided to ‘give up’ public decorum for Lent. If I feel like clapping and cheering for a movie that my granddaughters LOVED – I will. I am ‘giving up’ my social embarrassment or my need for conformity. Now some of you, that know me, are probably wondering when exactly have I ever held back or been worried about peer pressure or social norms? But the truth is that too often I have let courtesy or political correctness dictate my actions. I have sacrificed compassion for good manners. I have failed to offer or accept forgiveness because of embarrassment or awkwardness. And I have denied Christ publicly by not always behaving in a Christian manner.

But I have some great examples of how to live my faith life. My son-in-law Travis ALWAYS says grace before meals – even in restaurants – even in fast food joints! He has made me feel comfortable with doing likewise. When we begin by making the ‘Sign of the Cross’ sometimes heads turn but it reminds me how grateful I am to have such a faith-filled son-in-law who is setting an amazing example for my grandkids. My co-workers Kim, Rosemary, Sherry, and Michael ALWAYS bring Christ into our workplace. Their quiet example of love and devotion to God is model for all Christians. And I am honored to be in their presence. My wife, Deb is ALWAYS showing me how to live a Christ-like life. She will drop whatever she’s doing to help a friend or a stranger. She will hold your hand and cry with you or share a belly-laugh; if that’s what you need. And she’s never afraid to show public outrage at injustice or public displays of affection regardless of who may be watching. She loves completely – I wish that I had her compassion.

So this Lenten season I will be pushing myself out of my comfort zone. I will pray in public and try to love more openly and praise God in my word and in my deed. I may even hug some people (so beware).

And of course Anna, “We can clap now!”

Peace,

Denis

Rock Solid

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

“These are uncertain times we live in.” I’ve been hearing that a lot lately – the economy, the unrest in the Middle East and Libya and Egypt, the crazy governor of Wisconsin, exorbitant healthcare costs, unemployment, the housing crisis, the general moral decline of our society, etc., etc., etc.

And those things are all real and they do create uncertainty and anxiety. But are “the times we live in” any less certain than any other time in mankind’s history? I doubt it. I believe that because we are human and subjected to life (with all its good and bad) we will always feel some uncertainty. Perhaps if we don’t dwell on all the bad stuff maybe life will be a little easier to live. And I suppose it might be true that (a little) ignorance is (a little) bliss(ful). This reminds me of a joke:

There are 3 kinds of people – those that make things happen; those that watch things happen; and those that say, “What happened?”

I must admit that sometimes I fall squarely into that 3rd category. It’s not that I live my life with blinders on but there are times when I feel absolutely overwhelmed by the injustice in our world. There are those days when I feel so powerless to the suffering and heartache many in our society face that I want to bury my head in the sand. I don’t want to face the truth.

Recently in Madrid, at the Metro Station near my hotel, each day I encountered a woman begging. I just turned and walked away. I couldn’t bring myself to look her in the eyes. I think that I was afraid that if I looked at her (really looked) that I might feel some compassion and give her money. What was my fear? Was she truly powerless and in great need or a scammer looking for a quick buck? I’ll never know because I walked away. And even if I had given her a few Euros I still wouldn’t have known. That’s what troubles me now – why did I need to know? Jesus doesn’t ask us to judge; he asks us to give. And sadly, in Spain, I chose to run away out of fear or ignorance!

But I have hope. I know that bad things will happen and that life will have its share of difficulties and disappointments but my trust is in Jesus. I believe that even through the crappy stuff He won’t abandon me. And even with my selfishness and lack of compassion He has offered forgiveness to me. It’s now my job to accept His forgiveness and promise to do better the next time. So I can either ignore my anxiety and fear or I can embrace it and “hand it over to God”.

Because even in these “uncertain times we live in” – Jesus is the ultimate certainty.

“Everyone who listens to these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock.
The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and buffeted the house. But it did not collapse; it had been set solidly on rock.”
Mt 7:24-25

Peace,

Denis

Listen To Your Mother

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

Mom and me

After winning his Oscar for ‘The King’s Speech’ on Sunday night, Director Tom Hooper said, “My mum in 2007 was invited to a fringe theater reading of an unproduced, unrehearsed play.” He explained: “She’d never been invited to a play reading her entire life. She almost didn’t go because it didn’t sound exactly promising, but thank God she did.” She rang him up after and said, “Tom, I think I found your next film,” Then addressing his mother directly, he said: “So, with this tonight, I honor you and the moral of the story is; listen to your mother.”

That got me thinking about listening to my own mother. Mom’s been talking and I guess I’ve been listening for over 55 years now. But have I really acted upon her advice? Sometimes – maybe. Mom’s got lots of advice, such as:

“If you look better; you’ll feel better!” – The idea here is that if you’re sick (or near death) just dress up a little bit and everyone (including yourself) will ‘think’ you’re feeling just fine.

“Don’t worry about it; half the things you worry about won’t happen and other half won’t be as bad as you think!” – Unless of course it’s happening to her.

“Let’s not air our dirty linen in public!” – What in hell is our ‘dirty linen’? And why do we have to care what others think about it anyway?

“If you walk like a duck, and quack like a duck; people will think you’re a duck” What??? “Quack!”

Seriously though, my Mom means well (usually) and she loves me (always). And she might be a little crazy but she’s my kind of crazy. And I do listen but honestly sometimes I don’t really want to. Sorry Mom.

So to those of us who still have mothers: let’s take the time to listen – really listen. And to those of you that have lost your mothers: I believe that you can listen too. Your mom is still talking to you (and I’m sure that you can hear her in your heart).

And to all you mothers out there: even when you think that we’re not listening we are – especially when you think that we’re not listening!

Our moms give us life and I suppose that they just need to make certain that we cherish and make the most of it. Mothers have this profound (albeit sometimes frightening) influence on their children. How we choose to channel “our inner mother” is entirely up to us.

My own kids (well two of them anyway) listen to their mom and (I think for the most part) take her advice as well. Their relationship with her is one of mutual love and respect. They value her input and look forward to her involvement in their lives. But I’m certain that there must be times when they disregard what she has to say. So it’s not her fault that they’ll likely never win an Oscar.

If only they would listen…

Peace,

Denis

P.S. Blake, call your mother! (Sometimes you should listen to your father, too.)

Getting Well

/ Denis Wilhelm / 4 Comments

Deb’s been in the hospital this week. She has acute pancreatitis. And I’m not a doctor but I can tell you this much: It hurts! She’s had this in the past (and has been hospitalized with it previously) so I consulted WebMD and now of course I can write with authority on her condition: It hurts and they (the real doctors) can’t do much for it. Often pancreatitis is linked to heavy drinking but Deb only has a glass of wine occasionally so something else is clearly causing this but the doctors don’t know what that cause is and therein lies the dilemma. Oh, and her numbers; they love to talk about her numbers – something should be 400 and hers was 3,000 and is now 800. And the 3,000 is why she hurts! Plus Deb doesn’t tolerate pain medication very well so basically she’s had to just (sort of) tough it out. And she’s a pretty tough cookie but it hurts!

The hospital staff (nurses and techs) have been great and last night Debbie started to seem like her old (young) self again. We were laughing because Anna (our almost three-year old granddaughter) upon hearing that her Nana was in the hospital with a sore belly, wanted to know if Nana was getting a baby. She said, “If Nana had a baby then she could be a Mommy, too!” I’ve tried to explain to her in the past that Nana is Mommy’s Mommy but apparently I’m not that convincing. Sorry Anna!

Debbie thinks she’s coming home today but she’s still on an I.V. and they just started giving her clear liquids yesterday so that may be a little optimistic. I want her home but I want her well, too. So I’m trying to be patient, which is a challenge to say the least. But if the patient can be patient so to the caregiver (in theory).

We have friends and family dealing with much worse medical conditions, so all things considered Deb has much to be thankful for. Still it’s hard to see her lying there and it’s frustrating that they can’t give her a definitive diagnosis. But she’s getting well and for that we thank God.

And we thank all of you for your prayers, words of encouragement, and good wishes.

Peace,

Denis

Homebody

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

I’ve always been confused by the saying “familiarity breeds contempt”. I’m home after two weeks of traveling – first to Mexico City and then to Madrid and I’m very happy to experience ‘the familiar’. Don’t misunderstand me, I love to travel and even when things don’t go swimmingly (thanks JFK Air Traffic Controllers for the nearly two-hour delay after an already long day of traveling from Spain!) I still consider travel a bit of perk with my job. But more wonderful than experiencing new people and new places is the joy and comfort of coming home. Home is where my life is.

There’s something about this house that just embraces me when I’ve been gone for a while; it puts everything right. I know it’s not the house actually. It’s the home. It’s the love. It’s the family. It’s what helps define me.

I love coming home to Deb. I love catching up on everything that’s happened in my absence – hearing about the latest things that Anna has said and finding out what Noah’s now doing and what’s going on in Charlise’s ever-expanding world of ‘big girl’ school. I realize everything’s not in ‘freeze-frame’ while I’m gone but sometimes I wish it were. I’ll catch up on what’s going with our folks and hear about a friend’s visit and a family funeral that Deb attended in my absence. Life goes on…

My Office. My Home. My Place.

This morning I’m up early, because of jet-lag I suppose, and I’m wearing my ‘favorite shirt’ and I’m about to have some blessed ‘American Coffee’ (no cafe con leche, por favor) in my favorite coffee mug and allow the day to unfold in its normal ‘familiar’ way. And I will relish the experience.

At heart I’m just a Midwestern boy. I miss country music and black coffee and small town gossip. I want to travel to castles and palaces. I want to see ancient artifacts and historically significant places. But more than anything I just want to come home. I guess that makes me a homebody and that suits me just fine!

“Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home”.

Peace,
Denis

Madrid

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Cervantes Monument at Plaza de Espana - Central Madrid

It’s Tuesday in Madrid and it’s foggy. And so is my head. Day three in Spain. Day four with the head cold. I’m traveling with my colleague from England. I’m afraid poor Stuart will have endure my constant nose-blowing and coughing. I’ve run out of cold medicine and they don’t sell over-the-counter stuff here without seeing a doctor. So now I only have cough drops, some Tylenol and lots of tissues – ugh!

As miserable as I feel, at least I got some sight-seeing in yesterday morning. To test my Spanish skills, I took the Metro to Central Madrid from my hotel. There was a moment or two when I questioned the logic of that decision but it all worked out. I traveled to Plaza de Espana which is within walking distance of the Spanish Senate and Palacio Real (Royal Palace) and Cathedral de Santa Maria. There is a monument to Cervantes there complete with likenesses of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. Palacio Real is the largest palace in all of Western Europe. I was able to tour the Palace which is amazing – room after room of marble floors, guilded mouldings, art treasures and beautiful frescos. There is a formal dining room that would comfortably seat 75 people at one table! The Spanish Royalty really knew how to live.

Today it’s back to work; touring El Corte Ingles stores. We’re installing at Alcala Henares tonight and we needec to meet with the site supervisor and store manager. Then on to El Corte Princessa and Castellana. We’re replacing existing Liz Clairborne shops with new Jones New York shops in about 145 locations. I’ve once again become the official interpreter – Stuart is from England and speaks no Spanish (He speaks ‘English’ English and sometimes I could use an interpreter for him). I’ve gotten quite good at saying, “Perdon, donde esta Liz Clairborne?” I then usually wait for the person to point because their instructions in Espanol are often more than I can comprehend/translate. Tomorrow we’ll return to Alcala and possibly visit the warehouse in Toledo. Thursday we’ll take the train to Alicante. In the meantime I’m still searching for a Farmacia that will sell me an antihistamine.

I’m really trying to be grateful for this experience. Most people I know will probably never get to travel to Spain, but right now I’d just like my nose to stop running and to find something to eat that doesn’t have an egg on top of it. I think things will be better after my siesta.

Buenos Tardes,

Denis

Does The Rain In Spain Stay Mainly In The Plain?

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Okay I’m in Madrid and I have to plead geographical ignorance. Is Madrid in the plain?  My room is on the 19th floor of this hotel and I have a pretty good view of the city (and beyond). There seems to be some mountain range in the distance. This could be a plain but I’m not certain.

This is about all of Spain that I've seen so far...

The reason I’m wondering is because it’s raining here in Madrid. I’m jet-lagged. And I can’t get that stupid song out of my head – thanks Audrey Hepburn (actually Marni Nixon whose voice was dubbed in “My Fair Lady”). Oh great, useless trivia rolling around in my head to keep me awake! It’s after midnight and I’m coming down with a cold and it’s rainy and dreary and the television here is worse than in Mexico. At least on T.V. in Mexico most of the women look like a young Charro (remember her, “coochie, choocie”? – she was married to Xavier Cougat when he was about 80 years old and she was in her 20’s?) Oh great, more useless trivia! All the women I’ve seen so far on Spanish T.V. look and SOUND angry. Also the exchange rate here is ludicrous – $30 Euros for a 15 minute taxi ride (that’s like $50 US). International travel is so glamorous! Dios mio!

I missed the ‘Crystal Ball’ last night with my Valentine; instead I was in the seat on the flight from New York next to a couple of contortionists. These people wiggled and crawled around on  that flight like they were possessed. “STAY IN YOUR SEAT!” Oh, for the love of God, how many times could two people use the bathroom on a 7-1/2 hour flight? If you guessed anything under 6 times; you would be wrong.   

Sorry for the rant but I feel pretty crappy and way too sorry for myself. I think the Nyquil® is starting to “kick in”. Anyway, I should stop writing now before I start to sound petty, stupid or intolerant. Besides I really love Spain. And don’t forget: “The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain…” Damn it. There it goes again!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uVmU3iANbgk

Buenas Noches,

Denis

Mexico Revisted

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I think that this is the 10th time I’ve been in Mexico in less than a year. I love it here. The people. The food. The weather. And my favorite new drink ~ Michelada.

I’ve had the advantage of traveling on business and staying in some pretty nice places. And the “work” has been mainly touring retail shops in department stores after they have been installed. I’ve visited a couple of factories. And I’ve been to the corporate offices of Liverpool Department Stores which is a huge chain here in Mexico – think Macy’s.

But yesterday was ‘poco loco’. I started my day at Liverpool Santa Fe (which is in an upscale section of Mexico City. I was ‘invited’ by my customer at Jones New York® to join a merchandise and marketing training session. This is not really my gig (I’m the fixture guy) but I agreed to attend. I guess it’s hard to say no to a customer.

So there I was with about 100 Mexican merchandise coordinators and apparel specialists (whatever in hell that is). Everyone of course was speaking Spanish – everyone except me. The Director of Marketing for Jones New York® is bi-lingual and most people assumed I was as well. Actually some of my encounters were quite amusing. After some rapid-fire Spanish dialog, I would just meekly say “No habla Espanol”. I’m not certain what the response to that always was but I think it was usually Spanish for “WHY ARE YOU HERE?” I definitely heard “stupido” which I think means “You seem nice but you should go home.”

Later that morning I “helped” with a marketing presentation. The Jones® Marketing Director addressed the crowd, while I sat in a control booth and operated the computer that advanced the PowerPoint slides in her presentation which were then projected on 3 large screens in the auditorium. It sounds easy but it’s only easy if you speak Spanish. I did my best. Let’s just leave it at that. After the PowerPoint presentation I was allowed to take a seat in the auditorium for the Q & A portion of the program. I wasn’t expecting to have to answer any questions but once again I was wrong. And then it came – MY QUESTION. Rocio one of the Liverpool ‘Spanish speakers’ looked at me and said “Denis can you answer that?” I sort of understood something about maniqui (mannequins) and vestidas (dresses) and mesas (tables) and damas grande (large women). And when I gave my answer it was very very funny – I just have no idea what I said. Dios mio!

Later in the day back at my hotel I got trapped between floors in the elevator. After pushing the ‘EMERGENCIA’ button and saying very loudly “NO HABLA ESPANOL” “I’M TRAPPED! I’M TRAPPED! HELP! HELP!” The voice on the speaker asked for my hotel room number. Seriously??? Why did the voice need my room number? Then the voice said “okay Denis, we’ll get you out.” After about 5 minutes which seemed like 5 hours to a crazy, claustrophobic, uno-lingual speaker, the elevator finally moved. When I stepped out of the elevator it was about 10 inches above the floor and of course I nearly fell. What a day!

Jones New York Collections at Liverpool - Perisur

Today was much better. A conference call with my partners in the U.K. and then we toured stores. First Perisur. Then Coapa. And finally Satelite. My Spanish was much better today and I became the ‘official intrepter’. Jim who is one my Project Managers that is traveling with me understands no Spanish. I felt like an expert by comparison.

At dinner ‘esta noches’ I actually was quite fluent in Espanol.  Of course the Micheladas helped. And my guardian angel is always watching over me (his is not an easy job!).

Adios,

Denis

Why I Love The Green Bay Packers

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

On an early autumn Sunday in 1991, not long after we moved to Wisconsin, we decided to go shopping at the local mall. Northridge Mall was the largest shopping center in Milwaukee with all the major department stores and over 100 speciality stores (according to the billboards on 76th Street and Brown Deer Road). It was about 2:00 in the afternoon when we arrived and the place appeared to be a virtual ‘ghost town’. When we finally inquired as to why no one was shopping, the kid at the Swatch® kiosk looked at us incredulously and said, “The Packers are playing!” Still not sure what that meant, I asked for further explanation. It was then that his annoyance turned to anger, “The Green Bay Packers” “Everyone is at home watching the game, duh!” He looked at us as if we were aliens – and of course we were.

I knew who the Green Bay Packers were. I just didn’t realize how devoted the fans were. Coming from St. Louis where devotion to The Baseball Cardinals is almost a religious experience I began to understand. But that kind of passion for football was something we were not familiar with in St. Louis. A few years earlier the Football Cardinals had departed for Arizona (good riddance) and so did our interest in the NFL.

So we went to a Packers game later that fall and it was transformational. There we were surrounded by a sea of green and gold. Cheeseheads. Painted faces. Cheering crowd. Adoration. And this was in 1991! Before Brett Farve. What I learned to love about the Packers most that day was their fans. Die hard. Crazy. Dedicated. Wonderful. “Let me join! Let me join!” kept running through my head.  And I did. And I will be a die hard, crazy, dedicated, wonderful Packer fan until I die.

Never too young to be a Packer Fan

 

Here’s why I  love The Greenbay Packers:

  • It’s a team that is owned by the fans.
  • Green and gold are fun colors.
  • Cheeseheads look good on anybody.
  • Brats.
  • Beer.
  • Lambeau Field – football should be played outdoors and in the cold.
  • Aaron  Rodgers.
  • Super Bowl XXXI and XLV.
  • Packer fans love the team through the heydays and the dog days.

The Packer fans are loyal and the players never seem to forget that. When Aaron Rodgers was named MVP of  Super Bowl XLV he thanked the fans.

I would just like to be among the first to say “You’re welcome Aaron, it was our pleasure!”

Go Pack Go!

Denis

P.S. For those of you that are counting ~ this  is my 100th blog post!

Remember When…?

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

Remember when Valentine’s Day was Saint Valentine’s Day?

According to legend and some archeological evidence, Valentinus was a Roman priest martyred in 269 for marrying Christian couples. While awaiting his execution, he penned a farewell note to the jailer’s daughter, signing it, “From your Valentine.”

He is the Patron Saint of greetings, young people, love, engaged couples, and happy marriages. He is also the Patron Saint of fainting, epilepsy, plague, bee keepers and travelers.

Funny how Hallmark® has focused on just the love and greetings business.  I guess there’s not much of a market for fainting or plague cards anymore. Come to think of it, I can’t remember the last time that I celebrated bee keeping either. So Saint Valentine the man has been forgotten or has been replaced by Cupid I suppose. But when I was a kid we still called it Saint Valentine’s Day and I guess I’m feeling a little nostalgic (or old) today.

I love history and I think it’s important for people (my kids and grandkids anyway) to know how things came to be. Growing up I told my children that EVERYTHING has a history (I can see their eyes rolling now). But it is important and I usually start with our family.

Like many Americans our family originated in Europe. On my mom’s side the journey from France included a time in Canada until those madcap fur traders decided to make the journey down the mighty Mississippi to settle here in the midwest. My French Canadian ancestors can be traced back to some of the earliest residents of our hometown. On dad’s side our German ancestors came to America about a hundred years later. Dad likes to say the Germans came over to clean up the mess that the French had made (that joke never gets old – I suppose my eyes are rolling now).

Things are a little murkier on my wife’s side of the family. Some Scottish and English ancestry and maybe Dutch. More importantly her great-grandmother was Native American – Choctaw I think. As best as we can tell some of her people were likely forced to march the “Trail of Tears” and settle in Oklahoma (shame on you Andrew Jackson!)

Every family has a history. Every town has a history. Every nation. Why is it important? Why must we remember? I think because we owe to those that have come before us. I think we honor the “saints” in our own families when we simply remember them. We’re here because of them – because of their search for a better life; because of their need to be free of religious or political persecution; because of their adventurous spirits; or simply because they “came along for the ride” on the ship or wagon or canoe. Some of our ancestors came here because they felt they had no other choice escaping famine or debtors prisons.  Some literally had no choice: shackled as the property of others. Some of their stories are heartbreaking. Some are heartwarming. Some are awe-inspiring. But they should all be told. Their stories are our stories.

Tell your stories (ignore the eye rolling) and honor your history and your people.

Peace,

Denis