Essay

Mexico Revisted

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

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

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

Baby Smiles

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

Last Sunday in church my grandson Noah smiled at me. That may not seem like a big deal. It certainly wasn’t the first time that he smiled nor was it the first time that he smiled at me. But it was the first time that he seemed to truly recognize me and that recognition garnered a smile. Of course it’s possible that he gives that same smile to the UPS driver or the cashier at the local market. But for that moment it seemed, to me anyway, that he was thinking, “Hey, that’s my Pawpaw and I love him!”  It was sublime.
 
I thanked God at that moment for his ‘baby smile’. His big sister and his cousin have been smiling (or laughing) at me for some time now. But this is a new chapter in our relationship. I love my grandkids and I love that they love me back! And now Noah is ‘telling’ me that he loves me, too!
 
Baby smiles are one of the best things that life has to offer. They’re wonderful. They’re sincere. And they’re ‘free of charge’. Who among us hasn’t been completely disarmed by a baby’s smile? How many times have you had a miserable moment/day/week/ only to have it whisked away by the sweet smile of a baby. And if that baby happens to be your grandchild – it’s even better! Trust me.
 
I know that Charlise and Anna and Noah don’t just smile at me. They have lots of people in their lives that they love. And I’m happy for that. But when they do reserve that one special smile for just for me I feel like the luckiest person on earth.

Smiling Noah

Baby smiles can’t fix everything. They can’t make the pain and suffering of this world disappear entirely. They can’t stop wars or end hunger or cure illness. But sometimes I wonder…? Could a baby smile be a diplomatic tool? Could a smiling baby breakdown political, societal, and economic barriers? When I’ve had a lousy day sometimes just looking at a picture of my smiling grandkids helps put everything in perspective. Maybe all the United Nations Delegates should be required to wear pictures of their children or grandchildren or nieces or nephews on their lapels. Perhaps the State Department should include photos of heads of states’ children as part of the advance teams’ paperwork. It’s possible some conflicts might be resolved if THE IMPORTANT PEOPLE realized how lucky they were to be parents/grandparents/aunts/uncles. And by securing peace in our world; they could insure continuation of baby smiles for generations. It’s just a thought.

How lucky am I? Just look at Noah’s smile and you’ll know.
 
Peace,
Denis

Out of the Mouths of Babes

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While watching the Jets score a touchdown during last Sunday’s play-off game, my granddaughter Anna asked why we didn’t call it a “touch-up”? After all the referees raised their arms up in the air. Otherwise they should put their arms down – she demonstrated by putting her little arms at her side. She has a point. My granddaughter Charlise coined the phrase “Oh, my cow!” – it’s her combination of “oh, my goodness” and “holy cow”. When our son Blake was about three years old I asked him to pick up all his toys. He informed me that he couldn’t carry any more because “he was full of hands”. My sister, who’s a grandmother herself now, once wanted to “buy something” off the knick-knack shelf at our grandmother’s house (to be honest Grandmother’s collection of bric-a-brac resembled the merchandise found at the local dime store). But it was cute and everyone laughed – except Kay who really wanted to buy something!

Noah is not talking yet, but it looks like he's got something to say...

Most of us cherish the sayings that were invented or misinterpreted by the little ones in our families. Sometimes they are a clever reorganization of words or thoughts. Sometimes they are just mispronunciations or misunderstandings. Often they are remembered for years (or generations). What makes these words particularly meaningful is that they are simple and profound. They are TRUTH spoken by someone who is incapable of not speaking the the truth.

As parents (and grandparents) we are often amused by these statements. And sometimes we cringe – like the time Tyson, at about age two, encountered a woman with facial hair asked me “Why does that mommy have a mustache?” Oops!

The words our babies speak remind us of our own long-forgotten innocence. If we listen carefully we can hear the voice of God through these angels in our presence.

Pure. Simple. Profound.

Peace,

Denis

Love’s Pure Joy!

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

Yesterday I got to meet my friend Sherry’s baby daughter. Just one day old. She is beautiful and Mama Sherry is awash in joy and happiness.

Roddia Sherie

Most babies are wanted. Most babies’ arrivals are highly anticipated. Most babies are excitedly welcomed into their families. But this little girl may be the most wanted, anticipated and welcomed baby I have ever known! She is a certainly a blessing to her parents and her family. And she will be celebrated as the miracle that she is. Praise God!

I was able to hold her yesterday at the hospital and like all newborns she is so precious and so beautiful. But it struck me while I was holding her that she is destined for greatness. I just had this overwhelming feeling that this little girl will change our world (not just Sherry’s and Rodney’s) and that her arrival is a sign of many more good things to come. What a welcome respite from the doom and gloom of the morning news. What a relief to know that good has once again triumphed over evil. Roddia is a hopeful and peaceful messenger of God’s love for us.  

Of course, Baby Roddia may not single-handedly bring about world peace or prevent hunger or cure cancer or stop global warming – but she might! She could be president someday. She most certainly will be grace-filled and beautiful. And her heart will overflow with love and kindness. That’s guaranteed – it’s in her DNA. Her “greatness” may be meaured in the small things that she does for others but her influence will reach beyond borders. Remember the words of Mother Theresa of Calcutta “We can do no great things, only small things with great love.” 

Sherry, thank you for letting me share your special joy. During those “hopeless times” I will remember holding Roddia and realize again that with God’s love all things are possible!

Peace,

Denis

Steve Martin in London (or not)

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Eat your heart out, Steve Martin!

I’ve been mistaken for (or have been told that I look just like) Steve Martin three times this week in London – fancy that! We say “fancy that” here in England and “bloody hell” – as if hell isn’t bad enough we have to make it bloody, too. We also say “cheers” and call each other “mate”. But I digress – back to Steve Martin or me looking like him anyway.

Truth be told, this has happened before; just not 3 times in 2 days and not in London (to be fair – I’m rarely here). It happens in New York and has also happened in L.A. and once or twice in Mexico City – Steve and I get around.

I get two kinds of Steve Martin reactions: the first is usually something like,”Excuse me sir, but you’re not by any chance…?” The second is more like “Has anyone ever told you that you look just like…?” I’ve had people in New York shout at me on the street, “Hey, Steve Martin!” – I usually just wave and smile. On occasion I get “Hey, you look like ‘what’s his name’; that actor; oh wait, it’ll come to me…” I sometimes respond to this with “Oh Brad Pitt, I get that all the time!” I’ve been known to substitute “Denzel Washington” or “Paul Newman” but Paul’s dead now so that seems wrong.

The occasional mistaken identity is kind of fun (and usually funny) but Steve Martin is about 10 years older than me, so I assume people think I look like a “young Steve Martin”. And the truly amusing thing is that folks are not afraid to approach me (him) and ask. Also it never seems to occur to them that Steve Martin probably isn’t just bumming around on the street (or the London Underground) or shopping at Wal-Mart® or pumping his own gas at Fast-Lane® or eating at Waffle House®. Steve Martin likely has an entourage – I would but that’s just me.

I’ll be honest; I like the recognition, even for a moment AND even if it’s not for me. I wonder how many times Steve has had to explain that “he’s really not Denis Wilhelm”? Sorry Steve, you can look like me but you can’t have my life – it’s all mine. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Peace,

Denis

All I Want For Christmas…

/ Denis Wilhelm / 2 Comments
On Christmas Eve 1985 our daughter Bess was 5 years old.  Everything was ready for Christmas – cookies baked, meals planned, tree trimmed, gifts wrapped (or hidden until Santa could deliver them).  We were having breakfast, we five: Deb, Tyson 7, Bess 5, Blake 2, and me.  At 7:00 am it was just a nice quiet, peaceful morning before the onslaught of Christmas-palooza (when you have 3 kids aged seven and younger Christmas Eve gets a little bit crazy – the anticipation, the sugar, the last-minute details). So a calm quiet breakfast was just what our little family needed.  We could ease into the day.  Or so I thought. Then Bess (with her sweet little sleepy-voice) said, “I don’t care if Santa doesn’t bring me anything else, as long as I get REAL BABY® WITH HER EYES OPEN”

With that announcement everything changed!  WHAT???  When did she tell us about ‘Real Baby’?  How did we miss that?  Of course I knew then what I had to do. Every daddy knows that you MUST FIND ‘Real Baby’ or destroy your little girl’s Christmas dreams. And so the search began…

Hasbro® REAL BABY WITH HER EYES OPEN

I know this sounds like a sitcom and maybe it could have been but it really happened and it wasn’t funny then. The morning of December 24, 1985 became panic-filled.  I jumped into my 1977 Ford Pinto and away I went. This was before the days of cell phones, so I took a handful of change to call home from pay phones (remember those?). I started out looking in the stores nearby – Venture (remember those?), Target, Sears, and then I fanned out to – more Venture Stores, more Targets, Toys-R-Us, Wal-Mart, Famous-Barr (another blast from the past), JC Penney, Woolworth’s – you name it; I tried it.  I could find ‘Real Baby With Her Eyes Closed’ (which kind of looked like a scary dead baby) but EVERYONE was sold out of ‘Real Baby With Her Eyes Open’. After each failed attempt to find ‘Real Baby’ I called home with the grim news – no baby. What was I going to do? How was I going to deal with disappointing my little girl on Christmas morning?

After spending nearly the entire day searching for a doll that I was certain could not be found, I finally admitted defeat.  I was heading home around 4:00 pm when I decided to give it one last try.  There was (and still is) a K-Mart Store west of where we lived and I thought “what the heck” it’s worth one more try. Still in my heart I knew it was foolish.

But when I walked into the Toy Department there she was – perched on the shelf like an angel. I really thought that the fatigue had gotten to me and that I was just ‘seeing things’ but there she was, all by herself, ‘Real Baby With Her Eyes Open’!  Only God knows why the most popular doll of 1985 would still be sitting on K-Mart’s shelf on Christmas Eve.  Maybe it was just my own little Christmas miracle.  I know I had tears in my eyes walking to the checkout counter – again maybe that was just the fatigue.

Needless to say, Bess was very excited the next morning and she LOVED ‘Real Baby’ and she said, “I knew that Santa would bring her to me!”  More tears…

That doll is still in a box in our basement today.  Her hair is a little ‘jacked-up’ because she was loved so much.  Bess carried her around like a real baby for years (hence the name) and I never regretted or will I forget the crazy Christmas Eve that made it all possible.

I hope each of is blessed with your own Christmas miracle this year.

Peace,

Denis

 
 

Could you say no to this face?

P.S. This year Bess’s daughter Anna announced that she wanted Santa to bring her a dollhouse that we had seen about a month ago – no mention had been made of it until just last week. But not to worry – Pawpaw has located one (the last one again) and all is well. I guess the apple doesn’t fall very fall from the tree ~ God, thank you for my ‘apple’ and my ‘tree’. I am twice blessed!

Have Yourself A Messy Little Christmas

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I’ve always wanted a perfect Christmas – whatever that is. Mostly I’d be happy if the tree stood straight and if no one was sad, mad or bad. For years when asked what I’d like for Christmas my response was always the same: Clean house and good kids. Talk about your unanswered prayers!

But you know in the movie ‘White Christmas’ when it starts snowing right on cue and the walls of the barn (that has been converted into a stage) just magically open. Or like in ‘The Miracle on 34th Street’ when Natalie Wood finds the perfect house that just happens to be “for sale” and open on Christmas Day. Or when Father comes home just before Christmas in ‘Little Women’ and Marmee’s eyes fill with tears (by the way, the one with Katherine Hepburn and Spring Byington is the one to watch). I’ve always secretly wanted one of those Hollywood Christmases. One of those Christmases where EVERYONE cries and then laughs and realizes WHAT’S REALLY IMPORTANT.   

Homemade "gourd" snowmen ~ eat your heart out, Martha Stewart!

But we’ve never had any of those “cue the music” Christmas moments at our house.  Usually they’re more of the “Christmas Story” variety – cursing the neighbors’ dogs!  And too often Christmas or Christmas Eve is a little boring – same people, same gifts, same stuff. Oh the food is great and we love our family and we do try to center Christ in Christmas but sometimes it all seems a little too rote. Been there; done that.

Looking back it seems to me that our best Christmases have been the messy, unpredictable ones. And we’ve had some doozies. Like when Blake was about 3 years old and puked at my brother’s house on Christmas Eve or when Bess woke up with bronchitis on Christmas Day or the year that our car slid off the road on Christmas Eve on our way to see Aunt Marge and Grandma Hazel. Those are the memorable Christmases.  Oh, we’ve had some ‘Currier and Ives’ moments too, but mostly the messy Christmases have been our best.

Scooping up poor little sick Blake (and wiping up vomit) may not make a pretty Christmas card but getting him home and tucked into bed and praying at his bedside that he would be well enough for Santa the next morning is still a favorite memory.  Bringing Bess a cup of tea and a few sugar cookies in bed while she was recuperating from bronchitis still makes me a little sentimental – she was too sick to do anything but hold her new baby doll but still she managed a smile that broke my heart. Or the year that we went to midnight Mass and some drunken guy started crying because he hadn’t been to church in years – and we witnessed his ‘conversion moment’. I felt like a jerk for having grumbled under my breath earlier to Deb about “this guy behind us”. 

God certainly had a hand in all of this. And I guess the first Christmas was a pretty humble occasion. So why do I need a perfect Christmas anyway? Besides I think those messy ones have been perfect – perfected by Christ.

So this year I’ll plan for another beautiful Christmas but I hope to remember to thank God for the one that I get. And if I’m truly blessed it may be a little bit messy. Hope yours is too!

Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel, which means “God is with us.” Matthew 1:23

Peace,

Denis

Yo Quiero Mexico!

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Last week I was in Mexico City and Guadalajara on business.  In two weeks I’ll be back in Mexico City – that will be my 5th or 6th trip to Mexico this year.  Even though it’s business travel I’ve come to have a fondness for Mexico and the Mexican people who I have encountered.  Now to be fair I’m the customer or guest in all these encounters so I guess that I likely don’t have a realistic view of life in Mexico – just what “my handlers” want me to see.  But I’ve been well handled.

Laguna de Chapala near Guadalajara

While everyone at home has been telling me to “be careful” in Mexico and to avoid travel there; that hasn’t really been an option for me.  Others in my company have backed out of travel “south of the border” for various and assorted reasons but I suspect fear or ignorance or a combination of both.  I’m not so naive to believe that there is no danger in Mexico right now.  But my experience has been no different from when I travel to any major city or unknown destination – exercise caution and employ common sense.  Also I don’t knowingly associate with drug dealers or any other sketchy characters.  And I don’t make myself a target by hanging around in less than desirable locales. 

The professionals that I have dealt with are well traveled, intelligent, thoughtful individuals.  Their hospitality and consideration toward me has been overwhelming.  Again, as I stated before, I am their customer so I would expect some deference.  But the way that I have been treated is much more than the standard customer service to which I have become accustomed.  So while travel to Mexico is slightly challenging (long lines in customs, language barriers, cultural confusion), the plus side is that I have met some wonderful people who love their country and are proud to be Mexicans.  In addition they have treated me as a welcome guest instead of an annoying outsider. 

A company that I am working with is owned by one family.  The patriarch is named Edmundo as well as his son Edmundo Junior.  They work with their nephew/cousin also named Edmundo.  Both of the junior Edmundos each have sons named Edmundo as well.  One family building and sharing a successful business together is remarkable in and of itself.  The fact that they have employees that have been with them for over 30 and 40 years is a testament to the company and the extraordinary leadership and loyalty of the Edmundos.

I look forward to my next trip and my continued association with my new friends.  For me Mexico was once little more than a vacation destination.  Now I realize that is a splendid country which is home for some truly remarkable people.  And I thank God for letting my world get just a little bit smaller. 

“For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me.” Matthew 25:35

Gracias,

Denis

New Life

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This coming Saturday our grandson Noah will be baptized.  This past Saturday my niece Caprice was married.  Last week I participated in a Mass of Remembrance for those that died in our parish.

What do these three things have in common?  They are all a celebration of new life.  New Life in Christ.

It occurred to me at my niece’s wedding that with new life there is joy and excitement but there is also some uncertainty and a need for adjustment.  This is true with Baptism, Marriage and death. 

In Baptism we celebrate being “reborn” in Christ.  But as Catholic Christians it doesn’t end with the Sacrament.  It is the beginning of our life as a disciple of Christ.  Noah will be presented for Baptism as an infant but his parents will bear the responsibility for his formation.  The community will support their efforts in raising him as a Christian but ultimately Noah will choose to accept his faith as an adult.  We will all embrace the joys and sorrows that he will encounter as we ask God to walk with him but it will be Noah’s life to live.  His life’s journey is unknown at this time but our belief in Jesus’ saving grace is certain and will sustain him forever. 

In marriage the Sacrament is also just the beginning.  Caprice and Jimmy have witnessed their love before their community and committed themselves to Christ in their marriage ceremony.  But now the “heavy lifting” begins.  They have the rest of lives to affirm their love for one another.  They will witness to all those who know and love them.  And because they have invited Jesus into their married life they now have confidence in that sacred bond.

As Christians we believe in life after death.  Again the Sacrament of the Anointing is just the beginning. It is often administered immediately before death and a Christian burial.  The Sacrament signifies a beginning of our journey from death to life.  As Catholics we believe in a period of purgation after our death.  You can think of it as a time when “your life flashes before your eyes”.  We can’t (and shouldn’t) quantify it but as humans we are inclined to try.  It is enough to believe that it is a period of adjustment when we are finally able to let go of our human existence and accept eternal life with Christ.  And maybe that’s the scary part.  Eternity is a long time.  I take comfort in knowing that God created us to love us.  So life in heaven with Him can only be a good thing.

Holding heaven in my arms

On Saturday when Noah is being held in his mother’s arms and the waters of Baptism are being poured over him I will be imagining that heaven must be like that.  Being held in my Creator’s arms and having new life poured over me.  What a beautiful image.  And Noah will be witnessing to us what heaven can be for those who love God.

Peace,

Denis