Ever since our recent family reunion I’ve been thinking about my dad and my grandparents and great aunts and great uncles.  My dad’s generation of Wilhelms was all-male – he had two brothers and three male cousins – no girls.

My dad is a big guy and has a big personality and is from a generation of men that think “men are in charge” (or should be).  What’s interesting to me is that in this male-dominated Wilhelm family, in my opinion, the strongest Wilhelms were the matriarchs.

From my earliest childhood memories, my grandmother Kyra worked outside the home as a nurses’ aid.  In the 1950’s and 1960’s, while other grandmas were at home rocking babies and baking cookies, mine was at the hospital taking temperatures, dispensing medications and changing bed pans.  The stories of my great-grandmother Elizabeth are legendary:  Coming to this country alone at thirteen from Germany; marrying one brother and then another, after the first died after only nine months of marriage; then raising her young family alone after her second husband (my great-grandfather) died.  She was tough, stubborn and a force to be reckoned with. And my great-great-grandmother Mary apparently converted the entire family to Catholicism back when women had no say in such matters.

Then there were “The Aunts”.  My three great aunts (my grandfather’s sisters) were never married.  Aunt Marie, Aunt (Wilhelmina) Minnie, and Aunt (Elizabeth) Liddy would have been called old maids back in the day.  They lived together in the family home that became the base of operations for all Wilhelm family gatherings.  I’ve heard stories that Aunt Minnie was once (almost) engaged but I don’t know if that’s true and it doesn’t matter because she remained devoted to her sisters and the entire Wilhelm clan.  In some ways growing up with the Aunts was like having three more grandmothers – maybe even better than that.  They balanced and complemented one another.  Where Aunt Liddy was more nurturing – she rocked the babies and sang lullabies, Aunt Marie was more artistic and willing to let us “mess in the kitchen” with her.  She made great play dough (not to be confused with Play-Doh®) and would let us play with it for hours.  And she would burn cinnamon in an old German ceramic “house-shaped” contraption – it was magical!  Aunt Minnie was my Godmother and my favorite.  I can still feel her gentle hand on my shoulder and smell her perfume.  She was a business woman – the County Nurse’s secretary.  And she was well-respected in our hometown.  I remember walking downtown with her many times and people would greet her very politely as “Miss Wilhelm”.  I was always so proud to be with my Aunt Min!

I’ve often thought about all the things that they did for each of us – especially my generation of 24 great nieces and nephews.  Each birthday Aunt Liddy would call to find out what kind of birthday cake we wanted – and she would make it exactly to our order!  Each Easter meant an Easter egg hunt at their house and after each family left, the Aunts would re-hide the eggs for the next nephew’s family (I learned about the re-hiding of the eggs many years later).  Christmas would mean cookies that arrived from some cousin in Germany and although we didn’t care for them then, it breaks my heart now to know that the Aunts would share their treasure with us.  Christmas also meant packages wrapped in white tissue paper – always wrapped the same way each year.  The gifts were simple (and practical) but even as a kid I loved receiving socks or a shirt knowing that the Aunts had bought it just for me.

As kids, we Wilhelms, might have taken the Aunts for granted.  Didn’t everybody have three extra grandmothers?  But looking back I cherish what they meant to us and I honor their memories by visiting their graves ocassionally.  This is something that Aunt Minnie and I would do together – we would go to the Wilhelm burial plots in St. Peter’s Cemetery and pull weeds and place flowers at the graves of the ancestors that I never knew.  So now when I go to ‘visit the Aunts’ I thank them for instilling in me a love of family.  And pride in being a Wilhelm.  Even if I am only a male.

Peace,

Denis

Last Saturday the Wilhelms had a Family Reunion.  This came about because my cousin Colleen who lives most of the year in Thailand was in the States for a few weeks.  She and her sister Lynnette were going to be in town for a couple of days and asked if any of us could maybe meet for dinner.  Because of the resourcefulness of my cousin Keith a family reunion was pulled together on very short notice.  So what was originally going to be dinner with a few of us became a reunion for all of us.  What a treat for those of us that could attend!

Cousin Colleen and granddaughter Anna

Our family is relatively small and many of us still live within 20 miles or so of the original “Family Home” and yet to my knowledge this was the first-ever Wilhelm Family Reunion.  I think it was pretty standard reunion stuff – we gathered at a local park and shared a meal and good memories.  We were able to meet (or re-introduce ourselves) to spouses and children and grandchildren.  Because the event was planned pretty hastily there were some family members that couldn’t join us.  But there’s good news:  we’re already planning another reunion for October 2011.

What struck me on Saturday was the feeling of belonging.  We all share this common ancestry that is neither good nor bad or remarkable or dreadful.  We’re just a bunch of regular people that happen to be related to one another and yet it was wonderful to be together and feel connectivity.  Maybe for people that have frequent family reunions this is not that impressive but for me it was the first time that this many Wilhelms got together for something other than a funeral. 

We shared stories.  We reminisced.  We looked back at the past by remembering grandparents and into the future by watching our children and grandchildren interact on one hot summer afternoon.  And it was nice – it was more than nice.  It was family.

My cousin Diane felt it was necessary to summon me to stand with her and several other cousins to compare our skinny legs (for the record mine are lean and muscular).  She pointed out to everyone’s amusement that we had our Great Aunt Marie’s legs.  Who knew that genetics could play such dirty tricks?  I guess I never realized that I had inherited Aunt Marie’s “Olive Oyle-esque” legs.  Talk about a birthright!  What’s completely unfair to me is that I also inherited the Wilhelm nose – those cousins that share this trait can also feel my pain.  Why couldn’t I have inherited my grandmother’s artistic ability?  But instead, I got the LEGS and the NOSE.  I’m just thankful that my wife has improved the gene pool for my kids and grandkids.

Today I’m also thanking God for all the Wilhelms – the ones that were with us on Saturday and the ones that couldn’t be there for whatever the reason.  I’d like to think that there were some happy Wilhelms in heaven looking down on our gathering, too.  They will always be with us in spirit.  Thanks for the memories.  And thanks for the legs Aunt Marie!

Peace,

Denis

I’m certain there must be T-shirts with that emblazoned on them.  The truth is that I went to China and didn’t get much more than jet-lag but I did manage to bring back a few trinkets.  Plus I now have some limited knowledge of a country that I had never visited. 

My trip began badly – never a good sign.  I was supposed to be on my way to Shanghai last Monday but flights to Chicago (my connection) were cancelled due to weather.  This was puzzling because it was beautiful here and according to friends in Chicago the weather was fine there, too.  So my trip was delayed by one day and what I had hoped to have five days to accomplish was squeezed into four.  I arrived in Shanghai on Wednesday afternoon, traveled to Shenzhen (Southern China) on Thursday evening, back to Shanghai Friday night, and then left for home on Saturday.  In between I toured three factories.  World travel – how glamorous! 

I’m not really complaining (well maybe a little) because I’ve wanted to make this trip for years. 

Here’s what I found: 

The city of Shanghai is beautiful.  Everyone that I encountered was gracious and very hospitable.  Hotels are clean and modern and the food was fantastic.  Most of the buildings in Shanghai are new.  The architecture is stunning.  There is lots green space – all new structures are required to incorporate at least 30% of their development to gardens, landscaping, etc.  The freeway system is fast and efficient.  The airports are very modern and well equipped.  Workers seem generally happy and the standard of living has increased exponentially in the last several years.  And the quality of the product that we manufacture in China surpasses what we are able to produce domestically.  Plus shopping is fun and friendly. And bartering makes it at least feel like you are getting some great deals.

On the other hand, in Shanghai there are 22 million people that all seem to want to be first in line.  Personal space is not a concept that they have embraced – in a culture where everyone lives in such close proximity, it is completely acceptable to cough or sneeze in another person’s face.  Stop lights and stops signs are merely a suggestion – motorists just drive as if no one else is on the road.  Pedestrians have no right-of-way!  Peeing on the street is not frowned upon (I thought this only occurred on Bourbon Street in New Orleans).  Chairman Mao is on their currency.  Factory workers generally will not make eye contact with foreigners and then they will salute you as you leave their plant (I found this particularly unsettling). 

This trip, as most international travel does, made me keenly aware of how big this world truly is and how insular my life has become.  I have always considered myself to be adventurous and open-minded but the truth is: I like my life; my stuff; my way.  I like routine.  I need familiarity.  But that doesn’t mean that I don’t like to travel and try new things.  It just means I need to get “home” and hold on to the ones that I love.  Nothing felt better than being with my family at Mass on Sunday morning and holding my granddaughter.  I guess that’s why Mass on Sunday is important to me.  It’s mine.  It’s my family’s.  It’s our time together with our God.

So after my whirlwind trip I’m back in my office today and suffering from jet-lag and oddly (sort of) missing China – at least the little bit of China that I now know.  I expect to return in a few months for more product review and plant tours and maybe a trip to Hong Kong.  Until then I’ll try to read more about China and become better prepared for when East meets West.  And I will look forward once again to “coming home”.

Peace,

Denis