Children

To Market, To Market…

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

I love nursery rhymes. I loved them as a kid. I loved reading to my kids. And I love reading them to my grandkids. I’m heading to the market this morning and this keeps banging around in my head…

To market, to market, to buy a fat pig,
Home again, home again, jiggety-jig;
To market, to market, to buy a fat hog,
Home again, home again, jiggety-jog.

It was only until moving here to England that I’ve realised that so many words used here are from those beloved nursery rhymes. I pass signs on the Carriageway that bring them to mind.

Gloucester…

Doctor Foster went to Gloucester
In a shower of rain,
He stepped in a puddle,
Right up to his middle,
And never went there again.

And York…

The Grand Old Duke of York,
He had 10,000 men,
He marched them up to the top of the hill,
And he marched them down again.

And Surrey, and Leeds, and of course London (where Pussycat went to visit the Queen…)

Just the other day I was walking along a footpath and came upon a stile (a sort of stump that you use to climb over a fence) and immediately…

 “I saw a crooked man; who walked a crooked mile; he found a crooked six-pence; upon a crooked stile.”

A stile! A crooked stile! A bloody crooked stile!

We drove two hours north yesterday to visit a factory in Leicester and every sign seemed to trigger another rhyme in my head. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I get these nursery rhymes out of my head? And I wondered if my work associate could tell when I was drifting in “nursery rhyme mode”. I can’t seem to stop myself!

Maybe it’s a coping mechanism. There’s so much new here (or old if you will) and trying to absorb it all is a bit overwhelming. New words, new phrases, new places, new foods, new people. So perhaps the nursery rhymes are my comfort zone right now. It brings the familiar to an unfamiliar place. Maybe it’s not madness; it’s just a way of  processing tons (spelled tonnes now) of information.

It has helped with some of the melancholy; I imagine I’m sharing those nursery rhymes with Charlise or Anna or Noah. Or back in time with Tyson or Bess or Blake…

Elizabeth, Elspeth, Betsy and Bess,
They all went together to seek a bird’s nest.
They found a bird’s nest with five eggs in,
They all took one, and left four in.

And somehow it all feels right.

Peace,

Denis

 

Packing Boxes, Checklists, and Deadlines, Oh My!

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

There’s a lot to get done this week. The Week. The one before we leave for England. In my mind this week was going to be much easier. We had mapped out everything very carefully: Housing – check; Rental Car – check; Passports/Visas/International Drivers Licenses – check; Banking – check; Airline tickets – check. But now it’s here. The Week. The  Last One. And all of a sudden it all feels a little overwhelming.

We still have lots to do and taking time to blog isn’t helping get any of it done. But I just needed to clear my head and write a bit. Usually I take a few moments at the beginning of each new year to think about all the possibilities that lie ahead. This year even more so.

We will be living in the United Kingdom and hopefully we will be traveling all over Europe. Certainly we will be making a trip to Paris in April (already booked) and hope to see Rome in the summer or early autumn and perhaps a trip to Munich or Madrid (or both). Of course we will spend lots of time in London and the English countryside as well.

But packing for nearly a year and working out details here before we leave is exhausting. Plus the whole point of moving to England has to do with my job and those responsibilities have increased exponentially because now I am V.P. of Operations for North America and Europe. So this isn’t actually an extended vacation – no matter what some of my staff may think. I will be working and ‘watching them’ from across the pond.

A Pawpaw and his girls

Then there’s the emotional aspect – perhaps being busy with the packing and planning is a good thing. It gives me less time to think about how much I’m going to miss my children and grandchildren. This holiday season has been especially wonderful with Charlise and Anna and Noah around for extended periods of time. Last night while some adults were out partying, Nana Deb and I had a pajama party at our house. Noah scrubbed up and sweet-smelling happily went to his crib. After their baths, the girls and Deb and I watched “Madeline” (a family favorite). Deb made pancakes this morning before Mass and this afternoon we went to the indoor pool/water park. Later the whole family had dinner together which included Deb’s trademark black-eyed peas (there’s some superstitious hokum about needing to eat them for prosperity or good luck in the new year). All in all, it was a great New Year’s Eve/New Year’s Day.

Rocking Noah to sleep in my arms last night I had ‘a moment’. And I got choked up today at the pool watching the girls splishing and splashing. But I’m determined to stay positive and not get too sad or overly emotional before we leave for England even though my heart is heavy.

I don’t why but this evening the girls doled extra bedtime kisses. It felt like a gift from heaven. Maybe my granddaughters knew that their Pawpaw needed a little something more tonight (or maybe it was just those damned black-eyed peas).

Peace,

Denis

Pa Rum Pum Pum Pum

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I’ve had a little drummer boy at my house this year (and two little drummer girls, too). There’s something about having the grandkids around that makes Christmas that much merrier; that much happier – the giggles, the silliness, the excitement. It’s all pure joy!

Come Let Us Adore Him

But then there’s been the “holy” moments, too. Those kind of sneak up on me:

This morning Charlise’s Polly Pocket® and one of her friends have decided to join the Wise Men at our Nativity scene. Why wouldn’t Polly want to “come and adore Him”?

On Christmas morning at Mass Anna sang “Joy To The World” very loudly and to the delight of the parishioners sitting nearby – a solo choir of angels!  (Thank you Assumption Parish Pre-school and Miss Ashley)

And somehow Noah seems to find those times, when I’m feeling especially nostalgic, to run to me and wrap his arms around my neck and wipe away any melancholy – my little drummer boy!

This is one of those special Christmases when all three of our kids are home – Tyson home from Korea and Blake from Wisconsin and of course Bess and Travis here in town. It’s especially wonderful because next week Deb and I are leaving for our big European Adventure. And exciting as it is, it means more separation from our loved ones – so it’s bitterweet.

So this morning I’m having a quiet moment and thanking God for my blessings. And looking forward to some more family time (so rare; so precious) and along the way there’ll be lots more love and laughter and maybe even a tear or two, but my little drummer boy (and girls) will be there to wipe them away – pa rum pum pum pum!

Peace,

Denis

What Matters Most Is The Thanks

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I’m a sucker for tradition. I love old movies. I love family folklore. I want to believe that “the way” we do things at Thanksgiving is the way generations before us celebrated as well. I love the fact that Deb shares the same need for traditional holiday gatherings (with some southern country flair compliments of her beloved Mimi). We’ve blended our family traditions and created some new ones of our own. So on Thanksgiving there will be turkey and dressing and candied sweet potatoes and brussels sprouts and cranberries and pumpkin pie – just like the Pilgrims (well at least in my revisionist history of the First Thanksgiving anyway).

But it has occurred to me that none of that really matters. How can you celebrate Thanksgiving WITHOUT turkey? Or Stuffing? Or Sweet Potatoes? Or Cranberries? Or God Forbid – Pumpkin Pie???

We have dear friends that have traveled east to visit family and celebrate an ‘Italian Thanksgiving’ complete with lasagna.  My cousin Colleen who lives in Thailand can’t get pumpkin for a pie this year. Our son Ty is stationed at Kunsan Air Base in South Korea and will likely be eating in a mess hall and missing Mom’s special recipes. And millions of folks will be having Thanksgiving pizza, sub sandwiches, burgers or God-knows-what. And they’re (we’re) the lucky ones. Millions more will be starving.

But those of us that can give thanks, should. We should be thankful for one another. Thankful for love. Thankful for a full belly. And a place to lay our heads. Thankful for a God that provides light even in our darkest hours.

There is certainly no shortage of pain or heartache or suffering in our world. And perhaps you’re suffering, too. For me Thanksgiving this year is a little bittersweet; feeling especially melancholy about the separation next year from family and friends (especially my grandkids). Yesterday I was feeling down and then I received a Thanksgiving card in the mail from my cousin Rose. Just a simple thing but it immediately lifted my spirits. And for that I am thankful – thankful to be loved and to be part of a family that remembers to share their love. Thanks Rose, you’ll never know how much I needed your note!

So tomorrow I will remember to give thanks for all my blessings. And I know that it won’t matter if Thanksgiving dinner isn’t perfect in every way (everywhere) because it’s the sharing that matters not the meal that is shared.

Peace,

Denis

Big Girl Now

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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

These Little Lights of Mine…

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

Since we made the decision to move to England for a year, most days I’m happy, excited and anxious for the adventure of it all. But then there are those days when I feel a little panicked. What if this is a BIG MISTAKE? What if it becomes our YEAR OF REGRET? Of course usually the panic or melancholy has to do with leaving our grandkids behind for a year. I know that we will have Skype and we will visit back and forth. And I also believe that our relationship with our grandchildren is strong enough that one year’s absence won’t turn them into complete strangers. But still there have been some tearful moments…

This past weekend Anna and Noah had a sleep-over. On Saturday morning Anna and I ran some errands. While driving along she began singing, “This light of mine; I’m gonna let shine!” over and over. Sweet little three year-old voice, loud and clear and strong just singing her heart out. Well needless to say the tears began streaming down my face. So much so that I had to pull the car over for fear of not being able to see the road. I know that I’m a sap but this was even a bit much for me. I stopped just short of sobbing. When Anna asked, “Why did we stop here Pawpaw?” I just told her that I needed a minute to think about what I wasn’t going to do next. And I did.

Shine on!

What I did next was join her in song. So we drove along singing at the top our lungs, “This little light of mine…” While we were signing I thought about the folks that have said to me, “Oh, you’re really going to miss your grandchildren” or “I don’t know how you can think about being away for a full year” or “what if Noah doesn’t remember you when you return?”  I wondered, WHY DO PEOPLE SAY THINGS LIKE THAT?

But I sang through the tears and I realized that “these little lights of mine” will keep on shining. Our three grandchildren are little lights that banish the darkness from our hearts and souls. And a simple separation of time or space has no power over the love that we share for one another. And by the time that we got home that morning, Anna and I still singing, I knew that everything would be okay.

Of course I know that there will be more tears. And I’m sure that we will miss one another dreadfully at times but I also know that many families suffer through separations due to work or divorce or even death and somehow survive. Not only do they survive but they thrive!

I’m certain that the light that God has instilled in Charlise and Anna and Noah will shine. And they will continue to brighten even our darkest days.

“Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine!”

Peace,

Denis

Another Day ~ Another Miracle

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Miracles. I was reminded yesterday that miracles happen daily. Sometimes we’re blessed to witness them from a front row seat.

My nephew Dave and his wife Laura had their first child yesterday. Logan David Wilhelm was born via emergency C-section at St. John’s Mercy Hospital in St. Louis. He weighs 2 lbs. 7 oz. and is 15-1/2” long. He was born two months early. Laura’s intuition probably saved her baby’s life. She felt that something wasn’t right and saw her doctor yesterday morning. I know that it’s true that Moms can sense their children’s needs. But this is the first time that I have witnessed it in vitro. Apparently the umbilical cord was wrapped around little Logan and was depriving him of nutrition and oxygen.

Even though Logan’s birth weight is extremely low and he was born 9 weeks early we remain very hopeful. He is receiving the best care possible in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at one of the best hospitals in the country. They have already reduced the amount of oxygen he is receiving and the doctors believe that my nephew and his wife should be able to hold him in a few days. I’m told that his Daddy’s touch already calms him!

My wife was with Laura and Dave until my brother Dave and sister-in-law Pat could arrive from Atlanta late last night. Great Aunt Debbie reports: “Logan is beautiful but very tiny.”

Logan ~ our little miracle

Not all miracles make the news and they may not affect multitudes but they are miracles none the less. Logan is already responsible for an amazing outpouring of love and kindness among our family and friends. His life has changed us all forever. And that change alone is miraculous. We have reaffirmed our love for one another and we are humbled by his birth. And we are reminded (again) that life is precious and it is truly a gift from God – never to be taken for granted.

We have every reason to believe that Logan will thrive but we also know that he has a tough road ahead. So much to ask of such a tiny little boy!

But someday, in 100 years or so, he can tell his story to his grandchildren and great-grandchildren: that with God’s grace and your prayers there once was a miracle named Logan.

Peace,

Denis

Modern Family

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

When Deb and I got married we were determined to have a ‘Modern Family’. We wouldn’t be confined to traditional roles and we would NEVER have the kind of marriage our parents had. After all, this was 1975 and times had changed and we were young and current and ready to embrace life head-on. We even toyed with the idea of me taking Deb’s last name. Instead of her becoming Deborah Wilhelm; I would become Denis Dobbs. But Debbie and Denis Dobbs sounded a little too cute. And besides we might then be inclined to name future children with double “D” names as well. Debbie and Denis and Durwood and Dolly and Dora Dobbs – yikes! Plus with brothers named Dave and Dean, I had spent my formative years being called David-Dean-Denis by my dad. So we abandoned the idea of me taking her maiden name and the ‘hyphen-thing’ (Dobbs-Wilhelm) seemed like too much trouble. Still we were convinced that we should work hard to be a couple that wouldn’t become the stereotypical husband and wife.
 
We were resolute in our desire to live equally as husband and wife. We shared the household tasks. We both worked outside the home. We had a partnership-marriage. Everything was 50-50. We made all of our decisions together. Our mantra was: Whatever we do MUST be good for both of us! There was no “me first”. I made a conscious effort to avoid terms like “the little lady” (although Deb is little and a lady) and I never expected her to sacrifice ANYTHING that she wanted for me or vice-versa. We both would bristle when people assumed that I would be the “bread winner” and she would be the content little “housewife”. Who did they think we were – June and Ward Clever???
 
Then we had children. And we adapted our ‘Modern Family’ in a way that I would have never imagined. Deb chose to work part-time and forsake a career. This was unthinkable just a few years earlier but looking at Tyson’s sweet face for the first time we knew we couldn’t place him in daycare. So we adjusted our lives accordingly. I worked days; Deb worked nights and we were blessed with a sister-in-law who would cover the overlap times (Aunt Pat is still adored by her niece and nephews). And then came Bess. And then came Blake. So we shared the load. We both changed diapers; gave baths; took turns with feedings; read bedtime stories; etc., etc.  For several years we took opposite shifts at home. Deb handled the daytime – breakfast, lunch, playtime, nap time; I took care of the nighttime – dinner, bath, bedtime stories & prayers. I believed then that my sons and daughter would benefit from having a dad that was ‘hands-on’. I still believe that today.

When I see what my son-in-law Travis does everyday for his kids and how natural Tyson is with his daughter it reminds me how much I loved those years when my children were small (even the dirty diapers). It was important for me to know that I could do it all – even though I never had to. Deb and I have a partnership. And although our goal was 50-50, anyone in a successful marriage will tell you that sometimes it’s 80-20 or 40-60. You carry your partner when you can because you know the day will come when you’ll need to be carried, too.
 
As the years flew by the children grew and jobs changed and we sort of (gasp!) fell into more traditional roles. I was on a ‘career-track’ and Deb continued to work part-time until the kids were in school. And even when she went back to work full-time her primary focus was still on the kids and the house. We had become what we were determined to avoid – TRADITIONAL.
 
But Deb loves to cook and family mealtime was important. Once our daughter pointed out that we were unusual as a family because we ate dinner together almost every night (at a table and actually speaking to one another!). We worshipped together on Sundays and prayed together at bedtime and at meals. I took care of the lawn. Deb took care of the house. From the “outside looking in” we were very much the kind of couple my parents were – except we chose our roles; they were not thrust upon us.

And that’s what makes us a ‘Modern Family’ today. I work. Deb stays home. She cooks. I eat. I mow the lawn. She cleans the house. We don’t do things this way because we’re expected to – we do things this way because we haven chosen to do things this way. We can both change our grandson’s diaper. We can both travel around the world. We can both lounge on the sofa watching football. We can both freely show emotion or wipe a tear or give a hug or speak our love.
 

The (almost) Dobbs

Today’s ‘Modern Families’ come in lots of different shapes and sizes – single parent families; same-sex couples; blended families; bi-coastal families. But love remains the same. Ultimately what role you fill or how you look to someone else doesn’t really matter. Family is where you can be you. Family is where you can refresh your soul. Family is refuge. Family is hope. Family is eternal. Family is love. I guess that’s not so modern after all.
 
God has blessed Deb and me with one another and with our beautiful children and grandchildren. Our ‘Modern Family’ might not look like the one I envisioned 36 years ago but I really like this one better. And the journey from there to here and beyond continues to be amazing…
 
Peace,
 
Denis

Fatherhood (and Grandfatherhood)

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

Dear Tyson, Bess and Blake,
 
I love being your Dad. It’s the toughest job that I’ve ever loved. And calling fatherhood a job isn’t really accurate. It’s really a vocation; almost an obsession or a passion. I need to be your dad! You kids (and your kids) bring balance and purpose to my life; you make it (whatever it might be at the moment) worthwhile and meaningful.
 
I’m not suggesting that I’m a great dad or even a good one but I’VE ALWAYS WANTED TO BE. And mistakes that I’ve made with you (and there were plenty) I’m trying to make up for with your children. It’s my second chance.
 
When people ask me what age I enjoyed the most with each of you, I always say “All of them.” And it’s true. I loved having babies (even with colic and dirty diapers) because there is nothing sweeter than baby milk-breath and skin so soft that you can barely feel it with rough dad hands. I can still smell of Baby Magic Lotion® after all these years. I loved you as toddlers and pre-schoolers because watching as you discovered new things each day gave me a renewed interest in learning myself. Plus Fisher-Price® toys rocked! I loved your grade school years – the uniforms, the lunch boxes, the report cards – and papers, papers, everywhere! Memories of Cub Scouts, Brownies, First Communions, Christmas Pageants (um-diddle-diddle-um-diddle-eye!) still warm my heart. I loved your high school years; watching you develop before my very eyes from awkward teenagers into two young men and a young woman. I loved every basketball game, wrestling meet, school play and sports banquet and AFS dinner. At the time I didn’t fully appreciate being your Scout Master or the Chairman of The Booster Club but those experiences made me proud of you then (even if I was only Scout Master or Chairman because no one else raised their hand). You were (and are) so smart; so confident; so beautiful. Your teen years -what an amazing transformation! 

Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, you were grown and gone! But not really gone (not gone from me). Gone on to do big things, important things but still carrying Dad around in your hearts (I hope). Your adult years – The Air Force for you Tyson and University for you Bess and Blake. And then marriages and careers and other grown up stuff. Now Tyson you’re a Dad, too. And Bess you’re a Mommy of two. How did it happen so fast?

Ty, Bess and Blake

My happiest and saddest times have been as your dad. My greatest joys and greatest heartaches have come from you. But mostly joy and ALWAYS love. Pure love – dad love. There is something almost primal about my need to love and protect you – maybe its self-preservation. I don’t know, maybe when the first dad (Adam?) crawled out of the primordial ooze we were all pre-wired to protect our offspring in order to make certain our species would survive. Who knows?

What I do know is that you three are the manifestation of the love that Mom and I share. Seems almost greedy – to have a love as beautiful as ours and three remarkable children to boot. But I’ll take it!
 
And Charlise, Anna and Noah?  Well they’re just the icing on the cake!
 
Peace and love,
 
Dad

P.S. One of toughest times for me was when I moved to Wisconsin ahead of you and Mom and we spent most of that first year apart. This songs bring back that bittersweet memory. (The video is kind of lame but the lyrics still get to me).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k1yTWauVjwo

Birthday Party!

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Three is BIG (sort of)!

Today is THE DAY. It’s Birthday Party Day! Granddaughter Anna turned 3 on Thursday and this afternoon she’s having HER BIG PARTY. Three year-old birthday parties are big stuff – there’ll be cake and ice cream and ‘themed’ decorations. Anna’s cousins and friends will be there as well as Aunt’s and Uncles and Grandparents. And in the middle of it all there will be this tiny three year-old wielding her “Birthday Power”. It’s mystical! When it’s your birthday you reign supreme – at least when you’re three! I’m not sure that she understands that this party is all for her. On Thursday when I said to her, “Happy Birthday Anna”, her response was, “Happy Birthday Pawpaw!” But I have a feeling by the end of the day she’ll have it figured out. After heavy doses of sugar and lots of presents and having her picture taken a thousand times, she’ll be likely be ‘channeling’ Shirley Temple in “The Little Princess”. Entitled but benevolent ~ gifted yet gracious.

Oh Anna, how did you get to be a big girl so fast? It seems like just yesterday I was holding you for the first time in the hospital and now you’re three! But even though three is BIG; as you yourself explained it, “Pawpaw I’m still a little girl and sometimes little girls like to be carried and sometimes they like to walk.” So I’m going to ‘carry you’ as long as you’ll let me. In my heart you will always be that tiny baby girl in my arms (just like your Mommy is) and I will cherish that memory forever. So go ahead and get BIG and be everything that you are meant to be. I’ll be standing here on the side-lines watching and trying to capture each precious moment as it passes by. You’ll ALWAYS be my girl and I’ll always be your Pawpaw.

So LET’S GET THE PARTY STARTED! And if sometime during your BIG DAY you need to be ‘carried’, I’ll be waiting here with open arms.

Happy Birthday!

Love,
Pawpaw