Baby, Oh Baby!

Our daughter Bess is due next weekend. Seems like we’ve waited a long time for Baby Number Two – and now all of sudden it’s time! I don’t why I have to be ready but I feel like I do.  And how exactly am I supposed to ready myself?  Third grandchild.  Second child of my daughter and son-in-law.  We’ve been down this road before.  We’re experienced.  And yet this morning I was praying for Bess and Baby and I remembered how excited we were when our third child was born. 

Bess is ready!

I’ll never forget the nurse in the hospital that thought Blake was our first child because we were so happy.  And how much her surprise at finding out he was our third disturbed me.  Oh sure, there’s some stuff we thought we knew but we didn’t know him and we hadn’t ever had three children  before.  And maybe it was just a little bit scary but it was wonderful!  How could we not be excited?

Bess is ready.  Travis is ready.  The nursery is ready.  Anna is as ready as a two year old can be (her going to Nana & Pawpaw’s suitcase is packed).  All necessary preparations have been made.  We’re all prepared.  But babies have a funny way of changing the rules.  They come when they’re ready.  They sometimes come with a roar.   They sometimes come with a whimper.  But Baby will come and be loved and our lives will be filled with more joy.

I’m out of town right now and I feel a little anxious about Baby arriving while I’m gone.  As if she or he needs me to be there.  I guess it’s selfish but I want to be there and see that face and meet that little person that will change our lives and win our hearts – yes it’s been done before but not like this and not with this little individual.  God continues to bless us.  I just want to be there to give thanks.

Here’s my prayer:

All loving God,

Hear my prayer for my daughter Bess who awaits the birth of her child.  She has cooperated with you in giving life.  Assist her as she prepares to give birth to her baby.  May she be filled with your peace and blessing so that she may bring her child into this world safely and in good health.

Amen

My prayer is also that all babies could be loved as much as I know this one will be.

Peace,

Denis

Brotherly Love

This past weekend my nephew Dave married his love Laura.  It was a beautiful wedding and a fabulous family celebration!  Relatives I hadn’t seen in a while were in attendance and new friendships were formed with Laura’s family.  Phenomenal weather, beautiful ceremony, fun reception – all around great day!  Our granddaughter Charlise was the Flower Girl.  Of course Deb and I were proud and pleased to see her be part of the wedding ceremony.  And while my heart was over-flowing with emotions – my nephew getting married; my beautiful granddaughter; recollections of my own wedding (centuries ago) – I couldn’t help but feel a little sadness, too.  You see our son Tyson, Charlise’s father, wasn’t able to be with us on Saturday.  Tyson is in the Air Force and is currently stationed in Germany awaiting orders for Korea.  He’ll be home on leave in November but needless to say, he couldn’t be with us at Dave and Laura’s wedding.  So it was bittersweet watching his little girl walking down the aisle knowing that her Daddy was in Germany alone.  Such is the life of a military man – sacrifice.

Fortunately our daughter Bess, our son-in-law Travis, our son Blake and his girlfriend Julia were with us.  And each of them seemed to step in for Tyson when the need arose.  Before the wedding when Charlise was getting a little ‘antsy’ her Uncle Blake amused her and kept her ever-joyful.  Her Aunt Bess helped her with last minute adjustments to her dress/hair/flowers.  All of them doted on her and made her feel like the center of attention (and at times she seemed to be).  Between the wedding and reception our family along with my niece and her fiancé went to a local restaurant where Charlise was treated as a princess by all – even the wait staff.  She was beaming! 

Later while I was dancing with Charlise at the reception I noticed Bess and Travis and Blake and Julia all eagerly awaiting their turn to dance with her.  Her Aunt and Uncles were proxy Daddies on Saturday and Charlise never lacked for attention or love the entire day.  Did they do this for Charlise or Ty?  I’m sure that they didn’t give it that much thought.  It’s just what they do. Our kids (and the ones they love) have an extraordinary capacity for caring.  Debbie and I have made lots of mistakes (well mostly me) but one thing I am sure that we did right along the way was to teach our children how to love.  How to give.  How to care.  And on Saturday my heart nearly burst with pride for the way they ‘loved’, ‘cared for’ and ‘gave to’ Tyson in loving, caring and giving to his daughter.  He may not have been there to share in the joy of the day but he can rest assured that his siblings were there for him.  It’s just the way they’re made – from love.

Peace,

Denis

Put Your Play Clothes On!

Last week my two year old granddaughter Anna met me at the back door.  It had been a long and stressful day –unreasonable customers; blundering suppliers; disgruntled employees; disappointing profit margins; idiot commuters; and me!  Me: all serious and angry and full of spite.  And Anna: all smiles and giggles and full of joy.  I hadn’t even entered the house and she was there jumping up and down; excited and happy to see me.  What had I done to deserve such a welcome?  It didn’t matter.  Before I could scoop her up in my arms she asked me, “Pawpaw, you wanna put your play clothes on?”  Those words were music to my ears!

Who wouldn’t want to drop EVERYTHING (bad mood, shitty day, lousy traffic) and put their play clothes on?  Anna and I then ran to my room and while I changed my clothes something magical happened – I changed; I really changed.  I felt better instantly!  Anna didn’t care about profits or schedules or developmental deals.  She just wanted to play with her Pawpaw.  And so we did! 

I shed more than my business attire when I put on my play clothes.  I let go of my day.  And I was able to focus on what was really important – my loved ones.  I listened (really listened) to Anna.  She had so much to tell me about what she and her Nana had done that day.  And her happiness was contagious.  Soon I was happy, too.  I guess it took putting on my play clothes to see through the eyes of a two year old.  I thanked God right then and there for sending this little angel into my life.  Maybe she knew what I needed – when I couldn’t see it myself.

We went outside and watered flowers and she drank from the garden hose – which is very exotic when you’re a two year old.  We played with the dogs.  We laughed.  We ran around the backyard.  I got lots of kisses and hugs (and returned the favor, too).  And she told me that she loved me for no apparent reason. What a difference a change of clothes makes! It was really nothing remarkable, just simple fun with my granddaughter – which is what made it so special. 

So the next time you’re having a lousy day and your world is a little more than you can handle, I recommend that you “put your play clothes on”.  I’m willing to bet that you will change more than your clothes.

Peace,

Denis

The First Day

On August 31, 2010 our granddaughter Charlise starts kindergarten.  She’s our first granddaughter, so she gets to do all the ‘firsts’.  Tomorrow is a big day for her and for us, too.  It seems like just yesterday that she was born.  Now she starts kindergarten.  She’s ready; we’re not.  She’s still our baby girl (and always will be).

But I’ve been thinking about ‘first days’ a lot lately: 

Charlise starts her first day of school at Central Elementary – it sounds so official.  Do I need to go there and make sure that the teachers and principal know how special she is?  I know that they will teach her.  But will they protect her?  Love her?  Care for her?  Will they know that she’s too precious to be considered “just another kindergartener”? 

My nephew David is getting married this weekend and he and Laura will soon have their ‘first day’ as husband and wife.  Do they understand what this all means (does anyone)?  Are they really prepared to love, honor and (I don’t know – do we still say “obey”)?   Will their ‘honeymoon’ last forever?  Is their life together going to be ‘The Excellent Adventure’ that marriage is meant to be?

My daughter and son-in-law are about to welcome a new baby into their home.  And his or her ‘first day’ will change EVERYTHING.  Bess is due in just a couple of weeks and right now the anticipation of a new baby is a little nerve-racking but the miracle of another new life makes it all worthwhile.  This baby’s ‘first day’ will be a cause for joy and celebration and will become this special little someone’s ‘birthday’ to be celebrated each year! 

All ready for her first day!

These ‘first days’ are only important because they mark the start of something bigger:  a new academic beginning; a new marriage; a new life.  ‘First days’ are full of emotion and joy and apprehension and unknown.  Imagine if each day was treated like a ‘first day’.  Think about how exciting your job would be if you looked at each day as a ‘first day’ – dressing up and having your picture taken before you ventured out.  Wonder, if you will, about how much better your marriage could be if you were as excited about rolling over in bed to kiss goodnight as you were on your wedding day.  What if you could get ‘butterflies in your stomach’ just thinking about sharing breakfast together?  And what if each day was celebrated as a ‘birthday’?  What kind of change in attitude might we experience if we thanked God each day for our life and the lives of those we love?  How different would we feel if we celebrated the miracle of life constantly – even the cranky middle-aged lives like mine?

Tomorrow will be Charlise’s ‘first day’ and I will be proud and happy for her and a little emotional.  There will probably be a special ‘first day’ breakfast before she leaves the house.  There will be excitment all day and lots to talk about when she gets home.  What fun!

I’m praying that I can be just as excited about coming to work tomorrow.  Maybe I’ll dress up and have Deb take my picture before I leave the house.  Who knows it could the ‘first day’ of my new attitude!

Peace,

Denis

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QWfZ5SZZ4xE&feature=fvw

Please Hold Your Applause

All three of our children graduated from Homestead High School in Mequon, Wisconsin. Homestead was consistently ranked near the top of all high schools in Wisconsin for academic excellence. We were blessed to live in a community with such a great public high school. Homestead rivaled most private high schools in our area.

During the years our kids went to Homestead there were roughly 1,300 students; so graduating classes were typically about 300-350 kids. Because of the large number of graduates, each year at the graduation ceremonies they would ask all those in attendance to hold their applause until ALL students received their diplomas.

This worked. People complied. Except for the families of black students. Homestead had a minority student population of about 10% – most of those kids were black. There were Hispanic and Asian kids but they probably made up less than 2% of the total student body. So while most of the graduating class’s families sat politely quiet about 8% of those in attendance would cheer loudly for their graduates. I never found this particularly disturbing but it was always interesting to me – there’s probably a sociological study in there somewhere. The clapping and cheering likely only added an additional 20 – 30 minutes to the graduation ceremonies. So no big deal (or so I thought).

Our youngest child Blake was (and still is) an enigma! He was a National Merit Semifinalist. He was offered a full-ride scholarship to Ball State University in Indiana. He had been accepted (and enrolled) into the University of Wisconsin. And yet, we didn’t know until the day of his graduation whether or not he would actully graduate! It seems that he had not done most of his homework or term papers for the last quarter of his senior year. Furthermore not until we received his progress reports (lack of progress is more like it) did we even know that there was a problem.

Needless to say, graduation day for Blake had us on ‘pins and needles’. What would we tell grandparents that had made the trip from Missouri? What would it mean if he didn’t graduate? Would Wisconsin withdraw their acceptance? Would he have to stay home another year? God help us all!

But Blake turned in all his missing assignments; took make-up tests, finished term papers. And we waited. Because grading wasn’t complete until the Friday before Sunday’s graduation, we wouldn’t know whether his “make-up work” would work.

So on Sunday we sat in the Field House listening as names were announced (and I was silently cursing the fact that our last name begins with a “W” because we had to wait through nearly the entire alphabet). We sat for what seemed like days – and then a miracle: “BLAKE WILHELM”! And then the cheers! Why were people cheering for Blake? And why was it all the black families? And with that, I witnessed another miracle, Blake parading in with Honor Cords; not only had he graduated but he apparently managed to do work good enough to make the honor roll. I was torn between being relieved, proud and wanting to strangle him with those gold cords!

And why were the black families cheering for him anyway? Did they know what he had managed to pull off? Did they admire his ability to overcome his obstacles? Or did they just love Blake because he’s such a great kid? NO – none of the above. Turns out that Blake had gone to every black kid in his graduating class and asked them to ask their families to cheer when (if) his name was announced.

Life with Blake has always been like a roller-coaster – lots of ups and downs. But the ride is a hell of a lot of fun! Thanks for the ride Blake – I love you (and I’m still cheering, too).

Peace,

Dad

The Wads

Our daughter Bess’ first college roommate was a one of her best friends from Homestead High School.  Down the hall from her dorm room was one of her other best friends from grade school and high school.  So leaving her at the University of Wisconsin that freshman year didn’t seem quite so daunting because she had good friends nearby.  That year she would meet two other girls – one from Cedarburg High School just north of where we lived, and another from Minnesota.  Even though Bess and Laurie had been friends the longest (since 6th grade) and she had known Kristy since freshman basketball in high school, all five girls bonded pretty quickly.  They became a pack and carried (or were carried) by one another for the next four years.  Their friendship continues to this day and I suspect it will last their lifetimes.

Their junior year at Wisconsin it was decided that they would leave the dorms and move into a townhouse apartment – the five plus one more.  Six girls in a townhouse with 2 bathrooms – that’s three girls per bathroom – you can do the math yourself.  College-age girls share EVERYTHING.  They shared one another’s clothes; they shared each others cosmetics; they drank and ate after one another (I found this particularly disgusting); they even shared one another’s beds – perhaps if it was a stormy night or if they had nightmares (and probably when a roommate had a boy spend the night – I’m just sayin’…).  It was this habit of being so TOGETHER (literally and figuratively) that garnered them the nickname ‘The Gay-wads’.  Now for the record that nickname came from one of the other dads – not yours truly!  I’m not certain what he meant exactly (probably just that they were too close and that outsiders might think they were gay, I suppose) but the girls thought it was hysterical and after that they referred to themselves as the ‘The Gay-wads’; later shortened to ‘The Wads’. 

The following year the ‘plus one’ moved on and ‘The Wads’ moved to yet another place (sans Laurie who was studying abroad in Spain).  This time they lived in a converted bungalow with an additional couple of new girls.  But ‘The Wads’ remained solid.  I’ve only been allowed a glimpse or two into their world – the shared stories have been altered (and sanitized).  There’s a reason that the University of Wisconsin was voted the #1 party school.  I’m sure ‘The Wads’ helped maintain that reputation.  In spite of all the partying, I know that these girls were there for one another time and time again.  I’m certain that some actual studying took place, too.  After all, they did all five graduate!

Graduation from Wisconsin was bittersweet – they would all be moving on.  Some of them would work after graduation; some would continue on to graduate school.  But one thing was certain:  LIFE WAS CHANGING. 

Our daughter graduated with a double major in Political Science and Spanish and went to work in Human Resources at a large hospital in Milwaukee.  Kristy went on to a doctoral program in Boston via Purdue and Austin.  Laurie went to law school at Marquette in Milwaukee.  Katie went to work as a nurse in a hospital in Boston.  And Amanda joined the Peace Corp, eventually ending up in grad school in Michigan.  The ‘Wads’ were officially grown-ups (sort of).

Today all five are married (to people that I approve of – as if that matters).  Our daughter, Bess was the first to marry – seven years ago.  Katie was the last – two weeks ago.  Their lives have taken each of them in different directions and they all have a world of opportunities and experiences still awaiting them.  But when they get together once or twice a year they are still the ‘Wads’.  They laugh at the same silly jokes and reminisce about the same crazy adventures (or misadventures) that they shared.  The spouses have been allowed to come along on this journey and it’s a testament to their love that each husband or wife seems to enjoy/tolerate ‘Wad Weekend’.  I believe the spouses may have formed a support group of their own.

Sometimes I miss those girls that were – before jobs and spouses and children.  There was once an innocence about them and it seemed like collectively they would one day rock our world!  But you know, the reality is they are rocking our world.  They are all contributing members of our society.  They think before they act.  They work for positive change. They care for those in need. They are stewards of our planet.  They are the teachers, nurturers, builders of a future that embraces diversity and opportunity of all.  They are the best our world has to offer. 

When they get together they might still be “Gay-wads”.  They might giggle and act like 18 year-olds again but something happens when they go home.  They become the women of integrity and substance and beauty that they were meant to be.  And I am honored to know them. 

Our daughter Bess is raising her own beautiful daughter now and will give birth to baby #2 in just a few weeks.  My prayer is that someday my grandchildren have their own group of ‘Wads’ and that they will know that kind of true and lasting friendship.

Peace,

Denis

Momma’s Boy

My son Tyson is a ‘Momma’s Boy’.  I don’t say that with any disrespect or condescension.  I just mean he is unabashedly a man who loves his mother.  And he ALWAYS has.  He has never been afraid to openly show affection toward her.  His concern and love is at once both honorable and heartbreakingly beautiful.  I’ve heard it said that “the greatest gift a father can give his children – is to love their mother”.  I wonder if anyone has ever considered that “the greatest gift a son can give his father – is to love his wife”?  Ty loves his Mom and of course she loves him, too.  But I get to live with the comfort of knowing that should anything ever happen to me – Tyson would be there for Deb.  That’s what a ‘Momma’s Boy’ does: he loves his Momma!

When Ty was a little guy he needed his Mom like all little boys do:  He needed to be nursed; he needed dry diapers; he needed to be comforted in times of sickness.  As he grew older his needs changed but they still involved Mom: help with homework, lunch for school, clean uniforms, car-pooling to and from sports, scouts, etc.  And as he got even older:  wise counsel, a shoulder to lean on, endless moral support, and undying love.  All provided by good ol’ Mom. 

Once when Tyson was in grade school he came to me to upset because he cried too easily.  He always seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve.  Of course this made him a target for other kids at school.  I explained to him that he was like Mom – people that have really big hearts will get them bruised more easily.  I told him it’s the price that you pay for being tender-hearted; that when you have a greater capacity to love, you also have a greater chance of being hurt.  At the young age of 7 or 8, he seemed to understand this.  He decided then that his ability to “love like Mom” was worth the risk of an occasional broken heart. 

Tyson never shied away from hugging or kissing his Mom is public.  I still remember ‘Parents’ Night’ each year for the wrestling squad at Homestead High School.  The team would be presented and then the parents would be called forward.  Each wrestler had a bouquet of flowers for their mom.  Tyson always hugged and kissed Deb while presenting her bouquet – most of his teammates sort of sheepishly handed the flowers to their mothers.  I still feel tremendous pride for those evenings.  What a beautiful way to honor his mother.  And he didn’t flinch when ‘the guys’ would snicker or smirk – he was too proud of her to allow their immaturity to ruin his moment.

Momma and her boy

Tyson is a smart guy – smart enough to know that Mom is the rock of our family.  She’s the one that will sit up all night to listen to your heartache.  She’s the one that can provide emergency medical care in a pinch.  She’s the one that will put on a meal, make up a bed, throw out the welcome mat or get on a plane if you NEED her.  And it’s not always necessary to ask – Mom knows!  She’s got that ability (call it woman’s intuition or something supernatural) that makes her able to sense stuff that mere mortals can’t see or hear.  She’s like an oracle.  I swear she anticipates calls for help from her children and she’s always ready to spring into action.

When I say Ty is a ‘Momma’s Boy’ I don’t mean he’s a wuss or a cry-baby.  I mean that he’s a man who loves his mother.  I know that he understands what an amazing woman with which God has blessed him. And I know that he will be forever grateful for the man that she has helped him become.

Peace,

Denis

Baby Sister

Our 2 year old granddaughter Anna is about to become a BIG SISTER.  Our daughter’s second baby is due next month.  It’s amazing how the baby becomes the big brother/sister literally overnight.  When our daughter was born our son Tyson was only 19 months old – instantly he became THE BIG BOY.  Of course he was still sleeping in a crib and he was still in diapers but in comparison to his newborn sister, he was a big boy.  The same will be true for Anna – she’ll always be our special baby girl but next month she’ll be the BIG GIRL when compared to her infant brother or sister.  And so it goes…

When I was ten years old I was still the baby of our family.  I had two older brothers and it seemed that I was destined to always be the little one.  But then the most amazing thing happened:  My baby sister was born!  Being 10 years old and having a baby sister might have been traumatic to some kids (I think my parents were secretly worried that I might strangle her in her crib) but I was the happiest kid on the block.  The baby was OUR BABY.  We (my brothers and I) all got to share her.  Mom allowed (or needed) us to help out with diapers and bottles and babysitting.  I felt so big!  I wasn’t the baby anymore.  And I loved it.  Even more – I loved her.  And I still do!

Kay and me - Christmas 1968

My sister Kay will always be my baby sister.  She’s a grandmother now but she’s still my baby sister.  I often think about how God has blessed me with Kay.  The obvious blessing was that it got me out of being the ‘baby of the family’.  But more importantly I got “hands on” training with an infant, and then a toddler, and then a  preschooler, and so on.  When I became a parent myself, I wasn’t afraid of my own baby like some young parents – I’d already done a lot of this stuff!  Plus I learned some important LIFE STUFF, too – like how to share and how to love someone more than myself. 

I can still remember so vividly that tiny pink bundle in Mom’s arms the day she came home from the hospital.  I knew then that was I the luckiest brother in the world (and I still am).  I became a dorky teenager and while kids my own age were interested in things that I lacked the maturity to handle (they likely did as well) I could retreat into play-time with my little sister.  As we grow older we grow even closer emotionally.  We are joined in a way that brothers and sisters are meant to be – emotionally, spiritually, eternally.  I talk to her most every day and she understands things about me that only she can – we were raised by the same two parents (it’s called sibling empathy).  Even though we are ten years apart we have many of the same emotional triggers and we share a lot of the same quirks.  We laugh at the same lame jokes and we sometimes “get it” when no one else does.  We have shared good times and bad.  And we will always be there for one another, even for the shitty stuff. 

I hope that Anna has the same joys and blessings with her baby brother or sister that I have had with mine.  I thank God each day for her.  At ten years old I didn’t know what was coming my way – God’s plan is still being revealed to me even today.  But I do know that my baby sister is one of His many blessings and I will always be a grateful BIG BROTHER.

I love you, Sissy!

Peace,

Denis

Cousins

Our granddaughters are cousins –  five year old Charlise is our son’s daughter and two year old Anna is our daughter’s daughter.  These two really love one another and they love being together.  It’s pure joy to watch how they talk and play and care for each other.  They live about an hour apart now and we try to have them spend time together as often as possible.

I love to eaves-drop on their conversations when they’re playing. They play a lot of “pretend” and Anna usually follows Charlise’s lead but sometimes Anna decides to do things her way and Charlise usually obliges. Depending on what the “pretend” game is the conversations vary but generally it’s some variation on Disney Princesses or Dora the Explorer.  Most often Charlise is Dora and Anna is Boots, Dora’s faithful monkey friend.  Pretty fitting actually – Anna climbs on everything and Charlise likes to wear a backpack.

Yesterday they were playing together in the ‘blow-up’ pool on our patio.  Charlise has been taking swimming lessons and was showing us how she can hold her breath and swim underwater.  Of course whatever Charlise does, Anna MUST do as well.  When Anna put her head underwater she took a big gulp and came up coughing and frightened.  She started to cry and immediately Charlise held her in her arms gently and sang very softly “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star…”  The two of them held onto each other until the song was over.  And then Anna let out a little ‘fake cry’ and the process started all over again – both of them embraced, Charlise singing and Anna being comforted.  How I wished I would have had a video camera – talk about your Hallmark® commercial moment”! 

But unlike Hallmark® commercials this moment was completely unscripted.  And it wasn’t done for attention or approval.  It was just one sweet girl cousin comforting her baby girl cousin because she loves her and because she cares.  And I was blessed for having witnessed this.  These girls will grow up and may grow apart (but please God don’t let that happen!) and they probably will choose different paths.  Like many cousins they may have very different lives some day.  But for this one brief moment they connected in a way that was so profound it brought me to tears.  And I thanked God at that instant for granddaughters that love one another.  And I thanked God for parents that have taught their daughters so well.  I can’t help but wonder how many times Charlise has been comforted with “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star…”  And how good it must have felt in her little heart to share that gift with “Baby Anna”.

Dear God, thank you for our beautiful granddaughters.  It’s true that You give us more than we deserve!

Peace,

Denis