life

Kindergarten and Beyond…

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

Granddaughter Anna started Kindergarten this week. It’s one of life’s big milestones, like  first steps or first words. But Kindergarten is more than just a milestone, it’s about education. It’s the door to knowledge and adventure and socialization and community. Certainly Anna’s education began the day she was born. The difference is the fact that Kindergarten is formal education provided by professional teachers. And everything from this day forward will be on her “permanent record”.

Ready to learn!

Ready to learn!

That seems like a tall order for a little person. But I’m confident that she will succeed and thrive. Anna is bright, loving, inquisitive and kind. Her school is filled with loving, caring educators who put the children in their care above all other concerns. And she has parents who will support her and the school in their shared goal of educating Anna.

Still I’m feeling a bit ambivalent about all this BIG GIRL stuff. Maybe I’m being too sappy and overly sentimental. I suppose all parents (and sappy grandparents, too) are entitled to a few tears on the first day. But that should quickly give way to the excitement of new adventures in learning for our children and grandchildren.

Anna has already learned so much in her five short years. Her knowledge will grow exponentially now that she is in school. And soon I will be struggling to keep up with her. I just hope that she can teach this old dog a few new tricks along the way…

Peace,

Denis

A World of Brothers and Sisters

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At the World Youth Day in Brazil, Pope Francis asked young people to “create a world of brothers and sisters.” He also visited one of Rio’s notorious favelas (slums) to call attention to the poor, disenfranchised and marginalized.

What a message for our youth today: Love all people as a brother or sister and stop chasing material happiness to the detriment of those with less.

Pretty counter-cultural stuff. Do we as the parents and grandparents of today’s youth support these ideals? Do we show our love for our enemies by our words and actions? Do we support global justice? Where do we stand on immigration reform? These are not easy questions to answer. Who amongst us wants less for our own children? Isn’t the American Dream a set of ideals in which freedom includes the opportunity for prosperity and success, and an upward mobility? But should our personal success and upward mobility be at the expense of our brothers and sisters? As Christians shouldn’t we have a preference for the poor? Francis gives us much to ponder.

It’s hard sometimes to think globally. It’s too big. Too distant. It’s too removed from my world. It’s easy to dismiss Darfur or Egypt or the slums of Rio. But what about my brothers and sisters in my own community?

Recently two failing school districts in Saint Louis have requested help from other districts, one being the district in which I reside. Because these failing districts have lost their accreditation students graduating from their high schools find acceptance at colleges and universities nearly impossible. There is a myriad of reasons for these failures but mostly it is economic and poor kids are suffering. So while the Pope is imploring our youth to reach out to those in need; to create a world of brothers and sisters, some Christians in my community are fighting to keep these “unwanted students” out of our schools. There are concerns about property values, violence and drugs entering our school systems. This matter is further complicated by the fact that these two predominately black districts have requested help from two predominately white districts.

I understand and appreciate concerns for the safety of our children. I also realize that these are complex issues that the local media has reduced to sound-bites. But how can we foster “a world of brothers and sisters” across the ocean when we can’t peacefully and lovingly accept those brothers and sisters across the river? What would Jesus do?

I think that Francis is telling us. And I suspect that more prayer will be required…

Peace,

Denis

It’s Good And Good For You

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I’m blessed to be married to a good cook. Actually “good cook” is an understatement; great cook or fabulous cook is more accurate. It’s fair to say that we eat better than most. Our son who cooks professionally credits his mother for both his success in the kitchen and his love of food.

My standard line when served yet another delicious meal is usually, “It’s good and good for you.” Truth be told, the “good for you” might sometimes be a stretch. Someone much smarter than me once said, “Man cannot live by bread alone.” So occasionally we need a little butter or cheese or chocolate…

After living the better part of last year in England people often ask us if we miss our life there. The answer is always yes. When asked what we miss most, I usually say the food (and wine). There’s a common misperception in the U.S. that English food is bad. We found it to be quite to the contrary. The produce and meats and cheeses in our local markets were fresher and usually locally produced. And good French and Italian wines were inexpensive. English wine is lousy but this is made up for by the excellent cheese and goat butter.

Wild Duck Inn - Ewen, England

Wild Duck Inn – Ewen, England

Dining out in England could be at times challenging. There are plenty of ‘Fish and Chips’ shops and every village seems to have a Curry restaurant. Some of those places are a bit dodgy. But great restaurants can be found and often in unexpected places. Two of our favorites: The Wild Duck Inn located in a tiny village called Ewen and Cricklade House in Cricklade which is an old Saxon town. Both were just minutes from where we lived. Of course our best meals in England were served in Oaksey in our own cottage – thanks Deb!

I’ve never intentionally plugged a business in my blog but recently we had a restaurant experience that reminded us of some our best meals in England and Europe. We dined with great friends, which always makes a meal better, at a small restaurant just minutes from where we now live. Another amazing meal in an unexpected place. Stone Soup Cottage in Cottleville, Missouri is without a doubt the best dining experience we’ve had since leaving England (with the exception of Deb’s kitchen of course).

Chef Carl and his wife Nancy have converted a small house into an intimate restaurant. The food is beyond spectacular and the warm and welcoming environment add to the charm of the place. In Europe when you dine out you “own the table” for the evening. No one would ever bring you the check until you ask. None of this “I’m just leaving the check, please take your time.” which translates into “Please hurry up, we’d like to seat someone else at this table.” In much the same way at Stone Soup Cottage we were allowed to dine at our leisure. Carl’s creations were exquisite and Nancy’s wine pairings were perfect. We thoroughly enjoyed and savoured every morsel.

Dining at Stone Soup Cottage is not inexpensive and it might literally take months to get a reservation but it’s worth saving your pennies and planning ahead. After all, sometimes treating yourself really is “good and good for you.” And Deb deserves a break every now and again.

Bon appetit,

Denis

http://www.stonesoupcottage.com/

High School Class Reunion and Beyond…

/ Denis Wilhelm / 3 Comments

Saturday was my high school class reunion. I have to admit that I approached this reunion with some amount of trepidation. I’m not sure why. I’m not the only one who is now 40 years older than when we graduated. We’ve all had our share of life’s joys and sorrows; triumphs and setbacks. But High School leaves this indelible mark on your psyche: jock or geek; brainiac or goof-off; good girl or bad boy. Some of us spend the rest of our lives trying to live-down our high school hijinks and some of us spend the rest our lives trying to relive our glory days (sad to think that some might have actually peaked in high school).

I suppose secretly I was hoping that maybe the captain of the basketball team would be fat and bald and that the homecoming queen would be a hot mess. Turns out that they are still attractive and even more importantly they are nice people. Guys that were jerks in high school seem to have mellowed with age. Girls that were unattainable then are somebody’s grandmother today and still beautiful. Some former classmates have incredible families. Some have had amazing careers. Some have accomplished great things. Some have enjoyed simple pleasures and good lives. It appears that time is the great equalizer.

I was the geeky kid that always forced my way into situations where I didn’t belong (probably still do). My best friend was a popular jock in high school and NEVER stopped being my friend although I probably made it difficult for him at times when I was in full nerd mode (we’re still friends today). The smart kids were my friends in school too, even though I barely managed a C average (maybe they took pity on me). I suppose that I never knew my place. Still don’t.

But the place I’ve found, with my lovely wife, has been the perfect place for me. We’ve built a life together that is full of love, joy and laughter. We’ve celebrated our successes, shouldered our burdens together and been partners through it all.

My class reunion was a lot of fun. I reconnected with people I hadn’t seen in years. We shared a lot of good memories and plenty of laughs. I realized last Saturday that reunions are a reminder that life is precious and time marches on.

Once upon a time a group of individuals shared a special time and place: High School. It was unique to us. For some it might have been angst-ridden; for others it might have been delightful; and for still others it might have been a bore. But it was ours.

We were the Duchesne High School Class of 1973!

Peace,

Denis

Nearly a Near Death Experience

/ Denis Wilhelm / 3 Comments

For several years now we have vacationed on the Gulf of Mexico in Florida with our daughter, son-in-law and grandkids. Last week was our week on the beach. The first full day it rained – all day! So when the sun came up on day two, we were ready to have some fun. Because of the storms from the previous week and the subsequent strong waves and rip tides, red caution flags were flying. My daughter and I were undaunted. We would ride the waves but do it cautiously. After a few minutes in the water it became apparent that we were too far from shore. It all happened very quickly.

My daughter Bess abandoned her flotation device (actually just a swimming pool floatee) and swam toward the beach. As I watched her make it safely to shore the waves pushed me further and further out to sea. I considered leaving my floatee and swimming but by then I was in very deep water and after fighting the waves felt too weak to swim. I held on to my floatee.

So much to live for...

So much to live for…

While I was being submerged by capsizing waves and being pulled by the undertow I came to the realization that I might not make it. My son-in-law swam out to attempt a rescue but the waves were too strong for him (and he’s a strong guy). Again I thought – I MIGHT NOT MAKE IT. I never felt panicky just tired and a little dizzy. I came to the conclusion that drowning wouldn’t be painful – I would probably just doze off and slip into the water – THE END. As each gulp of salt water came more and more frequently it was clear that this was bad – really bad. But I wasn’t ready to die. So I paddled with my arms and kicked with my feet and hugged my floatee for dear life. DEAR LIFE.

After what seemed like hours but was really more like forty-five minutes, through luck and nature’s grace, I finally fought the under tow and came close to shore. A kind stranger came out to help me in the last 20 feet or so. My family met me on the beach with cheers and tears and swears and I collapsed in a heap.

I joked that I wouldn’t need salt on my afternoon margarita and tried to downplay the entire episode. I apologized to my wife Deb who had “told me so”. And I promised to NEVER be so careless in the water again. And I silently thanked God for the grace of allowing me more time.

I don’t know how close my “close call” actually was but it was close enough. Of course I was in the water the next day and several more days after that but only when the red flags were not flying. I’m not afraid to die but I’d rather live (there’s so much to live for!)

Oh, did I mention I saw a shark in the water, too?

Peace,

Denis

Pecking Order

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

Recently when our  two younger grandkids were at the house I walked in and playfully shouted, “Look! It’s Monkey One and Monkey Two!” Anna, who is 2-1/2 years older than Noah, immediately informed me that she is Monkey One. I laughed at the time but I realized how important it is for her to know (and remind all others) that she is first in all things. Little brother, although loved, is always second. Let there be no mistake about it: she is Monkey One.

From left to right: Monkey Two, Monkey One

From left to right:
Monkey Two, Monkey One

This little episode got me thinking about how much importance we place on position, title and hierarchy in our world. And how little it really matters in the grand scheme of things. But we love our titles, whether earned or honorary. In a country with no monarchy we still pay deference to the chief, the bishop, the doctor, the professor, the maestro.

We love to rank people according to their (perceived) worth: Executives, Management, Support Staff, Hourly Workers, Temporary Labor. It’s not enough that people are paid well (or not) but they must also have a title that befits their status in society. I know folks that would take a pay-cut for the right job title. I suppose inside some of us live five year-olds who desperately still need to be “Monkey One”.

The people that I most admire are those individuals who are secure enough that titles really become secondary to the life that they live. I knew a priest that scoffed at the idea of one day possibly being elevated to monsignor (an honorary designation). He said Jesus was called teacher; not priest, bishop or pope. This humble priest would be honored to be remembered as a teacher. Dignity doesn’t come from titles or where we finish in the race or how many votes we get or how much money we make. Dignity is given to us from God.

And I believe that we abuse that gift when we spend too much time comparing ourselves to one another. At times it is extremely hard to love and value the unlovable and unworthy (especially when I’m looking in the mirror). But isn’t that exactly what we are called to do? I struggle every day to follow Jesus’ instruction to love another.

And it’s especially hard to do when I’m judging everyone else’s place at the table…

Peace,

Denis

Five Years Old!

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

Anna at fiveOur granddaughter Anna is five years old today. Five years old! It’s hard to believe that it has been five years since she was born but of course I can barely remember life without her. She has filled our world with light.

And five??? Five is one of those milestone birthdays, like 13 or 21. Kindergarten will begin this fall. She plays soccer now. She takes swimming lessons. She will have her first dance recital this spring. She knows the ‘days of the week’ and ‘months of the year’ and all her colors and numbers and she can write her name and mine too and is beginning to read REAL WORDS. I’m excited for all her ‘firsts’ but truth be told it scares me just a little. I find myself wanting things to slow down. There will be time enough in the future for her to learn how to ride a two-wheeler and study for SAT’s. I need more time RIGHT NOW to treasure her sweetness. Her innocence. I need my baby girl to be a baby a bit longer.

Pawpaw's Girl
Pawpaw’s Girl

But it’s not about what I need. Anna will continue to grow and I will have to adapt. I somehow managed to do that when her mother was transformed from a helpless newborn into a five year-old, who was learning so much, and then into a teenager, who knew too much, and then an adult, who is now teaching me so much. Life goes on. I want Anna to grow up. I want her to take on BEING FIVE with the same excitement and joy and love that she has shown throughout these brief five years. I want her to be undaunted; I want her to conquer the world the way she has conquered my heart. But I hope there’s still some time for baby dolls and Play-Doh®; make-believe and mud puddles.

Our relationship will change. I’ll get older. She’ll get wiser. She won’t need bedtime stories and our silly little games will become – well, silly and little. But I pray that our love for one another never changes.

I know that Anna is growing up and I am truly happy that she is five years old; and I look forward to 13 and 21. I want to be around to witness some of those milestones. I’d like to think that I’ll be on the sidelines cheering her on (and carrying an image of a precious baby girl in my heart).

Happy (Easter) Birthday Anna! Pawpaw loves you very much.

Peace,

Denis

Road Sage

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

I’ve come to a conclusion about bad drivers: none of them is ever me. RoadRage

I find myself screaming nearly every day on my commute to work: “What’s wrong with you?” or “Hang up your phone and drive!” or “Hey jerk, you just ran a red light!” or “What is your hurry; where’s the fire?” or “Why can’t you hurry up, I don’t have all day here?”

So many people to yell at; so many mistakes to point out. It’s exhausting! By the time I reach my office in the morning I can barely pour that first cup of coffee. I feel as if I’ve already worked half a day. Somehow I forge ahead confident in my superior driving technique. I am keenly aware of the bad drivers and can spot them immediately. Beware of the following:

The Radio Singer – this person is rehearsing for their big break on American Idol and they often forget that they are actually behind the wheel of a car. Sometimes they need a friendly toot at a stop light that has already turned green while they’re hitting their high note. Repeated honk-honk-honking can sometimes move them along.

The Bobber & Weaver – this person seems uncertain just what those painted lines on the freeway mean. They often bank their car from side to side in any (sometimes multiple) lane(s). Repeated honk-honk-honking makes them look around and only aggravates the situation.

The Slow Middle Laner – this driver only drives in the middle lane and annoyingly drives the speed limit. Apparently they have never heard of the 5-over rule; which of course means you can always drive at least 5 miles over the speed limit (even in the slow lane). In Illinois it’s the 10-over rule. Repeated honk-honk-honking only seems to strengthen their resolve.

The Braker – this guy hits his brakes every time he sees ANY tail light come on. It doesn’t matter if the illuminated tail light is a half mile ahead. This of course creates a chain reaction for other Brakers (and necessitates the use of curse words for the good drivers like me). Repeated honk-honk-honking just creates more braking.

The Tailgater – this person follows too closely behind the person if front of him (or her). Also known as “riding one’s butt”. This driver believes that they can accelerate the car in front simply by pushing them down the road. This rarely works (See The Slow Middle
Laner above). Repeated honk-honk-honking rarely works either.

The Cell Phone Talker – this driver is so enthralled in some conversation that they often SLOW DOWN to listen. Repeated honk-honk-honking can sometimes jolt them into consciousness and safe-driving.

The Makeup Artist – this driver is usually a woman (although not exclusively) who uses her morning commute as an opportunity to prepare herself to look lovely for the day. Repeated honk-honk-honking can really screw up her ability to apply her mascara properly.

Last year we lived in England. Sometimes I miss life there, with the narrow roads, left-hand driving, right-hand steering wheels. I knew there that I was the bad driver. It also recently occured to me that all the honk-honk-honking in the U.K. might have been directed at me.

Maybe it’s time for a foreign road trip. I could probably use a little humility. On the other hand, it’s good to be the smartest driver on the road.

Peace,

Denis

Jacqueline Jacqueline

/ Denis Wilhelm / 2 Comments

GrannieSeveral years ago while visiting her mother-in-law in a nursing home my mother-in-law encountered a woman who asked her name. She responded, “My name is  Jacqueline; Jacqueline Dobbs.” The inquirer who was clearly suffering from some form of dementia or metal disability replied, “Well that’s an unusual name but it’s very nice to meet you Jacqueline Jacqueline!” And so it went. Every time the woman would encounter my mother-in-law she would greet her as Jacqueline Jacqueline. My mother-in-law found it quite amusing but she was always kind to that stranger and never tried to correct her. She just accepted her as she was.

This week my mother-in-law passed away. I suppose that I’m remembering that story because she too ended her life in a nursing home and was blessed by the kindness of strangers. In the weeks leading to her death she became increasingly weakened by COPD, congestive heart failure, and kidney disease. In addition she was struggling with dementia which was likely brought on by her diminished oxygen levels. Her caregivers were gracious, respectful and loving and she in-turn won their hearts. Because of her dementia she sometimes believed that she was visited by television celebrities and was convinced that beautiful lake homes surrounded the nursing facility. Her imaginations were very real to her. And the staff indulged her and just accepted her as she was. When it became clear that she wouldn’t survive, the nursing staff embraced our family with overwhelming love and kindness.

My mother-in-law wasn’t always easy to be around. And I often joked that she had been in a bad mood for nearly 40 years because she was unhappy that Deb had agreed to marry me (she apparently had imagined a better life for her daughter). The truth is, our relationship was pretty tense at times. But life went on and after many years she accepted the fact that I wasn’t going away. We shared the love of the same people and ultimately learned to love one another.

The last several weeks of her life Jackie seemed let go of her anger and disappointment and she and I had the best days of our 38 years together. It was the most beautiful gift that she could have ever given me. I realize now that she did love me and was proud of the life that Deb and I had built. She told me how much she loved our children and especially our grandchildren. She let me know that I was a good husband and father and son-in-law. But the real gift that she gave me was the realization that life is too short to hold on to grudges and resentment. Anger and bitterness only serve to sap the spirit from our lives. Being justified in my outrage is not worth the loss of love that I will be denied by my own stubbornness or self-righteousness.

When things became hopeless and no medical intervention could save her, we prayed for a peaceful passing. God granted her that blessing. Jackie was surrounded by her husband and children and, I believe, the angels. A few weeks before her death she told us that she kept hearing a man’s voice singing one refrain from the hymn Silent Night, “sleep in heavenly peace.” At last she had found that peace. Peace with the world. Peace with God.

My mother-in-law wasn’t always easy to be around but she was capable of tremendous kindness and she loved her family fiercely. And I know that included me.

Peace,

Denis

Auld Lang Syne

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

The old Scottish song that is traditionally sung on New Year’s Eve can be translated into English literally as “old long since”, or as “days gone by”. So at each year’s end we look back at the “days gone by” and reflect on the what, when, why, who and how. Some years we’re just glad it’s over and we’re ready to move on. The best years are the ones when we’ve learned something or survived something or loved anew. In other words: We’ve grown mentally, emotionally and spiritually.

For us 2012 has been a year to remember. We started our year living in Oaksey, Wiltshire, United Kingdom. And ended our year living back home in Missouri, USA. In between there was a lot of mental, emotional and spiritual growth. We learned how to assimilate in England. We never picked up the accent but we do now know the difference between knackers and being knackered. I suppose that I looked English enough that I was almost always stopped for directions when touring villages in the Cotswolds (being pasty white helped). We also learned how to drive on the left side of the road with only one small accident apiece. Deb learned how to cook Scotch broth and I learned how to grill lamb on the barbecue. And we relished our trips to the butcher shop, the green grocer, the sweet shop and the bakery (with their lardy cakes).IMG_5277

We grew emotionally by realizing that we could be away (far away) from home but never really be gone from those whom we love. Six special visits from friends and family helped us throughout our extended stay. It was good to be ambassadors to our adopted country and discover new experiences with friends (and return to a few of the places we had already discovered). Mostly it was good to know that Deb could survive so much alone time just with me – turns out we still like each other pretty much! I’m a lucky man.

And we grew spiritually, too. Our little church and faith community in Cirencester, England was a respite. No threats of excommunication in England or denial of communion if we voiced support of a social program which was contrary to official Church teaching or voted for the wrong candidate. We were loved by our priest “as we were” and embraced by our faith community “just because…” No litmus test of worthiness required.

Mostly 2012 was fun and funny. We enjoyed being in the UK during the Olympics and Queen Elizabeth’s diamond jubilee. We ate new foods (new to us anyway) and drank good French and Italian wines at bargain prices. We laughed at Benidorm and Father Ted on the telly as well as Aldi adverts. We laughed at our own foibles – like ordering 44 euros worth of macaroons in Paris because we thought the woman behind the counter said 14. Ooh, la, la! Or the (many) times we missed the round-about into or out off Cirencester (our nearest town. Or when Deb nearly got run over (three times) on Abbey Road so we could get the perfect photo. Or when we went to the ‘One Woman Show’ in Edinburgh that required audience participation (I still have nightmares about a big sweaty red-lipsticked kiss – don’t ask!). Or when we thought our 83-year old tour guide in Rome would be easy to “keep up with” but then Rinaldo nearly walked us to our death. Turns out that old Italians have more stamina than not-so-old Americans!

We loved our life in England and we miss it, too. But it’s true that there’s no place like home. Only God knows what 2013 will bring. But I hope that we can continue to grow mentally, emotionally and spiritually.

I hope that you do as well.

Peace,

Denis