Author: frankisemptiness

March 26th, 2020

Yesterday was a beautiful day. It certainly one was in a meteorological sense. Wisconsin is much like Siberia, ot at least a bit like eastern Europe. We don’t really have a spring. We have a brief gap between the horrors of an endless winter and the intensity of a brutal summer. There is no easing into it. It is like falling off a cliff.

A young woman lives with us. The “us” refers to Karin and myself. In normal times (whatever “normal” means), this young woman is busy with therapy sessions, 12-step meetings, and part time work as a barista. In normal times, this young woman would be slinging coffee, and giving some philistines a necessary class about painting and art. But these are not normal times, and this young woman is stuck in our house, watching Netflix, staring at her phone, and possibly losing her mind.

This young woman is not alone in losing her mind. I am actively doing the same thing. What is happening is that the current activities of our society are destructive, not just disruptive. Keeping people physcially apart makes sense in a way. I understand that. However, it makes people a bit crazy. It makes me a bit crazy.

This young woman decided to walk a couple miles from our home to Bender Park. There she could view the movements of the waters of  Lake Michigan. Her actions freaked me out. She was gone for a couple hours. The young woman did not answer her phone. She did not ask for any help.

I walked Shocky, the young woman’s pet. I walked the dog, over and over again.

I came home. The girl was lying in bed. She was wounded. Her head was bruised and bleeding.

She had fallen off the edge of the bluffs near the lake. She fell off a cliff.

The girl is still alive.

So am I.

 

 

 

March 24th, 2020

I had been awake for a couple hours before Karin got up. I tend to rise early. Karin likes to sleep in, especially now, when there really is no hurry to get out of bed. I knew she was up when I heard the toilet flush. That’s an unofficial announcement that she is starting her day.

I walked into the bedroom and said, “Hi.”

Karin looked up from her phone and eyed me warily. Then she asked,

“How are you this morning?”

I mumbled, “Okay.”

She kept looking at me, and she remarked,

“Last night was pretty bad, huh? That was probably the worst one ever.”

I replied, “Yeah.”

Karin turned and looked our bed. In particular, she was looking at my side of the bed.

Without turning back toward me, she said,

“Usually, I can wake you up by only calling to you once. Last night I had to shout your name over and over.”

“Yeah.”

She faced me and went on, “You were yelling so loud, and you were punching into the air, and kicking like crazy. You were really fighting something.”

“Yeah.”

“What was it?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

I really don’t know.

I get night terrors. They are described thus:

“Night terrors are a form of sleep disorder in which a person partially awakens from sleep in a state of terror. A sufferer of night terrors experiences an activation of his or her fight-or-flight system.”

That is a very understated definition. Night terrors are incredibly intense. Karin generally wakes me up before I do any damage. I remember very little after I am conscious. All I know is that my heart is pounding and my throat hurts from screaming so loud.

Karin often ask me about the dreams. I find them difficult to explain. There is a pattern to them. I am always in a dark place, and I am threatened by someone or something that is even darker than my surroundings. I never know if this thing is human. All I know is that it is malevolent, and that it wants to hurt me. I don’t feel scared as much as I feel angry. The thing flits around and attacks me from all sides, and I strike back at it. Karin sometimes first becomes aware that I am dreaming when she hears me shriek,

“C’MON MOTHERFUCKER!”

That is a clear indication that I am deep into it.

I don’t know what triggers the dreams. I don’t think that they necessarily have much to do with events in the outside world. I have had them for years, at least since I was in the Army. My demons come whenever they feel like it.

But it makes me wonder. I dream about a threat that I can’t see or understand. In the dream I don’t know what I am fighting. All I know is that something is out to get me.

That sounds a bit like the situation in the waking world.

 

 

 

March 23rd, 2020

Peter is the abbot of the Great Lake Zen Center. After meditation practice, he sometimes gives a brief dharma talk. When discussing why we spend time silently sitting on cushions, he often says that we do it in order to answer the following question: “How can I help?”

A person needs a clear mind to know how best to help somebody else. In theory, meditation clears the mind. Then the individual can see what really is, and act accordingly. There are times when it is difficult to see through the chaos.

Now is one of those times.

The whole world is scared and suffering at this moment. Maybe it is always scared and suffering, and it is just more obvious now. At present, the problems surrounding us seem overwhelming. What should we do? Where should we start?

The Catholic Church has something called “The Corporal Acts of Mercy”. It is a list of seven ways to help others. The list seems simple and straight forward. Maybe it is. However, right now, I find it hard to put some of these actions into practice. I need to think about it.

This list is as follows:

1. To feed the hungry.
2. To give drink to the thirsty.
3. To clothe the naked.
4. To shelter the homeless.
5. To visit the imprisoned.
6. To visit the sick.
7. To bury the dead.

 

Since the guidance of our government is for citizens to avoid being in groups larger than ten people, some of the actions on the list are difficult, if not impossible, to do in traditional ways. For instance, “feeding the hungry” has often meant me helping at a meal program (soup kitchen). A meal program that is run by a church or other charitable organization requires the efforts of dozens of participants. People need to get together to cook and to serve meals to potentially hundreds of poor and homeless persons. It is obvious to me that a typical soup kitchen cannot function like that now. So, how does it operate? The poor and outcast are still hungry. Where do thesse people go now? How are they fed?

I don’t know, and I’m not sure who to even ask. The organizations that typically run these operations can’t get together, at least not physically. The new rules are only a week old. Has anybody even had time to brainstorm ideas? Can food pantries hand out free bag lunches? What happens now?

The coronavirus crisis has forced us to exist as isolated pockets of humanity. Okay, let’s work with that. In our case, Karin and I are providing food, drink, shelter, and transportation/health support to a young woman who we love dearly. This person was in prison just two months ago. By assisting her, we are covering some of the items on list, and doing it up close and personal. Maybe that is our calling for the present time. Maybe we are most needed here, as opposed to some place else. We have to do what we can, where and when we can.

Paradoxically, it is often more difficult to help somebody close than it is to help somebody at a distance. I mean this both in geographical terms and in an emotional sense. It is sometimes easier to serve a meal to a stranger far from home than it is to help somebody who lives in the same house. I can ladle out spaghetti for a couple hours at a St. Vincent de Paul meal site, and then walk away from it. Love is tested in close proximity, where a person can’t just run away from problems. Helping sometimes involves open-ended commitment.

A friend of mine, years ago, defined love as being sacrifice. I think that is an accurate description. Love means giving up the things I want in order to provide the things that someone else needs. That’s a bitch.

Maybe this current crisis will teach me how to love.

 

 

 

 

March 22nd, 2020

Hans called.

Right away he said, “I saw something today that I thought I would never see.”

I mentally braced myself and asked, “So, what did you see?”

Hans seldom gets directly to the point. He always has to set the stage before he tells me a story. Maybe it’s a southern thing. A friend of ours from Texas, Delphia (God rest her soul), once told me, “Down here, we tell you what we are going to say, then we say it, and then we tell you what we just said.”

That’s pretty accurate.

In any case, Hans had my attention. He told me,

“Dad, you know how in some of the grocery stores they let the old people shop first?”

“Old people?”

“Yeah, you know, your age.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Well, anyway, we were at Walmart, and these old folks had been looking for toilet paper and such. The shelves were almost empty, so they couldn’t find any of what they needed, and they were walking out the door empty-handed.”

“Okay.”

Hans drawled, “Well, I’m watching these people, and this young black guy stops his car near them. He talks with them a bit, and then he hands the old folks a plastic bag filled with some rolls of toilet paper and hand sanitizer. He doesn’t charge them anything. He just gives it to them.”

“Okay.”

I could hear Hans lighting up a Pall Mall. He continued,

“Well, this black guy, he’s doing the same thing with all the old people coming out of the store. If they ain’t got any toilet paper, he just gives them some. His car is packed with the stuff, and he’s just giving it all away.”

“That’s pretty cool.”

Hans took a drag, and said lazily,

“Yeah. I talked to the guy for a while. He told me that some people in his family had bought up a bunch of toilet paper and hand sanitizer. They were hoarding it. The guy told me that he got into a big ole fight with his family about it. They finally got tired of listening to him yell and carry on, and they told him to take half of the stuff and do whatever he wanted with it.”

“So, he’s just giving it to whoever needs it.”

“Yep.”

“Good.”

Hans said, “It restores my faith in humanity…a little bit.”

“Yeah. I can see that. Good.”

“Hey Dad, you know, down here, the liquor stores are still open.”

“I guess that’s good too.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

March 20th, 2020

“Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold. Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is lost. The best lack all conviction, while the worst are filled with passionate intensity.” – W.B. Yeats

 

Hans called me from Texas today to wish me a happy birthday.

We talked for a while. Hans was calling from his car. He was bored. It was raining outside. His wife, Gabby, was in the clinic for her physical therapy session. Hans was hanging out with their fifteen month old son, Weston.

I asked Hans, “Did you get your shotgun?”

He replied, “No, they didn’t have the one that I wanted. Instead I bought a short-barrelled model that holds five shells. It’s really easy to use. You just have to point it.”

“How many shells did the other shotgun hold?”

“Fifteen.”

“How long does it take to reload the gun you bought?”

“Hmmm, maybe two seconds.”

“That’s not bad.”

“No.”

Then Hans went on, “I got the house set up.”

“How so?”

“Well, the shotgun is by the washer, so it’s close to both the front and back doors. But it’s not out in the open, where somebody breaking in might find it.”

“Okay.”

“The .40 is in a cabinet in the kitchen.”

“Yeah.”

“I got my Glock in my nightstand. The .45 is in Gabby’s nightstand.”

“Are any of these guns accessible to Weston?”

“No.”

“Good answer.”

Hans said, “Even if they were, none of them have a loaded magazine in them. I got the magazines separate.”

“Okay. So, you’re ready for the zombie apocalypse.”

“Yep. Dad, you ever watch any of those zombie movies?”

“Uh, no.”

“You know what usually starts all that trouble?”

“No.”

“In the movies they run out of toilet paper.”

“I guess a lot of people have been watching those movies.”

“Yeah. You know what else is strange?”

“No. Tell me.”

Hans told me, “Well, some of my liberal friends are calling me up to ask me what kind of guns to buy.”

“You have liberal friends?”

“Well, they’re not exactly friends. They’re, you know, acquaintances; people that I talk to to maybe once a year.”

“I guess they know your area of expertise.”

Hans said, “Yeah. It’s a little late for them to be shopping for guns. There aren’t many left out there.”

“True.”

Hans went on, “I got the .357 in my truck. Whenever I drive our car, I bring along the Glock.”

“Why?”

“Well, you never know. People might get crazy.”

Hans, “They already are crazy.”

“You know what I mean. I mean like the crazy in New Orleans after the hurricane (Katrina).”

“Well, you’re ready.”

“Yep.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

March 20th, 2020

There is nothing like spending a lot of time in close proximity with my loved ones to make me realize how dysfunctional I am. The members of our family get along well…for short periods of time. After a while, people tend to get on each other’s nerves, and it gets a little nuts. We aren’t used to the idea of being together for an indefinite amount of time. This is new.

Up until now we have lived together, but not necessarily spent that much time together. Karin would go out to her knitting groups. I would do volunteer work. The girl we love would go to meetings and therapy sessions, and then spend time at the gym. So, we would actually be in the same place for only brief periods. We had enough time to interact, but not enough time to piss each other off. When we did hang out, we often did in places away from home. We didn’t feel shut in. It all worked pretty well.

Well, that lifestyle is over for now. We have to be in the same house most of the time, and we have to deal with each other. Each of us has carved out some personal territory. Sometimes we do things together. Sometimes we act like we were all on different planets. It will take us some time to adjust to social distancing.

The flip side of the situation is that we are separated from friends, many of whom are nearby. We can’t go to the Hillside Coffee House and hang out with our buddies. We can’t go to daily Mass with people from our church. We can’t just get in the car, go some place, and spend time other humans. This sucks.

I am told that I can interact with all sorts of people online. This is true to a certain degree. I guess I am trying to do that right now. However, going on Facebook or writing a blog post is not at all the same as sitting across from a person and having a freewheeling conversation. There is more spontaneity involved in a face-to-face interaction with another person. There is more soul. There is more intimacy.

Isaac Asimov wrote a book called The Naked Sun. It was a science fiction novel about a planet called Solaria. There were only 20,000 inhabitants of this planet, and none of them ever had any physical contact with anyone else. They viewed holograms of each other when they absolutely had to communicate. Asimov’s description of the population of Solaria was in a way prescient. He was explaining what it would be like to live in a world that took social distancing to its logical conclusion. The book was very disturbing to me. It still is.

We are not to the point where we totally keep away from other humans, but we are getting there. I remember, when I was still working, that there was a woman in the office who would rather send me an email than walk three steps from her cubicle to speak to me. How often do we text somebody rather than call them or visit them?

This coronavirus crisis encourages us to dig ourselves deeper in our individual cocoons.

When it’s all over, will we come out again?

 

 

March 19th, 2020

I took a young woman to her therapy appointment yesterday. Since most everything is shut down, going there was the highlight of the day. Her session lasted for almost an hour, so I had time to kill. All the restaurants and coffee shops are closed. I had to search for a place to hang out. I thought I would go to Half-Price Books and see what was there on sale.

I got out of my car just a woman was coming out of the shop. She looked at me and said,

“Oh, I’m so sorry. The store is closed to customers because of the virus. If you want, you contact us by phone or online. We can find what you want, and then you can come to pick it up, or it can be delivered to you.”

Great.

Having only takeout or delivery defeats the purpose of a bookstore. I never know what I want when I go into a bookstore. I wander through the stacks and tables, looking at covers. I might pull a book from a shelf and page through it. I might read a synopsis of the book. Then I might put it right back. This process may be repeated a dozen times before I actually take a book up to the sales counter. If I knew exactly what book I wanted to read, I would just buy it online and be done with it. Going into the store means that I am interested in exploring. I am looking for something that is new to me.

I guess the same things goes for many of the stores I enter. There are times when I am on a mission, and I grab what I need and get the hell out. Other times, I want to roam and linger. I want to discover something. Now there is no place to do that.

Almost all the houses of worship are closed. I like to hang out in those places too. I don’t necessarily go to these locations to attend a specific liturgy. I don’t often mingle with the other people even when I am in my own church. However, it helps me to just be with others when I pray or meditate. When I am in church, or at the synagogue, or in a mosque, or at the Zen Center, it is better when I am not completely alone. Spiritual activities are by their very nature communal, even if everything is done in silence. Some people say that a person can have the same experience online. I doubt it.

I like sitting in coffee shops. Once again, being an introvert, I don’t usually want interaction. Mostly, I just want to sip a drink and observe. Just watching the people come and go is stimulating. It makes me more alert.

Now, the only outlet seems to be grocery shopping.

I wonder how long that will last.

 

 

 

 

 

March 19th, 2020

“Connections with other people affect not only the quality of our lives but also our survival.” – Dean Ornish

“We are leaving the industrial economy and entering the connection economy.” – Seth Godin

 

It is fascinating for me to see the all the underlying connections in our economy, especially now that the whole system is collapsing around us. The coronavirus has decimated various industries: airlines, hotels, entertainment, restaurants, etc. The show is just starting. The segments of the economy that have already taken a hit will soon affect other parts of the whole. It’s just a matter of time, and not much time at that.

Four years ago, I retired from a trucking company. I worked there for twenty-eight years. During that time, I found out that the trucking industry is an accurate barometer for the overall health of the national economy. Trucks haul everything for everybody. If the economy as a whole is doing well, then so is the trucking industry.

I texted a friend of mine who is a dispatcher at my former workplace. I asked him,

“Has business slowed down yet?”

He replied, “It’s starting now. We’re going to be in trouble soon.”

I think about how the current crisis is affecting individuals. Industries are not monolithic. They are all composed of people, lots of people. Each worker has a unique situation, and each one has specific concerns. I read that (as of 2017) 35% of all adults in this country have only a few hundred dollars in savings. 34% of them have nothing saved up. This means that many of the waitresses, airport baggage handlers, and others who are unemployed right now are hurting right now. They are out of work and they have no idea when they may get called back, if they get called back.

I think about our sons. They are both in construction. Construction is booming. Hans is pumping concrete all the time down in Texas. Stefan is welding each and every day. They are okay for now. Hans told me that the Texas DOT has a number of bridges to rebuild in the Waco area. Even if home and commercial construction slow down, the government projects will still be there. Stefan will be busy for months on huge buildings that are currently going up in the Milwaukee area. The work that is in progress will continue. The boys will keep busy and keep getting paychecks.

What happens in six months? That’s a different story. With the construction industry there is a time lapse. Other parts of the economy shrink rapidly, and then then bounce back quickly. Construction takes a while to slow down, and then it stays slow, sometimes for years. Hans and Stefan will be in a whole new world come summer or fall.

I am retired. My 401K is based primarily on the stock market, which is currently a mess. If the economy continues to take a hit, my wife and I will cut back. As a case in point, I drive a beater, a 2006 Ford Focus that my son rebuilt. It runs, but it has its issues. The question is: Should I trade it or should I keep repairing it? I will keep repairing it. I don’t plan on any big purchases in the foreseeable future. I’m pretty sure that millions of other people don’t plan to do that either.

When times are uncertain, and people are scared, they sit on their wallets.

That’s not good.

 

 

 

 

March 15th, 2020

“Men are naturally barbarians, and that will remain forever. The passion, the love, and the lust is intensifying with time – Fawad Khan

“People sometimes tell me that they prefer barbarism to civilization. I doubt if they have given it a long enough trial. Like the people of Alexandria (in a poem by Cavafy) they are bored with civilization; but all the evidence suggest that the boredom of barbarism is infinitely greater.” – Kenneth Clark

 

Hans called me from down in Texas.

I barely had a chance to say “hi” before he started talking.

“Dad, it’s getting really stupid down here.”

That wasn’t a good start for the conversation, so I asked Hans,

“Uh, so, what do you mean?”

Hans drawled, “I was just at Walmart, and I saw five fights over toilet paper.”

“That’s no good.”

“Hell no, and I couldn’t find any ammo. Nobody has any.”

“That’s no good either.”

Hans went on, “I got a full magazine for the .357. That won’t last long. I got a magazine for the .40. That won’t last long either.”

“No, it won’t.”

I could hear Hans’ lighter click. He was firing up another Pall Mall. He took a drag and said,

“Now I got fifty rounds for my .45, but that won’t last long either. Mostly what I got for ammo is shotgun shells. Tomorrow, after work, I’m buying a home defense shotgun.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

He took another drag on his cigarette, and told me,

“I’ll get one of those shotguns with the short barrel. They are only about $700. They’re easy to maneuver. They hold up to fifteen rounds. After that you have to reload, but if you’re reloading at that point, you’re screwed anyway. I just want Gabby to have the shotgun at home in case something happens. I’d rather she shot with that than fire a pistol and miss.”

“Yeah, It’s hard to miss with a shotgun up close. Accurate aim isn’t that important.”

Hans replied, “Yep.”

Hans continued, “The .357 is going into my truck. I can pull that out if somebody tries to jack the truck. A well-placed .357 round can do a lot. If somebody gets hit, well, they don’t get up again. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah.”

Hans said, “I don’t want to go anywhere without a gun any more. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah.”

“I can’t believe they were fighting in Walmart over TOILET PAPER. I mean I could understand if they were fighting over the last loaf of bread. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah.”

Hans sighed. “Well, I just called to let you know what was going on.”

“I’m glad that you did.”

“Bye Dad. Love you.”

“Bye Hans. Love you too.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

March 14th, 2020

“Panic is highly contagious, especially in situations when nothing is known and everything is in flux.” – Stephen King

“Fear is the mind-killer.”
― Frank Herbert , from the novel “Dune”

Woodman’s is a massive grocery store in Oak Creek. It’s size can be overwhelming. A person can find nearly anything in there, assuming that person doesn’t get lost while doing so.

When I go to Woodman’s, it is generally during a slow time of day. I go there when all the other retirees go. We usually have the place all to ourselves.

But not yesterday.

Yesterday the parking lot was packed with cars. The store itself was jammed full of people pushing carts that were stuffed with everything imaginable. It was a chaotic scene.

I had gone in there innocently seeking toilet paper. I had not heard about any kind of shortage. I just figured that I would buy some. That was a mistake.

Woodman’s has an aisle devoted to toilet paper, paper towels, facial tissue, and the like. It also has a tower of toilet tissue near that aisle. This mountain of paper products is twice my height on a normal day. Yesterday it had completely disappeared. There were only empty wooden pallets left on the floor. Every roll of toilet paper was gone. It was the same in the aisle. The shelves were completely empty.

Two Woodman’s employees were feverishly ripping open boxes of toilet paper, as anxious customers hovered near them. I asked one of the workers if I could grab a package of four rolls from the cardboard box. He glanced nervously at me and said, “Yeah, sure.”

I should have taken more.

I don’t get it. I assume that this shopping frenzy had to do with the Coronavirus scare. However, I can’t quite understand how toilet paper plays into this scenario. Is one of the symptoms of the disease diarrhea? Will infected persons need to wipe their asses constantly? What the hell is going on?

I left the store in a hurry. Mobs make me edgy. Some of the folks in Woodman’s were not quite right. Many of them had that look in their eyes. You know, the look that says they are expecting the End Times to come at any moment. Apparently, the Apocalypse involves some heavy shit. Therefore, they need to stock up on toilet paper.

The scene in the grocery store reminded me of how things work here just prior to a major blizzard. (I live in Wisconsin. We have major blizzards on occasion). Before a big snowfall, people raid the stores, just in case the power goes out, or the snowplows can’t dig out the streets, or the shops are closed, or whatever. They do the paleolithic hunter-gatherer thing for legitimate reasons. They know that they might be shut in for a while. It mostly makes sense. Well, except for the fact that most of the hunting and gathering happens in the liquor department. Emergency supplies always include cases of beer.

Yesterday’s chaos had nothing to do with anything that was real. It was all just a subtle form of hysteria. I mean it could have been much worse. I mean nobody was shooting somebody else over a roll of shit paper. I could imagine it getting to that point. The thin veneer of civilization was close to being torn away.

Perhaps I exaggerate. I often do that. Maybe not this time.

Let’s look at the stock market.

Holy fuck. What a disaster. It dropped 20% (or more) within a week. I care about this. I have a 401K, and it depends on the market. My currently comfortable existence is in jeopardy.

Okay, I know that sounds really selfish. It is. However, if I go down, lots of others go down too. I am taking care of other people. If I am broke, then nobody cares for them. Honestly, I don’t think it will get to the point where we are all penniless, but it will get bad.

I have often thought that things were crazy, and they couldn’t get any crazier.

I have always been wrong about that.