Author: frankisemptiness

May 24th, 2025

When I was growing up, we had a family tradition of ignoring problems. The more obvious the problems were, the more effort we put into pretending they weren’t there. It wasn’t at all logical, but that’s what we did. Apparently, the idea was that if we were willfully blind to an issue, it did not exist.

I am certain that my experiences as a young person were not unique. Denying reality is a common human response to scary or uncomfortable facts. I have a book from Cornelius Ryan called The Last Battle which describes the final struggle of the Nazis to defend Berlin from the Soviets in the spring of 1945. One of the most disturbing parts of this historical account is the description of the mindset of the German leaders stuck inside of Hitler’s bunker. Even in April of 1945, they believed that they were going to win the war. Even with Russian artillery blasting Berlin into rubble, they were convinced that it was all going to be okay.

It wasn’t.

This brings me to the subject of climate change.

Despite the current efforts of the federal government to pretend that climate change does not exist, or that it isn’t really that big of a deal, the evidence is overwhelming that climate change does exist, and it really is a huge issue. The problem is that, in many cases, the effects of climate change are causing havoc somewhere else. I live in Wisconsin, which is kind of a climate sweet spot. We haven’t had massive wildfires. We don’t get hurricanes. Our winters have grown milder, which actually seems like a positive thing for those of us who dwell in the frozen north country. Our summers are hotter, but not painfully so. The attitude of the locals is often, “Yeah, climate change is a real problem, but not here.”

That attitude is changing, at least mine is.

A year ago, on May 7th, we had intense thunderstorms roll through with large hailstones. We’ve had hail before, but it was pebble size, and it didn’t do any real damage. The hail that fell a year ago was big and oddly shaped. The hailstones were not round. They were like ice cubes, rough and angular. They caused damage. A contractor came to see me almost immediately after the hailstorm. I called my insurance, and an appraiser came to our house and told us that our roof and gutters needed to be replaced. The insurance paid us $22K to get the work done. I was a bit shocked. We have lived in this house for thirty-four years, and I had never even filed a homeowners claim prior to that hailstorm.

Because of a variety of delays, including the need to remove a monstrous glass panel from top of the house (it warms the contents of our solar water heater), the actual replacement of the roof and gutters did not occur until two weeks ago. Within three days of the replacement, we had another nasty hailstorm. The hailstones were golf ball sized. As far as I can see, the new roof is intact. The skylights are undamaged. The gutters look alright. I think we got lucky.

The next morning my wife asked me to look at our Toyota Corolla which had been sitting in the driveaway during the storm. The hood and roof of the car were full of dings and divots. It’s an old car, so I don’t care too much about those. However, my wife called my attention to the crack in the windshield. The glass must have taken a direct hit. There is a crack on the passenger side that is a perfect circle about three inches in diameter. That’s a problem.

My insurance will send a guy over here right after Memorial Day. I need a new windshield.

Are these hailstorms freak coincidences? Or is this the wave of the future?

I’m betting that we will see more wicked storms blow through our part of the world.

It’s not going to be okay.

May 21st, 2025

I went to visit a friend of mine. It was a couple days ago. I go to spend time with him every week or so. We sit around, share a beer, and commiserate. I met him a long time ago at the synagogue. He’s older than I am by about sixteen years. We’re both writers. We are both retired, at least in the sense that we aren’t earning a wage anymore. We keep busy. Being retired and being idle are too very different things.

My friend lives only a block away from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee (UWM) campus. I have to drive by the school grounds to get to his home. This means that I see numerous students walking around the area. Traffic tends to be heavy near the campus, so there are frequently cars in front of me that are waiting for a light to change or a pedestrian to cross the street. I have time to observe the latest generous of adults…and think.

I was a student almost fifty years ago. I look at these young people and I ask myself, “Was I like that?” The answer is, “I don’t know.” I really don’t.

It’s hard for me to remember things that happened half a century ago. Hell, it’s hard for me to remember things that happened five minutes ago. I can recall very few specific incidents from my youth. However, I can conjure up feelings that I had in the past. Now, that I have managed to get through the wormhole and I have survived several decades of chaos, I feel mostly a sense of relief. For better or worse, most of the big decisions in life have been made. Carl Jung wrote that the first half of life is the story, and the last half is the commentary. You are reading the commentary.

My youngest son, who is several years older than the college students, is not shy about telling me that I don’t understand the challenges of his generation. I’m sure that he’s right. He has struggles that I never had to deal with. The economy today is very different than it was when I was his age. The odds of him enjoying the financial security that I currently have are low. Many people his age will never be able to afford a home or even be able to pay off student loans. My son is doing well in his chosen profession, but the ground keeps shifting under his feet. He can’t make long term plans.

His generation’s views on relationships and sexuality seem exotic to me. Among his contemporaries, marriage is an anachronism, and relationships often seem to be transactional and transitory. Gender identity is now a multiple-choice question. When I was in my twenties, I knew only one openly gay person. Now, I know gay couples who are happily married. The ground has shifted under me too.

I don’t like social media, but I am still on the computer a lot (like right now). The students at UWM and other universities live and breathe technology. They have always had the Internet. They have always had Facebook. They have seldom written a note by hand, and they have probably never licked a stamp.

I am not saying that the new social environment is good or bad. It is probably a bit of both. All I know is that it is alien to me, but natural to these younger folks.

So, back to the question: “Was I like that?”

In some ways, definitely not. I managed to earn a bachelor’s degree, but that was at West Point. I was not a “college” student. I went four years to a school that only had only superficial characteristics of a university. USMA was like going to an Ivy League college and doing time simultaneously. Even when I was an undergraduate, I did not fit in with my civilian compadres. I was an outlier when I was young, and in many ways I still am.

So, did I have any similarities with the young people I see at UWM? Human nature does not change much, if at all. When I was their age, I was energetic, curious, idealistic, and naive. I was painfully awkward with members of the opposite sex. I was cocky and terrified at the same time. I am certain that the students who pass me by on the campus feel some of same things.

The students I see are trying to figure it out. They are trying to understand the meaning of their lives. They are trying to make sense of their world.

So am I.

May 18th, 2025

I met with a friend, Danny, a few days ago. We worked together for decades, and now we are both retired. We had a couple beers and talked. As usual, we discussed how other former coworkers were doing. During the conversation, I found out that one of our colleagues is constantly busy helping his partner. The guy’s wife has diabetes, and her blood sugar level fluctuates, causing her to have difficulty concentrating on what she is doing. This means the woman can’t drive, which means that our old buddy from work has to be her chauffeur. Danny and I also have a friend whose wife has kidney failure. She requires dialysis treatment a couple times a week. I know another coworker whose wife had a stroke last year. This friend of mine is his spouse’s fulltime caregiver.

The fact that so many people our age are either ill or caring for somebody who is partially incapacitated makes me think. My wife, Karin, and I are both healthy…for now. Part of the aging process is that a person will eventually become ill and/or disabled. That’s guaranteed. It is likely that Karin or I will need to care fulltime for each other at some point. That doesn’t really bother me too much. What makes me think is the question of what happens to our grandson, Asher.

Karin and I care for Asher 24/7/365. The boy is four years old and will start kindergarten in the fall. Currently, he needs our help almost constantly. That will change as he gets older, but right now he depends on us. Watching over Asher is a job that requires two people. We have to work as a team. If something happens to Karin or to me, then what becomes of the little boy? I cannot be the caregiver for both my wife and our grandson. Karin cannot care fulltime for me and for Asher. Something will have to give.

Our youngest son has committed to caring for Asher if something happens to my wife or me. That eases my mind somewhat. I try not to worry about that future. The present moment is enough to keep me busy, sometimes more than enough. We can try to plan ahead, but I have to focus on today.

Today is all that there really is.

May 14th, 2025

As I sit here typing on my keyboard, I am listening to the sound of drills and saws outside of our house. A crew is putting up new gutters all the way around our home. Two days ago, a different team of six men replaced our roof. It took the roofers only nine hours to complete the project, and that’s including their lunch break. I’m not an expert on roofing, but it looks to me like they did a good job. The guys working on the gutters today are, as far as I can tell, working efficiently. I don’t expect these workers to be here very long, and I anticipate that they will do quality work.

All of the people working on our home are Latinos. All the people who came here two days ago were Latinos. Only a few of them speak English. I am not being judgmental. I am merely stating a fact. From what I have seen from other construction crews is that they are almost always made up of Hispanics.

Why is that?

I suppose I could ask one of the guys working outside why they chose this particular line of work. However, I won’t do that. In the current political climate, I would never do that. I don’t know the legal status of any of these men, and the last thing I want to do is to spook them. Sadly, it is best that I don’t know their stories, and they don’t know mine. It’s a new version of “don’t ask; don’t tell”. I have met migrants who are undocumented, and they live in constant fear of being deported. Perhaps, some of the men working on our house are here illegally. If they are, I don’t want to know, and I’m sure they don’t want me to know.

My mind is full of questions. What are they getting paid? Do they get paid in cash? Do they pay taxes? Do they get any benefits? What happens if they get hurt on the job? They are doing work that apparently does not appeal to native-born white guys. Why aren’t there any white boys outside pounding nails?

I can only conclude that the men working for me today are not getting enough of a compensation that their jobs would induce a homegrown American to join their team. The Latinos putting up the gutters, along with the roofers, are doing the work that most Americans do not want to do. It’s always been like that. It was like that when my great-grandparents came to this country. The new guys do the shit work. Immigrants start at the bottom.

The difference now is that a hundred and twenty years ago, the migrants were encouraged to stay here and work at dangerous, backbreaking jobs. Now, for reasons that I will never understand, the government of the United States wants to drive out all these people that keep the economy going. So, what happens if they are forced to leave, or to go underground?

Who will do the work?

The guys are cleaning up now. I looked at the new gutters and the downspouts. One young man was picking up the old metalwork.

I came up to him said, “Gracias.”

He nodded.

Then I told him, “You all do nice work.”

He gave me a confused stare.

I thought, “Damn it, I can’t remember any fucking Spanish.”

After a mental struggle, I said to him,

“Trabajo…ummm…bueno.”

He smiled, and replied,

“Gracias.”

May 9th, 2025

I got a text yesterday from our daughter-in-law in Texas. at 12:40 PM CDT.

She wrote, “Great news! America is gonna make the Catholic Church great again!”

I momentarily felt queasy. I replied, “Seriously?”

She said, “Depending on your definition of great, but we got an American pope for the first time.”

I had a brief panic attack. I thought to myself, “Sweet Jesus, did they elect Cardinal Raymond Burke?!”

I took a deep breath and wrote to my daughter-in-law, “Who?”

Her answer: “Robert Francis Prevost.”

That name meant absolutely nothing to me. So, I replied,

“I will have to look him up.”

My daughter-in-law wrote back that she had heard that he was a progressive.

My response was, “That will piss off MAGA.”

Apparently, it did.

I, like millions of other people, did look up the biography of Leo XIV. My conclusion is that he is very Catholic, and that can mean all sorts of things.

I was born right at the end of the papacy of Pius XII. He was pope during WWII, and his legacy is, well, mixed. Since then, the Church has had leaders who have been pretty decent: John XXIII, Paul VI, John Paul I (who only made a cameo appearance), John Paul II, Benedict XVI, and Francis. All of these popes shepherded an unruly flock of believers, and they inspired many of them. They also infuriated a substantial minority of Catholics. They were world leaders who tried to promote peace and justice. They sometimes succeeded, like when John Paul II acted as a catalyst for change during the collapse of communism in Eastern Europe. Sometimes, they failed, like with the Church’s sexual abuse scandal. They tried to teach eternal truths in a world that is constantly changing, while acting as a symbol of unity for millions upon millions of coreligionists. How can any person do all of that?

Pope Leo XIV will surprise us. That’s what these popes do. John XXIII was elected as a caretaker pope, and he initiated Vatican II, which changed both the Catholic Church and the world at large. John Paul II was instrumental in taking apart Soviet communism. Francis placed care for our planet front and center as a moral imperative. These popes also surprised us with what they did not do. They never agreed to allow priests to marry. We still don’t have women deacons, much less women serving as priests. Reading Pope Leo’s past for hints about his future is probably a fruitless effort. Once these guys get elected, all bets are off.

There are perhaps 1.4 billion Catholics in the world. Any number that large means that the population will be diverse. I have often met Protestants, mainly Evangelicals, who are convinced that the Roman Catholic Church is this monolithic organization that demands absolute obedience from its adherents. I find that notion to be laughable. Anybody who has ever attended a parish council meeting of a Catholic church will see that it is all barely controlled chaos. Take the population of a typical parish (if there is such a thing) and make it exponentially larger, and it becomes astounding that so many people can be unified at all. The genius of the Church, when it actually does its job, is the ability to combine diversity with unity. I mean “unity”, not “uniformity”. The fact that Catholics can do anything together is a miracle.

Pope Leo in his first address to the public as pontiff emphasized unity. Good luck with that. It is a worthy goal, but one that is probably beyond the capabilities of mere humans. The Church is often a mess. There is no doubt about that. I have to remember that it is, and has always been, a work in progress. Leo will take the next step in the process.

God bless him. God bless us all.

May 3rd, 2025

I recently read a book from P.D. James, an author best known for her crime novels. The book I read was The Children of Men, which falls into the category of speculative fiction, an off shoot of sci-fi. The story is set in a world of the future where no children are born. In the novel the planet has been without a human birth for a quarter century, and our species is slowly but surely heading for extinction. Books about a dystopian future derive their power by describing a world that is much like our present one, but one that has also taken a frightening trajectory. These stories can get stale when the future becomes the now. However, The Children of Men still has an edge to it, because what it predicts is in some ways still plausible.

The novel never explains why humans all become infertile simultaneously. It doesn’t need to do that. What the author does is give a detailed and poignant description of a society that is collapsing. James writes well, and she conjures up an image of a decaying England that is both tragic and occasionally funny in a dark way. The overwhelming feeling in the book is that of hopelessness. The unspoken, but obvious, question in the story is. “Why do anything?” Most of the characters in the book are just killing time or waiting for time to kill them. Without a new generation, the future has no meaning.

Does this book matter? I think it does. It mirrors the world around me, but in a distorted way, like a funhouse mirror. Are women still giving birth to children? Yes, of course. The world’s population is still growing. However, the pace of growth on our planet is uneven and it is slowing overall. Some parts of the world, especially sub-Saharan Africa, still have explosive population growth. Other places have steep declines. Russia, China, Japan, and most of the EU are experiencing a loss of people. Even countries with modest growth, like the United States, only have more residents because immigration, not from the birth rate within the national borders.

Is it a bad thing for the world’s human population to stabilize or even decline? Maybe not. Every other species on the planet would probably benefit from fewer homo sapiens. However, humanity has never before dealt with a universal loss population. There have been great disasters in the past, like the Black Death, that decimated whole nations, but nothing quite on this scale. The current decline in the birth rate has kind of snuck up on us. It is nothing like the sudden wave of infertility that James mentions on her novel.

I think about this sort of thing for two reasons. First of all, I am objectively old. If the United States government gives me Social Security and Medicare, then I am by definition elderly, and my time on earth is clearly limited. Second, my wife and I are caring for our four-year-old grandson, Asher, whose future stretches out before him like an endless vista. The Children of Men reminds me of my mortality, and it pounds home the preciousness of every child.

I was the eldest of seven boys in my family of origin. Large families were common when I was young. This is no longer true. There are many reasons for this: the higher cost of raising a child, increased access to contraception, anxiety for the future, changing gender roles, etc. Some of these reasons are good, some perhaps not so much. The fact is that, when I was a child, having kids and rising a family was the priority for most people. Now, it just one goal in life among many. Once again, I don’t know if the change is good or bad. All I know is that things are different and we, as a species, need to adapt.

For example, much of what we do is dependent on growth of some sort. Capitalism only works when there is growth. The economies of most of the world require constant growth to raise the standard of living. Humanity worships “more”. Enough is never enough. In order for capitalism to function, there has to be population growth to drive economic growth. So, what do we do when there aren’t enough producers? Or enough consumers? A number of countries are wrestling with these problems right now. How long will it take before we have to radically change our consumption of material goods and services? How long before we radically change our values to focus on things that cannot be bought and sold? Our current economic system is not sustainable.

I want to go back to the mood expressed in James’ novel. It is often a depressing book, and as I age, I identify more and more with the zeitgeist. It is hard to keep going when things are falling apart both inside and out. That is why Asher is so important. Asher can be a real pain in the ass at times, and he wears me out. But he gives me hope. Every day he shows me who he is and who he may become. He is constantly learning and growing. He needs me in order to grow, and that gives me purpose. He gives meaning to my life.

Asher is the future. On my own, I am not. I experience the future through a little boy. He makes it all worthwhile.

April 30th, 2025

I visited with two of my brothers on Saturday. All three of us are retired. As we sat around, we eventually discussed our previous lives in the work force. Each of us followed a different path, and now we have time to reflect what it was all about. What was the point? What did we accomplish, if anything?

We talked a bit about what guidance counselors told us to do while we were in high school. It’s remarkable that what they told us fifty years ago is pretty much what they tell young people now. It’s the same focus on finding a career and fitting into the system. The counselors wanted to help, and maybe they did, and maybe they do now. The narrative was about working hard and getting ahead. The term “getting ahead” was never clearly defined. I think it’s still an ambiguous concept.

I remember a few things from my first days at West Point. One event that sticks in my memory is how all 1400 of us new cadets were herded into Eisenhower Hall to hear the superintendent give a talk. He spoke briefly about how we had chosen our class motto, “Pride and Excellence”. Then he went on about the possibilities of our careers as military officers. He said at one point,

“One of you sitting here may become the General of the Army someday.”

I suspect that everybody in that auditorium had a momentary vision of future glory. The supe had dangled a shining goal in front of us. There was a second part of his statement that he never mentioned. The last part was,

“But the rest of you won’t be.”

In retrospect it feels like a classic bait and switch. Recruiters in the high schools do the similar sort of thing. They regale impressionable high school students with tales of adventure and hawk other benefits, but they don’t often discuss the costs involved in becoming a soldier. I know this because an Army recruiter came into our home many years ago to lure our youngest son into the service. This was back when things were intense in Iraq. Our son ultimately chose not to join up, even after the sergeant gave us a smooth sales pitch. The recruiter’s problem was that I kept fact checking him. My son found that to be amusing.

It’s not just the military that sells job openings like used cars. Corporate America does the same thing. Once I left the Army, I got a job as a supervisor at a trucking company. One of the selling points for the position was that there was plenty of room for promotion. That was true, but there was upward mobility within the company because middle managers were being continually culled for failure to meet absurdly high profit quotas. It was a Darwinian kind of work environment. The corporation’s unofficial motto was “We eat our young”. The company went bankrupt several years ago. Karma in action.

I went to work with second trucking firm, one that was comparatively benign. After a couple years there, I was offered the opportunity to get trained for a position as operations manager. I respectfully declined the possible promotion. I knew from experience that operations managers had to relocate, their workload increased, and they all had a target on their back. It wasn’t worth it.

I was at this company for almost twenty-eight years. I spent most of those years working third shift. As I look back, I think about how much time and energy I put into my job. Was it worth all the effort? I don’t know. I was able to take care of my family. A lot of people never get to do that. I am fortunate in that sense.

Now, my kids have their own challenges, and their struggles are very much like mine were. They work their asses off to take care of other people. Are their jobs meaningful? Maybe. They take pride in their work. They do what they have to do.

I wonder what they will think years from now.

April 22nd, 2025

The Roman Catholic Church is unique among our planet’s religions in that it has one person running the institution. This person, the Pope, is the leader of approximately 1.4 billion coreligionists. He is both a symbol of the Church’s unity and a lightning rod. This man has enormous influence around the world while also being a servant to all. He is a mere mortal representing Christ, God incarnate. He is both priest and prophet. The role of a pope is paradoxical. It is amazing to me that anybody can do the job, or that they would even want to do it.

Now, the Church is without a pope. We are in a period of transition, and we are praying that the new shepherd will be able to lead this unruly flock.

Over the last several decades, the Church has had a pretty good luck with its leaders. Popes Francis, Benedict, John Paul II, Paul VI, and John XXIII were all good men. They had their flaws, but they were far better than some others in the Church’s long history. Even cursory reading of the Catholic Church’s past makes it clear that there have been some truly terrible popes. Yet, the Church has survived and sometimes thrived.

I had a good friend who was well-read and knew quite a bit about church history. He told me something once. I think he was quoting Lord Chesterton, but I’m not sure. In any case, my friend said,

“I am convinced that the Church is under the guidance of the Holy Spirit. No institution run by such fools and knaves would have lasted two weeks, much less two millennia, without it!”

True. There will soon be another conclave, and we will find out if the Holy Spirit will show any interest. If only human beings are involved, the potential for disaster will be high.

I have met saints. I’m sure of it. Saints have certain characteristics. They are notoriously hard to get along with, partly because they don’t follow societal norms, and partly because they never do things by half measures. They tend to be humble, honest, and occasionally bat shit crazy. They may get angry when they see injustice, but they don’t hold grudges. Somehow, they are able to see Christ or Buddha or some other aspect of the Devine in other people, and they act accordingly. They love God, and they love the person who embodies God. They can love even the seemingly unlovable. They are generally anonymous, but their small acts of compassion keep humanity from self-destruction.

I think it is hard for a pope to be a saint. Power is a great temptation. How can a person be humble when over a billion people look up to them?

This brings me back to Pope Francis. Was he a saint? I don’t know. He managed to upset many people, both traditionalists and reformers. He disappointed those who hoped he would allow women to be deacons or allow priests to marry. He likewise failed to satisfy the needs of the persons wounded by the clergy sex abuse. Pope Francis infuriated the members of the Church who wanted to turn back the clock to some half-remembered golden age before Vatican II. He was controversial. To my mind, anybody who can offend people on both ends of the spectrum is probably doing something right.

Pope Francis loved. Like his namesake, he cared for the poor and marginalized. He spoke out for justice. He showed people, both Catholics and members of other traditions, what sacrificial love looks like. He did his job imperfectly, but that’s because he was only human. He was one of us, and he demonstrated that emulating Christ was possible for anyone. We can do it too.

April 18th, 2025

Asher was restless last night. He woke me up four times: at 9:00 PM, at midnight, at 3:00 AM, and at 4:00 AM. Twice, he asked me to get up and give him some warm oat milk. During the last wake up call, he climbed out of bed and barged into my wife’s bedroom to sleep a couple hours with her. The four-year-old almost always sleeps with me. He has never slept alone. He shows no interest in sleeping alone.

Asher, like most people, is complicated. He can be willful and independent, but he is also deeply attached to my wife and me. When one of us leaves home for a few hours, Asher does not say “Goodbye” to Karin or to me. He says, “Be back soon.”

Asher will start half day kindergarten in the fall. That is exciting for all of us, but I guarantee that it will also be challenging. Hopefully, Asher will make new friends quickly. He’s good at that sort of thing. He schmoozes well. As he long as he knows that one of us will pick him at the end of class, it should work out okay. He might get to the point where he doesn’t want to leave school. Once the boy is having a good time, it’s hard to drag him away from his chosen activity. Getting him to come home from the playground is usually like pulling teeth.

At breakfast this morning, my wife was talking with Asher. He was chewing on a jumbo strawberry. All of a sudden, our grandson looked at Karin and said,

“Oma, someday you’re going to die.”

Karin did not have a ready reply for that comment. After a pause, she told him,

“Everybody dies some time.”

He smiled and said, “You’re going to die, and then you’ll be an angel.”

He turned to me and confidently stated,

“Grandpa, you’re going to die too, and you will be an angel. You’ll be in heaven.”

I looked at him and thought, “So, where did this come from? Does Asher understand what death mean?”

He probably doesn’t understand. I know I don’t.

Honestly, the subject of mortality is often on my mind. I don’t feel afraid of dying, but I am worried about leaving Asher behind without a caregiver. He is right about me dying at some point. I’m not sure about becoming an angel. I don’t think I’m qualified.

I told Asher, ” I am not ready to die yet. I need to be here with you for a while.”

There are some departures that don’t allow for a person to “be back soon”.