August 23rd, 2025
On Thursday morning I took Asher to see his therapist. He goes every week to get help for a number of things. The boy is only four and a half years old, but he’s had more than his fair share of trauma. Asher spent an hour with his clinician, and then I came back to the office to collect him at the end of his session. He wasn’t quite done, so I sat around and talked with Eli and Dr. A. Eli is the office manager and Doctor A runs the whole show.
Doctor A smiled at me and said, “Frank, only four more months and you are going to be our Santa Claus.”
I need to explain this. Three weeks ago, I was sitting in the clinic’s office and Doctor A remarked on the luxuriant growth of my beard. I do have a decent beard. I’m bald as an egg, but I can grow a beard. It reaches down to my breastbone, and it is mostly white and curly. Doctor A, out of the blue, asked if I would be Santa Claus at the clinic’s holiday party for the kids. I thought about it for a moment and said, “Yes”. A life changing decision.
I had thought that maybe Doctor A had been kidding me about the Santa gig. She was not. The woman was deadly serious. I’m committed. I have never been a Santa, and as my wife told me, I would be a rather grumpy one. However, it is my time in life to be St. Nick for children that are involved with the clinic.
When I came to pick up Asher on Thursday, Dr. A start talking to me about the Santa thing again. Eli made comments too. They both seemed much more excited about this event than I am.
Doctor A said to me, “We are going to have to feed you. Now, when you are the Santa-of-color, we need to give you soul food. Frank, what do you know about soul food?”
Whoa…back up. It needs to be noted at this point that Eli and Dr A are Black. The clinic has an eclectic ethnic population, both with regards to service providers and clients. Asher and I are very white. So, how the hell am I going to be the “Santa-of-color” for these kids?
I have been thinking about it. I’m white, but I tan well. Right now, considering my facial features, I could probably pass for somebody from the Middle East or North Africa. Many years ago, When I first met my wife in Germany, she was absolutely convinced that I was Turkish. In the German culture, at least at that time, Turks were considered people of color, and not in a positive way. Could I be an Egyptian Santa? Egypt has some Coptic Christians, and I know a smattering of Arabic. By the time Christmas rolls around, I will be pasty white again. I’m sure as hell not going to try a Trump fake tan. This is just bizarre, but I’m still going to be Santa.
Back to Doctor A’s question. I replied to her, “I like BBQ.”
Both Doctor A and Eli shrugged and groaned. Bad answer.
I tried again, “I’ve had collard greens. I like red beans and rice.”
They both smiled. I had some minimal street cred.
Doctor A talked enthusiastically about soul food. She asked me,
“Frank have you ever had the mac and cheese? You know, the kind that Black people make?”
“Uh, no.”
Eli grinned and said, “Oh Man, it’s got that crispy layer of cheese on the top.”
Doctor A told me, “Frank, it’s goooood. You got to try it.”
I was getting hungry. I hadn’t had anything for breakfast, and these people were talking about food to die for. Fortunately, Asher appeared, laughing and jumping around. It was time to go.
I said, “Asher, we got to go. These people are going make me pass out from hunger.”
I bet we talk more about the Santa gig next Thursday. Doctor A had joked about me wearing African colors when I with the little kids. That might actually happen. I have no idea where this is all going.
Ho ho ho.
Frank is Emptiness 