January 23rd, 2026
Getting Asher to school in the morning is often an ordeal. Asher is a kindergartener at a Waldorf school in Milwaukee which is about a half hour drive from our house. That’s on a good day when traffic flows. There have been a few mornings when driving in rush hour actually took us a full hour. So, my wife and I make a concerted effort to get Asher up, fed, and dressed in a timely manner. We have to get on the freeway before it is packed with slow-moving vehicles.
Asher is not necessarily uncooperative. It is more that he is easily distracted by the world around him. He is at an age where everything is interesting, and his mind flits from idea to idea like a hummingbird darts from blossom to blossom. The primary struggle is to get Asher to focus and keep him on track. The secondary goal is to do that in a way that does not require shouting. It is difficult to remain calm while a young child revels in chaos.
I can give you a classic example of what I mean. I generally wake Asher up at 6:20 AM, or at least I try to do that. Yesterday morning, Asher hugged the pillow for dear life and only grudgingly got up from the bed. I carried him to the kitchen and then he grumpily refused all of my wife’s suggestions for breakfast. Karin, Asher’s oma (Note:”oma” is the German word for grandma. Karin from Germany, therefore she is Asher’s “oma”), had made him a waffle with Santa’s face on it. He liked that, even though the Christmas season is long gone, and he reluctantly sat down to eat.
I sat next to him holding two hand puppets. I had Ellie the elephant and Froggy the frog. They need to eat with Asher if Asher is going to eat breakfast. Asher talked to the puppets while he carefully cut and consumed the waffle. Then he had to take his daily vitamins. Then he needed to drink some strawberry and banana smoothie. All of this takes time.
From the breakfast table, Asher and Oma went to the bathroom so he could brush his teeth. She also got him dressed. I let Karin do that. She is amazingly patient with the boy, and she can make getting dressed into a game. In the meantime, I got Asher’s backpack and lunch into the car. I got myself ready to go for the road trip.
Asher still needed to get on all of his winter gear: coat, knit cap, scarf, mittens, sweater, snow pants, boots. Once again, this all takes time. Karin has made Asher numerous knit caps, all of which look like animals: tiger, reindeer, frog. Asher had to carefully select which cap to wear. Everything Asher does is accompanied by a nonstop monologue. He seldom does anything quietly.
At last, the boy was dressed for the cold, and he came with me out to the garage. I had the car door open and was ready to hustle him into his child seat. Apparently, we weren’t quite ready. He told me,
“Grandpa, I got to go back inside to tell Oma something!”
He ran back into the house to give Karin instructions regarding what to do with his stuffed animals. My patience was wearing thin.
He came back out and started to explain what he had told Oma.
I said, “JUST GET IN THE CAR!”
He did, but not without protest.
I finally got on to the freeway and rapidly shifted three lanes to the left. Asher said to me from the back of the car,
“I don’t like it when you yell at me.”
I replied as a semi roared past us, “I don’t like it either.”
He responded, “Then why do you do it?”
“I don’t know.”
Asher was silent, but I could tell that he did not think I gave him a good answer.
The cars moved along well until just after the Mitchell interchange. Then all I saw was a sea of brake lights. We slowed to a crawl.
Asher asked me, “Are you okay?”
“I think so.”
He said, “I need you to be okay.”
“Okay! I’m okay!” I said this as some bastard cut me off without signaling.
Traffic started moving again. I cruised past the twin spires on St Stanislaus Church on my left. As we approached the high-rise bridge, Asher told me,
“Grandpa, I like you.”
“Good”.
Then he continued, “But I like Oma better. Is that okay?”
I smiled and replied, “Yeah”, and then tried to slide over three lanes to the right to get to the McKinley Street exit.
We were on the last leg of the journey. I turned on to Brady Street. The school was only a couple blocks away.
Asher said, “Grandpa, I love you so much.”
I made a left turn on to Franklin Place and miraculously found a parking space across from Tamarack Waldorf School.
I parked, sighed, and told him, “I love you too.”
Frank is Emptiness 