Little wonder that she became my true lover.

One thing people don’t understand about me – I’m different. Very different. And they find that hard to grasp. They can’t believe it. So they try to analyze me in a way that makes me more of a conformist, more like what they expect a guy to be. More or less like themselves. So when I declare myself a romantic idealist, for instance, they try to redefine me and call me a Pollyanna. One can’t be a true romantic these days. That’s what they imply. In a sense, they are telling me you can’t believe what you say you really believe. It’s too preposterous. But believe me, folks, I am preposterous. This is me. Romantic idealist. Free-thinker. Liberal. Lover. Even when I was a care-giver, some of ‘em disbelieved that I could love Jeanne to the extent of pushing a wheelchair 10 miles a day, to hand-feeding Jeanne lunch and supper, to giving her a shower and brushing her teeth nightly. Yes, even spending 8 to 10 hours a day with Jeanne. More than three years without a miss. Because I loved this woman. Adored this woman. Jeanne was/is my goddess. When I courted Jeanne in 1968, I declared that I had to see Jeanne for at least 1,000 days in a row. And so, when I was sick, I pulled myself out of bed and went and knocked on Jeanne’s door, just so I could catch a glimpse. Well, it turned out that we got married long before the 1,000 days expired. We went far longer than a mere 1,000 days. Maybe in almost 40 years of marriage we were separated for less than 10 days. Yes, we always were able to take each other in big doses. Jeanne accepted me, in large part, I think, because I was delightfully different. Not like everybody else. Yes, a Pollyanna. And hey, I didn’t imagine all this. I lived it. I found a wonderful woman who didn’t mind my being different. Being almost unbelievable. But believable because Jeanne was seeing it with her own eyes. And Jeanne knew how to appreciate my being different. She liked it right from the start. Yes, Jeanne was the first and only woman I ever met that fully accepted me as a romantic idealist, a free-thinker, a liberal and a lover. All rolled into one. Yes, the unbelievable became believable for Jeanne. Little wonder that she became my true lover. --Jim Broede