And one that I can call lover.

The more I think about it, to fall in love, one must allow one's self to become a fool. To be crazy. Love is an act of craziness. One must let go. Do what to people out of love deem to be rather foolish. Even irrational. When I declare myself to be a romantic idealist (dreamer), a free-thinker, a liberal and a lover -- well, so many people think I should add to the list, fool. And maybe I should. Because I tend to be happy when I'm not supposed to be happy. When I'm tending to Jeanne. Being Jeanne's care-giver. When I'm coping with the perils and pitfalls of Alzheimer's. I still manage to find satisfaction. Happiness. And I tell other care-givers that and so many of 'em tell me I'm crazy. I'm an irrational fool. You know, that's why in some sense of the word, I don't fit into this world. But really, I know I fit. When I find people who allow me to be a fool. They accept me that way. Even appreciate me. And quite possibly love me. And soon I realize that's all I need to be happy. My cocoon and a handful of people that I can call friends. And one that I can call lover. --Jim Broede