...helps me understand my friend.

I'm always reading something. I have many, many books. Thousands. So many that I can't read them all. I'm never lacking for books. I have book shelves covering virtually every wall in my house. In the garage, too. It gives me comfort. A week doesn't go by when I don't add a few books to my collection. Right now, I'm reading Alexander Solzhenitsyn's "Cancer Ward." I'm engrossed in the book. It came recommended by a friend. And the next book she wants me to read is Shakespeare's "Julius Caesar." I like to read books that my friend likes...because that helps me understand my friend. --Jim Broede

...a good thing.

It's all right to be afraid, folks But you should have no reason to be afraid of me. Really. I can do you much good. But no harm. All I do is talk. To try to make you think. Yes, there's no harm in that. You don't have to accept a word of what I have to say. You are free to choose your thoughts. Your thoughts belong to you. My thoughts belong to me. And sharing thoughts -- well, that's basically a good thing. --Jim

Keeps me out of depression.

I wonder if I've ever been in depression. Maybe not. Oh, I've felt down. Down in the dumps. Sad. In sorrow. In grief. But I don't know that I've been in depression. I've never felt hopeless, I guess. I've always wanted to live. For another day. I've felt like withdrawing from the world. And living in my cocoon. In solitude. But the point is, I've always wanted to live. And certainly in the last 40 years or so, I've wanted to love, too. Love someone. Not just my self. So maybe it's a little difficult for me to understand someone in depression. Almost constant depression. I'm too much in love with life to feel low for a long time. Maybe for a day or two. A week at the most. And then I lift myself up. Because I revere life. Despite the pitfalls. I don't like much of what I see going on in the world. The bloodshed. The violence. The inability of so many people to fall in love. But still, I cherish so many blessings. Not the least being to feel the pleasure of love. Even if it's directed almost entirely at one other. That's a mighty nice consolation of life. Keeps me out of depression. --Jim Broede

It's all right to be crazy...and still want to live.

I think my father was crazy. Real crazy. He was an habitual gambler. And he committed suicide. When he was 38. I guess he wanted to live only on his crazy terms. Or not to live at all. Anyway, I assume I have inherited many of my father's crazy genes. Only I've put them to a different use. Oh, a crazy use. I'm addicted, too. And I want to live life on my terms. Rather crazy terms, I suppose. I want to gamble. Not for money, like my dad. I want to gamble on love. I want to go crazy in love. Because I think that's what brings me happiness. That's why I've never seriously considered suicide. I find that I'd rather live. And here I am, living happily. At 72, and counting. Almost double the life span of my father, who opted out voluntarily. I'd even like to live forever. Or at least that's the way I feel now. Guess I'm trying to show my dad it's all right to be crazy...and still want to live. --Jim Broede

I don't know any better.

I like to live in two worlds. Simultaneously, in a way. A blend of reality and unreality, I suppose. Just depends on how one wants to interpret what is happening in one's life. I think it's good -- good for me, that is -- to fantasize. To some degree. To live in the physical world that one can touch and see very clearly. But to make sense of it all, I have to believe in another dimension. The spirit. In ever-lasting life. I want forever to get it right. And I don't mind being wrong. Making mistakes. Being the fool. The buffoon. The ass. Because that's the only way I can learn. By just letting myself go. By testing the limits of this thing called love. Something inside me. I don't fear going crazy. Crazy in the pursuit of happiness. And joy. I don't want sadness. At least i don't want prolonged sadness. Or prolonged depression. Even if I have to trick myself to avoid the unhappiness -- well, that's what I do. I believe in love. I've experienced it. So I know beyond a doubt that love exists. And if I'm wrong, so be it. But for the moment, I don't know any better. --Jim Broede

That's me. Today.

Solitude is, oh, so nice. To be able to withdraw. Into a cocoon. And dream of coming out. As a butterfly. Rested. Refreshed. After having talked to the spirits. Even one's own spirit. To sit down. And write. About what it is to be alive. Maybe in a primeval forest. Or in a vast, dry desert. Or on a seashore. Or just inside one's self. When I am alone, I become comfortable again. Because I come to understand I am not alone. I can live so easily without another human being, or so I think. Instead, I can live with the spirits. Such a thrill. And one of those spirits I knew. When alive in the physical realm. In the flesh. And we touched. Each other. Forever. And I ask, what am I to do? And she tells me. Live. Today. Without concern for tomorrow. And I am not to reason why. That's me. Today. --Jim Broede

...as crazy as me.

I think I know what's mentally healthy for me. And that is to be a romantic idealist, a free-thinker, a liberal and a lover. Moreorless on my own terms. That makes me feel reasonably comfortable. With myself. It requires that I live in a fantasy land, of sorts. At least part-time. And often, I find it nice to think out loud. To share my thoughts. With others. Even if I'm misunderstood. If somebody happens along, and we connect -- well, that's a plus. That's all I need in life. I like connections. Usually, I have handful of 'em. And occasionally I cultivate a long-lasting connection. Almost always with someone who's just as crazy as me. --Jim Broede

So much to enjoy.

I remember a time with Jeanne. In February. Maybe almost 10 years ago. And I heard rain falling on the roof. Imagine that. In Minnesota. Rain. In the middle of winter. And it sounded so good. So romantic. I can still see Jeanne. Sitting in a chair. A food tray on her lap. Eating. And it felt like Paradise. I don't know what it was. The rain? The pitter-patter. Why I remember that night, I don't quite know. I still think about that night. For no special reason. Just that some how that night got riveted in my mind. It was as if god wanted me to remember. So I keep retrieving that night. I took a shower that night, too. And water flowing off my body. It felt so good. I've taken many showers. Virtually every night. But that night in the shower. The rain. The shower. Jeanne. Maybe I was more alive than usual that night. Just aware. That I was alive. And happy. And blessed. That was all. Nothing special. Just another day. But so much to enjoy. --Jim Broede

Looking into the face of god.

I think spiritual love can only be an out-of-body experience. The spirit has to leave the body and couple with another spirit. There is no other way. Lovemaking has to be physical. Or spiritual. Not both at the same time. I'm surmising that to have both at the same time -- well, that's impossible. We may deceive ourselves into thinking we are having both simultaneously. But that's all it is. A deception of the mind. Because if it's pure spiritual love, the spirit is no longer attached to the body. Therefore, a physical orgasm would be impossible. Spiritual lovemaking does not have a physical element. It is on an entirely different plateau. In another dimension. And it consumes the two spirits having it. They totally merge their spirits. Become One. And that is a spiritual orgasm. Experienced only when the spirit is outside the physical body. It's difficult to explain exactly what a spiritual orgasm feels like. In words. But maybe what comes close -- it's a feeling that one has been permeated, overwhelmed by love. Utter, complete, total, pure love. It's a feeling beyond full description. Maybe it's experiencing forever and ever and ever. Eternity. Gettting a glimpse into the infinite. Heaven. Paradise. Eden. Looking into the face of god. --Jim Broede

I'm quite serious.

I know some of you won't believe this. But my bad cold sort of miraculously disappeared the other day. In an instant. When I had an out-of-body experience. I felt as if I were out of my body, and when I returned, the cold was gone. Maybe I was in Paradise, and one is not allowed to enter with a physical malady of any kind. And then when one leaves Paradise and returns to one's physical body, all the old baggage is left behind. I know that you may suspect that I'm kidding. But I'm not. I'm quite serious. --Jim Broede

...and don't have time for love.

I ignore details. And focus on the important things. Namely, my love interest. If I have spent a day loving, then I have spent it living. And to hell with daily details. Maybe at best, I devote a half day occasionally to taking care of details. I just clear my desk, so to speak. I understand why some people and some things in my life get ignored. If I take on too much, I end up doing everything in a half-assed manner. I am leery of busy people. People who try to do too much...and don't have time for love. --Jim Broede

We have to love ourselves. Accept ourselves.

Oh, I wish we could get extended respite from our hectic lives. We often get run-down without realizing it. It's like we have no other choice. So many things. And if we let up for a while, the details pile up. We tell ourselves we have to become more efficient. But ultimately, it comes down to making hard choices. Admitting that we can't be everything to everybody. In the end, we have to remain true to ourselves. Knowing, understanding, that we have to take care of ourselves to be good to anyone. We have to love ourselves. Accept ourselves. --Jim Broede

Or else we'll meet in the OK Corral.

My friend Rosie's husband Dale has a Harley and I think it'd be a lark to go for a ride with him. I'd like to put on a Hell's Angel's black leather jacket, too. And wear the kind of sunglasses where you can't see my eyes. And maybe I'd go a week or two without shaving. And then I'd ride over to see the snob ladies that criticize me all the time. And spit tobacco juice at 'em. And tell 'em I'm a tough hombre and don't mix with me again. Or else we'll meet in the OK Corral. --Jim Broede

Wait for real love.

I'm so thankful that I didn't marry before I got into my 30s. I wasn't ready. And I didn't know the right woman. All the women I knew then would have been disasters. For both of us. We weren't suited for each other. I was beginning to think that maybe I would never get married. That didn't scare me. But then Jeanne happened along. Out of the blue. Divorced. With two kids. Nine years my senior. Wow! I was smitten. Well worth the wait. Goes to show. Don't be in a hurry. Wait for real love. --Jim Broede

About things I used to do.

I have been in a darkened movie theater only once in 5 years. Because I cannot bring myself to enter alone. Without Jeanne. Used to be that we saw 2 or 3 movies a week. All kinds of films. The popular ones. The not-so-popular. The offbeat. Foreign films. With subtitles. Mostly in the campus theaters around the University of Minnesota. We saw every film nominated for an Academy Award. Now, I haven't seen any of them. Oh, I'll get back to the movies again. Maybe soon. I even stopped going out to eat when Jeanne was in the nursing home. Because Jeanne wasn't with me. I'm beginning to eat out more now. Often, I bring along a book or a newspaper. Or a notepad. To write. My thoughts. About things I used to do. --Jim Broede

Good food is like good love.

I like to cook. Always have. Even when I was a kid. I'd make pies and cakes. And butterscotch pudding. My brother and sister accused me of hiding the pudding. So they wouldn't get any. But how does one hide pudding in a refrigerator? Impossible. Anyway, when mom was working, I'd come home and start making supper sometimes. And, of course, when I lived alone, I moreorless had two choices. Cook. Or go out to eat. Or yes, a third choice. Starve. I enjoy cooking. And improvising meals. With deli pick-ups. And Jeanne found it a delight that I liked to cook. Relieved her of that responsibility on many occasions. And for that she was grateful. She was a decent cook though. She made a heavenly salmom hot dish, and nice lasagna. We often worked in the kitchen together. And we always ate out several times a week. Breakfast. Lunch. Supper. And in the last few years at home, I did almost all of the cooking. And I'd serve Jeanne on a tray. In the living room. We dined leisurely. Maybe watched TV. Or listened to music. For a while near the end, Jeanne started sticking food between the cushions in the chair. But I caught on to it. And rather than chide her about it, I just cleaned it up. I like to cook German food. A good schnitzel. Brats. Saurkraut. Bread dumplings. Pork roast. But so many other things, too. Can't beat boneless chicken breasts simmered in garlic mushroom soup for 8-10 hours in a crockpot. Chicken so tender it melts in your mouth. Broiled salmon is another favorite, marinated in various sauces. Oh, so good. Good food is like good love. The two can often be combined.

...maybe to little learning is better than too much learning.

I think there are many with a more sophisticated and realistic and clinical view of love and sex than I. Could be I am quite naive. And not all that aware of what is happening. To me. There are so many others who have a better grasp of it than I. I readily acknowledge that. And so I sort of plod ahead. And keep learning. The hard way. Which is also the delightful way. A little bit at a time. And I make mistakes. I'm still a little boy. With a lot to learn about love. And about sex. And about everything, for that matter. But I'm still able to be thrilled by it all. Because I don't know any better. I'm at the stage where I think that maybe too little learning is better than too much learning. --Jim Broede

They always have today.

Maybe it's naive and stupid people that fall in love. They don't know any better. They just accept it. They don't analyze it. They just love. The hip and smart people -- well, they try to figure it out. Why did this happen? What does it mean? Maybe it won't last. Maybe it means that some day I will be hurt. I suspect that the naive and stupid lovers live a day at a time. They savor the moment. Today. And they don't think much about yesterday or tomorrow. Because they are too busy living today. And the loves that last don't get too far ahead of themselves. They always have today. --Jim Broede

Crumbs can be a feast for a hungry man...a blessing.

I suspect the loss of love is a case of lovers refusing to live their dreams. They begin to focus on the 'hard realities' of life. Instead of finding consolation in love. That would have been all too easy to do. When Alzheimer's takes one's lover away to some degree. One begins to focus on the loss. Rather than on what one still has. Some very meaningful things. So much still to love. And one has built a vast reserve of love over the many years. Things one can still fall back on. Loving experiences. Loving memories. And there are still so many ways to nurture the love. Even in the worst of times. I kept falling more and more in love with Jeanne in those last 3 years especially. Maybe it is like a starving man that can make the most of crumbs. The crumbs can be a feast for a hungry man...a blessing. --Jim Broede

As just what it is -- an unexplainable blessing.

I am thinking about loves that have gone awry. Nice loves. Only to have the bottoms drop out. So many that I have seen. But that I have never experienced. And I wonder why. And maybe it's because the lovers became too mindful. Too intelligent. Too smart. Wanting an explanation for everything. A scientific analysis. My kind of love allows for the complete loss of the mind. Yes, crazy love. One does not need an explanation. One just accepts. The pure pleasure of being in love. As just what it is -- an unexplainable blessing. --Jim Broede

Maybe I would rather fabricate...and live in a dream.

How little I really know. About so many things. Including love. I am naive. Ignorant. But that is what makes love so nice. Just learning about it. Bit by bit. A little at a time. There are so many, many more who know far more than I. But I'm not sure that's a good thing. One can know too much. That's a danger. When the mystery disappears, it's quite possible that love evaporates. Like a mist. Into the air. Gone forever. Too easy to become disillusioned. By the facts. By reality. Maybe I would rather fabricate...and live in a dream. --Jim Broede

Makes life more mysterious.

I am in a pondering mood today. I'm pondering about how there are so many unexplainable things in life. And it's not because they are unexplainable. It's more a case of my ignorance. More a case that I personally don't understand. I haven't learned. In reality, there's probably an explanation for everything. But I get a sense of mystery. By going though life stupid. It's really nice to be stupid. It gives me pleasure. Makes life more mysterious that way. --Jim Broede

Anything one can believe is possible, is possible.

Oh, it is so easy to assume so many things. That's the funny and glorious part of life. The imagination is so fluid. So boundless. That is why all things are possible. I think it is even possible to walk on water. Anything one can believe is possible, is possible. --Jim Broede

It is good to love any which way.

I think it's possible for two lovers to make love from a great distance. By allowing their spirits to leave their bodies. Oh, they may feel as if they are still in their bodies. A little like when someone loses a limb, and it still feels there. But in reality, it's an out-of-body experience. The lovers have loosened or freed their spirits. Allowed their spirits to soar. All the way to Paradise. When lovers are in each other's physical presence, they can make physical love. With their spirits still intact in their bodies. But it isn't completely pure spiritual love. Maybe only 99 percent. Because the spirits are not totally free of body restraints. Yes, maybe this sounds crazy. But it is a wonderful kind of crazy. One can choose to go physical crazy or spiritual crazy. And both are pure acts of love. Pure physical. Pure spiritual. It is good to be pure human. And it is good to be pure spirit. It is good to love any which way. --Jim Broede

...addicted to exercise.

I'm funny. I have this tendency to want to go out in the cold and walk at least a few miles. Even when I have a cold. I think it's that I am addicted to exercise. Oh, I'll try to walk back and forth in the house, too. Rather than outdoors. But I'm sure I'll sneak outdoors for a while. Cold or no cold. Fortunately, it isn't bitter cold. We are getting a little bit of a thaw. But on Tuesday afternoon, another Arctic blast is to come in. And the temperature will dip to 15 below zero by Wednesday morning. --Jim Broede

...no colds in Paradise.

I am afraid that a cold germ has penetrated my armor. I woke up this morning with the initial signs of a cold. One of my so-called killer colds that eventually gives me a deep base voice, and finally hardly no voice at all. It starts in the throat. Now I will be put to the test -- to remain upbeat and positive even when I don't feel good. I will keep reminding myself that I am in love, and that these colds bottom out in 3 or 4 days and within a week the cold may be a distant memory. If it becomes a really bad cold, I'm usually up most of the night. Because I get more relief being up rather than down. Anyway, I will try to find solace in the next few days by focusing thought on my blessing -- being in love. And wishing to be in Paradise. I'm assuming that colds are strictly a physical malady...and that there are no colds in Paradise. --Jim Broede

...it makes me sick.

Sometimes I find that I am taking myself far too seriously. And when I catch myself doing that, I have to start laughing. I can be rather pompous. Too full of myself. And that is when I am most like an ass, a fool, an idiot, a jerk. Oh, at times I am so pompous that it makes me sick. --Jim Broede

...a thin line between humor and cruelty.

I like to kid people. I like to think funny situations. Situations that would be very embarrassing. For someone. I don't want to be cruel. But that doesn't stop me from imagining different situations. Some that, yes, might very well be downright embarrassing. And hurtful in some ways. But when they are shared between people, I think they can be humorous. I mean I can imagine myself in all sorts of embarrassing situations. But I sometimes learn to see them in a funny light. Even the day when Jeanne reached into her pants, pulled out a handful of poop, and put it on a shelf at the book store. Very embarrassing at the time. But really, very funny. That's what time and reflection can do. It can change embarrassment into something that can be taken as funny. Humor is strange in that way. It's a way to loosen up. I often practice straight-faced put-on humor. And it can be taken in different ways by different people. Some people have an innate sense of humor. And some don't. I often try to get people to laugh with hyperbole. Certain snob ladies that I know, for instance. Often, when they don't laugh, it makes me laugh. I see so much humor in people who take themselves too seriously. I split a gut laughing. But hey, I do understand. Much of humor is cruel. Awfully cruel. There's a thin line between humor and cruelty. --Jim Broede

Pondering about pondering.

I like to ponder. And ponder. And ponder. Almost non-stop pondering. Makes me a bit reflective. Sometimes, I don't know what to ponder. So I ponder about pondering. That's what I am doing today. I wonder why I am pondering about pondering. --Jim Broede

Natural talent.

I love to be an ass. A fool. An idiot. A jerk. Now that may seem a bit strange. But that's me. Strange. I try not to remain all of these things for a long time. Just for a while. Just so I know what it feels like. In the long run, it makes me a better person. It leaves me somewhat embarrassed. But that's good. Gives me the opportunity to apologize. And it also makes me think. About how imperfect I am. Makes me a little more humble. But still, I recognize my talent. That I can become an ass, a fool, an idiot and a jerk -- without hardly even trying. Indeed, that's natural talent. --Jim Broede

So I have time to truly live.

I almost always recommend taking one's time. Proceeding with life at a leisurely pace. Never be in a hurry. Slow motion. That is the way to savor life. So often, I don't want to leave the moment. I want it to last forever. I want time to stop. So I have time to truly live. --Jim Broede

...if they set their minds to it.

People feel sorry for themselves. Often enough. It happens almost every day on the Alzheimer's message boards. Care-givers. So very unhappy and sad. I can't blame them. Some are stuck in terrible situations. But still, I tend to tell them try to find some degree of happiness. To compensate. To offset the sadness. At least for a little while. How or what -- well, I really can't say. It's up to the individual. But once it's determined, I say, go for it. Full throttle. Maybe by falling in love. Not necesarily with somebody. But with something. An activity. Or by becoming enraptured by nature. Or absorbed in good books. Some aspect of wonderful life. Yes, so many ways to get respite from sadness and grief. Think about it, I tell the unhappy. I'll bet everyone can come up with a few good ideas...if they set their minds to it. --Jim Broede

For the sake of love.

I think some people resist love because they are afraid of it. They are afraid to let themselves go. To go crazy. In love. The older and more experienced I get in life, the more I understand that it is essential to love. In order to be happy and fulfilled. Really, there is no other way. Once one is in love, everything else is so small in comparison. I mean real love. Crazy love. Sane love really isn't real love, I suspect. Of course, it depends on how one defines crazy and sane. Sane people play life very, very safe. Crazy people take risks and chances. For the sake of love. --Jim Broede

Quite an accomplishment.

I'm trying to create the proper frame of time and mind for lovers. Combining today and forever. Living today as if it's forever. Becoming completely absorbed in the moment. That makes my today the past, present and future. Everything rolled into one. Yes, I am living forever. In love. Quite an accomplishment. --Jim Broede

Because I'll be living...and loving.

I hardly think about tomorrow any more. Because I am so busy living today. In love. It's a nice feeling. Like I'm living fully. Savoring the moment. Happily. But lately, I've been turning my thoughts ahead a little bit. In a happy way. Planning. For 2 weeks in Arizona. With the Chicago Cubs. At spring training. Watching baseball games. In the sun. And soon, I have to do more planning. For this summer. Five weeks in Europe. Traveling. And relishing every minute of it. Because I'll be living...and loving. --Jim Broede

...a sign that I'm in love.

I go to sleep at night with thoughts of love. And I wake up with thoughts of love. And when I dream, I usually dream of love. And during the day, I am pleasantly preoccupied by thoughts of love. It must be a sign that I'm in love. --Jim Broede

Another loverboy.

Funny Loverboy. He's in the habit of waking me in the morning. By grooming me. Like I'm another cat. His sandpaper tongue scapes along my arm or hand, and even my face. I used to shove him away. But now I mostly accept all this. Assuming that it is a display of affection. That I have been accepted as another cool cat. Another loverboy. --Jim Broede

Hallelujah!

I keep getting back to the notion of forgiveness. If I have been wronged here on Earth, and I some how get to Paradise, I'd be so happy that Paradise exists, that I'd even ask god to forgive everyone. Sinner and non-sinner alike. I'm a sly one, I guess. Because I committed my share of wrongs. We all have, I think. To varying degrees. Other than maybe someone who died before he/she had an opportunity to live. Could well be there isn't a non-sinner amongst us. So, where do we draw the cut-off line?

Assuming that everyone in Paradise is automatically permeated upon entry by an overwhelming feeling of love and forgiveness. Even Hitler and his victims. Each and everyone. Hitler would fully and genuinely repent. He'd ask for forgiveness. And his victims, one by one, in acts of unconditional love, would truly forgive. And all would be peace and harmony. Yes, god's perfect world. Reason for god to smile down on everyone. Like a radiant ray of sunshine. And everybody lives happily ever after. God's kingdom has come. Hallelujah! --Jim Broede

...the kind of Creation I'd design.

Oh, the many injustices in this world. I'd like to think that things even out in the long run. But they don't. That is, unless there's life after death. Another dimension. A spirit world. Or even reincarnation. Then everything makes sense. But if this life on Earth happens to be all there is -- well, then injustice lives forever. Wrongs do not get righted. Maybe that is why I have come to a romantic notion of life. That life is on-going. It never ends. Unless a human soul wants it to end. Then I say grant that soul an end to living. But if a soul wishes to live forever, allow it to go on and on and on. If I'm god, maybe that's the kind of Creation I'd design.

I even have time for love.

That's the advantage of retirement. Of living long enough to retire. One buys time. Time to live more like one should live. Outside the rat race. At a more leisurely pace. In slow motion. Time to savor the niceties of life. Before one finally runs out of time. Think of it. I even have time for love. --Jim Broede

I can be rather bullish at times.

I am the one that tends to be excessive. I go off deep ends. I go on tangents. My lover, meanwhile, may be a restraining influence on me. And I mean that in a positive sense. She gets me to come outside myself, and see things in a different perspective. Yes, she may even make me a bit kinder, a bit more understanding of others. I can be rather bullish at times. --Jim Broede

I fall asleep with a smile. Contented.

I've gone through a relatively long period of sleeping well. But there have been times in my life when I didn't sleep well. Maybe when there was some significant turbulence in my life. I think that maybe for the last 6 months, I've slept well. Relaxed. Maybe because I push myself to stay awake until I am tired. Doesn't matter if I don't go to bed until 2 or 3 in the morning. And get up at 8 or 9. Maybe that is what makes me tired at the end of the day. Maybe I sleep well when I am most tired. But a pleasant tired. I fall asleep with a smile. Contented. --Jim Broede

I'm never sure that I have got it right.

I think good writers take their own experiences and expand on them and learn from them and do variations on them to make for good stories. And they take real people in their lives and use them to some degree to form characters. They put their imaginations to work. And really, much of reality is just an expanded imagination. Sometimes, it's really difficult to differentiate between reality and unreality. So much of what I see as real is no more than my interpretation of life. And I'm never sure that I have got it right. --Jim Broede

...and I'll be in Paradise.

Yesterday, I got wrapped up on a spending spree. I spent $120. On bargain CDs. So many I couldn't pass up. Classical music. And relaxing music. Celestial music. Music that one might play while practicing yoga or meditating. I brought home a boxful of CDs. Oh, I have more CDs -- thousands --than I can listen to in a lifetime. I am naughty. I indulge myself too much. In the collection of books and CDs. It is shameful, I suppose. But it makes me happy to be surrounded by books and music. Now all I need is my true love with me...and I'll be in Paradise. --Jim Broede

Maybe some day we'll learn...

Maybe we Americans could arrange a trade. With another country. How about if we sent George Bush to Italy? And in return, we'll take several corrupt Italian politicians. That should be a good deal for America. We'll come out ahead. And Italians will learn to understand that, yes, things could be far worse. Bush-worse. But we Americans have what we deserve. Serves us right. Maybe some day we'll learn and clean our government house. --Jim Broede

...every time I open the refrigerator door.

I'm thinking today about how we try to make sense of our lives. How we interpret our lives. And how we can choose our perspectives. Daily. Happy or unhappy. Optimistic or pessimistic. Confident or unconfident. Or often somewhere inbetween. Some days I think a whole lot. I'm preoccupied with myself. Within. And I notice virtually nothing going on around and about me. I am not living in the immediate world. But other days, I am acutely aware of my surroundings. I notice every little thing. Every detail. Anyway, I have a note attached to the refrigerator door with a magnet. It reads, "Remind myself that I am an alive and conscious being." And I do that every time I open the refrigerator door. --Jim Broede

I fill a different role every day.

I am reading a book. "Cancer Ward." By Alexander Solzhenitsyn. So I have been living with cancer patients. For several days now. It almost seems like I am one of them. As if I am living in this novel. It's a good feeling. I can be helpful. I can be a doctor. Or a patient. I fill a different role every day. --Jim Broede

I will take notice today.

It is sunny. But a bit windy. The wind is blowing yesterday's snow from the tree limbs. And that makes for a pretty picture. I am noticing these little details today. Maybe when I go for my walk this afternoon, this will be my observant day. When I don't become so wrapped up in thought. I will take notice today. --Jim Broede

...because I am selfish.

Maybe the reason I have so few 'friends' is because I'm the one that attaches conditions to friendship. And here I think it's the others that attach conditions. It may be that I have actively resisted friendships. All my life. Maybe because that makes me comfortable. Maybe subconsciously I really don't want friends. Maybe I am far too self-centered. Maybe I try to rely too much on myself...because I am selfish. --Jim Broede

So real...this love.

Love should be tender. That is what makes it passionate and intimate. The best lovemaking may be as gentle as a warm summer breeze -- soft, soothing air drifting in from paradise. Eyes closed. As if in a dream. But it is real. So real...this love. --Jim Broede

I shall be forever grateful.

I am being allowed to get carried away. Allowed to be crazy. Allowed to become a fool. Yes, to be in love. My beloved has given me permission to be in love. There is no greater gift than that. For my beloved to say it's all right for me to fall in love. Because I cannot foist love on anyone. She must be receptive. And she is. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I shall be forever grateful. --Jim Broede

How I know when I am in love.

When the unbelievable becomes believable. That is how I know when I am in love. --Jim Broede

...for the rest of my life.

I didn’t learn how to fall in love properly until after I turned 30. That is, with a woman. With another human being. Oh, I was in love before that. With politics. With social activism and other causes. And, of course, with writing. But it wasn’t until I met Jeanne that I was truly smitten. With love. Then for the next almost 40 years, that was my thing. Being in love. With dear Jeanne. Right up to the day she died. And I’m still in love with Jeanne’s spirit. Always will be. But I’ve by no means stopped loving. I’m in love again. With another woman. I was born to love. I can’t help myself. I have to love. One other. Maybe almost as dearly as I loved Jeanne. That’s why I was put on Earth. And Jeanne knows it, too. Jeanne wants me to be a lover for the rest of my life. –Jim Broede

...almost anything is possible.

I love getting carried away. I am learning new ways to express my spirit. To let my spirit go. So many, many ways to make love. If the heart and soul are willing, almost anything is possible. --Jim Broede

I wonder if that makes me stupid, or honest?

When I took two years of French in college, one of the first things I learned to say in French was, "I don't know." I'm not sure how to spell it, but it was something to the effect, "je ne se pas." And that's been much the story of my life. So often I have to admit, "I don't know." I wonder if that makes me stupid, or honest? --Jim Broede

...blessed with 2 lovers and maybe 5 friends.

I often tell people that maybe I've had only 2 to 5 friends in my entire life. And one lover. No, make that two. I'm cultivating a second love. It's underway. Love takes time. To nurture. To build. The more I think about it, the more I doubt that lovers ever reach perfection with each other. Because if it's a real love, it gets better and better and better. It never stops getting better. Even if two lovers are together for 1,000 years. Even forever. Seems to me that the only perfect lover in the cosmos is god himself. God knows how to love. All of creation. Without exception. Now that's perfect love. We mortals -- well, if we reached the same perfection as god, we'd be equal to god. I wonder if god ever expects that to happen. It'd be nice if I could live to see that day. Because then I'd live forever. Anyway, back to friends. The nature of friendship. I think friendship is quite similar to love. True friends accept each other unconditionally. Just as true lovers do. That's why I say I have had so few friends. I'm not sure that my so-called friends would accept me unconditionally. I think Jeanne would have. She was my best friend ever. And I have a handful of others that I'd like to think would accept me unconditionally. I know I would accept them. Anyway, as for those who would accept me conditionally, they're really acquaintances. Anyway, I'm feeling pretty good about myself. Just think about it. In 72 years of life, I've been blessed with 2 lovers and maybe 5 friends. --Jim Broede

Knowing that one has loved enough to feel sorrow.

I am confident in love. In the sense that I have never been hurt by love. I want to teach that most love does not hurt. One must never be afraid of love. Even the sad parts of love need not hurt in the grand scheme of things. One feels sorrow at the death of a loved one. But that sorrow is the result of having loved. And that, in the end, is what brings solace. And contentment. Knowing that one has loved enough to feel sorrow. --Jim Broede

Isn't that a wonderful thought?

Someone asked me the other day, what is perfect love? I've been thinking about an answer. And I guess it's whatever the lover wants to call perfect. What the beholder sees as perfect, or reasonably so. I guess I feel that what I had with Jeanne is about as perfect as I'm going to get it. I feel Jeanne made my life worthwhile. If I die tomorrow, I will have felt that I lived and loved. Jeanne made me feel good. And fulfilled. And I think I did the same for Jeanne. We were loyal and faithful and loving to each other. And the love was nurtured from Day One. It grew stronger and stronger. And I suspect that if Jeanne had lived longer, it would have become even stronger. So maybe in that sense, we had not yet reached perfection. If we had lived for 1,000 years together, it might still be getting better. But I'd say that in this lifetime, it got as good as it could get in our limited time on Earth. Jeanne was my one and only love up to the day she died. That doesn't mean I won't fall in love again. I already have. Now, the important thing is to nurture that love. Make it stronger and stronger. Doesn't mean that I'll be loving Jeanne any less. Jeanne's spirit will always reside in me. Will always be with me. I think Jeanne is guiding me through the rest of my life on Earth. Jeanne is encouraging me to be exactly what I am. A lover. I'll never stop loving Jeanne. But hey, I can still love another, in a manner very similar to the way I loved Jeanne. Unconditionally. Yes, one starts with being able to love one other. That's followed by a second, if I'm lucky. And if I loved forever, maybe I could find a way to love all of humanity. I suspect that is what god achieved. And that's why he created us and gave us the ability to love one. And maybe two. And three. And ultimately, just like god, all of creation. Isn't that a wonderful thought? --Jim Broede

When I walk...in the sun.

The nicest consolation about bitter cold temperature in Minnesota is the sun. The coldest days are usually accompanied by the sun. Which, in a sense, makes the days somewhat warm. That is, if one goes out during the height of the day. The official temperarture today will be well below zero. But it'll seem warmer when I walk...in the sun. --Jim Broede

Life becomes more vivid. More precious. More thrilling.

Just a random thought. It's sometimes too easy to go through a day on automatic pilot. Just going about living without being consciously aware of it. Just going through the motions. Just to get through the day. But being in love -- well, that makes a difference. It heightens awareness. A feeling of being alive and with it. Life becomes more vivid. More precious. More thrilling. --Jim Broede

Love is what makes me feel most alive.

When I was with Jeanne. That is when I began to understand the true nature of love. And how fulfilling it can be. And I continue to learn more and more every day. Being with Jeanne. And being in love. That is what made my life worthwhile. Oh, sure, it's also nice to have a career. As a writer. And that is fulfilling, too. But not nearly as fulfilling as being in love. If I have to choose one or the other, give me being in love. Love is what makes me feel most alive. --Jim Broede

To allow love to enter my life.

In my younger days I never thought of love as a fulfilling way of life. Love seemed rather meaningless. Just another emotion. Nothing that really helped one through life. Fortunately, I have lived long enough to learn that love is the basic ingredient of life. One hasn't lived unless one has loved. Another. Genuinely loved. And what a bonus, if one also is loved by another. A two-way love. That is my mission in life. To always be in love. Completely. Thoroughly. To love someone that needs me. And that I need, too. So, I just let myself gravitate. I let myself go. To allow love to enter my life. --Jim Broede

It's nice assuming that I'm right.

Jeanne never lost the ability to smile. She could still feel happiness. I think she felt loved right up to the end. And maybe even today in a spirit world. I'm assuming that life takes many, many forms. If I'm wrong, I won't ever know it. But it's nice assuming that I'm right. --Jim Broede

In a way that stops short of hate and killing.

Maybe what life is supposed to be is learning to understand each other. Isn't that similar to loving each other? Is that what is meant in the Bible? To love your enemy is to understand your enemy. You don't have to literally love him. You have to understand him. And if that is the case, maybe one can learn to accept him. Learn to deal with him. In a way that stops short of hate and killing. --Jim Broede

We often keep on misunderstanding each other.

Yes, so often it's a matter of how one chooses to communicate. I don't always think it out ahead of time. I just let people know what's on my mind. Even to total strangers. And that is one reason why I am misjudged. Maybe my thinking is always in the formative stage. It's never complete. It's where I am at at a given moment in time. And that makes it on-going. And here I am, sharing a thought out loud. Long before it's complete. And people's reactions to what I have to say -- well, it's much the same. They haven't thought it out completely either. It's why the world is in such a mess. We are a conglomeration of incomplete thoughts. We often keep on misunderstanding each other. --Jim Broede

Just by being present. In my life.

I wonder if I will ever be tongue-tied. With my love. Maybe it's more a case of me just stumbling along. Sometimes. I guess I'm not afraid to talk out loud to my love. I'll tend to let my love know what's on my mind even before I know what's on my mind. It's sort of a funny feeling. But it comes down to sharing my thoughts while they are still in the formative stage. I think that's a form of intimacy. A form of openness. I try to be not afraid to let my love see inside me. I like to think I have nothing to hide. That is what it means to walk naked. In other words, what one sees is what one gets. Sometimes, I don't know what I think. About lots of things. Maybe because I don't think enough. In so many ways, I am stupid. Ignorant. Unaware. Even of myself. I am still discovering myself. Maybe I only know 1 percent of myself. And maybe it isn't even that much. There's always a horizon in front of me. And I keep wondering what's beyond the horizon? Oh, I so much want life to be everlasting. So that I can keep discovering. And my love helps me discover. Just by being present. In my life. --Jim Broede

Not in sorrow. But in joy.

It happened today. Tonight. Jeanne died. One year ago. Maybe I would have let the day pass. Without thinking about it. But people remind me. As if I’m supposed to remember. As if they are expecting me to have a crisis. What is this thing about anniversaries? As if we are to commemorate things. Events. Sorrowful events. Joyful events. Our way of marking time. But I’m not sure that I want to mark time. I’m being expected to live in the past today. Another way of living the day fully. And I just get this sense that there’s something wrong about it. This turning back the clock. Anyway, I’m still in love with Jeanne. With Jeanne’s spirit. Always will be. Even if I fall in love again. With another. Because that is what I was put on Earth to do. To love. From beginning to end. I think I was born to love. To learn how to love. I’m still learning. And maybe I need forever to fully learn. And maybe one never fully learns. And I was put on Earth to be happy. To savor life. And there’s only one way to do that. To live in the moment. Today. And to love. Above all else. This very moment. Even when I dwell on the past. If only to remind myself that I loved Jeanne. Then. And now. And forever. And how do I do that? By continuing to love. For the rest of my life. Every day. As if there is a forever. I have to believe it. By living today. As if it is a day in forever. The way Jeanne would want me to live. Not in sorrow. But in joy. –Jim Broede

I'd rather spend my time being happy.

I'm trying to think of the last time that I've been angry. Deeply angry. It's been so long ago. Oh, I've been annoyed. And perturbed. And very disappointed. But as for outright anger towards anyone -- I can't remember. Oh, I don't like lots of people. George Bush, for instance. I detest the guy. But I can't say I hate him. I have no desire to kill anyone. Or wish anyone dead. I don't even want to kill an animal. But then if that were completely true, I'd be a vegetarian. And I'm not. Anyway, I think I'm too much in love with life to be outrightly angry. About anything. I'd rather spend my time being happy. About being alive. And in love. --Jim Broede

There is no other way.

My lover makes me think. Makes me dig deep into the core of my being. Helps me discover the goodness in life. Makes me examine my soul. Helps me cultivate a sense of love. I have been steered upon love for a purpose. To better understand the meaning of love. I need to be in love to understand love. There is no other way. --Jim Broede

...angry people are not in love.

If I have a good mood, it is because I am in love. Seems to me that anyone who is genuinely in love gravitates to a good mood. Can't help it. That's the nature of love. I find that angry people are not in love. --Jim Broede

...it would take major excavation to uproot anything.

I have found ways to turn frowns into smiles. But I also have had my share of failures. Some people have roots of anger and unhappiness so deeply entrenched that it would take major excavation to uproot anything. --Jim Broede

...to better understand the nature of happiness.

No reason to be anxious about me, dear folks. I am thriving. I am in love. In, oh, so many, many ways. But with life in general. Never doubt my happiness. You must learn to better understand the nature of happiness. --Jim Broede

So much to love.

There is so much of life I have missed. And so much that I have grasped, too. That is why I would like to live forever. There is so much to learn. So much to see. So much to appreciate. So much to love. --Jim Broede

I suspect kindness has a long-lasting effect.

All it takes are little acts of kindness to make life worthwhile. I think kindness tends to beget kindness. In our every day lives, we have so many opportunities to be kind. Just to be pleasant to someone. To do one nice and kind act. To make someone feel good. Even if for only a moment. I suspect kindness has a long-lasting effect. --Jim Broede

A sense of being loved.

It's nice to see little signs of love. In every day life. Today, I am seeing it in the animal world. Loverboy and Chenuska. Next to each other. Grooming each other. Getting pleasure being nice to each other. Being companionable. How much better their lives are together. Rather than separate. Alone. They are looking at each other now. I think adoringly. I wonder what's on their minds. If anything. I think there's a sense of love. Between these two cats. And I love them, too. I wonder if they have a sense of being loved. When I stroke them. And they purr. Is that a gratification? A sense of being loved? --Jim Broede

Unconditional love. I think that's possible.

I often try to write in an intimate way. Even with relative strangers. That scares lots of people. They are afraid of intimacy. Intimacy doesn't have to be physical. So often, that's the only way we think of it. Physical intimacy. That's putting the cart in front of the horse. We have to learn to dig deep into ourselves. To communicate. To do more than go through mere motions. Words can be very intimate. I want to speak and write to others with real meaning. With real intimacy. That doesn't mean we have to go to bed with each other. I want to see inside people. Into their souls. Into the depths of their very being. I want people to learn to be spiritually naked. To acknowledge their vulnerabilities. Without being afraid. To learn to trust each other. To love each other. Genuinely. Unconditionally. Totally. I think that's possible. --Jim Broede

As if I were in Paradise.

I suppose I am in love with love. With the very concept. For me, that is the only way to live. To live for love. To love to live. And I could live in solitude. For the rest of my life. More or less alone. But I wouldn't be lonely. That is, as long as I could love something. I think I could even live reasonably happy on a desert island. If I could write. And read. And blend in with nature. But if I could live with one other, with an Eve, so to speak, I could live in bliss. To have intimacy. With one other. That's all I need. Yes, I'd like it to be Jeanne. A physically present Jeanne. But I could still live with a spiritual Jeanne. I still do, to this day. I commune with Jeanne's spirit. And Jeanne tells me it's all right to fall in love. Again. With someone. That is, with someone that genuinely needs to be loved. And I think that maybe Jeanne has helped me find that someone. By creating the right circumstances. Maybe what seem like an odd set of coincidences. Someone that needs me. And that I need, too. Yes, Jeanne the matchmaker. My guardian angel. Watching over me. And I am seriously thinking about writing a book. About love. And how it has come to permeate my life. I'm not sure I want the book published. In a sense, I'd rather live the book. Just the way I live a poem. I am smitten. And I am wooing. With my style of love. My way. And that is to do more than write about it. To actually live it. I am living love. Daily. In a spiritual way. As if I were in Paradise. --Jim Broede

I could have...never learned to be a lover.

When I see someone who is lost, I want to take them by the hand and lead them out of the labyrinth. People with doubts about the durability of life and love often feel lost. When they are at their low ebbs. Maybe when recovering from an illness. When tired and exhausted. They often have so many things going on in their lives. Now. More than I. If I turn back the clock 20 years, my life was more complicated then. I didn't have the luxury of time. To do pretty much as I pleased. I had a job. Writing for a newspaper. I had to be on the go. Daily. Doing things that maybe I'd rather not be doing. I would have loved being a full-time lover. I would have loved just writing what I loved to write. And later I became a care-giver. Pretty much full-time. Maybe that's when I most learned to love and appreciate life. Maybe that's when I became a full-time lover. I finally found my niche. That's what I was supposed to be doing all my life. It took me most of my lifetime to discover that. Good lord, I could have gone through my entire life and never learned to be a lover. --Jim Broede

...instead of living happily today.

Ah, when we say love and intimacy can't last, we get too far ahead of ourselves. We start to worry about tomorrow and next week and next month and next year. And we imagine everything that could go wrong. It's like when I project 20 years ahead. Most likely, I'll be dead then. And my younger lover could be very much alive. The further one thinks ahead, the bleaker the future. That is the human condition. We spend today worrying about tomorrow. And therefore, we don't live today. Yes, I think that's the sad plight of humankind. We lament about the past and the future...instead of living happily today. --Jim Broede

...and we get outside ourselves.

Things tend to be perfect when we live in today. In the moment. The imperfections enter our minds when we think too much about yesterday and tomorrow. Especially, when we think about tomorrow. Then we often tell ourselves about what could go wrong...and we get outside ourselves. --Jim Broede

...to be never-ending.

For me, a long, long time is forever. As long as we are alive and breathing human beings. That is our forever. For sure. And hopefully, forever goes beyond that. Into the spirit realm. That is what I want it to be. I want life and love and intimacy to be never ending. --Jim Broede

...the amazing power of love and intimacy.

I think it is possible to have unbounded intimacy. When two lovers live in the moment. When they literally forget about yesterday and tomorrow. And become enmeshed in today. And those lovers can be separated by an ocean. And still be with each other. Yes, that's the amazing power of love and intimacy. --Jim Broede

Lovers become so very aware of the moment.

That's what lovers do. They make each other feel alive. That's how we know we are in love. We feel alive. Vibrant. Passionate. Wonderful. With it. Lovers have entered the flow of life. Lovers become so very aware of the moment. --Jim Broede

We are in love. Now.

Today is a little like living in a dream. But it is real. We have learned to be happy. And in love. By not getting ahead of ourselves. Or behind ourselves. By living today, today. And leaving yesterday behind us, and tomorrow ahead of us. Quite possibly, yesterday and tomorrow are dreams. But today -- well, it's real. This moment is real. I am living this thought now. I am alive. And it's no dream. We are in love. Now.--Jim Broede

Then one has achieved the ultimate.

I think some of the loneliest people in the world are with other people. They even immerse themselves in crowds. They are famous. And even adored. Yet they are very lonely. In despair. Because there is no intimacy in their lives. It's all a sham. Just going through the motions of living. It's all show. To me, there's nothing more profound than one-on-one intimacy. Sharing with one other. An honest, genuine give and take. That's why I say that if one can get through life with having had two or three friends -- well, then life has been a success. To be able to love one other person. That alone makes life worthwhile. Then one has achieved the ultimate. --Jim Broede

Fulfilled.

The advantage of retirement is the ability to not have to make a living by going to work daily. Oh, the income may not be as good as when one is gainfully employed. But expenses may not be as high, either. One can still be comfortable. And one, in a sense, has bought time. Time is worth a whole lot. Time to do what one truly wants to do. For some, it could be to do virtually nothing. For me, it's to write. And to love. Doing what I want to do. If I want to go for a walk, I go for a walk. If I want to nap, I nap. If I want to write, I write.

And sure, I'm aging. I'm getting older. That makes me cognizant of the fact that I've already lived most of my life. I have a relatively small fraction of my life left. But that makes me better appreciate the time I have left. I know it's important to live one day at a time. Each day. Fully. Not to waste the day. Find ways to be happy. Fulfilled. --Jim Broede

Yes, I know how to fix a race.

I went walking along the road on which I live. Down Hayward Avenue. And that takes me to North Shore Circle, a circular street. And I take that to North Shore Trail, which is a main road. And that takes me to the other end of Hayward. The route is 2 miles. And I took it twice today. Sometimes, I see deer along the way. But not today. I saw 4 kids out walking, and just fooling around. I passed them up and told them they were slow pokes. And that I'd have 'em a race. Well, one of the kids sprinted ahead. Took up my challenge. I walked a ways with the kids. And then I told them I have the advantage because I'm the only one who knows the location of the finish line. Then I sprinted ahead. And just as I got past them, I announced, "I win. I just crossed the finish line." Yes, I know how to fix a race. --Jim Broede

In this rhapsody of love.

I'm not sure that one is born with a sense of love. I'm trying to think of when I first had a real sense of it. I think that as a youngster, the notion was still beyond my comprehension. Maybe it wasn't until relatively late in life that I became absorbed with this notion. Maybe not until I met Jeanne. Almost 40 years ago. Oh, I had vague notions of love. But it was far more mental than emotional. It was kind of an intellectual or mindful understanding of love. A clinical understanding. Not with the required emotional depth. Jeanne helped me become a crazy lover. That's what one must do to truly even begin to understand love. One must be willing to go crazy. To lose one's self. Completely. And the paradox. That is how one finds one's true self. By losing one's self. In this rhapsody of love. --Jim Broede

...beyond words.

I'm thinking about this notion of love. If not all the time, most of the time. I think it's fascinating to think about love. To try to understand it. To comprehend it. I try every day to put my feelings about love into words. But sometimes, it's best to not even try. Instead, to just let one's self be absorbed by love. Permeated by love. Without having to define it. Just relish it. Enjoy it. Savor it. Love at its best may be beyond words. --Jim Broede

You just gotta give it time.

I tell distraught Alzheimer care-givers that they have to learn from their experiences. That sure, they'll have bad times. And they'll get upset. But learn from each experience. And the next time something upsetting happens, deal with it by staying relatively calm. And the third time, deal with it even better. That's part of being an Alzheimer's care-giver. You learn to cope. Yes, it's difficult. Ain't easy. Never is. You just have to feel your way. Life is one continuous learning experience. Sometimes, you have to deal with some pretty dreadful stuff. But often that's offset by some pretty nice things. When you are going through the worst of times, you've got to think about the best of times. And that maybe the best of the best of times are yet to come. Jeanne died almost a year ago. That was the worst of times. But I'm discovering that times do get better. You just gotta give it time. --Jim Broede

Maybe grandma will feel good, too.

"I was just wondering," teenager Amy writes on the Alzheimer's message boards, "if anybody has any tips on how to deal with your loved ones having Alzheimer's. I know there's all these sites that say don't take it personally. But it's hard to keep smiling and acting normal when your grandma no longer recognizes you. So I was just wondering if anyone had any tips to help me out."

Matter of fact, Amy, I do have a suggestion. Maybe you could practice becoming an actress. I'm serious. Act as if grandma is all right. Pretend. And talk to grandma like she understands you. Tell her everything you ever wanted to tell her. Especially happy things. And how much you love her. You don't have to go in with a prepared script. Just improvise. And show grandma that you can play the role of a happy grandchild. One who smiles a whole lot. Yes, get yourself in a mood to play this wonderful role. See if you can give an Academy Award winning performance. I think it will make you feel good. And who knows? Maybe grandma will feel good, too. --Jim Broede

You are wonderful, Yvonne.

"I placed my husband in an Alzheimer's care facility," Yvonne writes on the Alzheimer's message boards. "I had always known this would come one day, but didn't see it happening so soon. Over the prior two months he had several med changes (and) was subjected to 2 tirades...I go daily to see him and feed him as he doesn't eat well unless fed. He asks me everyday when he can come home and why is he there. I have no answers for him. Sometimes I think I could handle this at home. Our children, the social worker, the staff at the care center, the doctor all say he is where he needs to be.

"My history. I was support person for 4 years for my father in law when my mother in law had Alzheimer's. The father in law needed care and was in care center for almost 5 years. We went daily to visit and provided support. I took care of all his medical related causes and managed his finances. Then my mom was ill for 5 months and I dealt with that before she died. Now my 97 year old father is in care center, has some dementia. I try to be supportive to him also. I have known for over 15 years that my husband has Alzheimer's, although it was only diagnosed in 2005. I am tired. I am enjoying my new-found freedom to be on my own. I've been marrried since I was 18 and never had a chance to be independent. I am 71. My husband is 77 and relatively healthy except for the dementia.

"I feel guilty and selfish in that I don't want to bring him home again. My kids say I'm not selfish. How do I get past this?"

You are a wonderful human being, Yvonne. Recognize that as fact. I know a wonderful human being when I see one. And you are wonderful. Now believe it. I'm wonderful, too. My Jeanne had dementia for 13 years. Alzheimer's. The last 38 months and one day of her life she spent in a nursing home. And I was with her every day. Without miss. For 8-10 hours daily. I tried to make her life bearable. Despite the disease. Because I loved her. And I knew that I was a better lover, a better care-giver, because I finally was getting daily respite. And that's what you need, Yvonne. Respite. On a daily basis. That will help you stay wonderful. A wonderful wife. A wonderful care-giver. A wonderful human being. And you won't have to feel one iota of guilt. Because there's absolutely no doubt about it. You are wonderful, Yvonne. --Jim Broede

An expression of pure love.

"I need some guidance," Jersey Girl writes on the Alzheimer's message boards. "My mother was diagnosed when she was 65. Now it is going on three years and I feel so tired. I feel like I am the only one who is concerned about her care. My brother who lives in California is clueless, and my father is in complete denial. What makes it difficult is that I never had a 'healthy' relationship with my mom, which is causing me stress, because she can be so cruel verbally. Every weekend I go up there with my two small children so she can spend some time with her grandchildren. But sometimes I just want to stay home and rest, but I feel obligated to spend time with my mother despite the treatment that I receive...I just need to know how can I forgive my mom and just move on?"

The way I look at it, Jersey Girl, is that it's never too late to build a healthy relationship with anyone. That is, as long as you are alive. You could even build a healthy relationship with mom after she dies. By communing with her spirit. By finding the ability and desire to forgive. Maybe you will reach that point some day. It's entirely your choice. You can choose to forgive any time you want. If you want to forgive, you will forgive. If you don't want to forgive, you won't. My guess, though, is that you will feel immensely better if you forgive. Forgiveness is its own reward. It could be the most pleasureable and most meaningful experience of your life. An expression of pure love. --Jim Broede

...you won't know unless you give it a try.

"My mother in law has been in the nursing home for 6 months," a woman called Zero Tears writes on the Alzheimer's message boards. "We have had our battles but nothing too bad. She half heartily fusses to go home. Then lets it go. Until the past week. Some 'busybody' told her that there was all kinds of trash bags outside in the road in front of her house and that the neighbors were putting up christmas lights and they just knew they belonged to mother in law. My god, why do people do this? Now we are having to battle her. She demands to go home, go home, go home. She just wants to see her house, and go inside. I feel this is a big mistake. Help us."

I took my Jeanne home from the nursing home. Often. And I took her out and about. For car rides. For wheelchair rides. On shopping trips. Even when I went for a haircut, I'd load Jeanne in the wheelchair and take her with me. A one-mile ride. And often in the summertime and spring and fall we'd make the daily 6-mile round-trip in the wheelchair to be home for a few hours. Anyway, I'd try bringing mom home for a few hours. Maybe it'll work. I think it's the humane way to go. But that's just me. I'm sure there are instances where it doesn't work. But you won't know unless you give it a try. --Jim Broede

Good luck, Tina.

"Hi, this is Tina, new to the forum," she writes on the Alzheimer's message boards. "My mom (93 years old) was diagnosed with Alzheimer's over two years ago and I manage everything: financial, legal, medical, physical therapy, home care, emergencies. I don't provide the care myself so am not there on a day-to-day basis, but I have been highly involved for the whole time."

Tina goes on to explain that she lives 40 miles away. And that mom is no longer ambulatory, doesn't communicate coherently, still eats is very well cared for and safe.

"We have had several crises & ER visits over the past 5 months," Tina says, "and I am exhausted...and I get very upset each time she has a crisis and this is on top of the general exhaustion from managing the details of her life and dealing with the loss of my mom. People say, 'Take care of yourself.' But that seems like one more thing that I have to do! I'd like to get a bit of distance so I don't get so upset. Do you think that is possible? I feel pretty funny, wanting to distance myself from my mom. But I am worried about my level of tiredness. Help please!"

Everybody needs respite, Tina. Regular breaks. You've got to try to work those in to your schedule. So you can recuperate. That will make you a better manager and care-giver. If you wear yourself out, you won't be good to anyone. Not even to yourself. Before you know it you'll be the one in need of care. I was a 24/7 care-giver for a while. And wore myself out. I didn't handle it well. When I cutback to 8-10 hours daily, and got daily respite, it worked wonders. I was a much better care-giver. I benefitted. And so did my patient. If you are spread thin and become tired and worn out, you've got to find a solution. Or, as you put it, you have to find some distance. One way or another. Good luck, Tina. --Jim Broede

Good luck, Kathy.

"Well, tomorrow is the day, JR will go to Dawson and so will begin a new era of our lives," writes Kathy on the Alzheimer's message boards. "He will be in an AD (Alzheimer's) unit at the nursing home. The home is a 75 minute drive from our home. I am still struggling if I am doing the right thing for him. I know he needs more care than I can give and I know I can no longer leave him alone for any period of time while I am at work."

Kathy sums up how many care-givers feel.

"I just cannot get over this horrid feeling of sadness," she adds. "I guess I am just not ready for this era of my life to be over."

It won't be easy, Kathy, but you can adjust. Do as you plan. Visits every other day. Try to stay reasonably rested. Yes, it is the end to your customary way of life. But you can still be relatively happy, and adjusted. You are still working. You'll still have social contacts at work. Try to find happiness in little activities. Appreciate what you still have left of your husband. Maybe just little things. Try to make life a little more bearable for him. Love him, despite the disease. You may well come out of this a better person. I'm sorry you have to go through this. I dealt with it for 13 years. I had ups and downs. But I learned to cope. And so can you. My Jeanne died a year ago. I'm still finding new ways to cope. And I'm still in love with life. I had almost 40 good years with Jeanne. That counts for something, you know. Even though she's gone, her spirit still dwells in me. I'm sure the same will go for you -- your husband's spirit will always be a part of you. You won't lose that. Meanwhile, good luck, Kathy. I'll be pulling for you. --Jim Broede

Good for mom...and good for me.

In her later years, my mom lived 300 miles away. But Jeanne and I would get down to see her about every 4 to 6 weeks. For several years, she lived in an assisted living facility. A refurbished old hotel. Called the Blackhawk. Very nicely done. Stately place. With very high old-fashioned metal ceilings. It was on Main Street in a town called Fort Atkinson. Not far from where I grew up. Before mom moved into assisted living, she rented half a duplex. A very nice place. And mom had everything nice and orderly. Picture perfect. And oh, so clean. She was a cleaner. Washed windows every week. Pulled out the stove and refrigerator to clean behind it. Everything just immaculate. She liked to live in high-style. When she had to live in assisted living, it devastated her for a while. After my step-father died, mom sold the house that was on the Rock River and she decided to move close to me. To a town called Scandia, 10 miles from Forest Lake. And she lived in a small rental unit for a couple years. But it was a mistake for her to come to Minnesota. She missed her friends. And eventually, she moved back to Ft. Atkinson. But when she got into her 80s, most of her friends had died. And that became kind of sad for mom. But mom had a good life overall. We all have our ups and downs. But mom had far more ups than downs. Just like me, her son. In later years, I really got her to open up. About things in her life that she had never told anyone. Some sad things. But I think it was good for mom to get it all out. I always thought she was too reserved. Didn't really open up fully. Not even to her husbands. But I got a lot out of her. That was good for mom...and good for me. --Jim Broede

Magical kisses.

Jeanne was concerned for a while about her appearance. Long scars from having two artificial hips. I told her the scars were beautiful. And that they'd go away if I kissed them. So I often kissed her scars. And sure enough. They faded and faded and faded. I have magical kisses. When I tucked Jeanne in bed at night at the nursing home, I gave her goodnight kisses. But I also told her that I'd send some more comforting kisses over at 3 in the morning. And that they'd ride a gentle breeze for 3 miles, all the way to the nursing home and sneak inside a crack in the window and land on Jeanne's cheek. And wake her. But that there would be follow up kisses that land on the other cheek. To put her to sleep again. Yes, magical kisses. --Jim Broede

They are worthy companions.

Jeanne taught me so much. She taught me to love. Nature. Animals. Life. Everything. I am so grateful. I grew up in a home without pets. And I'm not so sure that I'd have learned to love pets without Jeanne's guidance. But it really came naturally. We had the dogs. And then one day, the kids brought home a cat they found in the woods. I said, no way. No cats. We've got dogs. That's enough. Well, just think about the extent of my authority. Wasn't long before we had 3 cats. And as time went on, I fell in love with dogs and cats and chipmunks and raccoons and birds and even a skunk that lived under one of our decks for a while. And when a stray cat wandered into the neighborhood, I was the one that said, "Oh, we can add a 4th cat or a 5th cat to our family." And when one of our pets dies, I cry. I mourn. Sometimes for weeks. I get over it, of course. I feel real kinship with our pets. With my two cats. It's almost as if they are human. They are worthy companions. --Jim Broede

I was too worried about tomorrow to live today.

I'm learning that age is a relative thing. When I turned 40, I thought, oh my gawd, I'm getting old. And then I turned 50, and I thought I'm running out of time. But I never had a mid-life crisis. Maybe because I was in love. That made a difference. I turned 60, and I began to wonder if I'd ever see 70. And here I am, at 72 and counting. Maybe one reason I found it comforting to be married to an older woman is that it made me feel younger. But Jeanne had rewards, too. Because I helped make her feel younger. Anyway, the older I get, I learn more and more to savor the day, the week, the month. Just to savor life. Be reasonably happy. I understand what I can control, and what I can't control. I can control my attitude. I can at this very moment choose to be happy, or to be sad. And I'd rather be happy. And if something happens that makes me sad, I'll get over it. Because I want to live and to love. And as for tomorrow, I'm not going to worry about it. I'll deal with tomorrow when tomorrow comes. Didn't use to be that way. I was too worried about tomorrow to live today. --Jim Broede

So I can fully enjoy my moments of happiness.

Every suicide is sad. But especially a suicide of a young person, who hasn't had the opportunity to live happily. To experience happiness. They must think that all there is in life is sadness. Even if one's life is only 10 percent happiness, I'd think that might be reason enough to live. Because then one knows that happiness is possible. And no need to feel hopeless. But still, suicide is reality. We even have young people strapping bombs to their body and blowing themselves up and intentionmally killing people around them. Because they think life is so very bad. So bad that they have learned to hate life, to hate existence, to hate other people. To these people, I'd recommend an alternative. Withdraw from the rest of he world and live as a recluse, or best yet, with one other being that one can love. That's all it takes. One act of love. Even in a hostile world. To find solace in loving one other. But I have to admit, there are some pretty miserable conditions in this world where one can find little, if any, comfort. And people find it impossible to cope. And they just want out. They'd rather go into oblivion. If I dwelled on such a sad state, I'd go crazy. So I wear my blinders, and live happily. And shove my feelings of sadness and guilt aside. So I can fully enjoy my moments of happiness. --Jim Broede

To be reasonably nice about it all.

It's hard for me to understand and accept people who want to be like everybody else. Who want to do what's expected of them. I like people who are unique. Different. I like people who become their true selves. I've never felt a need to fit in. It's all right to be a maverick. I don't find it necessary to win a popularity contest. Oh, I want to be liked. Accepted. But not by a flock. I'd rather connect with one or two or three others. Kindred spirits. And that doesn't mean we have to be alike. We can be very, very different people and still be kindred spirits. Jeanne was very different from me. But we gave each other balance. We made each other whole. We blended nicely. Anyway, I suppose I'm wrong in judging some ladies as snobs. Maybe they are being just what they want to be. Snobs. It brings them comfort. It's an easy way to get through life. It would be difficult for me. But they find it easy. Sure, the snobs criticize me. And from their perspective, I'm the arrogant, condescending snob. And maybe they are right. And maybe I'm wrong. That's why I find it difficult getting angry with them. I just accept that they're entitled to their opinion. Their judgment. Just as I'm entitled to my opinion. My judgment. In disagreeing with them, I'm trying to have fun. I'm more inclined to laugh rather than to rant and rave. I want to give them the benefit of doubt. And to be reasonably nice about it all. --Jim Broede

That would drive a conservative crazy.

I think it's always good to question. To always doubt. Even when one believes. To have an iota of doubt. To admit that one can be wrong. It doesn't bother me that I can't be sure of anything. Because I don't ever know exactly where I am at in this cosmos. I'm continually moving. Evolving. Martin Buber, the Jewish theologian, said there are two basic types of spiritual personalities. The conservative always wants to know where he/she is. Wants dogma. Wants strict rules. But the liberal doesn't have to have rules or dogma. Doesn't need something solid to stand on. Because the liberal is always on the move. Always changing. Always adapting. The liberal is at Point A at the moment, but knows that he's likely to be at another unknown point at the next moment. At least, that's the way I understand what I think Buber is saying. I'm a liberal. And it doesn't frighten me. I'm in my comfort zone by not knowing where I'm at. That would drive a conservative crazy. --Jim Broede

I'm alive only when I'm in love.

Maybe the best way to love is to savor it. To learn to take yourself and your love in small doses. Not to gorge one's self. But to appreciate an other in tiny morsels. Knowing that there's more and more to come. Without being in a hurry. Without being a glutton, and wanting everything at the moment. To love is to enjoy a feast. By consuming it ever so slowly. Savoring it. Over the course of a lifetime. And forever. Yes, to add the dimension of forever to one's love. That's what makes me a dreamer. And I don't necessarily have to write about it. I have to live it. In this moment. I'm alive only when I'm in love. --Jim Broede

I want to love forever.

For a loving relationship, it doesn't necessarily take the same attitudes to start. It takes a willingness to understand each other. To accommodate each other. To meet each other's needs. To grow and thrive together. To learn how to blend. To complement each other. To bring about a balance in the relationship. That's what love accomplishes. If the seeds of love are there, one can accomplish miracles. Jeanne and I built our lives around each other. We nurtured our togetherness. The longer we were together, the more we loved. A key ingredient is time. That's why I want forever. Oh, dear god, I want forever. I want to love forever. --Jim Broede

I wonder if I'd do a better job of it than Adam.

I think I could live on a desert island. Alone. For a year. And not go crazy. I'd read. And walk. And think. And maybe commune. With god. With Jeanne's spirit. I'd have solitude. There's something comforting in solitude. But I do prefer life with one other. Not two or three. One is sufficient. Imagine. Someone able to live with me. A woman. On a desert island for a year. And not go nuts. That would be a rare woman, indeed. But my kind of woman. I would savour her. Imagine being Adam and Eve. The only two people on Earth. I wonder if I'd do a better job of it than Adam. --Jim Broede

I played god. Successfully.

More and more, Loverboy and Chenuska are sleeping cheek-to-cheek. It's Loverboy that approaches Chenuska. Finds her. Lies down next to her. And then turns Chenuska into his personal pillow. Snuggles his face deep into Chenuska's fur. And Chenuska loves it. Chenuska loves to be loved. And Loverboy loves to love. Yes, they were made for each other. I sensed two years ago that Chenuska needed a mate. Chenuska and Loverboy have made each other happy. That's the nature of love. And to think, I was the matchmaker. I played god. Successfully. --Jim Broede

I've never stopped talking to Jeanne.

I found that acceptance is the key. To accept Alzheimer's and life for what it is. And then try to make the best of it. We're all dealt some pretty sad and sorrowful experiences in life. But I found that putting it all in perspective does help. Does make it possible to cope. There were bad times during the 13 year journey. But I still looked for ways to make life a little more bearable for Jeanne. Because I loved her. Despite the Alzheimer's. I had to find new ways to love. New ways to communicate. I coped much better the last three years than I did the first three years. Maybe because I learned along the way. I learned how to be a better care-giver, a better human being, a better lover. Not least of all, I learned acceptance. Even today I'm learning. It's been almost a year since Jeanne died. But I'm still learning from the experience of having been with wonderful Jeanne for almost 40 years. I feel blessed for having had Jeanne. In so many, many ways I still have Jeanne. Jeanne will always be a part of me. I've never stopped talking to Jeanne. --Jim Broede

...the kind and compassionate and sensitive thing.

You know, folks, I think it’s all right to be in denial. About dementia. To some degree. It really doesn’t hurt. Particularly in the early stages. It’s nice to have some doubts. That maybe it isn’t Alzheimer’s. Jeanne and I both had doubts early on. That maybe it was just that Jeanne was getting a little lazy mentally. And that with a bit more mental stimulation, everything would be all right. After all, Jeanne had retired not all that long ago. And maybe the tendency is to slow down. To not push one’s self as hard as one used to. If this assumption did nothing else, it helped to improve Jeanne’s morale. And my morale. Really, no harm in that, is there? It really put Jeanne at ease. Made her far less worried. And that really improved her mental performance, it seems to me. Because a relaxed brain works more efficiently than an uptight one. So, what I’m doing here, I guess, is advocating a little bit of denial. Oh, it comes to the point when denial isn’t good any more. One needs to frankly admit to the problem, and deal with it head-on. By the time that happened, maybe Jeanne was beyond the point of worry. Or at least beyond the point of serious worry. So, denial for a while was the kind and compassionate and sensitive thing, it seems to me. --Jim Broede

I hope you have good fortune.

I don't want you be to sad or sorrowful. For long, that is. I know you can't avoid it all the time. Because you have a full range of emotions. But you must always find happiness in the end. That's your mission. To be in love. With life. You are strong enough that you can fall back on your self. But ideally, you need another. In your life. To help you through. I've been fortunate in that respect. And I hope you have similar good fortune. --Jim Broede

Wonders never cease.

When I was 30 or 40, it was hard imagining being 72. I suppose I never seriously thought I'd make it that far. But if I did, I supposed it would be dreadful. Being old. But I don't think of myself as old. In some ways, I'm younger than ever. Because I'm more free in spirit. Because I've learned to live and to love. And just to be myself. And now I have time for it. It's too bad that more people don't live into retirement years. Yes, and another thing I've learned, and that is to be intimate. I imagine some people go through life without ever learning or experiencing intimacy. Real intimacy. I think it took a while to learn to express myself. I'm sure I still have a lot to learn. And that's why I wish I could live forever. Maybe we are reincarnated and come back. Maybe we pass on to a spiritual dimension. But even if this is all there is, it's been worth the instant. Just the idea of consciousness. And the ability to feel love. Yes, even if it's only long enough for the blink of an eye. Just think. I'm communicating today. With words. Even with someone I've never seen. In the flesh. Someone thousands of miles away. And still I feel connected. I've made genuine human contact today. I've said it before. And I'll say it again. Wonders never cease. --Jim Broede

What about you?

Yes, I'm a strange guy. In that I need my cocoon. My little niche. My place to retreat. To be alone. Now that Jeanne is gone. That is, her physical presence is gone. I still connect with her spirit. By turning inward. That's the way I keep her alive. And that's a little like being in paradise. I've learned to make my physical environs a little paradise. My home. On the lake. Over the years, I've planted lots of trees. Some with memories. Like the huge mugho pine tree. Planted on the grave of one of our dogs, Paco. The tree was in a 1 gallon container. And now it's 30 feet tall. A beautiful and perfect tree. That's what Paco has become. And indoors, I have a 10-foot ficus tree. And a 5-foot Norfolk pine. And I have high-ceilings in the living room. A ceiling of tongue-in-groove boards stained walnut. And stone-look floors of vinyl throughout the house. And I've got a score of lamps with amber bulbs. So I have soft and warm lighting. And a dozen radios. All tuned to the classical FM station. So that music comes from every direction. And I have bird houses and bird feeders. Inside and outside. Hanging from the ceilings. And from the eaves. And in the trees. Maybe 200 birdhouses. I'll have to count them some day. Whenever I'm at a thrift store, and I see a bird house for $1 or $2, I can't pass it up. I bring it home. The same goes for books. I have far more books than I can read. Maybe that's my incentive to live a long life. So I can read more and more books. I have turned virtually all of the walls in the house into book shelves. I need a ladder to reach many of the books. Maybe I have more books than some smal town libraries. But over the years, I've created an environs that makes me comfortable. Books and birdhouses and music and a lake and wetlands and trees. And for so many years, Jeanne. In a sense, I create my own little world. My little paradise. I live comfortably. But not extravagantly. What about you? --Jim Broede

To connect.

Once upon a time, I didn't think I ever wanted to retire. I would keep going on writing for newspapers until I dropped dead. And they'd just cart me away from my writing desk. To get rid of the stench of my decaying body. But hey, in the 1990s, I guess I suddenly realized that 'newspapering' had changed. We got into the sound bite business, too. We capsulized everything. We took reader surveys. And asked them what they wanted. And they wanted pabulum. So that's what we gave them. Because we thought that would sell newspapers. Well, it turns out they don't want to read any more. It's too difficult. A strain on the brain. They'd rather sit in front of the TV. And be told what to think. Or not to think at all. Because reading takes too much effort. It's easier sitting in front of the TV. Because it's easier to fall asleep there. If you want to read a newspaper, the written word, you have to stay awake. Funny, isn't it? I guess I'm a little bit cynical. But I'm learning. I still find people that are still alive. That buoys my spirits. And that pulls me through. Makes me a believer again. In the goodness of life. Anyway, I really haven't retired. I'm more active mentally and physically than ever. Because I'm learning to savor the moment. And the day. To get what I can out of life. Often, just by turning inward. Being reflective. That can be mistaken for melancholy. But it really isn't. Because it makes me happy. Getting to know myself. Getting to know a handful of others. All I need in life, I suppose, is an occasional breakthrough. One might call it a moment of intimacy. Maybe that's our salvation. The ability to find intimacy. To find another. To connect. --Jim Broede

It is my nature.

People who fall in love generally know how to take risks. Chances. I get back to the same theme all the time, don't I? The craziness of love. The ability to become a little girl. Or a little boy. The ability to become enraptured in something or somebody. I've cultivated the ability to talk about it, and to write about it. I am pleasantly consumed by this thought of love. The need to love. And to be loved. I've been on a roll lately. A good roll. And it's really because I'm in love. My love is a good influence on me. I am in love with a goddess. A goddess of love. Really. If a man cannot think of his lover as a goddess, it may not be love. That is why there is no doubt that I am in love. I cannot help but fall in love with a goddess. It is my nature. --Jim Broede

Intimacy. That's what makes me feel alive and conscious.

Intimacy. Yes, that's the right word. The word I'm searching for. Some people are afraid of intimacy. That's why marriages and relationships fail, I suspect. There's a lack of intimacy. Intimacy scares the hell out of some people. Why is that? How can one love without being intimate? Impossible, I say. Without intimacy, one can't love. One just goes through the motions. I'm not talking about sexual or physical intimacy. Words. Words can be wonderfully intimate. Oh, there are so many ways to be intimate. We can be intimate with each other. From across the ocean. Without ever having met face to face. There are no bounds to intimacy. I've had intimacy with Jeanne in so many, many ways. We taught each other to love. To be intimate. I am still intimate with Jeanne's spirit. I am trying to teach intimacy, I guess. I'm sharing myself. And I'm asking others to share themselves. That's what I want out of life. Intimacy. That's what makes me feel alive and conscious. --Jim Broede

Isn't that nice?

Oh, I'm always a little bit sad. And that's good. Because I use it as a springboard to happiness. One needs contrast in life. One has to appreciate and understand darkness to appreciate and understand light. One has to ponder death to appreciate and understand life. Maybe one even has to hate just a little bit in order to love. Some of us have to feel betrayed and sad in order to truly appreciate the ability to love. When I get reflective, I may sound sad. But I'm really not. I miss Jeanne. But when I miss Jeanne, I learn to commune with Jeanne's spirit. And that makes me feel good again. I always find the seeds of happiness in sadness and sorrow. Strange, isn't it? I hope I am conveying a message of happiness and hope. That's really my intent. I feel good. Just being capable of love. Despite the experience of sadness and sorrow. And that makes me happy. It really does. Isn't that nice? --Jim Broede

They think I've gone bonkers. Absolutely crazy.

A teacher told me the other day that she sees so many teenagers who lack enthusiasm, curiosity and fire. That they crawl through life, saving energies, in a condition of tepid approach to existence. But I think it goes far beyond teenagers. I see it with some adults. With a whole gamut of people. It's like they have become robots. Zombies. Going through motions. And they're influenced and controlled by sound bites. And they're fed what they want to hear. They're conditioned to be robots. To not have to think. To get all the information they need in 30-second sound capsules. Repeated over and over and over. I turn on TV and the radio, and it sounds like a constant drone. I'd rather go for a walk. And listen to the chirping birds. Anyway, little wonder that marriages and relationships break up. They weren't solidified in the first place. Some people don't talk to each other in meaningful ways any more. They don't get to know each other. They don't even get to know themselves. Oh, I sound like a pessimist now. And I don't want to. Because I know how to live. I convince myself that I'm really in paradise. When I go for a walk along the lakeshore...or in the woods. And sometimes, I just close my eyes. And walk and walk and walk. As if I'm blind. But I still see. I can still imagine things. And feel the pulse of life. Inside me. I just love being alive. And conscious. And able to express myself. And go a bit crazy. Maybe that's why I scare some people. They think I've gone bonkers. Absolutely crazy. --Jim Broede

Without Jeanne at my side.

Sad to say, I haven't gone into a movie theater since Jeanne went into the nursing home. Jeanne and I used to see 2 or 3 films a week. Went to bargain matinees. For $2 at most theaters. And when Academy Awards time rolled around, we had seen all of the nominated pictures. Now I haven't been in a movie theater for maybe five years. It would seem so strange going into a theater without Jeanne. Same way with going into a restaurant. Took me a while to get used to going in alone. Doing so many things alone. Without Jeanne. Made me sad for a while. I still haven't got the gumption to go and see a movie in a darkened theater. Without Jeanne at my side. --Jim Broede

Looks like it could be an Italian villa along a waterfront.

Our house was originally built in the 1950s by a doctor, who used it as a summer home. And it's been added on. We have three bedrooms. But two are rather small. Jack and Kiki had those small bedrooms. Now, one of them is my "garden room," with my desk and computer and books and books and books. It's on the side of the house facing a deck and the lake. About 50 feet from the lake. A sliding glass door gives us access to the deck. And on the opposite side of the room there's a closet with sliding-mirrored doors, which reflect the outdoors and the lake. And on the south side, which I am facing as I type on the computer, are sliding windows. On the north side is a wall full of book shelves. And the room has lots of lamps. Several with fairly bright bulbs for when I'm working on the computer. But also smaller amber lights. When I'm just sitting in the room and pondering romantic thoughts. The closet is chockful of colorful t-shirts on hangars and sweaters and jogging pants. And at the top of the closet are more book shelves. And there's a big pickle cactus in the room. And some artificial flowers that give the room some gorgeous color. And I have some hanging baskets hanging from the ceiling of tongue-in-grove boards stained walnut. And there's a painting hanging on the wall, crammed between bookshelves. Looks like it could be an Italian villa along a waterfront. --Jim Broede

We also know how to...cozy up with our sweetheart.

Snow in Minnesota is no big deal. We're so used to it. Winters with lots of snow and cold. And we travel pretty well, even when it's snowing. The plows are out, and they keep the main roads passable. And most Minnesotans know how to drive in snow. Carefully. Slowly. I've been in other parts of the country where they don't get very much snow. But when they get it, some folks think that it's the end of the world. They slip and slide and have all sorts of accidents. Partly because they don't know how to remove snow from the roads. I've been caught in snowstorms in Kansas and in the Texas Panhandle, and the snow removal crews there are inept. They don't know what they are doing. Travel gets shut down. Oh, we Minnesotans, too, find snowstorms an inconvenience. But we make the best of them. We get out in the snow. But we also know how to go indoors and cozy up with our sweetheart. --Jim Broede

Spiritual love is just as divine as physical love.

Oh, to find the right words. It is so difficult. But the Alzheimer's experience may have helped. I had to practice simple words. Simple things. I had to learn to speak Jeanne's new limited language. Her limited understanding. I had to reach her. With my total being. I had to improvise. To find new ways. To express my love. Maybe that's why I have become so adept in spiritual love. Little things. A kiss. A caress. A whisper. They all go a long way. I'm well-practiced in spiritual love. That's what Jeanne and I had. Right up to the end. I was able to pull it off. By merely being with Jeanne. A spiritual presence. I was able to make Jeanne smile. Virtually every day. To make Jeanne understand that I loved her. Dearly. Deeply. With just a mere kiss. A caress. By taking her outdoors. And pushing her in the wheelchair. And singing to her. Little ditties that I made up. Twinkle, twinkle little Jeanne. Oh, I wonder what you are. You're so beautiful, you could be a movie star. And I'd tell Jeanne she was my sunshine. That she made me happy. Even when the skies were grey. And I'd undress her and give her a shower every night. Sensuous. But no sex. Not for years and years and years. She could sit on her shower chair, and feel the warm water flow off her body. The pleasure of it. And I'd dry her. And rub on body lotion. Over her whole body. No, the sex act was unnecessary. I was able to make Jeanne feel loved. Without it. Even when I hand-fed Jeanne. Ever so slowly. We'd take 90 minutes for lunch. An opportunity to be face to face. For me to look into her still alert round brown eyes. That was spiritual communion. Love can be expressed in so many forms. And spiritual love is just as divine as physical love. --Jim Broede

Believe me, I'm turned on to love.

I've always been a little afraid of Shakespeare. Because Shakespeare does not come easy for me. He wasn't speaking my language. Yet, I recognize that his language is beautiful. But I never took the time to savor it. Properly. I was too busy with being other things. Being a journalist, for instance. And Shakespeare wasn't simple enough for me. In so many, many ways, I am a mere simpleton. A court jester. I'm a poor fix-it guy, a poor mechanic, because I convince myself that it's too complex to learn. In some ways, I'm a lazy thinker. I'm a contradiction. When I'm turned on to something, I'm all right. But I've got to get turned on. Believe me, I'm turned on to love. --Jim Broede

If I am not in love, I am just marking time.

I think wonderful thoughts come alive when one is in love. For me, that's the difference maker in life. To be in love. That is to be alive. To become more than a robot going through the motions. One learns to savor life. In love. That's why I need to fall in love, and stay in love. Love must be continually renewed. That has to become one's mission in life. To love. Incessantly. Continuously. Even when one takes time out to rest, rest comes peacefully, only when one is truly in love. One feels a soothing passion. Not an exhausting passion. But a soothing, tranquil, serene sort of passion. Like one is caught up in the natural flow of life. It is only possible when I am in love. If I am not in love, I am just marking time. --Jim Broede

....they like the human scent.

I left one of my soft and cushy sweaters in the bathroom sink. Forgot to put it away. And lo and behold, kitty Loverboy has found it. And made a bed out of it. And so he's been spending much of his time sleeping in the sink rather than on the cushion on my desk. Funny. Instead, kitty Chenuska is keeping me company. She has adopted the desk cushion. If I leave an article of my clothing on the bed, the cats will pick it out and sleep on it. Rather than elsewhere in the vast bed. I guess they like the human scent. --Jim Broede

'Caution. Deer Crossing.'

The deer come into my yard. And one of them last spring dined heartily on one of my mugho pine trees. Which I didn't appreciate. But there has been a new growth of needles. And the pine looks good again. Often I see deer on my walks. There are some nice wooded areas. The unfortunate thing is that the deer often wander on to roads. At nighttime. And they get hit. Two years ago, I hit a deer. And killed it. That was sad. Happened at 9:30 in the evening. In an instant. Smashed up the left fender. That same day, in northern Minnesota, a guy in a pick up truck hit a deer and the deer came crashing through the windshield and killed the driver. It happens. When traveling the freeways, it's common to see dead deer along the road. Deer that have been hit and killed by vehicles. There are warnings along highways with signs that read, "Caution. Deer crossing." --Jim Broede

Yes, to be able to embrace life.

It's amazing. Winter's arrival. In one day the scenery becomes so changed. We have a white blanket over everything, The ground. The lake. The trees. Especially the fir trees. And at nighttime, the white lightens everything. It gives a new aura to everything. A fresh look. Yes, one can fall in love with winter. With change. So many reasons to be happy. Just by looking around. And noticing. Being aware. I don't care where one lives. There's beauty everywhere. For the looking. For the taking. One may think of a treeless desert as desolate. But that very thing makes it beautiful. And here in Minnesota, some people may dread the cold. But the cold is beautiful, too. Crisp. Clear. The cold seems to cleanse the air. And one can go outdoors and see one's breath. The cold can make something as simple as one's breath come alive. I guess that's what I mean by falling in love. With life. The ability to see things. Hear things. Feel things. Yes, to be able to embrace life. --Jim Broede

I want my best years to be still ahead.

I'm looking for Paradise. Right here on Mother Earth. And I kind of like this idea of a country off the beaten track. Not a world power. Just a little Paradise. Where maybe people live in a relatively slow and leisurely manner. The way life should be lived. Much better than a hectic pace. Just being able to sit down and savor the day. In a tranquil setting. With a loved one. That's all I need in life, really. And so many of us choose the rat race. Sort of sad, isn't it? But we have choices. We can choose to slow down. And we can even choose to fall in love. I'm 72. And I want to spend the rest of my life living at a pace where I can reflect about the wonder of it all. And taste more love, too. Before it's too late. I'm in a position to do that. Retired. Not rich. But not poor either. Able to afford a decent life. Still able to love. To feel alive. And in love. I am blessed to have lived this long. And still have the opportunity to appreciate and enjoy life in my waning years. I've lived most of my life. But I want my best years to be still ahead. And I think they will be. If I keep living fully, a day at a time. --Jim Broede

Interesting, isn't it?

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 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 was tending to Jeanne. Being Jeanne's care-giver. When I was coping with the perils and pitfalls of Alzheimer's. I still managed to find satisfaction. Happiness. And I tell that to other care-givers on the Alzheimer's message board, and so many of 'em tell me I'm downright crazy. That I'm an irrational fool. A blubbering idiot. 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 to love. Yes, when I fall in love. Then a handful of people accept me as I am. 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. Interesting, isn't it? --Jim Broede

I let the spirit move me.

Maybe this is the way I would go about writing a book. I'd just sit down and write. Naturally. But that may not be the way an editor sees a book. An editor would like to change it. To make it more readable. More saleable. The idea is for a book to sell. To make money. A profit. And I'm not into writing now to make a living. To make money. I just want to write -- and yes, the way I want to write. Not the way somebody would maybe want me to write. When I was writing for newspapers, an editor might dictate the course of a story. Sometimes, maybe that was for the good. But sometimes, not necessarily to my liking. Since I retired, I write the way I want to write. I develop my own style. The short sentences. I don't necessarily follow rules. I write whichever way makes me feel comfortable. At the moment. I think I used to be afraid to do that. To write in a natural manner. Now I think I'm the most like my real self when I write. I can sit down and do it without interruption. Without anyone looking over my shoulder. To correct the grammar. Or to clarify the thought. It's totally up to me. And maybe up to god, too. Because I think I'm moved by a spirit. It's almost as if I'm letting god do the writing. Because I let the spirit move me. --Jim Broede