...a romantic occupation.

I have this dream. To become a gondolier. In Venice. I think it would be a rather romantic occupation. To push a gondola up and down the canals. With lovers aboard. Imagine that. A city of canals. Instead of roads. Boats instead of automobiles. I spent four days in Venice. Yes, it's another world. Unique. Nothing quite like it. Even got lost in Venice. Wandering the narrow streets. But that's a nice way to discover Venice. Getting lost. But usually, if I had to find my way, all I had to do is find a gondolier. They have a sense of direction. --Jim Broede

Italians are good at living.

One nice thing about Italy. One can eat out virtually every night. So many, many outdoor cafes and restaurants. The Italians know how to dine. To savor their food. Good food. And good wine. I used to think that German food was the best. Well, I've changed my mind. The Italians do it better. And the Italians live to eat. Rather than eat to live. In my 23 days in Italy, I don't think I had a bad meal. I ate heartily. But slowly. And I did lots of walking. Lots of exercising. So I gained only 3 pounds. And, oh, I had good company. Good conversation. Yes, the Italians are good at living. --Jim Broede

To make a visitor feel welcome.

Oh, so many Paradises in this world. And I keep discovering more all the time. The Italian Alps, for instance. Little villages. Marlengo and Sutrio. Yes, I have lived. This summer. In Paradise. In love. Quaint bread and breakfast places. Chalets. Go to the balcony. And one sees the alps. Huge. Magnificent. And oh, so green. With pine trees. And fields so smooth they look like immense golf greens. And brooks and streams. Steep, steep climbs when one goes out for supper in the evening. And the food. Like nectar. And ambrosia. The Italians know how to eat. Like gods. The best of everything. Yes, I am in love. With Italy. And with an Italian. Little wonder that I am in Paradise. I've been to Venice, too. And Trieste. To the land of enchantment. The land of romance. I will continue to travel. Back and forth. To places in and near Italy. Maybe again in December. And next spring. Ah, what a life. And at my home in Minnesota, I'll hoist an Italian flag. To make a visitor feel welcome. --Jim Broede

...best for the country.

I'm thinking that maybe John McCain doesn't really want to be president. That he's had second thoughts. And that now he's gonna purposely try to lose the election. Because he secretly thinks that Barack Obama would be the best choice for America. But he can't come right out and admit it. So, he'll do little things to give Obama the advantage. Such as picking the inexperienced governor of Alaska as his running mate. And when it comes to his televised debates with Obama, watch for McCain to stumble. Purposely. If this is so, then John McCain is a real patriot. Because he'll be doing what he thinks is best for the country. --Jim Broede

Doing the right thing.

If Barack Obama doesn't get elected president of the United States, it will be a big disappointment. Speaking personally. A big let down. Maybe even tragic. Equivalent to how I felt the day John F. Kennedy was assassinated. Like the bottom had dropped out of the world. A time of gloom and doom. And I think that's the point at which my country, my nation went awry. And the direction of this country has been on a downward spiral ever since. I think things would have been so much different if Kennedy had lived. If that bullet had missed him. But now I feel as if Kennedy is being resurrected. In a sense. By the coming of Barack Obama. I feel so good about this man. That if this nation elects Obama, we'll regain the soul we lost when Kennedy died. Makes me a believer. That all will be well again. But first, we have to get Obama elected. Then the flow will finally be underway. But what if he loses? What if McCain is elected? That leaves us essentially with another 4 years of George Bush. Well, then heaven help us. Because then our decline will continue. I want to have faith in my country. I want to feel good about America. But for that to happen, we Americans have to do the right thing. --Jim Broede

...the proverbial finger.

Doesn't bother me so much that Russia has invaded Georgia. Acting a bit like the U.S. Time for imperial America to have a little competition. Russians say that America fomented the uprising in Georgia. Encouraged it. Russia has been given the shaft by the U.S. in so many, many ways since the break up of the Soviet Union. Can't blame Russia now for giving the U.S. the proverbial finger. --Jim Broede

...too many racists amongst us.

Last night after Barack Obama's acceptance speech I watched a television call-in program in which the callers were allowed to express their opinions. And a retired Army officer said he won't vote for Obama. Because he's a "black socialist." Interesting, isn't it? Two reasons. Black. And a socialist. As if the color of one's skin should make a difference. And then to categorize Obama for something he isn't. A socialist. He's a Democrat. And an idealist. Yes, a bit more liberal than a conservative Republican. But still, a patriotic American. It's unfortunate that some white people will still vote against a black candidate merely because he's black. But that's the story of America. We've been a racist society from the very beginning. And although things are getting better, evidenced by Obama's nomination, we still have far too many racists amongst us. --Jim Broede

...idiots and maybe racists, too.

I have great respect for women. Generally speaking. But seems to me that some women are idiots. And I mean the Hillary Clinton supporters who won't vote for Barack Obama. Because they think Hillary was given the shaft by the Democrats. That she should have been the Democrats' nominee for president. Or at least, Obama's running mate. One national poll even showed that maybe up to 27 percent of Clinton's backers may not vote at all or vote instead for John McCain. Now that's completely idiotic. Obama and Clinton are from the same party, and they are very close on the political issues. Far, far apart from McCain. So, why would a Clinton supporter suddenly switch allegiance to McCain? Well, because they're bitter. In addition to being idiots. They are wrapped up in the cult of personalities. Not so much concerned about real issues. Instead, they just want to see a woman as president. And it doesn't matter much what she stands for. Certainly that's the case if they vote for McCain. If they can't have a woman for president, they'll back Clinton's polar opposite. A man that Clinton personally detests when it comes to the major political issues. Thankfully, Clinton has come out in strong support of Obama. But that doesn't make a difference to Clinton's supporters from the idiot realm. Actually, maybe a case could be made that they are racists. They'd rather vote for a white man with political views contrary to their own rather than for a black man with political opinions virtually the same as their's. Yes, that makes them idiots and maybe racists, too. --Jim Broede

It's beautiful, too.

I'm doing little things around the house and the yard, too. Fixing up. Cleaning. Bit by bit. I'm trying to eliminate the clutter. To some degree. I have this goal of being surrounded by significantly less clutter by October. I think our surroundings affect our moods. There's such a thing as a clutter mood. A messy mood. I've chosen to have so many, many books. And CDs. Collections. Bird houses. And I tell myself -- well, Jim, aim for a neat sort of clutter. If there is such a thing. I suppose books and CDs and knick-knacks make me feel comfortable. At least to a degree. More so than starkness. Although there is something positive to be said about the stark, too. Like a snow landscape that looks a little like a desert. Yes, sand dunes can be beautiful. No trees. No bushes. Just miles and miles of sand. Stark sand. Or a clear, uncluttered sky. Or a vast, vast ocean. Nothing but water. In every direction. No land. Water. Water. Water. Everywhere. No, that's not bleak. Not stark. It's beautiful, too. --Jim Broede

By golly, it has substance.

I'm sickened by the American news media. Television. Cable. Newspapers. Radio. It's difficult for me to get information. Like about the nitty-gritty political issues facing America. Instead, I'm getting a barrage of personal information about the presidential candidates. Lots of it incidental stuff. And, oh, so many pundits' opinions about the personalities. And polls showing what potential voters think. With so many of the opinions based on shallow sound bites. Didn't used to be that way. Back 30 or 40 years ago, the news media did a good job. By informing us about critical issues. And Watergate. Things like that. Now we get fluff. Or virtually nothing at all. Often, I just turn off the news programs in disgust. Maybe the most informative of the programs is Jon Stewart's Daily Show on Cable. It's meant as parody. But by golly, it has substance. --Jim Broede

...a proud American again.

I feel good about Barack Obama. Very similar to the way I felt about John F. Kennedy in 1960. That liberalism would thrive. That America would be an idealistic country. And keep changing for the better. But my hopes were dashed. Kennedy was assasinated. And eventually, so was his brother Robert Kennedy. And Martin Luther King, too. Well, as I see it, the promise I saw in America crumbled. Our nation went downhill in the 1970s and 1980s and 1990s, and especially since the election of George Bush. Indeed, a sad time. Made me sad to be an American. Even ashamed. But now I sense the tide is turning. I expect Obama to be elected. And I'm starting to feel much like I did in the 1960s, when I was a young man who shared John F. Kennedy's idealism. Could be that I may become a proud American again. --Jim Broede

..what one expects in Paradise.

There's a chill in the air. Oh, a slight chill. But it feels nice. The chill comes early in the morning. And late in the evening. A sign that summer is slowly coming to an end. Very slowly. Because the days still warm up. Nicely. Pleasantly. Into the mid 70s and the low 80s. It's a nice time of year. Sometimes, I think September and October are the best months in Minnesota. When we get our so-called Indian summer. So, I'm looking forward to the next two months. Even to winter. I like the contrast of seasons. Real cold. Real hot. And so much of the time inbetween. Comfortable. Just what one expects in Paradise. --Jim

In the deep, deep ocean.

When I was in Germany recently, I boarded a German World War II U-boat. Wasn't in the water. But at a museum. Yes, a genuine U-boat. Lifted up. Hauled there. My gawd, it looked huge from the outside. But inside, it was tight going. One squeezed down the narrow aisles. So tight. So much equipment. Not a good place for anyone with claustrophobia. The boat was operated by a crew of 22. Just imagine what one did. To fight a war. Enclosing one's self in this hunk of metal. To go under water. Deep. And then to launch torpedoes. To bring death and destruction. And hoping that one didn't die. In the deep, deep ocean. --Jim Broede

Oh, so much dirt.

I don't understand why the game of politics has to be so nasty. But I guess that's the nature of it. I'd like to see politicians disagree on issues. In a polite manner. Without denigrating each other. But then, I suppose, I should set an example as a sideline observer. I make no secret of the fact that I detest George Bush and his neo-conservative Republican allies. And there's gonna be vast amounts of mud-slinging as we head into the home stretch of the presidential election campaign. Oh, so much dirt. --Jim Broede

...to make me something I ain't.

There's a lady who misreads me. Virtually all the time. I keep telling her that she misreads me. But she still insists on coming back time after time to read me. So that she can misread. I think that's her pleasure in life. To get things wrong. To misread. In other words, to make me something I ain't. --Jim Broede

To flow...naturally.

Life unfolds in strange and mysterious ways. As a writer and a thinker I like to come up with reasons why things happen. But I'm not sure I'm supposed to do that. Instead, I am just supposed to let things happen. Yes, to follow the flow, so to speak. What happens, happens. Maybe we seek too many explanations. We ask for rhyme and reason. Why am I here? Why was I born? Why am I conscious? Sometimes, I wonder if I am even real. Maybe I am just god's dream. I don't know if these thoughts chill me or thrill me. I guess I like to think that I'm on a mission. A mission I don't understand. Maybe that makes me a robot. But maybe it has something to do with love. With the notion of love. That thought keeps surfacing. In my mind. In my spirit. In my being. What else could it be? I'm supposed to love. Whatever it is I am doing. Actually, life. Living. I was just moved to sit down. And write. This. Yes, to just let myself flow...naturally. --Jim Broede

I fall asleep with a smile.

One thing I have learned about love is that it must be cultivated. Daily. To be a lover, it requires full-time. It must be one's occupation. One must live it. Doesn't necessarily mean 24 hours a day. But certainly as much time as one would spend on his full-time job. That of making a living. Except, a lover makes a loving. That's his living. I didn't understand this until recent years. Maybe in the last three years of Jeanne's life. Then I became full-time. And that's what I am now. Full-time at loving. More so than ever. One might say, it's my preoccupation. I think love. I feel love. Most of the time. A day never goes by without me feeling like a lover. I work at it. Oh, maybe 'work' isn't the exact word. I pursue love. Yes, it's my pursuit. My pastime. I love being in love. There's no better feeling. I nurture love. I live for love. Wasn't always that way. I didn't always cultivate love. At times, I let it lay dormant. Not any more. When I get up in the morning, I'm thinking love. And the same goes for when I go to bed in the evening. I savor love. I am enraptured. I enter Paradise, so to speak. I fall asleep with a smile. --Jim Broede

A stoppage of time.

Oh, I love to think. That, in itself, is a form of love. So many, many ways to love. I can make love to almost anything. Maybe everything. I have become a lover. Of life. The very fact that I can consciously conceive of love -- that is a miracle. A blessing. I have chosen to live the rest of my life defining love. Actually, living love. I ultimately want every act that I do to be an act of love. Pure love. Because that is what brings me pleasure. Maybe pleasure and love are one and the same. Words that I associate with love are gentle and tender and soothing. Love is a brook flowing through a forest primeval. Or a drifting of the human spirit above all of creation. Or a stoppage of time that makes one feel foreverness. --Jim Broede

Love becomes forever. Eternal.

Whenever I am disappointed, whether it be over politics or events in my life, I always get over it. Quickly. Because I remind myself that I am in love. With somebody. Or something. Maybe that is why I am immune to depression. Also, it's important that I stay reasonably healthy. I'd hate being chronically ill. I don't relish the thought of dying a slow, painful death. That might damage my morale. Even when I am alone, I am happy. Because I convince myself, I guess, that I'm not alone. I have myself. My soul. My spirit. My god, so to speak. Yes, I have life. Consciousness. The ability to imagine wonderful things. And I can even put my thoughts into writing. Life so far has given me the opportunity to be an explorer. I keep discovering new things daily. And maybe the greatest discovery of my life is love. I have the ability to love and be loved. Wow! Talk about life being worthwhile. I've lived because I've loved. I'm loving every minute of it. Oh, I've had moments when I thought I would never love again. But then I reflected. And came to the conclusion that's impossible. Love becomes forever. Eternal. --Jim Broede

...not quite ready for winter.

Ahhh! That's a sound of pleasure. I left the windows and doors open all night, And it's 60 degrees in the house. A cooling breeze off the lake. A sign here in Minnesota that autumn can't be far away. There's something refreshing about cooler weather. I love the change of seasons. As summer nears an end, I welcome autumn. And then winter. And spring. And summer once again. The cycles of life are wonderful, too. At 72, I'm in autumn, I suppose. That is, if I'm lucky. Because I'm not quite ready for winter yet. --Jim Broede

Or Sardinia.

Come to think of it, I like the thought of living out the rest of my life on an island. Maybe Tahiti. Or the Fiji Islands. Or Sardinia. --Jim Broede

...to Tahiti, or to Italy.

Oh, well, I guess I can accept Joe Biden, too. Might as well make the best of it. Ain't the first time I've been disappointed in politics. This may work out. If the Obama-Biden ticket gets elected, I'll be happy. Maybe Hillary will be Obama's nominee to fill the first vacancy on the Supreme Court. Heaven help us if McCain gets elected and he packs the court with more conservatives. Then this nation is headed for irreparable ruin. And it'll be time for me to move to Tahiti, or to Italy. --Jim Broede

Let's go, Democrats!

It's gonna be minutes or hours at the most before Barack Obama announces his choice for running mate. And I'll be disappointed if it's anybody but Hillary Clinton. Even though I didn't support Clinton in the primaries. But I think Obama may need Clinton on the ticket in order to win. The two of 'em together will be a dynamic duo. And it's a way for Obama to really unite Democrats. Heck, if he can't bring Democrats together, how is he going to unite the nation? Working with Clinton in sort of a co-presidency will be a lot easier than working with Republicans. There's really not that much difference between Obama and Clinton on issues. Yes, there may be something of a personality conflict. But so what? They both essentially want to accomplish the same things politically. And to have former president Bill Clinton more or less hovering around the White House -- that's not the worst thing in the world, either. Look at it as a bonus. It's time for the Democrats to hold power, and to rid this nation of the shame to America brought on by George Bush and his neo-conservative Republican allies. That may take a long time. Maybe eight years of an Obama presidency followed by eight years of a Hillary Clinton presidency. Let's go, Democrats! --Jim Broede

On meddling...

America has become an imperial power. Much like the Roman Empire. Or Great Britain in the 19th century. We Americans are out to change the world. Rather than ourselves. And that's a big mistake. We think, for instance, that we can change the character of the Middle East. When really we should be changing ourselves. A good start would be to become less and less imperial. Fix ourselves. Fix our own problems. Set a good example for the rest of the world. If others choose not to follow, so be it. We foolishly think we'll bring democracy to the Middle East by invading Iraq. Well, it ain't gonna happen. Instead, it's gonna cost us $1 trillion or $2 trillion and practically bankrupt America, when the money could be better spent fixing our own problems. And if we'd quit meddling in other parts of the world, we wouldn't have terrorists after us. We're meddlers. Imperial meddlers. We're trying to fix other parts of the world when we can't even provide our own citizens with guaranteed health care. Other so-called lesser industrialized nations do it. Why not us? Because we spend our money on national defense. Yes, on meddling where we don't belong. --Jim Broede

In Eden. In Paradise. In love.

Any day I can tune in the news. And learn of the latest poll. That the election between John McCain and Barack Obama is a toss up. Or that the two presidential aspirants are just a few points apart. Or that older Americans favor one over the other. Enough. Enough. Enough already. I don't give a damn. The election is 10 weeks away. I don't want to know the outcome of a hypothetical election being held today. It's far too early to predict what's gonna happen in November. Hey, all I know for certain is that I'm alive and in love. Today. And that is what counts. I'll savor the moment. I don't wanna hear that the world might end tomorrow. I don't even wanna hear who might win the presidential election come whenever. Everytime I read a newspaper or tune in TV, I hear so much senseless minutia. The important thing is that I'm in love. That I'm healthy. That I'm walking on Earth today and have the opportunity to enjoy another day of life. Meanwhile, don't bother me with trifles. I'm living in Eden. In Paradise. In love. --Jim Broede

I like their way of life.

I'm an American. But I think I could be happy as a German or an Italian. Or for that matter, a Tahitian. I could live in so many parts of the world and like it. Because I tend to live in sort of a cocoon. Isolated. I make my own little world. No matter where I live. I recently spent 5 weeks in Germany and Italy. And I loved it. Most of the time was spent in the Italian Alps. Near the Austrian border. And during that time, I pretty much ignored what was happening in the rest of the world. Virtually no English language newspapers. And no TV. Just mixing with the locals in little villages and hiking in the Alps and making love, not war. Yes, a rather idyllic life. More and more, I am feeling like a citizen of the world. Rather than an American. Oh, America is all right. But I prefer places that are more off the beaten track. Where people tend to their local business. And enjoy the environment and the scenery. And thank gawd that they've been blessed with their little Eden. Yes, these people live in Paradise. They don't particularly care about the rest of the world, I guess, because they don't mind living in isolation. Away from turmoil and geopolitics. For the most part, they seem to live at a leisurely pace. Tend to their gardens. And their hobbies. And families. They like me. An American. Maybe because I like them. And their way of life. --Jim Broede

...better days to come.

I've read about it. Being trapped in an airplane for hours on the runway. Waiting to take off. Hour after hour after hour. Because of mechanical problems. Or the weather. Mechanics try to fix it all. Or one waits until the weather improves. And the passengers are told repeatedly to be patient. The plane periodically seems ready for take off -- only to be stopped by another complication. Yes, dashed hopes. Finally, after 5 hours, the passengers are told that the flight has been canceled. The plane is unsafe to fly. And the 300 passengers debark and the US Airways customer services representative announces, "Stand in line, single file, and we'll try to book you on other flights in the next day or so."

Ah, yes, this happened to me in Charlotte, North Carolina, on July 8, on my way to Germany. I stood in line for 7 hours at the Charlotte Airport. Until 4 in the morning on July 9. And then the airlines gave me a voucher for an overnight room in a local motel, where I stood in line for 90 minutes to be registered.

Yes, my patience was being tested. As I killed 24 hours -- a whole day. A long, long layover in Charlotte. Not my favorite city on a hot and humid day. A horror story. I lived it. And survived. Yes, I was annoyed. But patient. Unusually patient for me. Maybe it was my training as an Alzheimer's care-giver for 13 years. Yes, I've become reasonably patient.

I watched the activity at the airport. A bit saddened by it all. But entertained, too. One lady even went berserk. Had a nervous breakdown. I just told myself that my journey to Europe was getting off to a bad start. And hey, there would be better days to come. --Jim Broede

An Obama-Clinton ticket.

Barack Obama is supposed to pick his running mate later this week. And I'm hoping it's Hillary Clinton. I think Obama needs Hillary in order to guarantee that he wins. Because he'll get two Clintons in the deal. Hillary and Bill. And they know how to fight. Dirty, if necessary. Obama is too clean. Too fair. Too willing to compromise and meet his opponent half-way. But when you are fighting dirty Republicans, that doesn't work. You need the masters of dirty politics on your side. The Clintons have the savvy to put dirty, rotten Republicans in their place. The GOP could take advantage of Obama. But not with the Clintons at his side. So, for the sake of assuring his election, I'm for Obama picking Hillary as his vice president. I wasn't all that enamored with Hillary over the way she castigated Obama during the primary election campaign. That gave Obama good reason to snub Clinton now. But politics is a practical game. The idea is to win. At almost any cost. And an Obama-Clinton ticket would do the trick. --Jim Broede

...the four elegant ladies.

I'm thinking of a moment in Trieste. Our last night there. We were more or less lost. Needed directions. In a piazza. And my companion spotted four ladies. Nicely dressed. Elegant ladies, really. And we asked them for help. And oh, they were so nice. My companion had been in something of a funk. Because of heat exhaustion. But for the 10 or 15 minutes we chatted, she became revived. She felt good again. She smiled. And I thought that these ladies were godsends. I would always remember this precious moment. In some ways, it was the highlight of my brief stay in Trieste. I talked to the ladies. With my companion as the Italian translator. And I knew I had been blessed. This was a moment to treasure. If I got nothing else from Trieste, this would be sufficient. I had met 4 wonderful people. Four wonderful women. Four wonderful human beings. Maybe I will never see them again. I won't even know their names. But I will always know them as the four elegant ladies. --Jim Broede

One of the wonders of the world.

July 11.

I'm in the Swiss Alps. For the first time ever. And it's magnificent. Another world. Eden. Where my ancestors lived in the 1600s. Before they came to Germany. I'm seeing what they saw. And it makes me wonder why they left. Oh, I guess I know. They had to make a living. Economic conditions were bad. But for me, this place seems like Paradise. Because it's isolated, relatively speaking. Like the end of the world. I could make it my cocoon. A place to write. To think. To isolate myself from the rest of the world. And to enjoy the majesty and the beauty of the Alps. I suspect that many of the Swiss living in the Alps are my kind of people. Living off the beaten track. Not particularly concerned about the rest of the world. Evidenced by the Swiss longtime neutrality in world wars. Instead, the Swiss go about living the idyllic life. Life that almost seems shut off from the rest of the world. Yes, today I haven't read a newspaper or watched TV or listened to the radio. Instead, I'll write my broodings and go for a walk. In the Alps. One of the wonders of the world. --Jim Broede

Naughty. Naughty. Naughty.

Imagine that. George Bush and his secretary of state Condelezza Rice are telling Russia it shouldn't invade Georgia. Naughty. Naughty. Naughty. Because in the 21st century nations aren't supposed to invade each other any more. Yes, our esteemed president is taking Russia to task. I guess it's time for Russia to learn that only George Bush is entitled to start a preemptive war. --Jim Broede

Joyful saints.

I try to comfort people in travail. But not by the traditional means. In other words, I don't say, "Poor you. Poor you. Poor you." Instead, I suggest that unhappy people look at ways of becoming happy again. To find a lasting solution to their plight. To their unhappiness. Often, it's only a matter of refocusing on something going right in their lives. Yes, positive thinking. Asking themselves if there's love in their lives. Reason to love somebody or something. Even to love one's self. Of course, this alienates some people. The sad sacks who cannot find anything to love. Yes, all they want to hear is, "Poor you. Poor you. Poor you." But I am not going to play their game. Believe me, I've come across many sad sacks. Care-givers for Alzheimer patients. They've allowed themselves to be beaten down. In large part because they insist on being 24/7 care-givers. No let up. No daily breaks. Maybe because they feel guilty. Maybe because they want to be martyrs. Or quite possibly, they want to achieve sainthood. Well, I prefer to have only happy saints. Saints who love what they are doing. I want saints who come marching in. Joyful saints. --Jim Broede

Made me feel like a lover.

I'm often astounded by people who dwell in unhappiness. Oh, I know there's such a thing as clinical depression. And some just cannot help themselves. But still, it astounds me. Maybe because I cannot stand to be unhappy for a prolonged time. I don't want to live unhappily. I have to find my way out of the labyrinth. Maybe when I am dying and I am deathly ill, it'll be different. But then maybe it's possible that I'll be happy to die. Knowing that death will get me out of my unhappy state. I think I was born to be happy. And always, I found that love and happiness are one and the same. If I can find a way to love somebody or something, that makes me happy. So simple. I've been blessed with reasonably good health. I understand that if one is chronically ill, it's more difficult falling in love with life. Even if I have a bad cold, I begin to wonder what it'd be like to have a bad cold that never goes away. But I always get better. It's a temporary indisposition. I tell myself I'll feel better in time. And I do. Even when the dearest love of my life was dying of Alzheimer's, I found a way to love. To love being well enough to be Jeanne's care-giver. Her lover, so to speak. Right up to the end. I tried to make Jeanne happy. To make her feel loved. And that made me happy. Made me feel like a lover. --Jim Broede

...one's total being.

Lovemaking is to be savored. Gradually. Maybe over days. Ever so slowly. A little bit at a time. Like a feast. Slowly. Slowly. Moments. Strung together. It is to be nice. Pleasant. Tender. Gentle. Affectionate. Intimate. Physical. Spiritual. Emotional. Mental. A combination of so many things. An expression of one's total being. --Jim Broede

Feeling blessed.

It's 5:45 a.m. Saturday. July 12. I'm in the Swiss Alps. On the 3rd floor balcony. High. Looking east, I think. No sun yet. Because of the clouds. It's drizzling. A haze. Another glimpse of Paradise. I can see the fog-shrouded Alps. Like I'm living in a fairy tale. The village is coming awake. Lights here and there in the chalets. I hear the rain. Dripping. From the orange-tiled roof. I think about going for a walk. Instead, I am transfixed. Absorbed by the moment. Knowing I am alive and conscious. Knowing that my dream is real. A moment in time. Captured. Inside me. Maybe we won't see the sun today. Maybe this will be an all-day rain. But I think it's appropriate. Feels like today is a day out of the distant past. Maybe the 1600s. When my ancestors were more than spirits. Alive beings. Seeing a day much like this. Savoring the moment. Right here. In this valley. Feeling blessed. --Jim Broede

..on the right path.

Almost every day I read of people living wretched lives. Because they feel wretched. They are miserable. Unhappy. Some are in depression. Feeling hopeless. Many are care-givers. For Alzheimer patients. I understand how they feel. Exhausted. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. I was there once upon a time, too. But I refused to stay in the pits. There's more to life. Yes, pleasure. Even in the midst of the worst of times. I insisted on respite. A break from wretched thoughts. If only for a few hours a day. Soon I discovered that being the care-giver to the woman I loved wasn't so bad. Indeed, it was rewarding. I was actually in love. Genuinely in love. And that made the care-giving easier. There was nothing I'd rather be doing than taking care of dear Jeanne. In a gentle and tender way. In a loving way. Because I also was taking care of myself. My taking time for respite. Yes, for love. Nothing is more stimulating and refreshing for the human spirit than love. Yes, that's what I learned in my respite time. Learned the intricacies of sweet love. Even today, almost 2 years after Jeanne died, I'm still in love. With life. Yes, Jeanne taught me to do that while she was dying. Jeanne took hold of me. And put me on the right path. All the way to Paradise. --Jim Broede

I've been to Paradise.

I went 5 weeks more or less ignoring what's going on in the world. Read an English language newspaper only 2 or 3 times. And maybe saw 10 minutes of English language TV. Yes, that's a nice way to live. Three weeks in Italy. Two weeks in Germany. With a dear, close friend. And relatives. Nice. Nice. Nice. I wouldn't mind living abroad for 6 months. And then 6 months in the U.S. I think it'd give me a better feel for the world. And life. Yes, a life of pleasure. And love. And satisfying my curiosity. I'd be able to do what I like most. To write. And to love. I like to focus on people. Real people. To know them intimately. Only a handful. No celebrities. No politicians. Give me so-called ordinary people. People who enjoy the real pleasures of life. Good conversation. Good food. And the ability to love. Not only people. But life. Well, I've found a meaningful world. Maybe it's relatively small and isolated. Places like the Italian Alps. And small villages. Off the beaten tourist track. But by golly, I've been to Paradise. --Jim Broede

I'm a lover...forever.

I'm in love. It's a nice feeling. Never thought I'd be in love again after Jeanne died and after 13 years of care-giving. Shows how stupid I am. I have to keep an open mind. Think I'm gonna write a book. About love. The nature of love. And how love teaches me to live fully. Now. Today. One day at a time. I wear blinders, so to speak. Focused on today. Not yesterday. Not tomorrow. Yes, I savor moments. Many moments. One at a time. When I tell folks I'm in love, some give me advice. Some tell me there's no such thing. Of course, I know better. Because I am in love. One knows. If one has never loved, one doesn't know. Means one hasn't lived. I can't live any other way. I have to be in love. With somebody. With something. Otherwise, I am not alive. Instead, I would be a robot. Only going through the motions of living. I'm a lover...forever. --Jim Broede