Tuesday, March 31, 2009

A big pot of rhubarb sauce.

Someone told me today that I'm stirring the pot. That's nonsense. People stir themselves. I don't stir 'em. Oh, I stir myself. With thoughts. Anyway, I also don't make people angry. They make themselves angry. They have a choice. It's been a long time since I've been angry. Outright angry. Can't remember when. An indication that it's been a while back. Come to think of it, the only time I've stirred the pot in the past year or two was while I made rhubarb sauce. In a pot. On the stove. By golly, just the thought of it whets my appetite. Tomorrow I'm gonna make a big pot of rhubarb sauce. --Jim Broede

Making money off depression.

I sometimes wonder if depression really isn't depression. But only simple mental hang-ups. It's the popular thing. The popular diagnosis. All kinds of mental hangups are being labeled depression. If one has a lack of desire or an inability to accomplish anything, it's automatically classed as depression. If I'm feeling down in the dumps, it's depression. It could be I just have a lousy attitude. Or that I'm lazy. That I have no gumption. Drug companies promote depression. Because they have all kinds of pills to sell. They can make money off depression. --Jim Broede

Maybe he'll tell me.

My, my, how time flies. It occurred to me tonight that on Friday it'll be 60 years since my dad committed suicide. This isn't meant to be macabre. It's just an interesting fact. Just one of many events in a lifetime. I'm thinking like a newspaper man tonight. I'd like to interview my dad. To better understand how his mind works. I never really knew. Maybe on Friday night, I'll sit down and imagine how that interview would go. I'm curious. Maybe he'll tell me. --Jim Broede

It was shameful.

I remember my mother fondly. But I’d never want to live with her for an extended period. A weekend was enough. Jeanne and I would visit her, and stay for two or three days. That’s all we could take. My mother spent much of the last 20 years of her life in depression. She was doom and gloom. We’d be upbeat. And try to make her see the bright side of life. Didn’t work. By the time we left, we were exhausted. Mentally. Emotionally. I’d breathe a sigh of relief as we drove away. But I also felt a little sad. I often tried to convince mother to get her depression treated. But often she didn’t even want to acknowledge that she was in depression. Because there was a stigma attached. Mother was from an era in which it was shameful to have a mental illness. I guess some people still think of it that way. –Jim Broede

Monday, March 30, 2009

What I don't know.

I'm not easily offended. Or so I think. Quite possibly that's one way I stay upbeat. Positive. Happy. If I let little things bother me, I'd live on the edge. I'd become irritated. Annoyed. Ironically, that's what I do to some people. I irritate and annoy 'em. I try not to. Really. Some find that hard to believe. It's that the nature of some humans is to be easily irritated and annoyed. They have set ways. And they don't want their lives disrupted by alien thoughts and ideas. And by golly, I have slants on various issues that rub some the wrong way. They're opinions. Only opinions. About politics. Religion. Social matters. You name it. I try not to foist my ways on others. I just ask, have you thought about (whatever the issue) it this way or that way? I like to start a dialogue. And maybe some people construe my motive as wanting to change their minds. Not necessarily so. Often, I'm just trying to start a discussion. Like I would in a classroom. If I were a teacher. Or for that matter, a student. I'm trying to learn. To determine if my thinking of the moment is right or wrong. I'm continually evolving. I don't like to be locked in. Static. I'm ever changing. To some degree. I'm not exactly the same person today that I was yesterday. I'm really quite curious. And I'm not afraid to come across as stupid. Because in many ways, that's what I am. Very stupid. The more I learn, the more I become aware of what I don't know. --Jim Broede

Sunday, March 29, 2009

Comfortably crazy.

One doesn't have to be crazy to see a psychoanalyst. It'd be nice if everyone learned to do self-psychoanlysis. Yes, analyze one's self. I do it constantly. And I know that I am crazy. But that's exactly what I want to be. That's what keeps me sane. That may sound like a contradiction. But if one recognzies that he's crazy, he's really got a good hold on himself. I am intentionally crazy. But I know what I'm doing. I've created a reality that makes me comfortably crazy. --Jim Broede

A new reality.

I’m proud of my sister. She’s been a virtual lifelong alcoholic and prone to depression. But she hasn’t had a drink for two years. I guess that makes her a recovering alcoholic. Also, she seems happy. And out of depression. Sounds like my sister has taken charge of her life. And created a new reality. –Jim Broede

I'm happy being alive. Today.

Much of living, I guess, is spent in denial. Denial of death. We’re all gonna die. Sooner or later. That’s the human condition. All living things die. But to be happy, maybe we pretend we aren’t gonna die. That there’s life after death. Or if there isn’t – well, we try not to think about it. We go into denial. Or maybe even into depression. Or we get choosey. We want to pick the way we die. We don’t want to die of Alzheimer’s. Not a very pretty way to go. Dying bit by bit. Losing our mind. Or we don’t want to die a painful death. Or die young. We’d rather die in our sleep after reaching old age. I’ve been reading a book. Titled “Denial of Death.” By Ernest Becker. A guy that died at age 50. Rather young, isn’t it? Becker was a psychoanalyst. He talks about reality. And the ways we choose our own reality. Often a reality that helps us forget that we’re gonna die. Because an obsession with death is bound to make us unhappy. Anyway, I’m learning to live a day at a time. Not think too far ahead. Just savor today. Life. That sure beats thinking too far ahead. When I’ll be dead. I’m happy being alive. Today. –Jim Broede

I alienate.

I have theories about depression. And how I stay out of depression. I guess what I don't understand is how much I irritate people who are in depression. Or have been in depression. I guess that if I were a wise man, I'd pretty much leave this subject alone. Because maybe I don't have a clue. And when I delve into this subject with someone who has experienced depression, I do far more harm than good. I alienate. --Jim Broede

Saturday, March 28, 2009

In a sense, everything is good.

Bad things happen with a purpose. With some degree of good purpose. I think that is what the Creator is telling me. Somebody benefits from what may seem like a bad thing to we mortal human beings. For instance, if my Chicago Cubs lose a critical game, that’s a bad thing from my perspective. But for fans of the team that wins, it's a good thing. Maybe even a joyous thing. Meanwhile, I’m sad. Maybe downright glum. From this perspective, nothing is totally bad or totally good. Let’s say someone dies. Tragically. That’s bad for the deceased and his loved ones. But in the long run, over a period of time, that death may set off a sequence of relatively happy occurrences. Like my father’s suicide some 60 years ago. Some of these positive events wouldn’t have happened if my father had lived a long life and died of natural causes. I’ve also made the case that I wouldn’t have been born if my maternal grandparents hadn’t died young. That set off a chain of events that brought my mother and father together into marriage. Those deaths benefited me. Not my grandparents. I was given life. They were given death. When one thinks of life and death in these terms it helps me understand the motives of the grand Creator. In a sense, everything is good. In one way or another. –Jim Broede

Sure beats lamenting.

I'm intrigued by what makes some people happy, and others not. There's something odd about happiness. I see people who really shouldn't be happy. Because of circumstances. Yet, they are happy. And then I see people who should be happy. And they're unhappy. Seems to be no rhyme or reason. But I'm sure there is. Maybe, as some doctors say, it's merely a chemical imbalance. Happy people have the right balance. Unhappy people, the wrong balance. But I'm a layman. No doctor. No expert. But that doesn't stop me from thinking there's far more to it. Has something to do with the way we look at life. Our perceptions. The interpretation we give to events around us. I used to get upset over happenings in the world. Happenings over which I have no control. But gradually, I learned not to lose a whole lot of sleep over so many annoying things. Such as the antics of George Bush. I let it slide. Assuming that given time, the situation would change for the better. Sure enough, it did. The same goes for the economy. It ain't good now. But I keep telling myself, things will get better. And I might as well get on with life the best I can. I even became a relatively happy Alzheimer care-giver. By learning to accept what I can't change. Sure beats lamenting. --Jim Broede

...makes me sane.

My reality is to be a bit crazy. That's exactly what makes me sane. --Jim Broede

Interpreting reality.

I think one can make one's own reality. In other words, reality is somewhat flexible. Much of it is determined by attitude. When my Jeanne had Alzheimer's, I initially chose to take the 'attitude' that -- well, maybe it's just a lazy brain. Maybe I fooled myself. And created a pretend reality, of sorts. Anyway, a diagnosis of Alzheimer's is only an educated guess. Oh, I knew it most likely was Alzheimer's. But I also knew there have been cases of misdiagnosis. The real comfirmation comes at an autopsy. After death, of course. So anyway, I'm an upbeat, optimistic being. I like to be happy. So often when something bad happens in my life, I can find good springing from it. Some people think that's weird. That I'm not being realistic. For instance, I can see good stemming from the early deaths of my maternal grandparents. That prompted my mother to find security by getting married at age 18 to a man she really didn't love. It was a marriage of convenience, and it didn't last. But because of it, I was born. I came into this world. Now, if my maternal grandparents had lived longer, my mother most likely would never have married my father. And I wouldn't be. Then I would have had no reality. Meanwhile, I'm interpreting my reality as a happy reality. In part, because of the misfortune of others. Yes, good coming from something bad. But I could just as easily choose to make my reality unhappy. By looking at it from a pessimistic perspective. And maybe go into depression. With a mere shift in the way I choose to interpret events in my life. --Jim Broede

Friday, March 27, 2009

The blind lady was a racist.

John Hope Franklin remembers growing up in racist America. In Oklahoma. A black kid. He joined the Boy Scouts. And took his role as a scout seriously. Enough to want to do a good deed daily. So when Franklin saw a little old blind lady with a cane at curbside in Tulsa, he offered his assistance. Initially, the lady was grateful. Allowed Franklin to take her arm and guide her across the busy street. Then she asked, 'You aren't colored, are you?' When she learned that he was black, the lady snipped, 'Take your filthy hands off me.' Yes, the youngster was learning that it would be a difficult life. Anyway, Franklin died Wednesday at age 94. He was a prolific scholar of African-American history who strongly influenced thinking about slavery and Reconstruction while helping to further the civil rights struggle. --Jim Broede

Thursday, March 26, 2009

...makes my life worthwhile.

My 13 years as a care-giver to my beloved Jeanne was a valuable experience. I learned so much. I'm better for it. In other words, it wasn't a lost 13 years. Something was gained. I learned new and better ways to love. I wish Jeanne never had Alzheimer's. I wish Jeanne were still alive and well today. In a sense, she is. In a spiritual way. Anyway, both of us learned to cope. With life. With the twists and turns. The ups and downs. During the toughest of times. We constantly renewed our love vows. We found ways to stay reasonably positive. By finding something to savor almost every day. No matter how small. We still had each other. In meaningful ways. For that matter, we still do. From our almost 40 years of life experience together. I know that many care-givers lament. They say the disease sucks. And it does. But life doesn't suck. It's wonderful. My time with Jeanne is what still makes my life worthwhile. --Jim Broede

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Pretending can be good therapy.

For years, I pretended that Jeanne didn't have Alzheimer's. In the early stages of the disease. Because I didn't want to believe it. And I think that was good. Because it buoyed my spirits. And Jeanne's spirits as well. I made off as if Jeanne had a lazy brain. And that with proper stimulation, with mental exercise, she could get the brain in working shape once again. We worked at it. Together. And it may have helped. But as time passed and Jeanne reached the mid-stages of Alzheimer's, it became apparent that we were fighting a losing battle. Decline was inevitable. But by that time, Jeanne wasn't scared any more. Neither was I, I suppose. Because I had learned acceptance. I was better able to cope. As a care-giver. Anyway, I tell care-givers, cope the best you can. Even if that means fooling yourself. In small ways. Especially at the beginning. You can half believe that it's Alzheimer's, and half believe that it isn't. It can be good therapy. Both for you and the patient. -- Jim Broede

Not for just the very rich.

I think it's all right for America to go into a deep, deep deficit. That is, if the money is being spent for the right reasons. Not for war. But for providing Americans with the basic necessities of life. Yes, for bringing about the common good. For universal health care. Seeing that every American is guaranteed decent health care. Regardless of income or job status. The idea is to reform the health care system. To make it more affordable. Now it's terribly inefficient. Because it's designed to make middlemen and insurance companies and pharmaceutical companies richer and richer. At the expense of ordinary people. Consumers. Yes, the middle and lower classes. We leave 47 million Americans uninsured because the insurance companies can't make big enough profits off 'em. Yes, so much of America is designed to make the rich richer and the poor poorer. That's a dirty rotten shame. If getting the system fixed will cost more initially and drive our nation deeper into debt, so be it. At least we'll have one of the basic necessities of life. Decent health care. For everyone. Of course, all this will be opposed by the private insurers. They're in this to make money. Lots of money. Obscene profits. And it doesn't seem to matter to them that the health care system stinks. That America now pays more for health care than any nation on Earth. But other nations that spend far less have attained better results, better health care. For everyone. Not for just the very rich. --Jim Broede

Sounds good to me.

The politicians. In Washington. They all have ideas of what to do to get us out of this economic mess. Ranging from doing something. To doing nothing. Really, there's no sure-fire solution. Maybe it's to scrap the capitalist system. Or to regulate it in profound ways. Maybe we've got to become socialists. Lord knows. Yes, I suspect that even god doesn't have the answer. We're all in the same boat. Drifting through life. Not knowing where we're going. Maybe that's why I'm learning to take life one day at a time. To deal with today, today. And tomorrow, tomorrow. That way, I find something to savor every day. Yes, I put myself fully into the day. Into the moment. And I don't sweat the economy. For now, I'm putting my faith in Barack Obama. Because he admits that he's uncertain to some degree over what to do. He's feeling his way. More or less one day at a time. He'll adjust on the go. And he'll admit to mistakes. And change course in midstream, if necessary. He suggests, let's meet our needs. We need a better health care system. Better education. An energy program. Bailouts of the banking and insurance and auto industries. Less war. More peace. A narrowing of the gap between the rich and the poor. Oh, so many, many things. Sounds good to me. --Jim Broede

I find it entertaining...and more.

I'm not afraid to take stands. On all sorts of issues. Some of 'em very controversial. I declare my positions. And I dare to be wrong. Fact of the matter is that often inside me I see no clear-cut right or wrong. I see grey. Instead of black and white. But that doesn't stop me from siding on the side of black and white. At least for the moment. For the time-being. Because I still try to keep an open mind. I can be swayed. I can admit that I'm wrong. Some people get mad at me. Downright angry. Because they don't like my declarations. They think I'm wrong. Or even insensitive for stating what I believe. But here's the way I look at it. They can ignore what I have to say. I'm not requiring anyone to think like I think. They can do as they please. Oh, maybe I'm obnoxious at times. Maybe even insulting. Sarcastic. Taunting. Maybe I prolong an argument for far too long. But that's all it is. An argument. A difference of opinion. One can take it or leave it. People get sarcastic and taunting with me, too. But I don't lose any sleep over it. I accept it. And often, I ignore it. Or I decide to exchange barbs. If nothing else, I find it entertaining. And educational. Enlightening. --Jim Broede

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

I was on my way.

In my younger days, I think I found it difficult to be a romantic idealist. Or a liberal. Or a free-thinker. Or a lover. I had to feel my way. And I needed courage. To be what I am. To pursue dreams. Oh, I had the makings of all this. But I didn't know how to go about it. I was just becoming conscious. Aware that I was alive. Maybe I was 3 or 4 before I really became conscious. And I started to think. With words. Meaningful words. But my vocabulary was rather limited. And I didn't know what to make of the world. Of my immediate environs. I don't know if initially I felt secure or insecure. Maybe I was becoming curious. Even fascinated with this thing called life. I remember getting lost once. On my way home from kindergarten. In Chicago. And I started to cry. I'm sure I eventually found my way home. I cried, too, when seated on Santa Claus' lap. Maybe I thought Santa looked like an ogre. Or the devil. Bedecked in that red suit and hiding behind a beard. I also remember my mother pulling me on a sled, through the neighborhood, to look at all the Christmas lights. Rather colorful. Maybe I was discovering the true nature of fascination. And awe. I also remember being scared. In the operating room. When the ether mask was put over my face. I screamed. Then I woke up. Feeling sick. Drowsy. I no longer had tonsils. I was offered ice cream. But I said, no thanks. My throat didn't feel good. Didn't know it at the time. But I was on my way to becoming a romantic idealist, a liberal, a free-thinker and a lover. --Jim Broede

Monday, March 23, 2009

I care.

One of the nicest things about being an American is what I'm doing now. In this blog. Sounding off. Being critical of America in many ways. Telling what I don't like about America. There's a whole lot. And that's exactly what I like most about America. Gives me a sense of freedom. I won't be put in jail for exercising free speech. Or so I think. That could change at any time, of course. Like it has in some other countries. I wouldn't be tolerated. Oh, there's much in America that isn't tolerated. And there's plenty of injustice. But I'm allowed to talk about it. And that's how remedies come about. I don't like the war in Iraq, for instance. I think it's immoral. Obscene. A disgrace. A shame on America. I also don't think we belong in Afghanistan. And I like socialism. Democratic socialism. I think the rich are too rich. And the poor too poor. I want universal health care. I think that generally speaking, capitalists are a greedy lot. Yes, there are exceptions. But not enough. That's why we have a widening gap between the rich and the poor. And I'd like to see the U.S. surrender some of its sovereignty. Maybe to the World Court. Where some of our leaders could be tried for war crimes. Anyway, some Americans would label me un-American. But I sense I'm a real American. I really care about my country. That's why I sound off. I care. --Jim Broede

What makes us the good ones?

I keep wondering, who are the evil ones and the good ones in this world? How do we differentiate? What makes Americans the good ones? --Jim Broede

...our duty to god and country.

I suppose from a military mind, it's easier to be a killer in modern times. One can push a button from half a world away and wipe out all kinds of people. And just see the explosive hit on a video camera. And we don't have to grimace at seeing the corpses of innocent people. Women. Children. Even their pets. And we can go to bed at night. And listen to Wagner. Knowing we've done our duty to god and country. --Jim Broede

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Thoughts about soldiers...and war.

One thing about war. If we're gonna have war, we need soldiers willing to fight. To go into combat. To kill. And to risk being killed. Soldiers who believe in the cause, I suppose. Or who are willing mercenaries. And fight wars for money. For a paycheck. And maybe for a sense of adventure and risk. And yes, even glamour. Some people go to war because it's the manly and glamourous thing to do. I suppose that if war is necessary, it's good to have volunteer soldiers. Trained killers. Willing to follow orders. Even if it means dying. For the country. For the cause. --Jim Broede

...the basic necessities of life.

I have a sense that human beings can become real nice people. That get along with each other. Tolerate each other. Even when there are marked differences. In other words, we have rather flexible essences. Not pre-determined. We can make ourselves into rather peace-loving and happy beings. Sometimes, we assume that humans are humans. And that we have inclinations one way or another that we are compelled to follow. That we can't be anything else. I don't buy that. I think our concepts of right and wrong are changing. Evolving. For instance, our concept of the common good. Maybe it's becoming less of every one for himself mentality. More for the common good. Could be that we're about to change our social system. To make less of a gap between the rich and the poor. Maybe we are going to become more socialist-oriented. Creating societies in which we still have great amounts of individual freedom, but also an obligation and responsibility to serve the common good. Seeing to it that everyone has the basic necessities of life. --Jim Broede

Too often, we write 'em off.

A special program at the Museum of Modern Art in New York has been designed to stimulate Alzheimer patients and caregivers. With selected artworks for observation and discussion. And do you know what? It's working. Yes, the Alzheimer patients are in the early and moderate stages of the incurable disease. There's anecdotal evidence that minds are being stimulated. That's wonderful, wonderful, wonderful. It sounds like what I call good vibes therapy. I'm convinced that even minds of patients in late stages of Alzheimer's can be stimulated. In so many, many ways. But too often, we write 'em off. --Jim Broede

Saturday, March 21, 2009

Some would rather die than live.

I've avoided depression all my life. Which is remarkable. Because my mother had depression. My father had it, too. To the point of committing suicide. And my brother and my sister have spent much of their lives in depression. In my case, maybe I'm not depressed because I'm too busy dealing with my multiple anxieties. Such as the fear of becoming depressed. I also have a fear of heights. And flying, to some degree. If I had to parachute out of a plane, I'd die of fright, probably before I left the plane, but certainly on the way down. I think we all have a fear of dying. And ironic as it may seem, some people even have a fear of living. That's one fear I've avoided. Yes, some people would rather die than live. Some depressed people, for instance. --Jim Broede

Friday, March 20, 2009

Dumb enough to go to war.

When I joined the Army, it wasn't out of any deep sense of patriotism. There was a draft. I'd be drafted sooner or later. So I enlisted, for an extra year. Three years, instead of two. Because that gave me the option of choosing my MOS, or military occupational specialty. I was supposed to be a public information specialist. I was sent for special training to the army information school at Ft. Slocum, on Long Island, outside New York City. Was there for 10 weeks. Then I was sent to Germany. But I wasn't assigned in my MOS. And I complained to the inspector general and to my U.S. senator. That got me results. I was reassigned to the public information office at division headquarters. And I spent the rest of my army tour as a sportwriter for the division's weekly newspaper. That made me happy. And I also got to see lots of Europe.

Well, I'd need to have my head examined if I was a young man enlisting in the military service today. Chances are I'd see service in Iraq or Afghanistan and stand a good chance of getting my precious head blown off. And I'd be participating in a war to which I'm opposed. Little wonder that soldiers are mostly young people with relatively little education and from lower economic and social classes. If they had a good education and came from families of higher social class, they'd have more attractive options. Anyway, that's the way America is designed. To more or less recruit the 'have-nots' to fight wars. Because the 'haves' know better.

You won't find the 'haves' supporting the draft because that would mean people from all classes have to fight the wars. Instead, it's convenient for the 'haves' to start the wars that they don't have to fight. And dumb Americans are dumb enough to go off and fight in behalf of the rich and smart. --Jim Broede

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

So they can live in luxury.

Just think of all those insurance company and bank executives that have walked away with big cash bonuses. Many received millions of dollars in stipends, even though their businesses failed. And needed government bailouts. Yes, at taxpayers' expense. If these executives had any sense of decency, they'd voluntarily return their bonuses. And tell us they're doing it for the good of the country. But you and I know that won't happen. Meanwhile, we have young soldiers giving their lives for America. But they ain't rich. Because if they were, chances are they wouldn't be soldiers. They'd be busy bilking everyone. So they can live in luxury. --Jim Broede

I insist on living in Paradise.

I like living. One day at a time. It would have been nice to discover the secret of happiness sooner. Yes, savoring every day. Finding something nice to dwell on. Now. Not tomorrow or next week. But today. At this moment. Oh, sure. Things still go wrong. I get upset. Annoyed. Feel out of sorts. But not for long. Because I get back on track again. That's my mission in life. To stay on track. In the groove. I'm focused. On living. Getting to the point. With words. But few words. Short sentences. I'm ending my stay in Arizona. I've been here a little over two weeks. This is my last full day. I fly home Thursday. I've heard reports that spring has arrived in Minnesota. A balmy 60 degrees. Of course, it's almost 90 here today. But I'll take 60. In fact, I'll take whatever comes. Even zero. And lots of snow. I'll make the best of it. The best of the moment. Seems to me that I've discovered Paradise. Doesn't matter where I'm at. Because I insist on living in Paradise. Daily. --Jim Broede

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Baseball at a leisurely pace.

The sun is nice. But I prefer the shade. Especially in Arizona. When it's hot. Darn hot. Like today. I went to a new ballpark for the first time. At the Los Angeles Dodgers spring training site in a Phoenix suburb. It was a sellout. But I bought a ticket from a scalper. For a seat on the lawn just beyond the outfield fence. In the glaring sun. But I didn't go there. Intead, I stood in the shade. At the rear of the tiered stands behind home plate and up and down the first base and third base lines. Very nice to watch a game while standing on my feet. Rather than sitting on my ass. It was pleasant. And I moved about. Watching the game from so many different vantage points. And after the game, I finally sat down. And watched the crowd disperse. I was one of the last to leave the stadium. Gave me time to read a book. And the New York Times. Then I sauntered about a half-mile to my car. And drove away. After the traffic had thinned out. Yes, I've learned to watch baseball at a leisurely pace. And what's more, the Chicago Cubs beat the Dodgers, 12-3. All is well. --Jim Broede

What better place to sleep?

I go walking. Here in Arizona. Every evening. In the dark. It's a route of about 3 miles. Through a rather plush neighborhood. Very nice homes. Well-manicured yards. Lots of cactus. Neat sandy lawns. Blossoming flowers. And all the lighting is soft. Lots of amber. Nothing harsh. Southwestern adobe type architecture. But it looks rather art deco. Some nights, I think I'm in a time warp. That I'm walking in the 1930s. The era in which I was born. Anyway, some of the homes have big glass front doors. I can see inside. One particular home catches my fancy. I can see into the living room. In the middle, there's a round white fireplace. Haven't seen a fire there yet. But next to the fireplace, there's a tent. Sort of a teepee-type tent. So, I'm making an assumption. A grandchild is visiting grandma and grandpa. And what better place to sleep? In a tent. In a swank living room. --Jim Broede

Monday, March 16, 2009

...in the game of life.

Bernard Madoff is in jail. And he'll probably spend the rest of his life there. After bilking investors of $50 billion in a Ponzi scheme. Madoff seems contrite. Ready and willing to live the rest of his life in prison. After all, he's had the good life. Living in luxury. As a rich man. He could afford everything. Even a yacht. Chances are, Madoff knew in the end he might be caught. And all the luxury living would come to an end. But at least, he can tell himself in his prison cell that he had the good life for a long, long time. Maybe the memories of all this will bring him solace. And if there's no god and no afterlife and no punishment in hell, maybe Madoff thinks he finished far ahead in the game of life. --Jim Broede

...bilking the taxpayers.

A populist movement is sweeping the country. Aimed against the rich. For their extravagance. Living in too much luxury. I like the movement. I've complained for a long time about the ever-widening gap between the rich and the poor. But many Americans have long thought that it's perfectly all right to be rich. To be a billionaire. Maybe even a trillionaire. But some common folk now are wondering if it's wrong to be obscenely rich. Especially when there are so many dirt poor and destitute people in the world. Just seems like the common good isn't being served. But so many of the rich insist on getting richer even in tough times. For instance, banks that received bailout money from the government still paid many of their executives millions of dollars in bonuses. Yes, the executives virtually bankrupted their banks, and still they walk away with enough moola to last them for several lifetimes. Doesn't matter that the economy is hurting. It's just that the rich bankers don't want to be hurting. Ever. Even if their banks go kaput, they want to keep living on easy street. Even if that means bilking the taxpayers. --Jim Broede

Sunday, March 15, 2009

I try not to be terrified.

The existentialist thinker Soren Kirkegaard had no illusions about man's urge to freedom. He knew how comfortable people were inside the prison of their character defenses. Like many prisoners they are comfortable in their limited and protected routines, and the idea of a parole into the wide world of chance, accident, and choice terrifies them. Anyway, I try not to be terrified. I'd rather be in love. Mostly, with life. -Jim Broede

I learned to be brazen.

Interesting. How, at a baseball game, I sometimes hardly talk to the strangers sitting around me. But at other times, we talk to each other. Exchange pleasantries. And we get to know each other to some minor degree. But there's no predicting the degree of sociability on a given day at the ballpark. Usually, I just wait to feel the vibes. Some days I initiate the contact. But most of the time, I let the others take the lead. To make the first move. Not always. But far more often than not. Maybe I'm shy. At least, I used to be. But as a writer for newspapers, I learned to be brazen. If that helped me get the story. --Jim Broede

What more can one ask of life?

I'm thinking again. About this thing called depression. The fact that I know so many, many people who are in depression. Or at least, they think they are in depression. And many of 'em say I don't really understand depression. And that could well be. Maybe one has to truly live in depression to understand it. To grasp it. To feel it. I think I don't allow myself to be depressed for more than a few minutes. Or for a day or two. It's like if I look in the door or the gate, that's scary enough. To not want to enter. Why would I choose to enter the gates of hell? I like to think I have a choice. But people in depression tell me they don't have a choice. They are condemned. To depression. To hell. Why have I been spared? I feel down. But I suppose not down, down, down. Buried deep down. Will I be there some day? My mother was there. My father was there. Same with my brother. And my sister. Am I just deceiving myself? Am I lying to myself? Am I depressed without even knowing it? I suppose I'll be depressed if I die a slow, lingering death. I'll miss life. And knowing that it's fading away -- well, that can be depressing, I suppose. But I'll try to tell myself that I've had a good life. A happy life. A life pretty much free of depression. What more can one ask of life? --Jim Broede

Saturday, March 14, 2009

...a troubled conscience.

I can't always let my conscience bother me. I mean it in an abstract way. The fact that there are starving people in the world. Dying daily of starvation. The fact that there's mass killings. War. Genocide. The fact that there are poor and destitute people. I have to accept all this. And not let it bother my conscience to the point of being obsessed over it. I save the real exercise of my conscience for my daily direct personal relationships. If I see a friend or an acquaintance in dire straits. And if I try to ignore this calamity -- well, then I'm not doing the right thing. That would bother me. Bother my conscience. Because this is no longer an abstract situation. It's happening. More or less right in front of me. And I have the power and the ability and maybe the responsibility to so something constructive about it. I can't fix the world. But I often can fix or alleviate a situation happening around me. In my immediate environs. I'm able to make a choice. To help or not to help. Sort of like the Good Samaratan. I am confronted with a real live being in need of help. It may be a beggar. An indigent. And if I ignore this individual, I may very well have a troubled conscience. --Jim Broede

I need protection...

I had a bad dream this morning. More a nightmare. I suppose because I was feeling overwhelmed. Too much to do. And come to think of it -- that was the thought on my mind when I went to bed at 1 in the morning. Because yesterday I did not find time to walk. For the first time in a long time. I was overscheduled. Overwhelmed, so to speak. Tried to do too many things. And I didn't find time for what's very, very important in my life. For time out. For complete respite. Yesterday, instead, I consumed myself with thoughts of what I should be doing. Like making the world a better place. Doing more fretting because I'm not doing enough. I was taking on a god complex. I see chaos and suffering in the world. And I was allowing myself to be consumed by it all. I was driving myself into unhappiness. Without consciously knowing it. But my dream/nightmare awakened me to what I was doing subconsciously. I was driving myself into unhappiness. Finding reason to be depressed. By feeling overwhelmed. I was committing a sin. By imagining that I'm god. Rather than a human being. Someone who can't do it all. I have to leave god things to god. And be human. Knowing my limits. And that I have to withdraw/retreat into my self-made cocoon. To find happiness. And pleasure. And love. And not feel the least bit guilty about it. Because I need protection...from this chaotic world. --Jim Broede

Friday, March 13, 2009

So that I can sleep at night.

I feel a little bit guilty sometimes. In that I live relatively well. I indulge myself in so many ways. At the same time that others are in desperate need of so much. I sort of close my eyes and my mind to it. Yes, that's another way I indulge myself. By blocking things out. I see horrid news. And I try not to read about it. It's so depressing. And I don't want to be depressed. So I go to a ball game. Or a concert. Or a nice dinner. I treat myself nicely. I spoil myself. I'm not a saint. That's for sure. I try to be a nice guy. But I'm not nice enough. I could do more to help other people. I do token amounts. I'm out to enjoy life. To be happy. And in the process, I block out so much of the world. The horrid amd upsetting parts. So that I can sleep at night. --Jim Broede

Influencing a fellow human being.

This morning. I was in Scottsdale. In Arizona. Sitting on a bench. A woman in the Old Republic Title Agency office, looking out a window, saw me there. And she envied me. She came out and told me so. Because I was reading a book. Relaxed. And she said she wished she could trade places with me. I liked that. That this woman sensed that I knew how to live. That I was at peace. She reaffirmed what I was doing at the moment. Living life the way it should be lived. With my mere presence on that bench, I was speaking to that woman. Speaking to her need. To her desire. Demonstrating. And I suspect that woman went home from work today, and practiced the right way to live. Doing exactly what she wanted to do. To achieve peace and contentment. And that makes me feel good. Like I performed a good deed today. I had positively influenced a fellow human being. Another soul. Out of the blue. Just by sitting on a bench and reading a book. --Jim Broede

Thursday, March 12, 2009

It intrigues me.

"Take stock of those around you and you will...hear them talk in precise terms about themselves and their surroundings, which would seem to point to them having ideas on the matter. But start to analyze those ideas and you will find that they hardly reflect in any way the reality to which they appear to refer, and if you go deeper you will discover that there is not even an attempt to adjust the ideas to this reality. Quite the contrary: through these notions the individual is trying to cut off any personal vision of reality, of his own very life. For life is at the start a chaos in which one is lost. The individual suspects this, but he is frightened at finding himself face to face with this terrible reality, and tries to cover it over with a curtain of fantasy, where everything is clear. It does not worry him that his 'ideas' are not true, he uses them as trenches for the defense of his existence, as scarecrows to frighten away reality." --Jose Ortega y Gasset

I'm pondering this quote today. It intrigues me. In meaningful ways. --Jim Broede

Awestruck and bedazzled.

I want to be awestruck and bedazzled with life. Every day. And not feel overwhelmed by it all. But fulfilled. And happy. And joyful. In a peaceful and contented way. Yet in a crazy way, too. In a loving way. --Jim Broede

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

So much to do in Paradise.

I was turned on today by butterflies. All kinds of butterflies. Maybe 20 kinds. Flitting about in a screened outdoor pavilion at a desert botanical garden in Phoenix. I think a butterfly landed on my head. And I had to be careful not to step on one. I certainly didn't want to shorten a butterfly's life. Most of 'em live for only 4 weeks. The longest-lived butterflies make it for 6 months, or so. I also learned that butterflies don't have ears. But they feel sound waves with their wings. Anyway, I came to Arizona to take spring training with the Chicago Cubs. To watch exhibition baseball games. But the Cubs had off today. So I went to the desert botanical garden. Quite a place. Not only did I see cactus and butterflies, but an intriguing display of Dale Chihuly's handblown glass art. Trees of colorful glass were blended into the desert garden environment. I was awestruck. By it all. The glass. The cactus. The butterflies. I'm returning to the botanical garden Friday night. For a concert of soft jazz. A nice way to cap the day after watching the Cubs play baseball. Oh, so much to do in Paradise. --Jim Broede

My say. That's all I want.

I'll tell you why I don't like organized things. Organized anything. Clubs. Fraternities. Political parties. Associations. Churches. Religions. Because they tend to take away my independence. Often, one finds cliques within all these organizations. Yes, groups within groups. Everybody wants some semblance of control over the organization. And I'm for independent voices. Too often, cliques try to gain control. And foist their ways on everyone. Look at political parties, for instance. Such as the Republicans. They're in disarray, in large part, because of the conservative clique. They'd take the GOP down a suicidal path. Just for the sake of ungawdly, idiotic principle. As if their way is the only way. Many religions do the same thing. They are seized by the fanatics. The fringe elements. And away they go. Like lunatics. I see this every day. Even on message boards on the Internet. They become highly intolerant. Bogged down. Restrictive. They'd like to turn all participants into robots. Think-alike robots. They're frightened of dissent. They want everyone to toe the line. To pass a litmus test. As for me, I'll let everyone have their say. That is, as long as they allow me to have my say. --Jim Broede

I'm exuding good vibes.

I'm always adjusting my attitude. Fine-tuning it. Daily. If I feel something is going awry inside me, such as feeling a bit annoyed or in a hurry or generally out of sorts -- I tell myself, whoa. Yes, it's time for an attitude adjustment. To get in a positive groove. And to slow down. And savor what's right with life. Usually, all I have to do is remind myself that I'm in love. Smitten. And that I feel good. Physically. And that I'm able to control my mind. And my attitude. So, I take charge. And I lighten up. Think of something funny. And I ask, "What's going right in my life?" Well, I'm in Arizona. Going to Chicago Cubs exhibition games. And the Cubs won today, 8-1. Yesterday, they won 9-1. Maybe it's because I'm at the ballpark exuding good vibes. And the Cubs have caught 'em. --Jim Broede

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

...the complexities of life.

In a real meaningful sense, virtually everyone is my teacher. Even people who don't treat me nicely. They teach me tolerance. The art of understanding, too. And how to turn the other cheek. Yes, to be relatively nice to people who don't necessarily return the favor. Try it sometime. When someone is nasty to you, return it with an act of kindness. Often, it works. Initially, it takes one by surprise. And that causes one to think. Now, what's this guy up to? Maybe it's just that I'm trying to get you to consider that I ain't such a bad guy. I find that animosity oftren breeds animosity. Things go from bad to worse. Well, my aim is to make things go from bad to a little bit better. To move things in the right direction. And eventually the situation may become a whole lot better. The best achievement of all is to turn a hostile enemy into a friend. It happens. I can cite many instances. Often, all it takes is to learn to listen to each other. And to grasp the true meaning of the spoken and written word. The true intent. Too easy to misuse language. Anyway, I'm learning all the time. Learning how little I don't know. But that makes me want to learn more. For everything I learn, maybe I learn 10 more things that I don't know. One might say that's self-defeating. But it turns me on. Makes me more aware of the complexities of life. --Jim Broede

...other ways to make a living.

Hey, maybe the Chicago Cubs listened to me and manager Lou Piniella. We both complained the other day of the Cubs lethargic performance so far in spring training down here in Arizona. Piniella morerorless read the riot act to the team. To start taking the game seriously. Even though it doesn't count in the standings until the season starts in April. Yesterday, the Cubs lambasted the Kansas City Royals, 9-1. Playing sharp, crisp baseball. The way the game is supposed to be played. With confidence. With fervor. With swagger. Let's hope this continues. I think the Cubs should hire a psychologist. Because baseball is a psychological game to a large extent. Players must have confidence and a winning attitude. Going through the motions isn't enough. When baseball becomes a job rather than pure pleasure, it's time for professional ballplayers to find other ways to make a living. --Jim Broede

Monday, March 9, 2009

...one of my best teachers.

I'm thinking. Mostly, thoughts about attitudes. And how attitudes affect so much of life. I have to keep telliing myself to have a good attitude. About virtually everything. To find some good even in the worst of conditions. A mental gymnastics, of sort. One must nip a negative or bad attitude in the bud. Or it can start to consume you. Problem is, one is surrounded by people with bad attitudes. And they can pull you down. If you let them. I resist. And so they try even harder to pull me down. Rather funny, isn't it? Anyway, I'm writing about it. Because that gives me pleasure. Helps me cultivate a positive attitude. I even have a good attitude about my father's suicide. A long time ago. I've been castigated by some suicide mourners for finding something good in the suicide. It wasn't all bad. I've deduced that almost 60 years after the fact. Yes, I've had time to reflect. Almost an entire lifetime. And certain nice things happened that might not have happened if my father had chosen to live. So it wasn't all bad. Now, I consider that a good attitude. A positive attitude. An upbeat attitude. I find a way to salvage something good. A pleasant thought. And I try to transmit that thought to my father's spirit. I tell him that life works in strange and mysterious ways. And that what I learned from his suicide was to live life fully. And happily. And positively. I've become a lover. And a romantic idealist. A political and social liberal, too. And a free-thinker. And I credit much of that to lessons my father taught me. I even learned so much from his act of suicide. My father, it turns out, was one of my best teachers. --Jim Broede

Every day.

I'm down in Arizona, watching the Chicago Cubs play exhibition baseball games, and I'm sickened by what I see. A team going through the motions. With no fervor. No drive. No passion. Sure, it's just spring training. Not the regular season yet. But this is uncalled for. It's why the Cubs haven't won a World Series since 1908. The Cubs won their first four exhibition games. Now they've lost 6 straight, and 8 of 9. I've watched the last 3 games. The Cubs have been lethargic. Pathetic. No excuse for that. They're supposed to be preparing for a championship season. This is no way to do it. You play to win. Even in the spring. You hate to lose. If this continues much longer, I'd shake things up. Maybe a trade or two. Or bring in some young ballplayers with gumption. Players willing to go through more than just the simple motions. You don't wait for the season to start to turn it on. You do it now. Today. And tomorrow. And next week. And right on through the season. That's how you win a World Series. You love to play baseball. Every day. --Jim Broede

Sunday, March 8, 2009

Well-meaning people.

I really like to brood. That's what I'm doing here. Almost daily. That's why I call this blog Broede's Broodings. I suppose that could be my profession. Brooder. Brooding gives me a sense of freedom. To say what I want to say. Little reflections. Some people don't want me to brood. But then they'd be taking away my freedom. I think written words can be a tolerable form of violence. A soft violence, so to speak. If we fired words at each other rather than bombs and missiles and bullets and cannonballs -- well, that wouldn't cause much, if any, bloodshed. And sooner or later, we might end up listening to each other's words and thoughts. Yes, actually communicating. Often enough, people want me censored. They've accused me of being mean. Or of lacking compassion. But I don't think that's so. Rather, I like discourse. Because that's how I learn. Sometimes, I misunderstand or misconstrue what's being said. As do others. But that's all right. As long as we continue to talk and listen. Often, there's a breakthrough. Language. Words. So many meanings. One word can be taken in multiple ways. Well-meaning people generally find ways to understand each other. And to become friends. Or at least accepting of each other. --Jim Broede

Saturday, March 7, 2009

I believe.

If I were starting life over, I think I'd find a new profession. Other than a writer. I'd probably become a depression specialist. Yes, that's what I'd call myself. Not a psychologist or a psychiatrist or a doctor. But a depression specialist. I'd find ways to cure depression. With words. With thoughts. Magical stuff. Nobody would have to take a pill. All they'd have to do is listen to me. Listen good. Yes, I'd find the words that bring people out of depression. I'd talk 'em out. Of course, maybe that would make me something akin to god. Equivalent to walking on water. I'd like to be able to enter people's minds and make them happy. I've been practicing. And sometimes, it works. There's a trick to it. First off, two people have to believe. Me, for one. The patient, for the other. Lots of people simply refuse to be happy. They don't believe it's possible. I believe. And my mission is to learn how to make others believe. --Jim Broede

The polka saved the day.

I like baseball. But it also can be a boring game. Like today. I sat through an exhibition game in Arizona. Milwaukee beat the Cubs, 2-0. It was a boring game. For many reasons. It was just an exhibition game. And the players didn't have their hearts in the game. They just went through the motions of playing baseball. They really didn't play with fervor. They were just out there to exercise. I don't think the score really mattered. I thought that the players just wanted to get the game over. These exhibitions are just a tune up for the regular season. So the outcomes are meaningless. Doesn't matter if one wins or loses. Fortunately, I brought along Saturday's New York Times. Which I read between innings. Mostly, the editorial page. Interesting stuff. More interesting than the game. But hey, I had a nice seat. A bit to the right and behind home plate. In the shade. And the playing field looked nice and green. It was a home game for the Milwaukee Brewers. To liven things up, after the 6th inning there was a race betweeen people dressed up as a bratwurst, a hot dog and a Polish sausage. The bratwurst won. And during the 7th inning stretch, everybody sang "Take me Out to the Ballgame." And that was followed by the Beer Barrel Polka. The songfest was more entertaining than the ball game. --Jim Broede

Find a better reason.

I wrote here the other day about liking it when I'm dislked. But don't get me wrong. I have nothing against being liked, too. It's nice to be liked. But I find it acceptable if people dislike me. Of course, I'd rather it be for a worthy reason. Not just because they don't like the color of my eyes. Or my nationality. Or my religious views. Maybe they don't like me because I'm mean. But then, that's a wrong reason, too. Because I'm kind. And compassionate. And considerate. And understanding. But sometimes, I come across as being superior. Now, that's a valid reason for disliking me. It's legitimate. Yes, I do feel superior at times. And I admit it. I have a superiority complex. That galls some people. They suggest that I'm really inferior. But all this makes me laugh. Because I have a sense of humor. And if that's why people dislike me -- well, that's a lame excuse for disliking me. Find a better reason. --Jim Broede

Friday, March 6, 2009

...a dumbed-down electorate.

I don't pay much attention to local politics any more. Don't know if that's good or bad. I used to be quite knoweldgeable on political issues in my local community. Because that was the way I made my living. Writing about local politics, among other things. I had to be informed. It was the responsible thing. But now I'm retired. So when I went to the polls last time, I didn't vote for city council or school board. Because I wasn't informed. And I suspect that goes for many people, who still vote, albeit they aren't informed. They just vote because they are told it's a civic responsibility. Even if not acquainted with the candidates or the issues. That's a problem in our so-called democracy. People vote. But without any idea of what they are voting for. Yes, to a significant extent, we have a dumbed-down electorate. --Jim Broede

I ain't ever infuriated.

I'm told that I have a knack for infuriating some people. But really, it's not me. It's just that some people get infuriated too easily. Because they want to be infuriated. They'll find any kind of excuse to become infuriated. Personally, I find it very difficult to become infuriated. Because I'm a rather tolerant fella. I like different points of view. Varied opinions. I can listen to virtually anyone. And not become infuriated. Maybe it's because I truly listen. I may disagree with the opinion. But I accept every one's right to an opinion. And it doesn't have to be like mine. I may counter with my opinion. And I guess that's what infuirates some folks. They think I'm not entitled to my opinion. And that I have a lot of gall for expressing it. I find that terribly funny. But not infuriating. I may think I'm right, and that others are wrong. But others often think they are right and that I am wrong. That's perfectly natural, it seems to me. But it would feel very unnatural if I became infuriated over something as trivial as an opinion. --Jim Broede

...a renunciation of life.

I suppose that occasionally I worry about growing old and decrepit. Like I can't last forever. Losing my physical being. My mental being. Piece by piece. Slowly. If not abruptly. And then I always get busy with living the rest of my life. If I stayed occupied with my worried thoughts, I might lapse into depression. I'd become a worry wart. And I wouldn't be happy. Maybe that's the greatest sin of all. Choosing to be unhappy. It's a renunciation of life. --Jim Broede

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Finally, an awakening.

The conservatives call it class warfare. Taxing the rich. More and more. To pay for projects that serve the common good. Such as universal health care. Well, if that's warfare, let's have war. That's the kind of war I like. Making the rich pay more. That'll narrow the gap between the rich and the poor. Fact of the matter is that we've had class division since the founding of our nation. We've been divided into the haves and the have-nots. The people with money have been the dominant force. The rulers. They've called the shots. But times are changing. Finally. Time for the lower and middle classes to take charge. To be the dominant class. Yes, it's time for the Robin Hood generation. Taking from the rich for the benefit of the poor. Yes, let's have the millionaires and the billionaires pay their fair share. They can afford it. And still stay reasonably affluent. They'll still have more than the rest of us. But less than what they used to have. And we'll have a better society. Less class division. Funny thing. Turns out that the greedy really did themselves in. They never had enough. So they divised schemes to rake in more and more and more. Only to discover that they became cheaters. Built their wealth, in part, on illusions. Fooled themselves. And now everything is going kaput. The whole economy is a shambles. But something good is coming of it. The underclasses are finally recognizing that they've been exploited. And they're saying, "We're mad as hell. And we aren't gonna take it anymore." --Jim Broede

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

One common trait.

My kind of people are the ones who find ways to be reasonably happy. Even in the toughest of times. They may be overwhelmed by bad events in their lives. But still, they find ways to salvage something. A little respite. A glimmer of peace and contentment. Often, it's merely taking time out to love. Something or somebody. I've seen Alzheimer care-givers. Even some committed to 24/7 care-giving. Who some how manage to be relatively happy. Many aren't. But the few that are -- well, they set shining examples. I've also seen people living in poverty. Who still manage. And in some cases seem happier than some rich people I know. Amazing. They're an inspiration. And I've known some severely handicapped people. Unable to walk and move about. But still, they are happier than some talented athleles that I know. Amazing. As for the happy people, they all seem to have one common trait. They're in love. --Jim Broede

I know how to live.

I try to live life the way it should be lived. By enjoying it. While I can. Yes, savoring life. That's why I'm in Arizona at the moment. Instead of in cold and blustery Minnesota. Oh, I like Minnesota. And I can easily put up with the cold and bluster. But at the moment, I prefer warm and sunny Arizona. Because it'll give me opportunity in the next 17 days to see my Chicago Cubs play about 15 exhibition games. I like baseball. But mostly the Cubs. My favorite team since I was a kid. I can even remember listening to a game the last time the Cubs were in a World series. In 1945. I'm still waiting for the Cubs to be in another World Series. This is the year, I suspect. I've been saying that every year since 1946. Might as well keep at it. Of course, there are things over which I have no control. But I've arranged my life in such a way that I can spend time with the Cubs in March. Another example that I know how to live. --Jim Broede

I like to be disliked.

Come to think of it, I like it when someone doesn't like me. That may sound strange. But some people I know are poor judges of character. So, if they don't like me -- well, then I'm right. Goes to prove that he/she is a poor judge of character. After all, I'm very likeable. There's a woman in Michigan that posts here occasionally, and she claims she doesn't dislike me. But I know she does. And it's obvious that she has difficulty facing the truth. She wants to keep saying she likes me, when she doesn't. She'd just as soon see me slip on a banana peel and bruise my ass. She'd laugh. Very loudly. And suggest that I deserve it. For being a cad. And clumsy. I'd feel good if George Bush didn't like me. Or Rush Limburger. Or Charles Manson. Or Sarah Palin. Or Anne Coulter. Or Osama bin Laden. --Jim Broede

....a vicious and funny circle.

I get angry when people tell me they are mad at me because I'm not angry. Yes, they tell me I should be angry. So, I oblige them and become angry. And then that makes me happy again because I granted their wish. That makes me feel good. I just can't help myself. That's so frustrating. And so I end up being angry again. But then I start to think that this is all so funny. And that makes me happy. But if I start thinking about all this in a serious vein again, I become angry. But that's even funnier than before. So I decide to be happy again. Oh, life is such a vicious and funny circle. --Jim Broede

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Lovers find ways to be happy.

I like love stories. And I believe wholeheartedly in love. And I get criticized for that. By people who think love is a lot of malarky. They say I'm a Pollyanna. But I think it's possible for everyone to be in love. With somebody or with something or other. Maybe it's with another human being. Or a creature, such as a dog or cat. Or with books. Or with learning. But best of all, with life, period. I know of a lady. A fulll-time care-giver for her mother, who has Alzheimer's. And she has decided to get a dog. A puppy. Mainly, I gather, as a diversion. She needs love. Affection. And she thinks she can give and receive it from from a dog. Her mom is agitated and belligerent. Out of sorts. Sadly, not much love there. And lots of stress. Some of the care-givers acquaintances are taking her to task for taking on the added responsibility of caring for a dog and her mother at the same time. They call it irresponsible. But I've encouraged the woman to get the dog. Because the dog will give her a love break. Daily. Just what she needs. It could make her a better care-giver. Because lovers tend to be good care-givers. Lovers exude love. Lovers feel better about themselves. Lovers find ways to be happy. --Jim Broede

Monday, March 2, 2009

Even better than writing it.

I sort of feel like I'm on vacation all the time. Yes, that's an advantage of being retired. I don't have to report for work. I can do pretty much as I please. Within reason. I have to live within my means, for instance. Most days, I have lots of flexibility. Especially because I think I live in Paradise. Doesn't matter where I am at a particular moment. It's Paradise. Right here in Minnesota. Even in the middle of winter. Even when the temperatuire dips below zero. Even when we are belted by a snowstorm. I'm also able to travel a little bit. Like going to Arizona this month. Staying with my daughter. And going to Chicago Cubs exhibition games. And in April, I'll be going to London. And Wales. And this summer I'll be home. In Minnesota. Living on a lake. And hosting a wonderful visitor from Italy. So, yes, it's the good life. The happy life. La dolce vita. Of course, I count my blessings. I'm 73. And still healthy. Wonderful that I've lasted this long. Long enough to retire. And to pretty much pursue what I want to pursue. I earned a living as a writer. And I still write. For pleasure. And I live one day at a time. Savoring. Savoring. Savoring everything. It's like living in a novel. In a wonderful story. That's even better than writing it. --Jim Broede

Sunday, March 1, 2009

How to become more with it.

Too many Alzheimer care-givers make their patients the priority rather than a priority. I think that’s a big mistake. If everything is focused on the patient, the care-giver is likely to be overwhelmed. Exhausted. Mentally. Emotionally. Physically. That’s why so many, many 24/7 care-givers have breakdowns. They don’t get the necessary respite. If the care-giver has multiple priorities – well, that can be a form of relief. For instance, taking time out for exercise. A daily walk. Or by taking time with another family member or a friend. Maybe by reading a book or listening to music. Or by gardening. Or by having a pet dog or cat. Yes, by making time for other activities. By giving life some semblance of balance. And if that’s impossible, maybe it’s time for the patient to go into assisted living or a nursing home. That’s what I did with my Jeanne in the last 38 months of her life. Put her into a nursing home. I still spent 8-10 hours a day with Jeanne. But I had time for a daily break. I didn’t have to be a 24/7 care-giver with a single priority. Thing is, multiple priorities made me a much better care-giver. A better human being. I became more balanced, more rested, more with it. –Jim Broede

I'm trying to make 'em laugh.

Doesn't surprise me that I have squabbles with certain people. Because they seem to have squabbles with all sorts of people. Even inter-family squabbles. They don't get along with their parents or their siblings or their in-laws. Yes, I see a pattern there. Meanwhile, I try to get along with everyone. Even my so-called enemies. I don't like to squabble. At least, I don't like to in a serious vein. So I often try to take to it in humorous ways. But people who squabble tend to lack a funny bone. Yes, squabbling can be overcome by laughter. That's why I poke fun at squabblers. I'm trying to make 'em laugh. --Jim Broede