Without light, there is no life.

I am being visited by the angel of light. Very similar to the angel of love. It could well be that they are one and the same. I think that for a long time I lived in darkness. I shut out the light. Sometimes, without consciously knowing it. But lately everything is opening up around me. Light is pouring in. Some people suggest that darkness is depression. But I don't see it that way. Darkness can be soothing. Allows one to rest. But I am discovering that one also can find wonderful respite in the sunshine. In light. I like the declaration, 'Let there be light.' Seems to me that was the final act in the process of creation. Without light, there is no life. No love. Only darkness. --Jim Broede

...the real racists.

I get a kick out of conservative white Republicans accusing Sonia Sotomayor of being a racist. Yes, they all come from the white men's club. They come from a long line of racists. The very people that established America as a racist society at its very founding. And even maintained racism long after the Civil War supposedly set the black people free. Of course, that was a sham. The white elitists thrived on racism. And they still do to some degree. But now, they're sore. Because they are losing their power. And they are trying to take it out on the likes of Sotomayor. Making absurd false accusations in a fruitless effort to keep her off the Supreme Court. Some of 'em will vote against her. Because they (the white conservatives) are the real racists. --Jim Broede

Maybe I should reconsider.

I'm thinking of something funny. I want to live to be very, very old. But I know if that happens, I'll steadily deteriorate. Physically. Mentally. I'll probably go bald. Become wrinkled. Lose my teeth. Become senile. Forgetful. Downright decrepit. So maybe I should reconsider. And not want to become very, very old. --Jim Broede

Yes, a nice nasty.

When I get nasty with people, I try to do it in a funny way. With my tongue embedded in my cheek. I don't like to be serious nasty. But I do like to be nasty with people who tend to be nasty themselves. Give 'em a taste of their own medicine. It's really against my temperament to be nasty. I like to be nice. But I deal with nasty people. Always have. Especially when I was a writer for newspapers. When I wrote newspaper columns, I'd parody them. Poke fun. Be satirical. It was my way of saying, 'Come on now. Let's not take ourselves so seriously.' After all, life is funny. I find reason to laugh virtually every day. When I hear pundits such as Rush Limbaugh sound off. I wonder sometimes if he's really serious. That his conservative ravings are a put-on. A schtick. To make himself a caricature. So that he can make money. But it also could be that he's insane. That he truly believes his rants. I give him the benefit of the doubt. Anyway, the world consists of all kinds of people. Staunch conservatives probably think I'm insane. That I'm a socialist. A communist. The devil incarnate. But they don't have to get nasty about it. We really should try to be more tolerant of each other. More respectful. But I suppose that will never happen. So, when I'm nasty, I'll pledge to be nasty in a nice way. Yes, a nice nasty. --Jim Broede

They'd like a corrupt America.

Thank gawd, Republicans are in the minority. So much so that they can't block new health care legislation or the appointment of Sotomayor to the Supreme Court. I'd rather live in another country than under Republican rule. I put up with it for many years. Just hoping times would change. And they have. I hope the Republicans continue to self-destruct. They deserve to be ill-fated. Maybe they'll never come back. Wouldn't that be wonderful? We've seen political parties fade away before. The Whigs, for instance. Of course, the Republicans may reconstitute themselves. Recognize the errors of their way. The fact that they are out of tune with modern times. Yes, Republicans would like to turn back the clock. All the way to the 19th century. They'd like a corrupt America. When the white male elites held power. When women and racial minorities were denied the vote. When Republicans bamboozled the citizenry. --Jim Broede

The primary groundcover in Eden.

Pachysandra. Oh, I love it. My favorite groundcover. I have huge waves of the ankle-deep evergreen plant in my yard. It keeps spreading. I'd rather have pachysandra than grass. And it's the memory of my mother and step-father. They had patches of pachysandra in their yard in southeast Wisconsin. And when I'd visit, I'd bring back snippets of the plant. And started growing it. Maybe 30 years ago. And now it's all over. So beautiful. And it dominates. Even overpowers Creeping Charlie, another groundcover usually despised by gardeners. Although, I like it. Not as well as pachysandra. Which thrives best in shady areas. And under bushes. In recent days, I've been tending to my pachysandra. I'm encouraging it to spread. To roam. Wherever it wants to. Yes, I'm captivated. I suspect that pachysandra was the primary groundcover in the Garden of Eden. In Paradise. --Jim Broede

An endless array of choices.

I'm thinking about perfection. And that there is no such thing. I can't write the perfect story. Nor can I make perfect love. And I can never have perfect understanding of life. But that's all right. I don't ever want to achieve perfection. Because there are a million ways to write a story, or to make love or to understand life. That's what makes life so interesting. So dynamic. No perfectly right way. I can search for perfection. But I know darn well I'll never find it. But still, that doesn't disappoint me. I'd have to be god to be perfect. And I have no desire to be god. At least not at the moment. But then again, maybe god isn't perfect. The more I think about it, the more I think that it would be horrible to be perfect. Because then there would be only one way to do things. The perfect way. One would have no choice. One would only be allowed to live perfectly. I'd rather enjoy imperfection. Because that gives me an endless array of choices. --Jim Broede

Being happy over being unhappy.

I like to see people take charge of their lives. They face adversity. And potential long-lasting unhappiness. But some how, they find solutions. Ways to cope. Maybe because they have to. In order to survive. And to become reasonably happy again. Of course, I know people go into depression. A disease. They can't always help themselves. But often, they can. By changing their ways. Their attitudes. Ain't easy. But I see it happen. So I know it can be done. Could be some people are born to be happy. And others not. The most remarkable thing is that some people like being unhappy. It sort of makes them happy. Have you ever noticed that? --Jim Broede

I'm living a love story.

I'm open to new ideas. New ways of living. New experiences. Maybe it's that I like living in a story. One that keeps unfolding. With new plot lines. I'm a writer. And therefore, I can create much with my imagination. But I'm living a real life. And it's an adventure. Unpredictable things happen. My life took an unexpected romantic turn about 20 months ago. And I'm living it one day at a time. Day to day. And every day is exciting. I've become a world traveler. Gone to exotic places. My dreams are coming true. I could be writing a novel. Except for the fact that I'm living it. So there's no need to write it. Living is much better. Because there's no pretend. I wake up every morning and wonder, what's next? Most likely, something wonderful. Because I'm living a love story. --Jim Broede

I am full of life.

I try to not let things bother me. That's almost impossible. But I manage to limit my distress. By identifying what it is that bothers me. And then seeing if I can curb it. Or eliminate it. Often, I can. Like this weekend. I've sworn off tuning in the Cubs games. Because if I listen to an entire game and the Cubs end up losing in a heartbreaking way, I feel bad about it. So, I don't listen. I check on the outcome of the game after it's over. But even if the Cubs lose, I don't feel quite as bad. Because I haven't invested time and effort in the game. I also tell myself I have no control over the outcome of a game. And that tends to ease my mind. If I can't control it, why stew over it? That goes for lots of things in life. I have absolutely no control. Over the weather, for instance. If it's stormy today -- well, get used to it. Make the best of it. Meanwhile, I have many things I'd like to do today. But I can't get 'em all done. So, I pick and choose. I let some things slide. And I don't worry about it. If I worry, I begin to feel overwhelmed. That's nonsense. Instead, it's nice to know that I have many, many choices. I have so many, many opportunities. I am full of life. --Jim Broede

Worse than when Casey choked.

I like the drama of a baseball pennant race. Especially if it involves my favorite team. The Chicago Cubs. For a baseball fan, it can be an exhilerating happy occurence. Or downright sad. Like the Mighty Casey striking out in his last at-bat. No joy in Mudville. Well, it's getting so there could be no joy in Chicago at mid-season. The Cubs could be sent reeling by the despised St. Louis Cardinals. The Cubs were the pre-season favorite to win the National League Central Division. But they've been a big disappointment. Under-achievers, to say the least. But this weekend they have a chance to make amends. They came in 3 1/2 games out of first place. With a 4-game set against the Cardinals. In the Cubs home park, no less. If the Cubs would sweep the series, they'd be in first place by half a game. And with momentum. Under a worst-case scenario for a Cubs fan, St. Louis would sweep, and hold a 7 1/2 game bulge over the Cubs. Difficult, but not impossible to make up. It would be a huge psychological blow for the already not-so-confident Cubs. That's the problem. The Cubs need to regain their swagger. Which they've lacked all season. They've played like beat dogs. With tails between their legs. Yes, they already lost the first game, 8-3, on Friday afternoon. Of course, diehard Cubs fans wish for the Cubs to win today and twice in a doubleheader on Sunday. That would put the Cubs only a game and a half out. And with momentum. Having rallied with their proverbial backs to the wall. Liked trapped rats -- er, I mean Cubs. But then again, the Cubs could lose all four games. And the situation to a Cubs fan would seem worse than when Mighty Casey choked. --Jim Broede
http://mightycasey.org/

Time for universal health care.

We Americans spent unlimited amount of money on World War II. In order to win. And like it or not, we've spent an immense sum on the war in Iraq. And in combatting so-called terrorism. My gawd, we spend so much on national defense. Because we think it's very, very important. But now some naysayers are suggesting that universal health care will be too costly. Come now. That's preposterous. It won't cost as much as a war. Or national defense. And what's more important? Yes, health care. Right at the top of the list. When we got Medicare, the naysayers were telling us it would be far too costly. That it would bankrupt the nation. Well, it hasn't. And hardly anyone wants to get rid of Medicare. It's been a good, effective program. Sure, it's socialized medicine to some degree. But, so what? It serves the common good. And the costs have been held down to some extent because the system is big enough to negotiate lower costs. The same will go for universal health care. It'll be structured much like Medicare. The government will be able to negotiate lower costs for services and for prescription drugs. Because, unlike insurance companies, the government won't be in this to make obscene profits. Instead, the motive is to provide a much-needed service for every American. To serve the common good. Let's go Americans. Let's tell the naysayers to go to hell. And let's finally have universal health care. --Jim Broede

Living over their heads.

I suspect people get into life over their heads. Especially famous people. They are unable to handle celebrity. It drives them crazy. They try to do too much. And they become too sensitive to criticism. So, they end up leading unhappy lives. In the spotlight. Two examples. Sarah Palin. Michael Jackson. Jackson got so that he couldn't sleep any more. He needed drug-induced sleep. And he desperately wanted a last hurrah. A comeback. Instead of just retiring. And leading a peaceful, tranquil life. Just savoring the non-material aspects of life. He couldn't do it. So maybe he had a death wish. Maybe he wished his heart to stop. So he could enter the realm of oblivion. Maybe wishing he'd never been born. And now we have Palin. In the midst of a meltdown. Making a fool of herself. Going fishing in hip-boots. Getting annoyed with David Letterman. Quitting as governor of Alaska in the middle of her first term. Maybe to avoid a nervous breakdown. So she can go hunting wolves and caribou from a helicopter. --Jim Broede

Wait 'til next season.

I have a sense of foreboding. Doom. Yes. Those are the vibrations I'm getting from my favorite baseball team. The Chicago Cubs. Only the baseball gods can save 'em. And I don't expect the gods to intervene. This team has been drained of its confidence. No good vibes. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe things will turn around this weekend. When the Cubs play 4 games against the first-place St. Louis Cardinals. I have a feeling that the Cardinals will sweep the 4 games. And send the Cubs reeling for the rest of the season. This is the make-or-break series for the Cubs. For the Cardinals, too. And all the good vibes are with the Cardinals. Sad. Sad. Sad. For Chicago Cubs fans. Especially ardent ones like me. Maybe not as ardent as I should be. Because I'm losing faith in this team. I don't like to be associated with bad vibes. With baseball players that emanate bad vibes. Because those bad vibes become contagious. Overwhelmingly so. It's like living with someone in a constant state of depression. I can escape the bad vibes to some significant degree by diverting my attention this weekend to other things. Away from the Cubs. I'll do some gardening. Some physical exercising. I'll read an upbeat book. I'll listen to good music. I'll tidy up the house. But I'll vow to stay away from the Cubs games. After all, maybe I'm the one exuding the bad vibes. And that's what the Cubs are catching. My bad vibes. Maybe I'm the one putting the whammy on my team. Maybe I'm the one that lacks the confidence. Maybe if I were more optimistic, more positive, the Cubs would come out of their funk. And play good baseball. Winning baseball. But I doubt it. I don't believe it. The hex is on the Chicago Cubs. I'm resigned to the Cubs usual fate. And I'll just have to cry, wait 'til next season. --Jim Broede

My goal: To lose track of time.

I'm trying to lose track of time. But that isn't easy. It's part of the human condition. To be cognizant of time. Time for this. Time for that. But almost every day, I have moments when I'm so absorbed in what I'm doing that I forget about time. Maybe time stops when I'm feeling a love for life. Then there's no reason to mark time. If I'm bored or unhappy, I have a sense that I'm wasting time. And that's a grievous sin. I was born to savor life. To be happy. Joyful. And to lose track of time. --Jim Broede

In Minnesota, we elect all kinds.

I love it. I love it. The fact that comedian/satirist Al Franken has been elected to the U.S. Senate. Yes, in the state where I live. In Minnesota. Makes me proud to be a Minnesotan. Over the years, Franken has lambasted Republicans and conservatives. With very funny stuff. Some Republicans are shocked that Franken was elected. That makes me happy. I like to see shocked Republicans. Anyway, we Minnesotans are full of surprises. A few years ago, we elected wrestler Jesse Ventura governor. That shook up both Republicans and Democrats. Because Ventura is an independent. Of course, we Minnesotans do shameful things, too. In my congressional district, I'm ashamed to say our representative is Michelle Bachmann. She's a comedian, too. Without really knowing it. Her schtick is to act dumb. Downright stupid. Fancies herself a Republican. --Jim Broede

A gawd-awful health care system.

We've got a gawd-awful health care system in the U.S. And it's because it's run by too many special interests. Insurance companies. And providers. All out to rake in moola. Exorbitant profits. Little wonder that it's the most expensive health care system in the world. And apparently ranked about 28th or 29th in efficiency of health care results. A shame. A sacrilege. We Americans have been duped. Into thinking it ain't so bad. That we're better off than people in Canada and Britain and northern Europe. Don't believe it for a second. We really need a single-payer system, run through the federal government. One that ultimately significantly lowers the cost of health care and dramatically improves the efficiency. If we continue to trudge along with the current system, we'll end up going from bad to worse. Of course, the profiteers will continue to oppose change. They have well-paid lobbyists. And they are adept at putting the squeeze on our elected officials. Because money speaks. More than the votes of protestors. We common folks believe the crap doled out by the special interests. That socialized medicine is unAmerican. The fact of the matter is it's much better than our present system. But we aren't going to be told that in ads and commercials and sound bites in coming months. Instead, the special interests want to keep making big profits. And the common good be damned. And too many of us will just throw up our hands. And go into a defeatist mode. With the attitude that we have no power to change the system. That the special interests always win. Because they're rich. They have the wherewithal to buy votes in Congress. Yes, that's the sad state of affairs in America. We've learned to accept a gawd-awful health care system. --Jim Broede

It suits me.

I sense that on any given day, I can be almost anything. Because I'm constantly defining myself. I'm creating. Especially when I sit down and write. When I brood. I've announced here that I am a romantic idealist, a free-thinker, a liberal and a lover. I have created that persona. But is it really me? Yes, it is. When I want it to be. Even though it might be an illusion, of sorts. Because I rather suspect that we humans don't quite know what we are. We often allow ourselves to be defined by others. But I choose to define myself. And I can be a chameleon. Depending on my mood. My whim. That makes me feel free. I have so many choices. But most of the time, I choose to be that romantic idealist, free-thinker, liberal and lover. It suits me. --Jim Broede

Enchanted by a magical moment.

I like rain dripping off a tile roof. In the middle of the night. In the summertime. In Switzerland. I was sitting on a balcony of a chalet. And it was silent except for the dripping rain. I thought that it was another time. Long ago. And now. A year later. I'm still enchanted. By that magical moment. --Jim Broede

No such thing as fully ready.

I like getting ready for a visitor. Someone who will stay with me for a while. Because I get myself a bit more organized than normal. I clean the house. Even wash the windows. Reduce the clutter. Pick up the pace of my gardening. Plan for outings. Entertainment. Revving myself up. Doing things. However, I'm never fully ready for a visitor. But then, I guess I'm never fully ready for anything. Maybe there is no such thing as fully ready. --Jim Broede

Something to ponder.

Eckhart Tolle writes, "If you can be absolutely comfortable with not knowing who you are, then what's left is who you are -- the Being behind the human, a field of pure potentiality rather than something that is already defined."

Now that's something to ponder. --Jim Broede

...caught up in the current of life.

I'm reading Eckhart Tolle. Guess he's a spiritualist. Sounds a bit like a Buddhist. Or what I imagine to be a Buddhist. People often tell me I sound like a Buddhist. Although I don't think of myself as a Buddhist. I'm so non-aligned with any kind of religion. Maybe I have my own religion. Or my own spiritual thought. That may be more accurate way of putting it. Tolle wants us to try to transcend our egos. At least from time to time. On an interim basis. In order to really get into the flow of life. It would probably be impossible for me to transcend my ego on a permanent, long-lasting basis. But I can try to do it for short periods of time. Momentarily. When dealing with certain people or with certain issues. I think he wants me to stop thinking. And just be. Living the moment. Absorbed in the moment. Without being shackled by my ego. Because my ego creates dysfunctions such as anger, jealousy and unhappiness. My ego pits me against others. Forces me into a delusion, of sorts. Stops me from having a truly fulfilling existence. Quite possibly when I am in love I'm being steered in the right direction. Maybe I have moments when I abandon my ego when I'm with my love. When I stop thinking. And just get on with living. Letting everything come naturally. Just flow. Flow. Flow. The stream. The steady flowing stream. It just goes where it goes. Or the cloud in the sky. It just drifts and drifts and drifts. Until it dissipates. Disappears. Maybe we humans are something akin to streams and clouds. We are supposed to drift and flow. And get caught up in the current of life. --Jim Broede

...the boundless joy of love.

The other day, I read a piece by a woman that had just lost her husband. Yes, her childhood sweetheart. After 43 years of marriage. To Alzheimer's. And she recalled how much she loved her husband. From beginning to end. And so many of the people that responded, said they felt sad for her. Some said they even cried sad tears for her. I didn't. Instead, I felt her joy. And I shared it. By recalling the joy I had for 38 years with my Jeanne. She also died of Alzheimer's. But I also learned that it's love that makes life worthwhile. And this woman truly loved. So there's no reason for me to feel sad for her. Because she's felt, and still feels, the boundless joy of love. --Jim Broede

...doesn't sound gentlemanly.

I'm not so sure that 'ego' is such a bad thing. It can be useful. Even good for the morale. To build up one's self-confidence. Especially in relatively mundane pursuits, such as sports. In playful competition with others. For instance, I call for my Chicago Cubs to nurture a 'killer instinct' and to pour it on, so to speak. In the quest of winning a game. Do it decisively. Don't give the opponent a chance to come back. Of course, it can be argued that's being unsportsman-like. And that winning or losing a game, or anything, shouldn't make a difference. That a game of baseball shouldn't be like a 'game' of war. Funny thing. I advocate the elimination of war. But not the end of a 'war' mentality in baseball. Maybe I'll have to give that more thought. Because when I build up/fortify my ego, I'm often trying to deflate another's ego. That doesn't sound gentlemanly. --Jim Broede

Maybe I haven't been born yet.

I've never had any lack of advice on how to think. And how to live. But when it comes down to it, I'm the decider. I make choices. Sure, maybe some choices are forced. By circumstances. I can even decide whether to live or not. Although, ultimately, even that may be taken out of my hands. I'm reading a book now. "A New Earth." By Eckhart Tolle. Seems to be a spiritualist. And he's got advice. I like him. He's fascinating. Gets me to think. But maybe he doesn't want me to think. Rather, to just feel. To become absorbed in life. To become alive. To be at one with existence. To be me. Might sound a bit abstract. Because I'm supposed to be me. By surrendering my ego. I largely identify myself through my ego. Always have. And in Tolle's world, that ain't good. Albeit, he wouldn't condemn me for it. Because I have to find my way. And I'm searching. I'm open. To new ways. New concepts. New everything. I'm just feeling my way through this life. Most days I don't know where I'm going. I'm evolving. And I don't know what I'm gonna become. I really don't even know what I've been. Up to now. I don't even know how to sum it up. I opened this piece by suggesting that I'm the decider. And now I'm wondering if that's really true. Maybe it isn't. Maybe I've just been drifting. Aimlessly. Maybe I'm not even alive. Maybe I haven't been born yet. --Jim Broede

A guy can dream, can't he?

I think I'm for big government. Don't know for sure. To put it another way, I'm for big government that works. That gets things done. Brings some degree of unity to the world. Serves the common good. Many Americans disagree with me on that score. And maybe they're right. It's possible that big government can be bad. Very bad. But it doesn't have to be. I'd like to see more reliance on world government. To see to it that everyone has the basic necessities of life. Food. Shelter. Health care. Education. In other words, we should be taking care of each other. That's my idea of the ideal world. Probably won't ever happen. But hey, a guy can dream, can't he? Maybe we start with a more powerful United Nations. And by getting more countries to join the existing World Court. Some of our conservative American politicians would oppose that. Because they might be put on trial for war crimes. Maybe they'd beat the rap. But maybe not. Anyway, I suspect there are many, many worlds in the cosmos. And maybe in a million years, we'll start making contact with other civilizations. And we'll think of ourselves as full-fledged earthlings. Rather than mere Americans or Chinese or Germans or Italians. --Jim Broede

In a return to nothingness.

Being famous. And a performer. And eccentric. That must be a horrible way to live. Must drive one crazy. How does one get relief from it all? I suppose with sedatives. With drugs. And then to be driven by one's art. Pop music, or whatever. Little wonder that Michael Jackson is dead. Maybe he wanted blessed relief from the morass he found himself in. He had become a freak. Because of his circumstances. It happened to Elvis Presley, too. Maybe they wished for a life of solitude. Peace. And they only found it in death. In a return to nothingness. --Jim Broede

She doesn't like to be liked.

I know someone that disagrees with me just for the sake of disagreeing. Funny. Actually, she wouldn't want to be caught dead agreeing with me. Because she thinks I'm an agent of the devil. And if she agreed, she'd be siding with the devil. The woman is a good Christian. In the traditional sense. She professes all the right things. Everything she's been taught. She even castigates me for spelling god with a lower case "g." Thinks that's a sin. And I'll burn in hell for being disrespectful of god. She doesn't quite believe that I'm a believer. Albeit, I'm a free-thinker. I believe in god. But not in any organized church or religion. And I especially believe in love. In a god of love, I suppose. I'm a liberal, too. And I suspect she's a conservative. Because that puts her a safe distance from me. Politically. I often try to joke with the woman. Because I think she takes life far too seriously. And she counters that I should be more serious. But the fact of the matter is that I like the woman. Maybe that's why she may not like me. She doesn't like to be liked. Especially by me. --Jim Broede

Time to learn to be killers.

I want my favorite baseball team -- the Chicago Cubs -- to have a killer instinct. To never let up in a game. In other words, if the team has, let's say, a 7-0 lead in the 7th inning, to find ways to pour it on. To make the score 10-0, or 15-0. Never consider a lead too safe. Never just coast. Of course, this won't happen. The Cubs don't play with that sort of mentality. That's why they have a reputation as loveable losers. And maybe that's good. To be loveable. Rather than a hated winner. After all, baseball is only a game. Not a ruthless, take-no-prisoners war. But hey, there are many ways to play team baseball. And have fun. Winning. One can still play with swagger. Confidence. And that's what the Cubs have generally lacked. Oh, they had a bit of swagger last season. But when they reached the play-offs, they got swept, in three games. The hitters curled up in a fetus position. Anything but killers. And this season, despite being heavy favorites in their division, they remain the worst clutch-hitters in baseball. Scoring the second fewest runs among the 30 major league teams. And having the lowest team batting average with runners in scoring position. Very frustrating. Especially for Cubs fans. The Cubs can have the based loaded with nobody out, and it's likey they won't score. They've been known to go 30 and 40 times in a row without a base hit with a runner in scoring position. Eight times this season, the Cubs have been shut out. So many, many games the Cubs have lost because they can't score 3 or 4 runs. Or even one run. The pitching hasn't been all that bad. But the hitters are in a funk. Players that have been good hitters in the past can't buy a base hit in a clutch situation. They choke up. They've become patsies. Anything but killers. I've advocated hiring psychologists rather than hitting coaches. Because it isn't a matter of lack of physical skills. It's mental. It's time for the Cubs to learn to be killers. --Jim Broede

Growing old. Beats the alternative.

I suppose if I worry about anything, it's about wearing out some day. Physically. Mentally. I keep telling people not to worry. Yes, don't worry. Be happy. And for the most part, I follow my advice. But I do occasionally worry during my down moments. Worry about growing old and decrepit. Yes, becoming old and wrinkled. Bent over. Doddering. Even slow-witted. I see so many people in their 80s and 90s. Maybe I should take solace in that. So many do survive that long. But the fact is, many of them don't look good. Yes, they look old and decrepit. Of course, there are exceptions. And if I live that long, I hope to gawd I'm one of the exceptions. George Bush's father looks gaunt and old. But he's still active. Went skydiving on his 85th birthday. That's more daring than anything I'd do, even at 73. Albeit, I'm in love. With someone actually younger than me. That's daring. Maybe equivalent to jumping out of an airplane. Maybe I should worry about keeping up with a spring chicken, so to speak. Anyway, I do see something funny about it all. About my dabbling with the thought of growing old. But by golly, I guess it beats the alternative. --Jim Broede

A rare politician. Honest & decent.

Maybe Barack Obama is too nice. And as the legendary baseball manager Leo Durocher said, 'Nice guys finish last.' One can take advantage of nice people. Especially nice politicians. Obama tries not to jam his policies down his adversaries throats. He tries to be fair and decent. To make concessions. To listen to all sides. To sometimes settle for the middle ground. Meeting people half-way. I haven't decided whether this is a good thing or a bad thing. Obama is inherently a liberal. But he wants to be respectful of conservatives. Despite the fact that many, many conservatives are disrespectful of liberals. They are Limbaughish. Big fat idiots. Obama could choose to be highly partisan. He has a majority in both houses of Congress. Maybe even a filibuster-proof majority in the Senate. Hey, if the Republicans had such a majority, they'd be vicious. They would take no prisoners. They'd ram their gawd-awful conservative agenda down our gullets with a plunger. Like stuffed geese. But Obama is too much of a gentleman, too good-natured to treat opponents as despicable enemies. He looks for the common ground. He may rue the day he passed on the opportunity to push a liberal agenda with full force. But I gotta admit. I like the guy. He's a rare politician. Honest and decent. --Jim Broede