In pursuit of the good life.

I think the secret to the good life is to learn to live the moment. Fully. Don't be too concerned about the future. Recognize the good times. Now. And if possible, fall in love. With another. And with life. Also, think good and positive thoughts. Preferably, loving thoughts. And it's a good idea to write a love letter to one's true love every night. So that it's waiting for her in the morning. Too often, love goes unspoken and unwritten. One must take time to be expressive. Especially to one's love. --Jim Broede

I'll make the best of it.

I'm hurtin'. Physically. Because 5 days ago I crashed my bicycle into a parked vehicle. Not good. Really banged up my right side. The shoulder. Arm. Ribs. No broken bones. But muscles, ligaments, tendons. All strained. And I'm getting muscle spasms. Yes, painful. But I refuse to stop exercising. Walking. Bicycling. Household chores. I think exercise is good. Even when one is hurtin'. Some folks tell me to rest. To stay in a chair. Or in bed. I can't live that way. I have to be on the move. Physically. Mentally, too. The body was made to be used. Use it. Or lose it. I biked 23 miles yesterday. And have biked 7 miles today. And hope to exceed yesterday's mileage. Maybe that's why I'm having muscle cramps. No pain. No gain. I'm really annoyed with myself. Not for exercising. But for being careless. The accident occurred because I was too relaxed. Mesmerized. By the motion of a speeding bicycle. Wish I could do it over again. But I can't. So I'll make the best of it. --Jim Broede

I'd be a communistic Christian.

I often wonder why Christians and communists don't work out a deal. And form a coalition. And take over the world. I mean in the political, social, economic and religious senses. Christians and communists have so very much in common. Except in one matter. Christians believe in an abstract god. Communists tout themselves as godless in an equally abstract way. In virtually all other aspects of life, they are one and the same. They follow or advocate the teachings of Jesus. Jesus, after all, was a natural born socialist. Christians won't generally acknowledge that. Because Christians tend to be as closed-minded as communists. Which makes them bedfellows, of sort. They really are one and the same in both some real and abstract senses. In a way, Christianity has failed because it has been captured by the capitalists. By the world's economic exploiters. And the communists have failed because they have been captured by the world's atheists. Imagine a Christianity with a socialist doctrine. And then imagine communism with a monotheistic spiritual god. They would rapidly blend. Into one. That's the story of love. Two beings becoming one. Two ideologies becoming one. Helping and complementing each other. If that ever happens, I'll join up. I'll become a communistic Christian. --Jim Broede

The way racists perceive Obama.

If Obama is a Muslim, so what? Of course, he isn't. But some of his lunatic critics are saying that he's secretly a Muslim. Trying to besmirch him, I guess. Implying that it's not good to be a Muslim. I don't give a damn whether Obama is a Christian, a Muslim, an atheist, a Hindu, a Buddhist or a Jew. That's his business. He's free to choose his own faith, or no faith at all. Fact of the matter there are some folks that do not like Obama. Because he's black. But they'd like more reason to hate him. So they make up stories. That he's a Muslim. That he was foreign born. That he's a socialist. Yes, that's the way racists perceive Obama. --Jim Broede

Anything I can imagine is possible.

Often enough, I'd like to have my way. Yes, I'd like to prevail. And make life proceed according to my dictates. But I know I have no right to be the supreme ruler. I ain't god. So I have learned to be one of god's subjects. I have to accept life pretty much as it is. Albeit, I do have some flexibility. I am able to make some choices. I can make some rather independent decisions. I can do the right thing. Or for that matter, the wrong thing. And more often than not, I may have no idea what's right or wrong. Which raises the possibility that maybe there is no right or wrong. Imagine that. God creating a world with no right or wrong. Which means we can do anything we want. But what if some of us decided that we want to usurp the role of god, and decide to declare what is right or wrong. What is a sin and isn't a sin? At times, I am of a mind to assume that there isn't a god. That all of creation just is. That it never had a creator. That creation always was. It had no beginning. And quite possibly, it'll have no end. And that life is no more or no less than consciousness. Or a figment of an imagination. That would make life boundless. Anything I can imagine is possible. --Jim Broede

Did god make a mistake?

I keep wondering why we don't put more people back to work. It's the humane thing to do. If the private sector doesn't create enough jobs to employ every able-bodied American that genuinely wants to work -- well, then let's create more public sector jobs. Maybe aimed at improving the nation's infrastructure. Seems to me that would be a big boost to the economy and to the morale of our citizens. To pay for it all, we could siphon money from our defense budget. Or raise taxes on rich people. Especially the super rich. Just imagine. If everybody was gainfully employed, we'd have an immense amount of spending that stimulates the economy. Oh, I suppose that some day we'll figure out how to make for the good life. For everyone. Not just for the elites. No doubt, it will take a redistribution of wealth. So that there's less of a gap between the rich and the poor. It's gotta happen. We humans haven't been around all that long. So we need time to figure things out. I think we're generally better off than we were 1,000 years ago. In, oh, so many ways. We have new approaches to our political, social and economic problems. We haven't remained static. That's a positive sign. We keep muliplying. There's more of us around all the time. Billions and billions. Used to be only millions and millions. We gotta keep finding new ways to accommodate us all. And hey, we haven't done too bad a job of it. But maybe at some point we'll have to start limiting population growth. That's another subject. China has already taken steps in that direction. Better late than never. Maybe the answer is to find a way to colonize the moon. Or even a planet such as Mars. We'll need a few scientific breakthroughs. But I am of the belief that there are no limits to human potential. Let's show god that he didn't make a mistake in creating us in the first place. --Jim Broede

That's the story of life, isn't it?

Maybe I should not get too upset over bad times. Think of everything we Americans have been confrontd with in the past 100 years. World War I, World War II and Hitler and Mussolini and the Japanese war lords, the Great Depression, the assasination of a president, the Korean Conflict, the Cold War, the Vietnam War, war debacles in Iraq and Afghanistan and not least, eight putrid years of George Bush. And we have survived it all. With some pretty good times mixed in. I am still pessimistic about our future. But there is a scant reason for optimism. We always seem to muddle through the worst of times. That's the story of life, isn't it? --Jim Broede

Wake up! Before it's too late.

I blame the media for the rise of Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh and the lunatic fringe of the Republican Party. They're crazy people. With crazy ideas. And tons and tons of misinformation. But still, the media gives these loonies their say. Because they're entertaining. I suppose that's why we have pundits on TV shouting at each other. They get good ratings. People like to watch idiots. So-called reality shows. We want to be entertained. Amused. This morning's St. Paul Pioneer Press, the newspaper that employed me as a writer for 29 years, had a lead story with the headline 'In D.C. rally, Beck invokes God, King.' Just what Beck wants. Lots of publicity for his weird ideas. He's just as crazy as Adolph Hitler. But give crazy people the spotlight, and they'll use it to enlist other 'crazies.' Hitler did it to perfection. There's nothing stopping Sarah Palin and Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh from doing the same thing. The crazies took over Germany for a generation. Why not America? Believe me, we're on a glide path to destruction. To an America run by the inmates of the asylum. Crazy people. The Germans have been considered among the best educated people in the world. Same for Americans. But that doesn't stop educated societies from going crazy. The media have already been lured into the trap. We no longer have a fair and open-minded media. No longer a free and responsible press. We're going to hell. Being led by pied pipers like Glenn Beck. It's time to wake up, fellow Americans. Before it's too late. --Jim Broede

I keep out all doubters.

I have found Paradise only where one can find it: in my own little cocoon. Built with care. From inside my being. Paradise can be found only within the human soul/spirit.

"Totalitarianism is not only hell," writes novelist Milan Kundera, "but all the dreams of paradise -- the age-old dream of a world where everybody would live in harmony, united by a single common will and faith, without secrets from one another."

Kundera writes that, "Once the dream of paradise starts to turn into reality, however, here and there people begin to crop up who stand in its way, and so the rulers of paradise must build a little gulag on the side of Eden."

I carefully guard against letting anyone but my most trusted friends into my paradise. I keep out all doubters. --Jim Broede

We're a judgmental society.

Milan Kundera, a Czech who fled to France, is the world's greatest living novelist. And here's why. Because he writes the way he thinks. These are Kundera's words:

"I am wary of the words pessimism and optimism. A novel does not assert anything; a novel searches and poses questions. I don't know whether my nation will perish and I don't know which of my characters is right. I invent stories, confront one with another, and by this means I ask questions. The stupidity of people comes from having an answer for everything. The wisdom of the novel comes from having a question for everything. When Don Quixote went out into the world, the world turned into a mystery before his eyes. That is the legacy of the first European novel to the entire subsequent history of the novel. The novelist teaches the reader to comprehend the world as a question. There is wisdom and tolerance in that attitude. In a world built on sacrosanct certainties the novel is dead. The totalitarian world, whether founded on Marx, Islam, or anything else, is a world of answers rather than questions. There, the novel has no place. In any case, it seems to me that all over the world people nowadays prefer to judge rather than to understand, to answer rather than ask, so that the voice of the novel can hardly be heard over the noisy foolishness of human certainties."

I recommend reading everything Kundera has written. --Jim Broede

Many ways to express one's self.

I like to talk. And think. Out loud. And I do not mind if I am overheard. That is what this blog is. Talking. Thinking. About what occupies my mind. My heart. My soul. I am an explorer. Like Columbus. And I like to travel. To take journeys. Inside myself. My greatest discovery. Happens to be the fact that I am an alive and conscious being. Incredible. How I got here, I have no idea. And why at this time? I don't know. But doesn't matter. I am feeling my way. Finding a new horizon every day. And I just keep heading for it. To see what's beyond. And I always see another horizon. It's an endless expanse. And my greatest find of all. It's love. I have found genuine and true love. Not once. But twice. I know not where or when it will end. But possibly it will never end. That is my greatest hope. My greatest desire. All I know is that I am alive today. And I have so much to savor. I can talk. Think. And write. Which is pretty much the same as talking. Writing allows me to capture words. And thoughts. Maybe that's the grestest invention of all. The written word. In so many languages. I marvel at people who have mastered several languages. Sounds. Noise. Music. Yes, music is a language, too. Maybe that's my second language. Makes me bilingual. And I like the language of love. It's inventive. And intimate. I like the language of happiness. And sadness. The language of contrast. And then there's the language of touch. A caress. A kiss. So many ways to express one's self. --Jim Broede

I might even prefer Hell.

I question the motive behind love. Because there is such a thing as obligatory love. It's not the same as true love. Instead, we love because we are supposed to. Expected to. I love my nation, my country, because I am supposed to. That makes me a patriot. But it does not make me a true lover. I do not have a spiritual reason to love my country. I find it impossible to love my country unconditionally. I may respect my country. And I may defend my country. At least to some extent. But I doubt I have enough love to sacrifice my life for my country. I could just as easily fall in love with Germany or Italy or Iceland or Scotland -- a whole array of countries. But I doubt that I would want to die for any country. I would not even go so far as to swear allegiance to my country. Because there are too many things that I don't like about the USA. I like living in Minnesota. And I want to stay. But there are a lot of other places I'd rather live than in Texas or Alabama or Mississippi or Louisiana. I might even prefer Hell. --Jim Broede

A clever but idiotic ploy.

I would like to do as I damn well please. Only thing is, that would be unfair to other people. I have to consider the rights of others. That's why I ain't a political conservative or a libertarian. They want to do as they damn well please. And to hell with everybody else. Anyway, I guess I will settle for saying what I damn well please. There's a big difference between talking and doing. I find it necessary to honor the rights of other people. Such as blacks and other minorities. I want a society in which there's no discrimination. Yes, I am opposed to racism because it's downright immoral. I am opposed to conservative Republicans and the likes of talk show hosts Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh, too. Not for what they say. But what they propose to do. Commit immoral acts. By stripping minorities of their gawd-given rights. In a sense, Beck and Limbaugh are little Hitlers. They seem to believe in white supremacy. They think the real racists are black people and the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People. They think that whites have the right to call themselves supreme. And that to be denied that right is racist. They'd like to turn this whole racist thing on its head. It's a clever ploy. But idiotic. And immoral. --Jim Broede

I am a defender of love.

I am able to romanticize life. That keeps me going. I do not like our political, social and economic systems. But that's immaterial. As long as I can feel a romantic sense to life. I am a knight in shining armor. I go off to battle every day. Not in Iraq or Afghanistan. But rather in defense of my true love. I am a protector of all that is holy. Yes, I am a defender of love. --Jim Broede

The spreading of angel wings.

When I was in Iceland recently, I visited the sea. Daily. At times in my life, I have lived by the sea. The wonderful sea. No one should deny one's self access to the sea. We all deserve the sea. The beauty. The vastness. I envy people who live on an island. Never far from the sea. What a blessing. To go there. Walk. And see one's love spreading her angel wings. --Jim Broede

There's a nut on the loose.

Have any of you seen talk show host Glenn Beck? He's nuts. Certifiably crazy. But I actually think some people are taking him seriously. How can that be? He's on the Fox Network. I think the program is being billed as serious. But it's a little like Norman Lear's 'Mary Hartman. Mary Hartman' show some years ago. It was clearly a spoof then. A parody. Nobody took it seriously. But I have a feeling that Beck really believes what he's saying. And that he has fanatical followers. And he plans a political rally of supporters in Washington over the weekend. I'd like to think Beck is harmless. But he may have to be stopped from harming himself. Maybe placed in a padded cell. And psychoanalyzed. It'll probably take a team of psychiatrists to get to the bottom of this one. His followers need psychoanalyzing, too. --Jim Broede

No brick wall for me.

Life is full of surprises. While riding a bicycle last night I became mesmerized. I felt so good. Such nice rhythm. I was cruising. My head down. That was a mistake. I ran into a parked vehicle. Saw it at the last second. Tried to swerve past it. But down I went. Landed on my shoulder and my right arm. A bit stunned. Took me a minute to pick myself up. I had deep abrasions on my arm. Bleeding. But I got on the bike again. Went another two miles. No broken bones. But I'm darn sore. On my right side. Above the waist. I consider myself lucky. It could be worse. Because I am still able to walk. So I will get my exercise today. Even walked two miles already. With a book in my hand. But I'm glancing up frequently. Don't want to slam into a brick wall. --Jim Broede

Better than to never have loved.

Life gets better. Eventually. One even survives and thrives after the death of a loved one. At the moment, that may not be much consolation. But life was meant to be lived. To the fullest. And that means the loss of a loved one truly hurts. Deep down. That's a price to pay for love. But I have found that it's a price worth paying. Better than to never have loved. --Jim Broede

Every place I go is Paradise.

The next time I am in Iceland, I'll book accommodations in two furnished apartments. Each for a week or 10 days. In Reykjavik, the capital and biggest city, with a population of 120,000. And in Akureyn, a more remote place, the second biggest city, with about 17,000 residents. An apartment is a much better way to live than hopping every day or two to another hotel or bed and breakfast place. And it's the most economical way. Some very nice apartments cost less than a hotel room. And one has the advantage of a bedroom, a living room, a kitchen. Also, one can unpack, and feel moreorless at home. From Reykjavik one can see much of Iceland on one-day outings. By bus. By boat. And by walking. One can get a good taste of city life. At restaurants, museums, concerts, botanical gardens and geothermo-heated pools. At Akureyn, I'd probably rent a car. And branch out in every direction daily to explore the countryside. But virtually every night in Iceland, I'd return to my home base. The apartment. And oh, yes, every time I travel, I'd meet my true love. That means that every place I go is Paradise. --Jim Broede

The tough part ain't the walking.

I'm a walker. I walk 6 to 10 miles daily. Over all sorts of terrain. And now I have trekked over a glacier. In Iceland. Sort of unexpectedly. My girlfriend and I signed up for a bus tour to the base of a glacier. But when we got there, we got more than we bargained for. We got to climb the glacier. With an expert guide. And spikes strapped to our shoes. So we wouldn't slip and slide. And let me tell you, it was a wonderful experience. Albeit, my girlfriend had sore knees the next day. Meanwhile, I'm looking for a set of spikes for my shoes. I might find them handy when walking in Minnesota over the winter. Europe's largest glacier is in Iceland. But there are several. And we walked on one of the smaller ones. Most fascinating were the holes in the glacier. Looking a little like caves. Made of ice, of course. Some people are brave enough to crawl in. Not me. The holes transfer melt water through the glacier. And there's plenty of melting water these days. Due to global warming. Scientists say that the Breidamerkurjokull glacier, in souterm Iceland, is receding. The 22-kilometer wide glacier makes up part of the Vatnajokull, which covers an area of about 8,100 square kilometers. One thing I found. It's easier walking on a glacier than learning how to pronounce the glacier's name. --Jim Broede

I'm not gonna shed any tears.

Looks to me like Barack Obama doesn't mind being a one-term president. He'd rather stick to principle than play politics. I like that. Obama insists on being himself. And the presidency doesn't matter all that much. He'll be satisfied with one term. And being America's first black president. He's achieved more than he could ever have wished for. So why seek more? Better to just get on with life. And let a power-crazy, ego-driven Republican move into the White House. Actually, Obama is more than we Americans deserve. We deserved a George Bush. And now we deserve another idiot Republican. To lead us down the path of destruction. America deserves to fail. To become a second-rate nation. I can accept that. Because then justice will be served. Let another more reputable nation become No. 1. I abhor American politics and American-style capitalism. So I'm not gonna shed any tears at our demise. --Jim Broede

One of my biggest blessings.

I have a German cousin I never knew I had. Until 10 years ago. Fritz. And he's taken me back to my roots. Way back. To the 1600s. In Switzerland. My ancestors on my father's side of the family came to Germany after the 30 Years War. Fritz and I shared the same grandfather four generations ago. Back around 1800. His name was Valentine Broede. When I retired in 1998, I didn't even know who my great grandfather was. And I knew little of my grandfather. Other than I erroneously thought he came from Hamburg, the big city in the north of Germany. Turns out he was from a small village just outside of Homburg, in the Saarland, in southwest Germany, near the French border. He probably was an illegal immigrant. Sneaked into the U.S. around 1900. It's a long story how I learned all this. Anyway, I also discovered Fritz along the way. He turned 70 on Aug. 12. I was at his birthday bash. Fritz and his wife Monika are godsends. Fritz has become my closest and dearest relative. Spiritually speaking. Even closer to me than my brother and sister. He's given me a new-found sense of family. Camaraderie. Fritz and I keep visiting each other. This last time, I brought along my girlfriend from Italy. My true love. After all, I wanted her to meet the family. The real and closest family. Italians are big on family. I like that. Albeit, I moreorless ignored family for the first 60 years of my life. But I am making up for it. I suppose I have Fritz to thank for my turn around. He's been one of my biggest blessings. --Jim Broede

The spirit lives forever.

I do not wish for anybody to die. But I have to acknowledge that some deaths are a blessing. Especially for those with a debilitating disease, such as late-stage Alzheimer's. My dear Jeanne died of Alzheimer-related complications several years ago. At the time, I was devastated. But now I recognize death was a good thing. For Jeanne. For everyone. My girlfriend's mother died of Alzheimer's on Saturday. There will be grieving for a while. But once again, I try to console the bereaved by suggesting that from this death much good will spring. Especially if one believes in an afterlife. I do. Maybe it's because I want to. I choose to. It helps to make me a romantic idealist. I want life to go on forever. In one form or another. Anyway, if it doesn't, I will never know. I live life the way I want life to be. Maybe that's not the way it is. But that doesn't stop me. All I know is that my girlfriend will have an easier life now that her mother has died. She will have less stress in her life. If for no other reason than she's no longer an exhausted and overworked care-giver. And I keep reminding her, the spirit survives. Her mother still lives. In peace and harmony. Alzheimer's doesn't ravage the spirit. --Jim Broede

In pursuit of an ultimate pleasure.

Icelanders love water and books. Little wonder that I am impressed. Amazed. If you are a high school graduate in Iceland, you can swim. That's a requirement. You not only have to read. You have to swim. You have to adapt to water. Municipal swimming pools abound. But better yet, there are natural hot springs. Where one can go bathing. I went. And just soaked. Literally. For hours. In water in the range of 98 to 102 degrees fahrenheit. Even on a cool day, it's wonderful. And the water often contains mineral elements that are supposed to be good for the body. The most famous of the hot springs is called the Blue Lagoon. Superbly run. And open 'til midnight in the summertime. Because Iceland is a land of midnight sun. Of some semblance of light for the whole day and night. Anyway, when Icelanders aren't swimming or bathing, they often are reading books. Virtually every little town and village has a library. With books well-stocked in Icelandic and English. Virtually all Icelanders are bilingual. When I next return to Iceland, I have a goal. I'm gonna float on my back in the Blue Lagoon and read a book at the same time. Sounds to me like an ultimate pleasure. --Jim Broede

I just go. I flow. I live. I love.

I just let my blog be. It's a new form of writing. Of expressing myself. My mind. My emotions. My thoughts. My blog makes me feel free. In a way, it's like being published. Because people can read what I write. I like it that my blog attracts a handful of readers. That's all I want. Maybe even more than I want. Even if nobody read the blog, it would still be all right. Personally satisfying. The Internet has made all this possible. And I am taking advantage of it. As are many others. Used to be that I kept thoughts to myself. Or shared them only with a few immediate acquaintances. But the blog allows me to venture out. Almost like sending out messages in a bottle. Not knowing where they will end up. Or even if they will ever be seen. By anyone. I am a writer. I must write. It's a compulsion. Seldom does a day pass when I don't write. I am in love with the written word. Words clustered together to form a thought. Makes me feel alive. As if I am a creator. Maybe the closest one can come to feeling like god. Taking something of the spirit. And creating a tangible thing. From inside me. With words. I am often writing love letters. Personal letters. Outside of my blog. In writing, I am living. A story. A romance. A pleasure. It's a solid piece of work. I am creating a reality. My reality. With meaningful words. And every day I know not where I am going. I just go. I flow. I live. I love. --Jim Broede

Beyond loving.

I like the notion of trying to make friends with one's enemies. But I suspect such an endeavor may be a tragic mistake for Barack Obama. He's a nice guy. And as such, he's tried to make friends with Republicans. Apparently, Obama hasn't learned that Republicans are unmitgated cads. They'd do anything for political gain. Even stab their mother in the back. They have no scruples. I'd rather make a pact with the devil than trust a Republican. Give the devil his due. He isn't as evil as a Republican. In many respects, Obama has forsaken his friends on the left in an attempt to pacify Republicans. But it hasn't worked. Maybe Obama is too much a Christian. He apparently takes seriously the adage, love thy enemy. But to love a Republican -- well, that's asking too much. Even Jesus and god himself couldn't love a Republican. --Jim Broede

I'm working on this love thing.

I have been listening to several daughters telling why they do not love their mothers. It's sad. The situations are exacerbated by the fact that the mothers have Alzheimer's. But the dislike for their moms predates the Alzheimer's. Anyway, it makes me wonder if it's easier to find ways to not love rather than to love. Maybe that is the nature of human beings. The reason we have wars. And political disputes. And racial discrimination. Real love, I suppose, is unconditional love. And that makes it hard. I would like to think that the daughters could find one reason to love their mothers for every five reasons not to love. That would be a good start. A way to cultivate a little bit of love. I have a girlfriend. And honestly, I cannot find a single reason not to love her. Oh, she can be stubborn. And moody. But that is just her being herself. I can accept that. Totally. After all, I am not perfect. So I have to allow other people leeway. Especially my true love. And I had differences and disagreements with my mother. Even arguments. But still, I loved her. That was never a problem. I usually find a reason to love someone. Unfortunately, sometimes I don't love enough. I fall dreadfully short. But I am working on it. --Jim Broede

The most shameful thing about us.

A nice discussion on Naional Public Radio this afternoon. About the inconsistency in our justice system. Studies show that whites use marijuana more than blacks. But blacks are prosecuted 7 times more often than whites for possession. Interesting, isn't it? Another example of the inherent racism built into out political, economic and social systems. But many Americans are blind to it all. Claiming racism no longer exists. When really, it's still rampant. A Jim Crow system still operates at many levels of our society. Putting blacks at a distinct disadvantage. And the sad fact is that it ain't gonna change soon. Because many of us won't even admit that we are racists. Maybe that's the most shameful thing about America. --Jim Broede

Merely going through the motions.

It's about time. Lou Piniella has quit as manager of the Chicago Cubs. In mid-season. So he can spend more time with his ailing 90-year-old mother. If that's the real reason, I have new-found great respect for Piniella. Mom is more important than the Cubs. But Piniella had other reason to quit. He's been a lousy manager for the past season and a half. He's allowed his ballclub to be a bunch of lazy underachievers. Actually, Piniella should have been fired. Along with half of the team. This is the most pathetic Cubs team I've seen in a long, long time. Not for lack of talent. Rather, it's lack of gumption. No spirit. Merely going through the motions of collecting a paycheck. --Jim Broede

Hoping our paths don't cross again.

I should have known better. Right from the start. A guy with the name Mugsy rented me a car. With the gas tank nearly empty. And with the understanding that's the way I was to return the vehicle. On a wing and a prayer. With only fumes left in the tank. But this was Iceland. And I thought maybe the rental car business is a little backward there. Anyway, off I went, in the first Renault I had ever driven. Driving on faith. And stopping at the nearest petrol station for a fill that cost 10,000 kronus. And it was to be an adventure. With two flat tires. One in the middle of nowhere. And an inability to loosen the spare tire from beneath the vehicle. Because the apparatus that held the tire in place had been improperly maintained. Soon I sensed that Mugsy hadn't told me lots of things about the vehicle. Or about Icelandic roads. Many of 'em gravel. And with conflicting road signs at the same intersection. Telling me that the next town, both with the same name, was 63 kilometers and 124 kilometers away. Take my choice. Anyway, I'm thankful that I had nothing more serious than flat tires. With a jack I didn't know how to use. But fortunately, passersby that did. Ten days later, I'm in Mugsy's office. In Reyklavik. And I tell Mugsy I want a reduced price. Because of delays and the fact that I had to buy a spare tire. Mugsy tells me no way. Pay up or he'll call the police. Call the police, I tell him, maybe they can arbitrate our differences. Turns out, Mugsy was just bluffing. I tell him I'm gonna subtract a day from my bill. We shout at each other. And I get my way. But the next day, we make peace with each other. Mugsy and I shake hands. Hoping our paths don't cross again. --Jim Broede

Learning how to love.

You do not have to be like each other to be close. I would certainly not want to live with my clone. That would be hell. I like people who are different. Not like me. Vive le difference. My girlfriend and I are similar in some ways. But also very different. And that's good. Turns out that we balance each other. Make each other more whole. My mom and I had our differences. But still, we loved each other. Love often is a matter of unconditional acceptance. A beautiful blending. Of mother and daughter. Of mother and son. It's a matter of learning how to love. --Jim Broede

On a park bench.

I consider it a romantic moment. Being stranded in a place called Fredrickshafen. On the German-Swiss border. My true love and I had just flown in from Iceland. And we raced in a taxi to the bahnhof (train station) to try to catch a train to Homburg in the Saarland. Only to find there was no ticket agent. We had to buy tickets from a machine. Automated. Oh, so confusing. Fortunately, several Germans came to our aid. But turns out that the 10:32 p.m. train was booked solid. We had to wait til 4:36 a.m. for the next train. So, we had to kill time. We wandered to a nearby restaurant. A beautiful gasthaus. And I thought of staying there until the train's arrival. But the place closed at midnight. So I proposed that we find a bench in a nearby park and while away the time. Next to each other. Looking at the stars. Sounded rather romantic to me. Not quite so for my true love. She would have preferred a hotel. For a few hours. And a refreshing shower. Anyway, I won out. Despite her protest. And now I am savoring the memory of it all. Being plunked down in Fredrickshafen and finding it all so romantic. On a park bench. In the middle of the night. --Jim Broede

The spirit never dies.

Wouldn't it be nice if we never lost a loved one? If we all lived in Paradise. Forever. But that isn't the nature of life. I'm not sure that I'd even want a permanent Paradise. Because there would be so little contrast. One cannot have Paradise without some travail. Paradise, really, is only momentary. We need a little bit of Hell to appreciate and feel the existence of Paradise. Yes, we need contrast. Night to appreciate day. Sorrow to appreciate happiness. Hate to understand love. Even death to appreciate life. I am trying to console a loved one. After her mother died. She loved her mother. A mother who had Alzheimer's. I didn't wish for the mother's death. But in some ways, death was a good thing. For everyone. For the deceased. For the survivors. It was a release. From travail. After the grieving, life will be better. In a sense, death isn't death. Because the spirit still lives. Inside us. The spirit never dies. Only the physical being. --Jim Broede

The truth would scare us.

I have been away for a month. Abroad. And I cannot say that I missed the USA. Albeit, it's nice to be back. I could live virtually anywhere and be happy. In a big city. Or on a desert island. In a democracy. Maybe even in a dictatorship. Yes, I'm adaptable. Flexible. But mostly, I like to be in love. That's the source of my happiness at the moment. Wasn't always that way. I only learned to like being in love in the past 40 or so years. Before that, it did not matter. Instead, I was just happy to be alive. Present in the world. But now I want to be in-love happy. I think I was born to be a lover. In addition to being a romantic idealist, a free-thinker in the spiritual and religious realm and a political liberal. I started defining myself about 10 or 12 years ago. When I retired. Because that gave me more freedom. More time. To pursue my inclinations. In a sense, I became less busy. Or so it seemed. Maybe because I began to pursue exactly what I wanted to pursue. Daily. All the time. I suppose that made me more active. More busy. But it didn't necessarily seem that way. I wanted to live. More fully. But at a leisurely pace. I have ended up writing far more than I wrote before I retired. But I write exclusively what I want to write. Like this piece. No editor dictates what I write. Whatever comes to mind goes on paper. I put no limits on myself. And I have begun to travel the world. Broaden my horizons. I once thought that if and when I lived to be an old man (in my 70s or 80s), it would be a scary experience. That I would be too conscious of the fact that I did not have much time left. But the older I get, the less I am concerned about age, about dying. Because I have finally learned to live one day at a time. Not to get too far ahead of myself. I am far more concerned about today than about tomorrow. When I was younger, my focus was too much on next week, next month, next year. And so I lost track of now. Of today. The nice thing about growing old is that one learns to feel young. Learns to take chances. Risks. And learns to be a better lover. Really, my life has become the pursuit of love. Of course, I do not like much of what goes on in the world. But I have learned not to get upset over it. Because I have no, or little, control over events. Used to be that I thought I could change the world. But I cannot. I can only change myself. My attitudes. My perspectives. And I also have the ability and wherewithal to build a cocoon, of sorts. A refuge. Where I can hide or find shelter from the travails of the world. In a sense, I create my own little world. My haven. My niche. Separate from the mayhem. I chose for the past month to almost totally ignore happenings in the USA and much of the international world. I lived in my immediate environ, and ignored everything else. That's hard to do in modern times. But I find ways. Anyway, I am not sure that I have ever known much of what is really happening in the world. I do not trust the news media. We are fed a distorted reality. We are being misinformed. We are being entertained rather than educated. Because that is what we want. I used to be a member of the media. I am not proud of it. The media has become corrupted. Feeding us slanted news. Idiotic sound bites. Instead of objective stuff. We have a false reality. We aren't what we think we are. We are far worse. Unfortunately, we don't want to face the sad truth. We would be scared out of our wits. --Jim Broede

Money won't buy everything.

I thought maybe my presence jinxed the Chicago Cubs. So I went away. For a month. And I hardly ever checked on what the Cubs were doing. Thinking maybe that would change the Cubs' luck. Instead, the Cubs went from very bad to worse. They even lost 11 of 12 games at one stretch. And they kept losing heartbreakers. By one run. Often in the 9th or in extra innings. The Cubs have played 43 games decided by a single run. And they've lost 29 of 'em. So, anyway, this is the most disspirited Cubs team I've ever seen. Lackluster. No passion. The Cubs have started getting rid of some of their veteran players. Cleaning house, so to speak. I'd remake the team. Starting from scratch. With young ballplayers. And I'd cut the payroll. Drastically. The Cubs have the highest payroll in the National League. And what has it got them? Crap. Goes to show that money won't buy everything. --Jim Broede

I don't need love from everyone.

Oh, it's nice to feel missed. My cat, Loverboy, truly missed me while I was gone for a month. He greeted me the moment I walked in the door. And he didn't let me out of his sight for the rest of the night. Didn't matter where I went. He was my shadow. Grooming me as if I were another cat. He nestled up to me in bed. Sat on my desk when I went to the computer. I thought maybe Loverboy would forget me. To learn to live without my presence. I thought about staying in Iceland and Germany for a while longer. But I had something precious to come back to. Loverboy and his beloved partner, Chenuska. I suspect that Chenuska could live without me. But that's all right. I don't need to be loved by everyone. --Jim Broede

Thank god, I was in Paradise.

I could adjust to life in Iceland. It's a nice place. Off the beaten track. A nation without a defense budget. Icelanders have their priorities straight. There are some 310,000 of 'em. And I like everyone I've met. They are decent people. Mostly speaking two languages. Icelandic. And English. Maybe that's what we need more of in this world. Bilingual people. That improves the chances of friendly communication. Anyway, when in Iceland, I moreorless ignored what was happening in the rest of the world. My world became Iceland. And it's a beautiful and idyllic place. Volcanoes. Geysers. Hot springs. One can go bathing in natural heated pools of water. Even in wintertime. Oh, what a way to relax. And this summer, the sun didn't set until after midnight. And there was never total darkness. Of course, only two or three hours of daylight in wintertime. But it's not as cold as Minnesota. Because of the gulf stream. The temperature seldom drops below zero. And the all-time high temperature was 86 degrees. Ah, comfort. Never saw a completely clear day. But that's all right. I like sweater weather. And I like the laid-back people. A fellow that moved from the capital city, Reyklavik, and into the countryside. He has 14 horses. Burly and hairy Icelandic horses. And he and a friend have purchased a boat. Takes the likes of me into the fijords. To see seal. Wow! What a way to live. And Iceland has yet to be discovered. Only three people per square kilometer. Outside of Reyklavik, the biggest city is 17,000. And most towns range from a few hundred to a thousand or two. Lava fields. Rivers. Craters. Mountains. If ever I'm stuck in Iceland, I'll count my blessing. And thank god. For sending me to Paradise. --Jim Broede

No longer a stranger.

I feel like starting up a conversation with the woman sitting next to me on the plane. But I hesitate. Why? Maybe because she's wearing earphones. Listening to something. And occasionally laughing. Maybe I will cultivate contact. Eventually. Because it's strange not to strike up a conversation with someone sitting next to me for 8 hours. Maybe I'll tell her that. Start the conversation that way. Maybe I'll tell her I am a writer and that's what I have been doing in recent minutes. Observing. In silent writing. Like in a journal. Expressing what's on my mind. The strangeness of silence. It's absurd. That strangers on a plane are capable of not talking to each other. Why is that? More often than not, I don't let it happen. But occasionally I choose silence. I remain aloof. I don't follow my inclination. And I choose not to share my thoughts. Non-contact. And usually I regret it. Maybe I should break the silence. Make inquiries. What will she say? What do you dare tell a stranger? Right off-the-bat. It's fascinating to learn things about a total stranger. To satisfy one's curiosity. Knowing something meaningful about people one is likely to see only once in a lifetime. Ever so briefly. Yes, the passenger on a flight. I assume she's American. Maybe about 35. Nice looking. Intelligent. And that she's returning home after visiting in Europe. She's alone. I wonder where she's going. She orders white wine with her pasta lunch. She has difficulty opening the small bottle. And she asks me to assist. I open the wine. And no longer will she remain a stranger. --Jim Broede

I savor every day.

Good gawd. It's been a long time since I posted. Back on July 21. I'm abroad. In Paradise. And in love. Don't know when I'll return. I'm living life fully.
Happy that I'm an alive and conscious being. I could live anywhere and be happy. Even in the USA. So I'll return to Minnesota. Some day. And I'll write about my experience. I savor every day. --Jim Broede