Sunday, October 31, 2010

Unprincipled & hateful politicians.

Young people who flocked to Barack Obama's campaign two years ago aren't so enthused any more. They feel let down. And I can't blame them. I always feel let down when it comes to the political realm. Politicians are bastards. Some of the most gawd-awful people in the world. Dishonest. Liars. Ego maniacs. Manipulators. Untrustworthy. Obama thought he could cope with them. Deal effectively with them. And bring about significant change in Washington. He may still do that. Unfortunately, Obama underestimated the task. And the hatefulness he would face from Republicans. They are out to destroy him. To block his agenda every step of the way. That's how the game of politics is played. It ain't fair. And Obama naively thought that if he played fair, so would everybody else. But it doesn't work that way. One must be ruthless. And to be more ruthless than a Republican, it takes cunning. It takes dirty tricks. It takes gutter-fighting. One must abandon moral principles. And apparently Obama isn't up to the task. He's too nice. Too decent. He's a philosopher. An academic. Not a traditional politician. Maybe that leaves some of us disappointed. That Obama is a man of principle. It won't serve him well in Washington. The place stinks. It's full of unprincipled and mean-spirited politicians. --Jim Broede

Long live the revolution!!!

Seems to me that the day is being seized by the fear-mongers. America is becoming more conservative. When really, we need a liberal agenda. But we won't get it. Because the conservatives are telling us to play life too safely. Too conservatively. Without taking risks. It's an everybody for himself mentality. Save one's own ass. And don't worry about your neighbor. Or your country, for that matter. It's a time when we all need to pitch in and work for the common good. But we won't do that. We won't spread the wealth. Instead, we'll hoard what we've got. And allow the rich to stay rich. And the poor to stay poor. We won't do what's best for society as a whole. Because we Americans are becoming selfish. More and more so. And we are becoming fearful. More and more so. Listen to the Republicans. Listen to the Tea Party. Yes, listen to the conservatives. They're saying we are in dire straits. Man the lifeboats. The ship of state is sinking. But it ain't the women and children going first into the lifeboats. It's the rich. They've got their money. And they want to keep it. They don't want to spread the wealth around in tough times. And they own the lifeboats. They own and run the show. They'll drift off to safety. And live in their luxurious homes. And their gated communities. Away from the riff-raff and the ordinary people. They have nothing to fear. Unless it be a revolution. Come to think of it. Maybe that's what we need. Let's have an old-fashioned uprising. One that surpasses the Bolshevik Revolution. Let's throw a scare into the rich enclaves. Let's riot. Let's make history. Let's bring about real change. Down with American-style capitalism. Onward. Onward. Onward. Long live the revolution!!! --Jim Broede

I'd set an example for the wealthy.

If there's a will, there's a way to dramatically reduce the U.S. budget deficit. I heard a former federal budget planner on a talk show propose a one-time 15 percent surtax on the nation's wealhiest people. He said that would in one swoop reduce the deficit by half. Sounds like a good idea to me. Like it's the patriotic thing to do. I'm not wealthy by any means. But even I might volunteer to a one-time 15 percent surtax on my income. To set an example for the wealthy. If poor me can do it, the rich can do it, too. --Jim Broede

I'm keeping an open mind.

I think thousands of people commit suicide every day. Without it being called suicide. They simply will themselves to die. Could be that's what my mother did some years ago. After she got to be 88, she had enough of life. So she just upped and died. Because that's what she wanted. She made the decision. Just as my father did back in 1949. But his death was ruled a suicide. Because he used a more traditional way of killing himself. With a rope around his neck. Others may just choose to drive a car off the road and hit a tree at a high speed. I suspect that the number of suicides are grossly underestimated. Many of us are horrified over the thought of suicide. But seems to me it's a legitimate way to die. So far, I haven't reached that point. I'm very much in love with life. And if I had my druthers, I'd choose to live forever. In good health, of course. But then, I might change my mind some day. I'm into life with an open mind. --Jim Broede

Loverboy wants his breakfast.

My cat, Loverboy, loves being a cat. That's what I like most about him. He lives his cat-life to the fullest. He relates to me. Like a cat. Being himself. He just lets himself go. He becomes a genuine loverboy cat. Tells me he's happy to be alive. And to be a cat. Especially in this household. He has me to take care of him. To see that he gets proper and ample food. And attention. Besides that, he has a mate, of sorts. Chenuska, a black cat. A few years older than him. She likes him. And he likes her. They cuddle a lot. Loverboy has come to trust me. Totally. He wants to be in my presence. At least 90 percent of the time. But he doesn't want to be like me. He'd rather be a cat than a human. Because then he'd have too much responsibility. He'd have to go shopping. And learn to write. And to fully master a human language. Instead, he'd rather spend a relatively lazy but occasionally rambunctious life as a cat. A good looking cat. With a mix of white and grey. And with two different colored eyes. One blue. The other green. Loverboy takes pride in being a distinctive cat. And in living up to his name. A genuine loverboy. That's his natural disposition. He was born as a natural loverboy cat. He loves everybody. Strangers. And even dogs. Big dogs. He'll come up and sniff anyone's nose. But he's also a mouser. Capable of killing a mouse. Or even a bird. He says that's just being a cat. Loving goes only so far. And he's smart enough to know that I want him to be a killer. When it comes to mice. That I want him to earn his keep. By keeping the house mouse-free. Loverboy keeps me company. Nestles on a cushion atop my desk. Next to the computer. Sometimes, he perches on top of the printer. And triggers the machine. To my annoyance. But hey, he knows he'll be forgiven. Also, Loverboy prods me into getting up in the morning. By pawing my face. I tell him to go away. That I want to snooze a while longer. But no, he says. He wants his morning breakfast. And then, if I want, I can go to bed again. --Jim Broede

Moving closer to an ideal society.

I consider myself fair-minded. In that I'll give people the benefit of the doubt. That they aren't evil. They don't intentionally do bad things. Maybe they are just stupid. Unable to think. And reason. The rich, for instance, may think that it's perfectly all right and moral to have an ever-widening gap between the rich and the poor. Nothing wrong with the rich becoming richer and the poor becoming poorer. I guess they conclude that if the poor want to become less poor, they can strive to become rich. They don't have to remain poor. But I'm of the mind that circumstances sometimes work against people. Some have less ability than others. Less opportunity. For a variety of reasons. Some of which are imposed by the advantaged. By the rich. Often, the rich are in a position to exploit the poor and the middle class. By using their money to buy influence. Therefore, the rich are continually building their advantage. I happen to think that at some point that becomes wrong. Immoral. Contrary to the common good. I'm of the notion that it's time in the USA for the wealthy to sacrifice their individual good for the common good. Only then will we move closer to an ideal and moral society. --Jim Broede

Are we masochists?

Hurrah for socialism! Without it, we Americans would be in sadder shape. In a sense, socialism has saved the poor and the middle class. By narrowing the gap between the rich and the poor. Imagine how wide the gap would be if we didn't have Social Security and Medicare. As it is, the gap is huge. But without these socialist programs, the gap would be gargantuan. Face it, Americans. Socialism has saved us from a total collapse of our economy. Without socialism, we'd have more than doubled the number of people living in poverty. And already it's at 40-some million. Which is a national disgrace. Yet, we have capitalist politicians advocating privatizing or elimination of these great socialist programs. Such a move would be heartless and catastrophic. But still, we elect people who say we need to cut the barest of survival programs. In order to balance the budget. And at the same time, they are willing to reduce the taxes on the rich. And to allow the poor and the middle class to carry the burden on their already loaded shoulders. It's immoral. Obscene. But still, we'll return the Republicans to the majority. The very politicians that would screw us. Royally. Tell me. What makes us vote against our own personal interests? Is it stupidity? Lack of education? Or are we masochists, thrilled at the thought of being able to suffer? --Jim Broede

We're putting bunglers in charge.

Some of my capitalist friends tell me I'm stupid. For being a socialist sympathizer. Look around, they say. Socialism has failed. I tell them it has worked. Reasonably well. In places like Sweden. But they dispute that. They only see a failed socialism. Of course, they think that American-style capitalism has succeeded. Thrived. But that's not my perception. I see capitalism as a failure. Look at the economic conditions in the USA and other capitalist countries. We've narrowly avoided another Great Depression. And we averted a total collapse by borrowing some forms of socialism. Government bail outs. And hey, what if we didn't have social security and medicare? Without these socialist programs we'd be in even more dire straits. Anyway, I'm not the stupid one. I keep an open mind. I see what works. And what doesn't work. And at the moment, American-style capitalism ain't working. But it could be fixed. With a big dose of socialism. But we Americans are too stupid to fix it. Instead, we'll put the Republicans in charge. And they're the biggest bunglers of all time. --Jim Broede

I'm working for two kinds of good.

I'm an advocate of the common good. But people keep telling me that's wrong. That if I am to be a true and patriotic American, I have to work for the individual good. Rather than the common good. Didn't used to be that way. Or so it seems to me. I thought I was brought up being told that I should be working for the common good. First and foremost. That was the American way. We all pitched in. To benefit society. I thought, too, that was what my religion taught me. I was told that it was the Christian thing to do. To put the common good ahead of the individual good. But all that seems to have changed. Of course, I'm no longer a Christian. Because I think Christianity has been corrupted by the church. I'm a free-thinker who has cast aside organized religion. But still, my free-thinking principles dictate that I work for the common good. That it's the decent and right thing to do. But when I do that, I'm often accused of being a socialist. And even worse, a communist. Or being in cohoots with the devil. But still, I persist. I have a strong sense of right and wrong. And I instintively know that I'm supposed to be for the common good. That it's selfish to put the individual ahead of the commonweal. Anyway, maybe I'm playing it safe. By having allowed myself to become a romantic idealist, a free-thinker, a liberal and a lover. I especially enjoy my role as a lover. Seems that when I do that I'm working simultaneously for the common good and my own individual good. --Jim Broede

I've gone absolutely bonkers.

I allow myself to believe anything I want to believe. Sometimes, just to annoy people. Especially true believers. People who will believe anything. I'm trying to prove that I can be just as idiotic as anyone. Like some of the politicians running for congress. Many of 'em from the Tea Party. Or the lunatic fringe of the Republican Party. When it comes to politics, nothing surprises me. I'm sure that some of the candidates belong in what used to be called insane asylums. Goes to show that we've become an open and tolerant society. We allow the insane to go free. To mingle with all of us. No discrimination. We are all free to pretend we are the reincarnation of anyone. Even Napoleon. And to be taken seriously by thousands, if not millions, of fellow crackpots. No idea is too preposterous. Everybody is allowed to create his/her own reality. No matter how absurd. Maybe it's that we have removed the word 'insanity' from our lexicon. And now everybody is to be judged sane. Rational. Just think. If we are all insane, then that makes us all sort of alike. That's our common bond. And that's the new norm. And the only true 'insane' being would be the one that's absolutely different from the rest of us. A true individual. To the best of my knowledge, that's me. I'm the only being on Earth who's normal in the true sense of the word. An individual. And everybody else is nuts. But that's precisely what makes me nuts. Because I'm the only square peg left in a round hole. I don't fit in. Because I refuse to be a robot. I know it's kind of confusing. But that's what I live in. A nutty, confusing world. Little wonder that I've gone absolutely bonkers. --Jim Broede

Saturday, October 30, 2010

Something mystical. More like god.

A neighbor down the road is a Catholic. A devout one. Tells me there's only one god. Her god. The Catholic god. And that my god isn't real. Because he's not Catholic. Therefore, he's a false god. And she tells me that human life is the highest form of life. She tells me there's nothing more sacred than human life. And that abortion is sin. Murder. And that there's no excuse for abortion. Even in cases of rape or incest. But she also says that animal life isn't sacred. Because animals don't have souls. But I tell her that all of life is sacred. Even animal life. And that I think animals have souls. She thinks that's preposterous. I tell her that I doubt that all humans have souls. That we aren't necessarily born with souls. I speculate that soul life doesn't begin at conception. Not until one has been out of the womb for a while. Maybe not until 2 or 3 years of age. When one becomes fully conscious. I suggest that's why I don't object to abortion. Because one is not yet soulful at the beginning of physical existence. Anyway, she thinks I'm crazy. And that I may be angry with god. I deny it. I've never been pissed at god. I've always liked god. I think of him as a kindly creator. But that he's hard to define. That god actually may be a feeling. Love. That we have god living inside us. When we achieve pure and unconditional love. The ultimate intimacy. Meanwhile, I also dispute that human life is the highest form of life. And that it's quite possible there are much higher forms of intelligent life. Maybe on other planets in the cosmos. Or in other dimensions. And that maybe we humans have an afterlife. In a spiritual dimension. When we cast off our physical beings. Leaving only our souls. Our real essences. Something mystical. More like god. --Jim Broede

We are all losers.

Barack Obama can't help but lose. Because he's a fair-minded liberal. Willing to become a pragmatist. For the sake of compromise. As a result, he alienates his base on the far left. And he even further alienates his staunch opponents on the far right. And these days, there isn't much of a political middle in America. And that's where Obama has ended up. In the middle. We have a sharply divided America. Extremists on both sides of the political spectrum. They want all or nothing. Everything on their agendas. Obama has tried to give each extreme a little bit of what they want. But he's constantly challenging them to come together. To reach a grand accord for the sake of the country. Somewhere close to middle ground. And neither side wants to budge. So there Obama sits. Dropping in the polls. With low approval ratings. Albeit, he's liked more than other politicians. Which isn't necessarily saying much. They're all more disliked than liked. I suspect Obama has succeeded because, in some ways, he has effectively played both ends against the middle. That's how he got elected. Telling us he'd bring both sides together. He'd change the way Washington operates. But little did he know that the system is corrupt. Maybe even beyond redemption. Things can't be fixed. So we are all losers. --Jim Broede

My idea of fairness.

I'm as far to the left as some Republicans are far to the right. But there's a big difference between us. I'm willing, for the sake of compromise and for the sake of the nation, to meet in the middle. For solutions to our political, economic and social problems. The far right isn't. Take Michelle Bachmann, for instance. Or Glenn Beck. Or Rush Limbaugh. Or Ann Coulter. Or Newt Gingrich. Or Sarah Palin. They ain't gonna move one inch. They want everything their way. All or nothing. And so let them have nothing. I want give and take. Movement on both sides. If you give a yard, I'll give a yard. I want a liberal agenda. But I know that not everybody wants a liberal agenda. So for the time being, I'm willing to negotiate. In an effort to be fair. I don't want government to be gridlocked. I want things done to make America prosper. I want a narrowing of the gap between the rich and poor. I want affordable health care for everyone. I want good and decent public education for everyone. I want jobs for everyone. I want a better infrastructure. I want it all. But I know I'm not gonna get it all. But I want something that moves us closer to my ideal America. I don't want what the ultra conservatives would give us. But hey, I'm willing to take some of it. If the ultra-conservatives will take some of what I want. Let's meet half way. That sounds fair to me. --Jim Broede

One can hope they lose big time.

Americans go to the polls Tuesday. To pick their political leaders. I'll be among those that make the trek. But my heart won't be in it. Primarily, I'm going to try to make a difference. That my vote defeats Michele Bachmann, my decrepit congresswoman. She's a disgrace. Just about everything I abhor in a politician. On the far, far right. She's already plunged over the cliff. And it annoys me that see keeps getting elected and re-elected. Here in Minnesota. Considered a blue state. Full of relatively liberal people. But my congressional district isn't typical Minnesota. We have lots of goofy and filthy rich people. Down the road from me are two multi-million dollar mansions. You won't find a single lawn sign for a Democrat. You'll find lots of Michelle Bachmann signs. I'd like to go out in the middle of the night. And pee on each one of the signs. But I won't. I'm too cultured for that. I'll just vote for Bachmann's opponent. A woman named Taryl Clark. Watch for the results. I'm a pessimist. I'll probably deliver the only vote for Clark in my entire neighborhood. Meanwhile, my neighbor up the road, Jackie McNamara, is running for mayor of Forest Lake. Other neighbors were out campaigning for McNamara yesterday. One waved me down while riding my bike. And gave me McNamara literature. Which proclaimed McNamara was a strict conservative. I asked if she was as conservative as Bachmann. Yes, everyone proudly assured me. As if that should be the clincher, the strong selling point. The reason for me to vote for McNamara. I felt like declaring, 'Hell, no, I won't vote for a damn conservative.' Instead, I announced that I'm a socialist. Some of 'em didn't believe me. They thought I'd vote for McNamara merely because she's a neighbor. Oh, I'd love to wake on Wednesday morning. To learn that Bachmann and McNamara lost. Big time. --Jim Broede

To dare call it love.

A fair amount of stuff that I read is incoherent. Just a jumble of words. Words that leave me cold. Words without real meaning. For me. Not necessarily for others. I merely don't connect with the particular writer. The writer may have a good reputation. May be recognized as a great writer. For instance, I deem some writers to be too flowery. Or too descriptive. They are like painters. They are brilliant at describing a scene. Or an object. Maybe the petal of a flower. Many poets do that. Leave me cold. Maybe because I'm looking for a thought. And I don't find it. I want more than beauty. I want a concrete thought. That moves me. And I want more than words. I want meaning. And I don't always find it. That may be my fault, I admit. I'm not prepared to find meaning in everything. I pick and choose. I look for a connection. And I don't always find it. A little bit like love. I don't fall in love with everyone. In fact, it's a rare being that stirs my passion. Deeply. In profoundly intimate ways. To dare call it love. Unconditional love. Total love. Genuine love. --Jim Broede

Friday, October 29, 2010

The saddest part of all.

The sad truth is that many people in America, and the world for that matter, are in dire need of help. All kinds of help. Some are dirt poor and can't afford anything. Others are starving. Some are physically or mentally sick, and just left to fend for themselves. Yes, that's reality in this world. Even in rich and prosperous nations. There are haves and have-nots. I know it as well as anyone. But I don't do much about it. Not nearly enough. Guess I'm like just about everyone else. I advocate serving the common good. Redistributing the wealth in a way that helps the have-nots. I suppose I could do more as an individual. But I don't. The same goes for our society as a whole. And for government. We rationalize sometimes. That the have-nots need to have more gumption. More get up and go. But that's not always the case. Some people are ill or destitute or in need because of no fault of their own. But we, and that includes me, don't do enough meaningful things about it. That's the saddest part of all. --Jim Broede

I have a wish.

Tonight I've been reading posts in the care-givers forum of the Alzheimer's message boards from care-givers who have been completely overwhelmed. Through no fault of their own. They have been burdened with far more than they can handle. Again, I emphasize, through no fault of their own. It's sad. And I wish that there was some way that professional care-givers or social workers could step in. And relieve these overworked and over-traumatized care-givers of their overwhelming responsibilities. --Jim Broede

I'd have fine socialist company.

If I'm not a full-fledged socialist, I'm certainly a socialist sympathizer. I like the idea of socialism. Certainly, I rank socialism far higher than American-style capitalism. When I let people know that I'd make a good socialist, some of 'em are aghast. Generally, it takes some Republicans by surprise. They think I'm too smart and nice to be a socialist. They have an impression that socialists are stupid and evil. And that they have leprosy. Therefore, they should be avoided. Or at least be put away in an institution. I tell them that I became a supporter of socialism when I learned that Jesus was a socialist. Or at least he sounded like one. No way was he a capitalist. After all, he suggested that a rich man should give away all of his money -- that is, if he ever wanted to get into the kingdom of heaven. Jesus was a little like Robinhood. He would have taken from the rich and given to the poor. I'm not convinced that Jesus was the son of god. But I'm pretty certain that he would have voted for the socialists. If there had been a socialist party in his day. --Jim Broede

They'll make Obama drink hemlock.

Harvard historian James T. Kloppenberg portrays Barack Obama as a kind of philosopher president. And he sees that as a rare breed that can be found only in a handful of times in American history. "There's John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison and John Quincy Adams, then Abraham Lincoln and in the 20th century just Woodrow Wilson," he said. In a recent New York Times article, writer Patricia Cohen said that to Kloppenberg the philosophy that has guided Obama most consistently is pragmatism, a uniquely American system of thought developed at the end of the 19th century by William James, John Dewey and Charles Sanders Peirce. It is a philosophy that grew up after Darwin published his theory of evolution and the Civil War reached its bloody end. More and more people were coming to believe that chance rather than providence guided human affairs, and that dogged certainty led to violence. Pragmatism maintains that people are constantly devising and updating ideas to navigate the world in which they live. It embraces open-minded experimentation and continuing debate. "It is a philosophy for skeptics, not true believers," Kloppenberg said. Anyway, I find all this very interesting. Because I've long advocated that we elect philosophers as our leaders. Rather than politicians. But the hard truth is that politicians abhor philosophers. And they'll make philosophers drink hemlock. --Jim Broede

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Love makes our lives worthwhile.

I'm moving to Italy for the winter. Probably around Christmastime. And I expect to pay little attention to what's happening in the USA. Which will be nice. Because I don't particularlty like what's going on. Especially politically. Anyway, I'm a socialist at heart. I'm very much opposed to American-style capitalism. And some would-be patriots tell me that I'd be better off in another country. That I should either like America or leave it. And so I'm gonna leave it. For a while, at least. I've been to other parts of the world in recent years. Canada. Iceland. Scotland. Germany. France. Switzerland. Italy. And I like those countries. Maybe even more than America in some meaningful respects. I like some of the privileges and freedoms of expression I have in America. But I see shortcomings in America's political, economic and social systems. Big changes are needed. Especially a narrowing of the gap between the rich and the poor. But I ain't gonna see significant changes in my lifetime. Because as an individual citizen I'm relatively powerless. So I simply try to make the best of the situation. By taking advantage of an opportunity to live part-time in Italy. With my Italian girlfriend. By the way, she doesn't like Italy's government. But I'm able to commiserate with her. We can debate over which country has the worst government. Italy or America. Doesn't really matter. Because we're in love. We have our priorities straight. And that makes our lives worthwhile. --Jim Broede

We have a full-fledged idiotocracy.

I really don't know what my fellow Americans want. Politically speaking. Maybe they don't even know. The electorate seems to shift back and forth. They punished the Republicans for eight years of George Bush. For getting us into an economic mess and two costly immoral wars. But now it looks like Democrats will lose their majority of the past two years. Apparently because they haven't cleaned up the mess. So we are gonna run out of patience and return the Republicans to power. The ones that got us into this mess in the first place. And to top it off, some clowns from the Tea Party may even win a few seats in Congress. It's a game of musical chairs. My gawd. What a political system. There's a chance that we'll end up with gridlock in Washington. And get absolutely nothing done. Because we have a system of government that allows the minority to block anything the majority proposes. There's no such thing as majority rule any more. Because any meaningful legislation can be filibustered to death in the U.S. Senate. Even individual senators have the authority and power to block a vote on virtually any item. It's ridiculous. But that's our way. The American way. We Americans allow it to happen. Because we think we're helpless to do anything about it. We act as if our only choices are to elect idiot Republicans or idiot Democrats. Yes, politicians that refuse to work with each other. Instead, they are all dedicated to making each other fail. Miserably. So it really doesn't matter, does it? No matter who we elect, it's gonna be a bunch of idiots. We don't have a democracy or a republic any more. We have a full-fledged idiotocracy. Rule by idiots. --Jim Broede

When I'm at my creative best.

I found that even when I was a very active Alzheimer care-giver, I still made time to sit down and write. To myself. And to others. In other words, I communicated. I wouldn't allow myself to shut down. I had to keep active. Mentally. Emotionally. Physically. Every which way. Didn't matter whether I was 24/7 with Jeanne. Or only 8-10 hours daily during the 38 months she was in the nursing home. I felt compelled to write. In order to collect my thoughts. Some of it, I suppose, was merely to vent. To myself. To others. To the spirits. Maybe to god himself. Come to think of it, maybe I've done that all my life. Otherwise, I might stagnate. Maybe it's a form of psychoanalysis. To be aware of what's really on my mind. And to make sense of life. I find that if I don't put my thoughts into writing, they become elusive. They disappear. Or maybe it's that I turn on my thinking machine when I decide to transcribe my thoughts. Put my thoughts into concrete words. Practice the art of language. Merely by talking and writing to myself. At any time of day or night. Whenever the whim moves me. Which is often. Many times in a single day. There's nothing I'd rather do. Than think. About the profundity of life. But I find that some people don't want to think. They want the peace and quiet and solace of a blank mind. Maybe because their thoughts are unhappy thoughts. Burdensome. When that mood hits me, I work my way out of it. By using my imagination. Creating a path that leads me to where I want to go. To the light. To the sunshine. Really, to Paradise. Where I always fall in love. With life. That's when I'm at my creative best. --Jim Broede

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

I need a daily workout.

Maybe I'll continue riding my bicycle long distances daily until there's a heap of snow on the ground. The weather is turning colder. And getting windy. But that hasn't been a deterrent to bicycling. I merely don a jacket and a ski mask and pedal away. Twenty-eight miles this afternoon. I can bundle up against the cold. And I've withstood riding into a 40-mile an hour wind. Of course, I'm walking daily, too. But biking is proving to be more aerobic. So I'll contnue with it. The biking started when I had a sore foot. But the foot is healed. I'm addicted to exercise. I need a daily workout to keep peace of mind. --Jim Broede

The kind of woman she was.

It was a sad day when my dear wife Jeanne died almost 4 years ago. Of complications from Alzheimer's. And maybe I should bemoan the ravages and devastating effects of Alzheimer's. And how it ruined Jeanne's life. And my life, too. But Alzheimer's didn't really ruin my life. Because I didn't let it. I got on with life. Through my connections with Alzheimer's. Alzheimer's put me on a path that crossed with other Alzheimer care-givers. Including an Italian woman, caring for her elderly Alzheimer's stricken mother. We commiserated with each other. Got to know each other. By email. By telephone. By daily contact on Skype, an audio-video hook up. Eventually, I went to Italy. Met her in Venice. And we traveled extensively together over the past three years. In the Italian Alps, in Scotland, in Iceland, in Germany. Summer before last she was with me in Minnesota. This winter, I'll be living with her in Italy. It's a wonderful relationship. That came about because we both had the tragedy of Alzheimer's in our lives. Had it not been for Alzheimer's, we would never have met. Never heard of each other. Our lives would have gone off in far different directions. My guess is that if Jeanne and my girlfriend's mother are looking down on us from a perch in a spiritual paradise, they are happy for both of us. And it wouldn't surprise me if Jeanne was the one that set the wheels in motion for me finding another love and continuing happiness here on Mother Earth. That's the kind of woman she was. And maybe still is. --Jim Broede

But no matter, it's wonderful.

Life is extraordinary. The fact that I am alive. That I can think of myself as a physical human being. I can touch my nose. Or my foot. I can even touch another human being. Or anything I see. Even the sky. And I can take an educated guess of what lies beyond. Wow! Why have I been given this life? This opportunity to fathom. To become a thinking entity. Aware of so very much. But possibly unaware of even more than I can imagine. All of a sudden I was plunked into this world. I climbed out of a womb, or so I'm told. And I believe it. I became me inside my mother's body. That's an incredible feat. Did it happen by chance? Or was it fated? I don't know. But no matter, it's wonderful. And extraordinary. --Jim Broede

To think what I want to think.

I have my own thoughts. Nobody can take them from me. In that sense, I am a free man. People can tell me what to think. But I don't have to follow directions. I'm my own man. I also have freedom of speech. But there I can be restricted. Someone can put a gag in my mouth, I suppose. Or throw me into solitary confinement in a prison. But still, I can think what I want to think. Of course, they could execute me. Kill me. Assuming there's no afterlife. That would stop me from thinking. But if there's an afterlife, I'll still go on thinking what I want to think. That's why I'm pulling for an afterlife. I want to be free forever to think what I want to think. --Jim Broede

Yes, Mozart lives.

I am listening to Mozart string quartets. Over and over again. They are enchanting. Soft. Melodic. My gawd. What beautiful music. Makes one appreciate being alive. To be able to savor the power and glory and joy of sound. To think that a human soul created all this magnificence. And here I am, hundreds of years later, listening to Mozart speak to me. Yes, Mozart lives. Right here. Today. In Forest Lake, Minnesota. Better than a rapturous dream. So real. --Jim Broede

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

In the mood to write a love letter.

It's been a very windy day. And windy night, too. And rainy. And cold. Although it's still a few degrees above freezing. But the weather didn't stop me from going 20 miles on my bicycle. Really pumping hard when I went into the winds. Gusts of more than 40 miles an hour. But when the wind was at my back, I hardly needed to pedal. And the wind has yet to subside late into the evening. It's a howling wind. Sounds like winter. But it's not yet bitter cold. Still waiting for that first freeze. Won't happen tonight. Because of the wind. And the cloudy sky. Chances are the first frost will come on a calm, clear night. Maybe just before daybreak. Most nights I can't hear the weather. Because it's quiet. Silent. But tonight, the weather is loud. Boisterous. And it sounds colder than it really is. But I'm indoors. Feels warm. I haven't built a fire. But I have multiple candles burning in the fireplace. Flickering. Making light bounce about the room. And I am in the mood to write a love letter. --Jim Broede

There is no future. Only now.

Getting old isn't the worst thing in the world. Beats the alternative. Not living long enough to get old. Of course, old is a relative term. I'm 75. That may seem young to a 90-year-old. But it's very old to someone in his 20s or 30s. I don't act old. Because I seem to be in good health. I'm still active. Mentally. And physically. Anyway, I once thought of 75 as ancient. A time when one becomes decrepit and sits around in a rocking chair. Or maybe a wheelchair. And needs a hearing aid. And goes senile. But I've avoided all that negative stuff. I'm far more at ease than I thought I'd be at this age. And I don't worry about dying. Because I've learned to live pretty much a day at a time. I don't get too far ahead of myself. There's something nice about that. Being focused on today. Used to be that I worried about the future. But no sense in that. I've always lived in the now. Didn't always know that. But now I do. There is no future. Only now. --Jim Broede

To hell with the public mood.

I try not to pay too much attention to the public mood. Because the public can be easily manipulated. By the experts. And I'm not an expert. So I just have to accept the public mood. As real. I don't have to like it. But it is what it is. The successful politicians tend to capture the public mood. They know how to say the things that get them elected. If I wanted to get elected to public office, I'd have a keen understanding of the public mood. Wouldn't matter if I liked it or not. I'd just say what I had to say. And I'd create a persona that's likeable to the public in general. I'd sell my self. I'd make myself into a product. That people would buy. It's all in the marketing. Personally, I'm not trying to sell myself. I don't want to be purchased. Instead, I just want to drift through life. Feeling that I've loved. And been loved, too. My gawd. That's all I need. Love. Love. Love. And to hell with the public mood. --Jim Broede

I have so many, many dreams.

I don't like politicians. And I don't like politics. But still, I have to put up with it. And I'll go to the polls next Tuesday. And vote. Even though my votes for and against various candidates won't really count. Won't decide the outcome of any race. I could just as easily stay home. Won't make a difference. But I'll go through the motions. And you won't find me voting for any Republicans. Because I disdain Republicans. Almost as much as I disdain some Democrats. That's the only difference. I pretty much disdain all politicians. But I tend to side with Democrats. As the lesser of the evils. And because they tend to dream more than Republicans. I like dreamers. Which means that I like myself. Oh, there are many things that I don't like. But oh, my gawd, I love life. Do I ever. Because I have so many, many dreams. Of love. And sweet harmony. --Jim Broede

Monday, October 25, 2010

Making a fool of myself. In Italian.

Hard as I try, I can't correctly pronounce the name of the city Cagliari. It's the capitol city of Sardinia. My Italian girlfriend is trying to teach me the way to say Cagliari like an Italian. In a suave manner. I think I make it sound like an Irish city. But if I am to talk like an Italian, I may be in danger of dislocating my jaw. I have to move my jaw and tongue into awkward positions. Ones I'm not used to. But I have vowed to do whatever it takes. To not only master Cagliari, but many other Italian words. I have been let off easy. Because my girlfriend teaches English and English literature. She speaks English with a beautiful accent. Doesn't sound like a typical American Italian accent. Maybe that's because she learned much of her English in Great Britain. Meanwhile, I have a goal. That I'll be able to write a thread in my blog in the Italian language. By the time I return to Minnesota. After spending this winter in Sardinia. Of course, I will never become a master of the language. But I'll at least be able to make a fool of myself. In imperfect Italian. --Jim Broede

Ah, what a life.

Every day is a new day. Not just another day. But a new and precious day. Another opportunity to embrace and savor and enjoy life. It was an odd weather day. Cloudy. But the temperature in the 60s. Ten or 15 degrees above normal for this time of year. So I looked at the day as a blessing. Went 30 miles on my bicycle. I'm still waiting for the first frost of the season. Incredible. Here we are a week from November. And the forecast is for a frost maybe Friday morning, on the 29th of October. Makes me wonder if this will be the latest frost ever. I remember Halloween. In 1991. We got 26 inches of snow. And didn't see the bare ground again until April. I brought in the potted plants and potted trees today. A 10-foot ficus tree. Barely squeezed it through the back door. And put it in the high-ceilinged living room. Also brought in a 7-foot Norfolk pine. It's in a bedroom used by my two cats. And then there's a tropical looking leafy plant. Don't know what it's called. It'll spend the winter in my spacious bedroom. The greenery gives the indoors a fresh outdoor look. I did all the tree/plant moving by myself. Thought about calling in my handyman friend to help. But then I thought it'd be a challenge to do it all alone. And lo and behold, I did. No problem. I've also been insulating the windows. In preparation for the inevitable Minnesota winter. Tomorrow we are supposed to have wind gusts of 40 to 60 miles an hour. Followed by cooler air moving in from Canada. But not cool enough to freeze until Friday. I don't mind winter. I know how to handle it. Enjoy it. But by Christmas time I'll be with my Italian girlfriend in Sardinia, an island in the Mediterranean Sea about 100 miles off the Italian boot. I'll stay until March. Ah, what a life. One day at a time. With every day being special. --Jim Broede

We're an ignorant people.

I've been reading about the backlash over the Wall Street bailout. Looked at one time that it was gonna cost taxpayers $700 billion. But it turns out that Wall Street has returned almost all of it. Only $50 billion to go. So it's not been all that costly. And economists speculate that without the bailout, the nation would have been plunged into another Great Depression. So the government intervention was good, I suppose. We don't look at it in practical terms. We're just plain pissed because government stepped in and bailed out Wall Street. We don't ponder what would have happened if government hadn't stepped in. So we're gonna punish government officials who voted for the bailout. Even though in the long run such socialist intervention may have saved taxpayers considerable money. But that's the nature of life. Yes, we'd cut off our noses to spite our faces. We despise socialism merely because we've been taught to not like it. When really, we don't even understand what socialism is. We Americans are an ignorant people. --Jim Broede

One love is all I can handle.

I have so very many people in my life. And that makes it hard, if not impossible, to give 'em all the attention they deserve. So I have to pick and choose. My true love deserves most of my attention. Some days, almost all, of my attention. That means I ignore others. For which I apologize. That's one of the realities of life. I can't be all things to all people. Not that I'd want to be. That would make me feel overwhelmed. I suspect that god must feel overwhelmed. Unless, of course, he does as I do. Picks and chooses. My true love comes first and foremost. And I suppose that's all right. Because I'm human, and not god. I have my limits. I find it virtually impossible to love all of humanity. One love is all I can handle at any given moment. --Jim Broede

My way: One thought at a time.

I have an enormous number of thoughts in a single day. So many, that it's hard keeping track. Unless I record the thoughts. In writing. For instance, this morning I've had a flood of thoughts. And it's hard for me to remember what I was thinking four or five thoughts ago. Because my mind has become occupied with my current thought. When I'm focused on a thought I tend to cleanse my mind of extraneous thoughts. I clear the track. And essentially create a one-track mind. I don't know if that's a good thing. Or a bad thing. It just is. It's the way I operate. If I'm talking to someone, I try to give him/her my full attention. But sometimes I catch myself drifting off. Thinking about an unrelated topic. And then I tell myself I have to pick and choose. I can handle only one thing/thought at a time. That is, if I want to be true to myself. And true to others. --Jim Broede

Able to connect to a loved one.

I suspect that many of us don't stop to reflect on life. But I do. On a daily basis. Often in this blog. I try to think about meaningful stuff. On what I should be savoring. Today. That's far better than going through the motions of life. If I'm not particulary happy or inspired, I ask myself, what can I do to light up my life? Usually, the answer is to focus on my love life. On my love relationship. There's no better feeling than being in love. And healthy. Can't ask for much more than that. I encounter people who seem to think they don't deserve to be happy. So they drift into a state of depression. Unhappiness. Well, I deserve to be happy. I've earned it. By just being alive. And cognizant. Aware. There's nothing I'd rather be than a living being. Able to connect to a loved one. --Jim Broede

I'll be happy no matter what.

Economic conditions in the USA could be far worse. And they will be. In the next two years. Because the mood of the electorate seems to be to return political power to the Republicans. That means the economy will go from bad to worse. But so be it. Americans are stupid when it comes to figuring things out. They don't stop to analyze why the economy is bad. Because the government-sponsored stimulus was inadequate. But at least it was a stimulus to some degree. Under Republicans, there would have been absolutely no stimulus. Unemployment would be at maybe 12 percent, instead of at just under 10 percent. And once Republicans take control of Congress, rest assured, there will be no stimulus. We'll sink deeper and deeper into the economic morass. And maybe by then, the electorate will wise up. And in 2012 the Democrats will be returned to power. With a mandate to stimulate the hell out of the economy. To create jobs like we've never created 'em before. Maybe even socialists will be looked upon with favor. That would make me happy. But hey, what the heck. I'll be happy as long as I'm in love. No matter the state of politics and the economy. --Jim Broede

Sunday, October 24, 2010

I think she was impressed.

I used to allow little things to annoy me. I wanted everything in my life to go just right. For everything to fall into place. In accord with my wishes, my desires. And if one thing went awry, I felt that my perfect day had ended. And that I was no longer entitled to enjoy the day. But that was many years ago. Since then I've reformed. I allow for blemishes on my day. In fact, I can't remember a day when everything went right. Maybe there never was such a day. So I have learned to accept imperfections. No sense in getting upset. Now I see others with my former affliction. I tell them of my experience. That I'm much happier since I learned acceptance. And that makes me an easier guy to live with. Really, a nicer and more compassionate guy. Easy-going. I marvel at how I handled myself on my most recent vacation this past summer. In Iceland and Germany. With my Italian girlfriend. Indeed, some things went wrong. But I didn't let it faze me for more than a few minutes. Instead, I stayed relatively calm. And found solutions. Fixed things. I think my girlfriend was impressed. If not, she should be. --Jim Broede

I'm capable of virtually anything.

I love to brood. That's what I do here most of the time. Yes, I brood. But rarely in a negative vein. Brooding is generally thought of as a lament. But I'm seldom sad. And I really don't feel like lamenting. So I'm redefining the word 'brooding.' To mean whatever it is that I do. And half of the time, darn if I even know. Brooding makes me feel good. It lifts my spirits. Keeps me out of depression. I recommend that people in depression try to work their way out. By brooding. Daily. If they get the same results as me, they'll be happy and no longer in depression. I think I'm even capable of brooding joyfully. Some people will doubt that's possible. But hey, they don't know me. I'm capable of virtually anything. --Jim Broede

I've become me.

I know sons and daughters that have taken good care of their ailing mothers. With Alzheimer's. They became dedicated care-givers. For years and years. Made significant and meaningful sacrifices in their personal lives. To tend to their mothers. I think they are remarkable people. I admire them. However, I have to confess that I probably would not have done the same for my mother. If she had been ill for an extended time. And stricken with Alzheimer's. I loved mother very much. But I would not even have wanted to live with my mother when she was in good health. Again, let me say that I revered and respected and loved my mother. But our personalities conflicted to some extent. She was too much a perfectionist. For me, that is. Everything had to be neat. And in its place. Mother was too controlling. Not only of herself. But of others. Especially within the family. And in the last 20 years of her life, she was depressed to varying degrees. So many negative thoughts. A doomsayer. When my dear Jeanne and I would visit her for a weekend, we'd be exhausted. Just coping and dealing with her depression. We'd be depressed by the time we left. I'd breathe a sigh of relief as we drove away. That's not a very nice thing to say. But hey, I gotta be honest about it. Even having mother living nearby for two years was an ordeal. Having her live with us would have been a disaster. I'm sure Jeanne would have been ill at ease. Albeit, mother and Jeanne liked each other. But a daily dose of mother would have been too much for Jeanne to take. We both would have had a hard time with it. When I left home and went away to college, it was a good thing. Helped me to throw off the yolk of my mother. And allowed me to more easily exercise my independence. But it took me years to break free of some negative traits that I probably picked up from my mother. Of course, I latched on to some of mother's positive traits, too. I am what I am today in part because of my mother's positive influence. And we learned to effectively communicate and understand each other, especially in the late years of her life. I learned to be more forceful than my mother. To do things my own way. Not my mother's way. But still, there was something nice to say about mother's ways. Those ways were good for mother. Mother was being mother. Being herself. And I had no desire to change her. I just didn't want to be too much like her. I wanted to be me. And that's what I've become. Me. --Jim Broede

The small stuff doesn't bother me.

I like sports. As a participant. And a spectator. Because it teaches me how to deal with life. Like a game. You win some. You lose some. And even when you lose, there's something to be gained. It was fun. That is, if one doesn't take the loss too seriously. I used to angusih over losses of my favorite teams. Oh, I'm still disappointed. Like the way my Chicago Bears lost today. By grossly inept play by the Bears quarterback. So many ways the Bears could have won the game. Even with mediocre play. But anyway, I'm already over the loss. Used to be I'd be pissed. Upset about it for the remainder of the day. But now I write it off. After a brief moment of displeasure. And I remind myself that I have better things to do. Such as focus on my love life. And my good health. And my ability to put life in proper perspective. I try not to let the small stuff bother me. --Jim Broede

On becoming a true believer.

Some people I know lack confidence. Sufficient confidence. They have some of it. But not enough. If they had half of the confidence that I have in them, they'd be all right. If they are faced with a little bit of a setback, if something doesn't go quite right, they begin to dissolve. They melt. Into a puddle. And I see it as a lack of confidence. They keep thinking that little things will go from bad to worse. They lose sleep over it. A confident person would see to it. Get the problem fixed one way or another. I could cite 100 examples. Of how they melt. Because they lack confidence. My gawd. They've accomplished so much in life. They've obtained a good education. They've learned so much. They've even come to the rescue of other people in need. They've cultivated successful careers. And still, they lack confidence. That's preposterous. They let little things defeat them. The little intricacies of daily life. That's absurd. They have so many natural talents. And still, they lack confidence. That's why they have headaches. Why they feel nausea. Why they become nervous. Why they have sleepless nights. They are afraid that they won't succeed. That they'll fail. That they can't fully handle life. Because they are feeling overwhelmed. Unsure of themselves. Sure, they've had some failures in life. Maybe even a failed marriage. But we all fail. One way or another. Repeatedly. That's part of life. We're supposed to turn our failures into learning experiences. That's how we gain confidence. We quickly learn that we can overcome. Overcome almost anything. If only we start believing in ourselves. I tell them that I believe in them. Now it's up to them to become their own true believers. --Jim Broede

I take time to become a lover.

My salvation is love. That's the one thing that pulls me through life. Makes me happy. I detest much of what's going on. In society. In the world. But ultimately, I fall in love. With somebody. With something. With life. Really, that's all I need to survive. Interludes of love. Love relieves me of sadness. Makes me feel wonderful. Elated. Thankful that I'm an alive and conscious being. I'm constantly in pursuit of love. Even when I reflect on the gawd-awfulness I see in society and in the world. But there's also the opportunity for love to offset all the badness. I have people I can connect to. People that I love. That reminds me that all is not hopeless. I take time to become a lover. --Jim Broede

Until we rot away.

We play the blame game in America. Republicans blame Democrats. And Democrats blame Republicans. Nothing is our own fault. It's always the other guy's fault. If things ain't going right politically, economically and socially -- well, just elect the other guy. That's what we are being told to do now. But face the truth, folks. It won't do any good. Republicans won't do any better than Democrats. There's a chance they'll do even worse. We'll just make change for change sake. Not to solve problems. The realists amongst us know better. We'll keep blaming each other. Over and over again. Forever. Now in the USA we have candidates running for political office who advocate the violent overthrow of the government. For allegedly becoming too socialistic. Yes, we are making a straw man. And putting the blame on socialists. Or Muslims. Or black people. Pick anyone at random. It's his/her fault. Not our fault. In so many ways, our society has become putrid. Rotten. In the very core. It's shameful. And it's the fault of all of us. And not any of us is willing to take the blame. So, we'll never find a solution. We'll simply languish. Until we rot away. --Jim Broede

We are a hard-hearted people.

The fact that we have relatively high unemployment in the USA is the fault of all of us. Democrats and Republicans alike. Independents, too. You and I. Because we do nothing about it. We sit idly by. And accept it. When really, if we had the will, we could do something about it. We could put everybody back to work. By adopting jobs programs. If we all pitched in. We could afford it. All it would take is a cooperative effort. By the public and private sectors. Yes, where there's a will, there's a way. Let's face the truth. Collectively, we don't care enough. As a society. As a nation. We could solve all of our so-called problems. We could serve the common good. If only we wanted to. Instead, we are basically a society of selfish people. Everybody out for himself. Oh, there are exceptions to the rule. Individually, and even in organized groups, we try to help our fellow human beings. But overall, as a society, as a nation, we are selfish. Because we think too many people don't choose to help themselves. So we rationalize. That it's all right to be selfish. To be hard-hearted. --Jim Broede

Saturday, October 23, 2010

I made it good -- for Jeanne.

Someone asked me today if I thought that the nursing home where Jeanne stayed for the last 38 months of her life was a good nursing home. Depends, I said. If one is moreorless left abandoned in a nursing home, it ain't good. It's good only if the patient has a supplemental care-giver. One who's there virtually every day -- to supplement the care given by the professional staff. For instance, if I hadn't shown up daily, Jeanne would have had one shower a week. Instead of the seven I gave her. And she would have eaten all of her meals in the noise and turmoil of the congregate dining area. But I fed Jeanne lunch and supper in the quiet privacy of her room. So she could focus strictly on dining. Without disturbance. And residents of nursing homes rarely get outdoors. But I saw to it that Jeanne got out for fresh air daily. In her wheelchair. Even in the dead of winter. Wrapped in a thermal sleeping bag. Anyway, we made the nursing home experience work. So it was a good nursing home. Because I saw to it. If I hadn't, it would have been a bad nursing home. --Jim Broede

Masters of the art of killing.

Ah, yes, the senseless and unnecessary war in Iraq has taken a toll of lives. US military logs reveal 109,032 deaths between January 2004 and December last year, including 66,000 civilian fatalities and 3,771 described as 'friendly,' namely British, US and other allied soldiers. Many of us Americans take all this matter-of-factly. Ho-hum. Even with satisfaction. Exacting revenge on the Muslim world for 9/11. We Americans are good at killing. Better at it maybe than any other nation in the world. Because we have the most lethal of weapons. Just think of how many lives we can take in one stroke. Hiroshima. Nagasaki. We are the greatest military power ever. Doesn't matter that our economy is in a shambles. Doesn't matter that we have 40-some million people living in poverty. Many of 'em children. Doesn't matter that we have 50 million Americans without health insurance. Doesn't matter that we have record numbers of unemployed. Doesn't matter that we have a rapidly-deteriorating infrastructure. Doesn't matter that we have an ever-widening gap between the rich and poor. Doesn't matter that our democracy has become a plutocracy, rule by the rich. Still, we Americans are a proud bunch. Because we can boast of spending more on defense and the military than the rest of the world combined. Yes, we Americans may be stupid. But we're tough hombres. And we've mastered the art of killing. --Jim Broede

I don't have the answer.

I'm always trying to make sense of things. To find meaning. To determine if 2 plus 2 actually comes to 4. Often, it doesn't. But that doesn't faze me. I like the idea that I live in a chaotic world. That it's up to me to find meaning. And purpose. Causes me to withdraw. Into myself. Where I can create my own world. By using my imagination. That's how I discovered love. It's a state of mind. One must be a bit crazy. To fall in love. Helps to be creative. Maybe that's why we call god a creator. Because god invented love. And in order to make his point, god had to create life. The likes of me. The likes of you. And he declared that the purpose of it all was to allow every soul to fall in love. With life itself. No limits. But the sad thing is that some of us choose to -- well, you tell me. Why don't we all choose love? I don't have the answer. --Jim Broede

Friday, October 22, 2010

I use my own talk therapy.

I believe in talk therapy. Especially for people in depression. I have nothing against medication. Anti-depressant drugs. Coupled with talk therapy. Anyway, I'm not totally convinced that depression is due to a chemical imbalance. I'll concede that may be part of the problem. But depression also could be triggered by negative thinking. And so if the patient can be persuaded to think more positively, it could make a difference. At least in some cases, it might counter the depression. I know that if I'm in the doldrums, I can work my way out of it, by focusing on something positive in my life. Maybe depressed people need to be reminded that it ain't all bad. Ony half bad. That the glass is half full. Of course, that also could piss off a depressed being. Some of 'em don't want to be told that they can work their way out of a bad mood. I acknowledge it may not be easy. But not impossible. Maybe I'm in no position to understand depression in a meaningful way. Because I'm assuming I've never been clinically depressed. I'd like to think so. Maybe because I don't let myself be depressed. I simply talk to myself. I use my own talk therapy to steer clear of depression. --Jim Broede

So much to savor.

I never cease to be amazed by people who lament over what they don't have. Rather than savor what they do have. For instance, I know people lamenting over the death of an aged parent. They go into a funk. Into depression. When they still have a loving spouse. Someone who can give them comfort and consolation. And they have nice adult children and nice grandchildren. And a nice home. And security. And good health. Sure, it's sad to lose a parent. I lost my father to suicide. At age 38. And my mother to natural causes. At 88. I guess I lamented the loss of my father. When I was 13. But I really didn't lament my mother's death. I didn't even cry. Because she was ready to die. And she had a good and long life. I tried to put it all in perspective. When my dear Jeanne died almost 4 years ago, I grieved. But eventually, I got on with life. Because I had so much to savor. Maybe that's the saving grace in life. So much to savor. --Jim Broede

Sounds like a fair trade.

I never learned all the rules of English grammar. Never wanted to. Because I intended to break the rules. So that I could cultivate my own way of writing. A style that makes me comfortable. I don't want to write like a fine writer. One who obeys the rules. Grammatically correct all the time. Hell with that. I like short sentences. Few words. Maybe even sentences that aren't sentences. Technically. Based on rules of grammar. I like to be stupid. Free to make mistakes. Intentionally. And unintentionally. I don't have to be proper. But I think I've learned how to communicate. Effectively. You should see some of my love letters. The ones that you'll never see. Because they are private. Anyway, I'm trying to learn Italian. I'll never learn it in an effective manner. Because people are trying to teach it to me properly. I don't want that. I want to speak Italian the way I speak English. And that would take years and years and years. More years than I have left. But still, I'm gonna make myself understood. In Italian. Basic. Simple. Italian. Maybe one word at a time. Like a baby. But I'll never speak Italian like an educated adult. Fortunately, my Italian girlfriend teaches English and English literature. She speaks proper English. She knows the rules of grammar. Better than me. So maybe she can teach me proper English. I've yet to master it. Not that I want to. Could be I'm better off just teaching myself. So I don't get too proper. And I'll try to teach her my kind of English. Meanwhile, she can teach me her kind of Italian. Proper Italian. Accent and all. Sounds like a fair trade. --Jim Broede

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Why we are in big trouble.

Where I live, in a small town in Minnesota, the local controversy is building of a round-about, at the main intersection in the downtown. No doubt, it'll improve the traffic flow. But it'll take some getting used to. And like typical Americans, there's a sizeable element in town that wants to stick to the old ways. They don't want change. They prefer that we still travel by horse and buggy. Moreorless. Anyway, I like innovation. Change. I'm more comfortable in Europe than I am in America. Of course, I still like America. I'm gonna start splitting my time between Italy and America. I'm able to appreciate the best of both countries. Actually, I wouldn't mind holding dual citizenship, in the USA and Italy. Maybe even in Germany, too. And Iceland. So many countries in the world that I've taken a liking to. I'm starting to feel like a citizen of the world. I'm not gonna have any difficulty adjusting to the round-about in Forest Lake. Because I've maneuvered on them in other parts of the world. I'm a cosmopolitan. Unfortunately, too many Americans insist on just being American. Rather than worldly. Thinking that the American way is the only way. As for me, I think America does a lot of things right. But also, a fair number of things pig-headedly wrong. Because we Americans tend to be closed-minded. We don't want to adapt. Instead, we want the rest of the world to adapt to us. Maybe that's why we are in big trouble. --Jim Broede

And I'd laugh, too. In glee.

Even when I'm unhappy, I often can find reason to be happy. For instance, I'm unhappy about the state of politics in the USA. I think it's horrible. Idiots running for public office. And sometimes even getting elected. But that makes me happy, in a sense. Knowing that we Americans get what we deserve. If Republicans take control of congress this fall, as some of the pundits and pollsters expect, it will speed up the demise of the capitalist system. Because Republicans will mismanage and make economic conditions worse. Eventually, we'll have a revolution. Because the poor people and downtrodden will finally say enough is enough. And as I see the coming of the revolution, I'll be happy. Even joyous. Maybe even in my lifetime I'll have an opportunity to dance on the grave of American-style capitalism. Maybe there even would be a benefit from having Sarah Palin elected president. To have as our political elite the likes of Dick Armey and Newt Gingrich and Ron Paul and Rush Limbaugh and Ann Coulter and Glenn Beck. Yes, America would become the laughing stock of the world. And I'd laugh, too. In glee. Over the demise of something dirty and rotten. --Jim Broede

I'd rather savor life.

Give it time. The bitterness goes away. Life returns to normal again. Even better than normal. If one learns acceptance. And gets on with life. My Jeanne died almost 4 years ago. I can still talk to her spirit. And I'm still able to fall in love again. And live in Italy with my new love in the winter. And in Minnesota with my new love in the summer. I'm 75. And I've discovered that life is good. Always has been. Even when I didn't know it. But now I know it. I had a very good life. With Jeanne. Before Jeanne. After Jeanne. Look at the big picture. Rather than a sad moment. Overall, life is good. Very good. I have no desire to trade my life for something else. Despite the occasional travails. No bitterness. Because that would just pull me down. I'd rather savor life. --Jim Broede

I'll live in love until my dying day.

Maybe I'm wrong. But it seems to me that there are more religious and political extremists/fanatics populating the Earth today than 30 or 40 years ago. It's possible that I wasn't paying attention in my younger days. Or possibly the media wasn't into keeping us informed. Anyway, there seems to be an uneasiness that pervades. A fear that permeates the land. That we can't trust each other. Because wackos have taken over the world. Just look at the political candidates running in the mid-term elections. I mean, some of 'em are out of their minds. Yet, favored to win or make the races close. With tens and hundreds of thousands of votes. It's downright scary. I suppose it's not any more scary than when Hitler and Stalin and other despots took power. It just seems so. Maybe because modern day despots have found more efficient and deadly ways to exert power and terror. Some day, even a lone lunatic may get his/her hands on a weapon of mass destruction. And cause as much horrific destruction as a vast army. Maybe it means the end of civilization as we know it. I have a feeling that we are gonna have to get used to living in an unfree world. With severe restrictions on what we are allowed to do and where we can go. Just for the sake of security. It's getting so that we have to wear blinders. And block out what's going on in the rest of the world. In order to live happily. I keep doing that. Creating my own little dream world. In which I can live as a romantic idealist, a free-thinker, a liberal and a lover. I'm not gonna surrender. I'm gonna be me. I ain't gonna live in fear. I'm gonna live in love. Until my dying day. --Jim Broede

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

All I can handle.

I know people who need help. Addicts. They are friends, relatives and strangers. But in many instances, I can't get them help. Because they don't want it. Or they're too far away from reality to do anything positive about their situations. So on occasion I write them off. Knowing that they have to bottom out. They have to want help in order to be helped. Maybe I should anguish over their plights. And lose sleep over it. But generally, I don't. I recognize that I can't fix the world. And I can't fix other people. I have my hands full fixing myself and remaining true to myself and to my beloved. Most times, that's all I can handle. --Jim Broede

He ain't gonna miss being angry.

Chicago Cubs pitcher Carlos Zambrano was having a lousy season. Losing games right and left. Every which way. Zambrano also was losing his temper. Often. After a bad outing, he'd take a bat and destroy the water cooler in the Cubs dugout. And he'd get mad at teammates. For making errors. Zambrano was out of control. Finally, the Cubs suspended Zambrano in mid-season and sent him into anger management counseling. Upon his return, Zambrano won eight straight games. Didn't allow more than two runs in a game. Zambrano denies that anger management had anything to do with his about-face on the baseball diamond. Instead, he claims to have found new confidence on the pitching mound. But there's no need for Zambrano to kid himself. Anger management probably would benefit everyone. Makes for a better performance. Makes for a better life. He ain't gonna miss being angry. --Jim Broede

Long live socialism!

Hey, fellow Americans, let's learn to admit that we like socialism. It ain't all that bad. For instance, social security and medicare are socialist programs. And how many of us want to get rid of those entitlements? Oh, maybe a few on the lunatic fringe of the Republican party. But most sane Americans are appreciative of such programs. And when George Bush tried to privatize social security, it met with strong resistance. Thank gawd. As for medicare, anybody who benefits from it (mainly senior citizens) are adamantly in favor of it. Some day, it'll make sense to extend medicare to everybody. Yes, socialized medicine. Just what the doctor ordered. They have it in every other industrialized country in the world. Long live socialism! The humane alternative to capitalism. --Jim Broede

So, what do I care?

Incredible. Here it is Oct. 20 and we haven't had our first frost yet in the Twin Cities area of Minnesota. It's not all that unusual to have a frost in September. And it's almost certain by the first week in October. We had a colder than normal September. But October suddenly became summer, of sorts. We set all-time records for high temperatures. And some days we were more than 20 degrees above normal. If we're experiencing global warming, Minnesota is one of the beneficiaries. But I know better. The cold is coming. So is the snow. But I'm gonna be spending most of the winter in Italy. In Sardinia. In the Mediterranean Sea. So, what do I care? --Jim Broede

The Cubs did the right thing.

Feels good. My Chicago Cubs have finally made the right move. Giving Mike Quade a two-year contract to manage the Cubs. He was named interim manager for the last six weeks of the 2010 season. When manager Lou Piniella left. At the time, the Cubs had lost 20 of their last 25 games, and the Cubs were a sorry bunch. Under Quade, the Cubs found life and ran off a streak of 24-13 to finish the season. The Cubs were lifeless under Piniella. Because Piniella was lifeless. He had become an old man. Going through the motions of managing the ball club. That's too bad. It happens. But the 53-year-old Quade really managed. Even threw batting practice. Mixed with the players. Jazzed them up. Gave them encouragement. Inspired everybody. Veteran players and rookies alike. I've always said that baseball is very much a mind game. You gotta have fun. And you gotta believe. Even teams with less talent can become winners. If they play hard. If they believe in themselves. I have a feeling that the Cubs will be the surprise team in the National League next season. In large part because they picked the right manager. --Jim Broede

One must care about one's self.

Too many care-givers don't take care of themselves. Or so it seems to me. And that ain't good. Because that diminishes their ability to take care of others. I'd encourage care-givers to become a bit more selfish. To get a life. All their own. In the grand scheme of things, that'll make them better care-givers. We all could practice on caring for others by first taking care of ourselves. And too often we don't do that. That especially goes for 24/7 Alzheimer care-givers. They have no time left for themselves. So they lose touch with themselves. They might even become robots. Which, I suppose, is better than having a nervous breakdown. Just a matter of the lesser of two evils. Unfortunately, some care-givers allow themselves to fall out of love. With life itself. And I have found from observation that the best care-givers are the ones that remain in love. With life. They care about themselves. --Jim Broede

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

How to avoid a conniption fit.

The other day, I found myself rushing. In a hurry. Trying to accomplish too much in a short time. I became stressed. And annoyed that I allowed myself to get into such a condition. Used to be that I felt this way several times a week. Before I retired. When I was writing for newspapers. But I thought I had rid myself of this nasty habit. Until my relapse. And I hope that's all it is. A one-time relapse. Really, I've learned to take my time. To not get flustered. And if necessary, to put things off until tomorrow or next week or next month. It's silly to rush through life. Rather than slow down. And savor the life experience. Anyway, I'm resolving not to let it happen again. I think I had the relapse because my friend was throwing a conniption fit. And needed some help. In sort of a hurry. So I responded. By letting the friend influence me in a negative manner. That was a mistake. Instead, I should have influenced the friend in a positive manner -- to slow down. Which is the easiest way to avoid a conniption fit. --Jim Broede

I explore the concept of love.

For almost my entire adult life, I've had faith in at least one other human being. Because I've fallen in love. Twice. That's all it takes. A genuine love relationship. I'm not sure how to define love. But I think this abiding faith in another comes close. From the day I was born, I suspect I've been trying to figure out the meaning of life. Here I was. Plunked down on Earth. Emerging from my mother's womb. And my first thought was, 'What the hell is going on? Who am I? What am I?' I'm still pondering these questions. And I keep coming up with different answers. Maybe because I'm forever evolving. Feeling my way. For the time being, I'm a romantic idealist, a free-thinker, a liberal and a lover. Doesn't mean that I won't be something else tomorrow. But so far, it's this combination of pursuits that makes me comfortable. I'm also a writer. And a thinker. Maybe a stinker, too. Because I like being a devil. But most of all, I think I was blessed with life for the purpose of being an explorer. To explore the concept of love. --Jim Broede

The worship of money.

I think I know what's wrong with the economy. Capitalism. American-style capitalism. It's corrupt. Exploitive. Making the rich richer and the poor poorer. But most Americans seem to think that's a good thing. So we ain't gonna change. We are just gonna hold on to the same old capitalist ways. Americans have this dream. Of getting rich. Of having lots of money. That's the main purpose of life. The belief that money can buy happiness. That it can even buy love. All the essentials of life. That money can even buy power. One can manipulate others. Even government. If only one has money. It's really hard denying any of this stuff. Money does make some people happy. Even though they use the money to make other people unhappy. That's possible, I suppose. Merely by dousing one's conscience. By concluding that inequality is all right. That exploitation is a virtue. And that the real enemy of mankind is socialism. Because it advocates redistribution of wealth. In essence, making the rich less rich and the poor less poor. Seems like a novel concept. The idea of working for the common good rather than the individual good. Which is the theme of many religions. But there seems to be one dominant religion that turns such a concept on its head. It's called capitalism. The worship of money. --Jim Broede

Monday, October 18, 2010

No panic when I'm in love.

I know people that panic. That imagine catastrophes are gonna happen. Because things don't go right in their lives. Instead of staying calm, they get rattled. They don't stop to think. Don't stop to find solutions to their problems. They assume that the worst is gonna happen. And that they can't do anything about it. Yes, they become defeatist. Kind of hard to be with these people. Because they'll reject my optimism. They call me a Pollyanna. Suggesting that I'm naive. That I don't have a good grasp of reality. And that if I did, I'd panic, too. But that ain't so. I've encountered many problems, many dilemmas in my days. Most of 'em got solved satisfactorily. Those that didn't -- well, they weren't life and death matters. So I accepted the outcomes. And got on with life. Funny thing about me. In some matters, such as love, I take great risk. I'll do almost anything for the sake of love. Because I'm a romantic. I'm even willing to make a fool of myself. Maybe that's one reason why I never panic. I'm not afraid to be a fool. Yes, a fool in love. Another thing. When I'm in love, I'm happy. And tend to feel secure. So if something goes awry in my life, I'm able to take it in stride. Without panicking. Because I have better things to do. Such as focusing on my love interest. Love always takes priority. --Jim Broede

That's fantastic. I'm fantastic.

I'd like to see a moratorium on public opinion polls. On virtually any and every subject. Because I've noticed that almost all the time people have negative opinions. About everything. Especially anything having to do with public figures and public policies. Barack Obama's popularity is on the wane. It was 62 percent when he took office two years ago. Now it's down to 45 percent. But even at that, the president’s popularity eclipses that of Congress, the news media, the banks and other forces in American life. Apparently, we Americans have lost faith in everything. And little wonder. After eight years of George Bush. And policies that have driven the economy to the verge of the worst collapse since the Great Depression. And much of the blame for all this can be heaped, too, on private entrepeneurs and the banking system and the exploitive nature of the American capitalist system. Sounds to me like society is in a collective funk. A state of mental and emotional depression. All one has to do is read the poll results. Sometimes I feel I'm the only human being left on Earth who isn't depressed. That makes me unique. Distinctive. For one thing, I'd be happy to see the death of the American capitalist system. I'd dance on the grave. And I'd celebrate the rise of socialism. But I'm also happy because I actually feel as if I'm in love. With someone. And with life. If that makes me crazy -- well, then thank gawd. That's what I wanna be. Crazy as a loon. Crazy enough to love life even if I have to put up with the gawd-awful American capitalist system and polls that show everyone being unhappy. And maybe even suicidal. Except me. Yes, I may be the only happy person left on Earth. That's fantastic. I'm fantastic. --Jim Broede

Sunday, October 17, 2010

I'd make a TV star of Obama.

I'd like to see Barack Obama use the bully pulpit several times a week. To have his own show on television. Maybe four nights a week. He could give David Letterman and Jay Leno serious competition. Obama could bring guests onto his show. But mostly, I'd want him to talk about political, economic and social issues. Imagine that. Four hours a week of Barack Obama. I'd watch the show. Without miss. It'd be educational. And entertaining. I want Obama to be our leader. But to do this, he has to find better ways to lead. Obama has been too hidden away in the White House. He's got to get out. And let us see him. I think that one hour a night, Mondays through Thursdays, isn't asking for too much. It could make Obama the most popular president we've ever had. He might even put Letterman and Leno out of business. --Jim Broede

I'm thanking my lucky stars.

Some of us are lucky. Some aren't. Much of life, it seems to me, is a matter of luck. Being in the right place at the right time. Maybe we make our own luck. But not always. Luck can just fall out of the sky. The circumstances in which we are born may be a matter of luck. And our genes. Some of us have good genes. Others, not so good. We all have a combination of good luck and bad luck. But some of us have far more good luck than bad luck. I generally consider myself a lucky guy. Especially when it comes to love connections. In that regard, I've been blessed. Not once. But twice. I've had some bad luck, too. But I accept it. Because none of it has been tragic. Albeit, I have lost loved ones. But that's to be expected. Especially if one is lucky enough to live to a ripe old age. Anyway, I'm thanking my lucky stars. --Jim Broede

I'll walk & think as I please.

I think religion is wishful thinking. And that wishful thinking is good. I consider myself a wishful thinker. But not particularly religious. I'm more spiritual than religious. I was brought up as a Christian. But I'm not a Christian. Because I'm too independent to be a Christian or for that matter to be a member of any organized religion. I'm a free spirit, of sorts. A free-thinker. I believe in the concept of god. But I can't fully define god. God is moreorless an abstract thought. A wishful thought. I believe in an afterlife. Because I want to believe. I wish to believe. Because I am a romantic. And that's the romantic thing to do. I certainly believe in love. And maybe that's what god is. Pure love. Unconditional love. So in addition to being a free-thinker, I'm trying to be a lover. I think that would please the god of love. Meanwhile, I'm leery of organized religions because they have too many members. Professing pretty much the same credo. As if mankind must be turned into robots. Everybody thinking the same thing. Having the exact same wishes. No, that's alien to me. I find that hard to accept. I don't like to walk in lockstep. I'll walk as I please. Or not walk at all. --Jim Broede

Spirits can choose to be free.

I'm assuming our spirits leave our bodies the moment we experience physical death. In other words, we no longer are physical beings. We die physically. But not spiritually. Because the spirit is indestructible. Or maybe not. Maybe one can choose to obliterate one's spirit. And go into nothingness. But the body is only a vessel that contains our spirit. Our soul, so to speak. I assume that loved ones' spirits/souls are now cavorting with each other. In a timeless dimension. And that they are far more happier than we physical beings. Because they are free of their physical restraints. Free as free can be. Now I think this is a very romantic concept. But I also think it is quite Catholic/Protestant/religious. Of course, I'm not a member of an organized religious faith. Because they generally don't know what they believe. That's why members of organized religions, for instance, need an edict from a pope or a cardinal or a bishop or a scholar to tell them what to believe. Some modern day religious fanatics are incapable of thinking for themselves. Because they think that would be sinful. That god doesn't want anyone to think for themselves. Which I think is preposterous. But to each his/her own. Anyway, there's no reason to get upset if the empty corpses of one's loved ones are not in direct physical contact with each other. Because they are mere empty containers. Wouldn't make any difference if their dead bodies were 10,000 miles apart. Or turned to ashes or dust. Because their spirits are together. Yes, resurrected. Or so I presume. Because spirits are free to move about. Not only in proximity of Mother Earth. But anywhere in the cosmos. In the entirety of creation. They may even be cavorting with each other in another galaxy. In true Paradise. Yes, we are free to believe what we want to believe. Because inside our sometimes beautuful and voluptuous carcasses we have a free spirit. That is, if we allow it to be free. --Jim Broede

Maybe ignorance is bliss.

I like being intimate. In a sense, intimacy sets me free. Intimacy is a form of honesty. One goes naked. One doesn't hide one's feelings. I'm trying to practice honesty. I don't know if I always succeed. In fact, I don't. Because maybe I don't even know what honesty/intimacy is. I'm more an explorer. Not even knowing what I'm looking for. Sometimes, I'm surprised. By what I see. What I find. And I don't even understand what it is. I won't ever fully figure things out. It'd be nice if I always knew right from wrong. But I'm never gonna fully fathom the wonders of life. And love. And maybe that's just as well. Could be that ignorance is bliss. --Jim Broede

Saturday, October 16, 2010

I'm a master problem solver.

I like being a problem solver. Coming to the aid of friends. To solve problems. Often, all it takes are some positive suggestions. A listing of possible options for dealing with a problem. Somtimes, I just have to be a good listener. And that allows people to solve their own problems. By just talking things out. To a friend. I also have offered to throw a pity party for a friend. Normally, I don't do that. Because I'm generally opposed to pity. But for a special friend, I'll make an exception. Really, I gotta do almost anything for a very special friend. That's what real friends do, isn't it? Almost anything. In an act of friendship and love. As for problems, I'm of the mind that virtually all problems have solutions. It just takes a little thinking and a little searching to find one. I may hang up a shingle outside my door. Proclaiming that I'm a master problem solver. --Jim Broede

Bring back the Pony Express.

So, you think the U.S. Postal Service is bad. Could be. But the U.S. does a darn good job compared to the gawd-awful Italians. The old American pony express did better than the Italians. I wanted to get a special letter containing a gift check to my girlfriend in Italy. By a particular date. Five days hence. So I went to my post office in Minnesota. Mailed the letter special delivery. With guaranteed delivery in 3 to 5 days. Paid postage totalling $28.95. It was posted Oct. 8. Today is Oct. 16. We're still waiting for delivery. The letter arrived in Italy Oct. 13, on the fifth day. And the U.S. postal authorities told me that's all they guaranteed. Arrival in Italy within 5 days. Then it's up to the Italians to deliver the letter. To the addressee. And that may take forever and a day. Because Italians take their good-natured time. They have a bureaucratic set up. My letter is being processed through customs. Albeit, it's only a letter. And it is moving at slower than a snail's pace. Somewhere in Milan. When it needs to end up on the island of Sardinia. And then it will be dispatched to a private courier. For delivery gawd knows when. And since it's special delivery, my girlfriend has to sign for it. So if she's not home, the letter may be stored away in some private courier archive. Never to be seen again. Of course, I'm in daily touch with my girlfriend. By audio-video connection. On Skype. Through the Internet. But I'm a romantic. I wanted something delivered the old-fashioned way. By postal mail. Oh, I wish we still had the pony express. Those were the good old days. When guaranteed delivery meant something. --Jim Broede

Friday, October 15, 2010

Helps to stir sweet dreams.

When something bothers or upsets me, I generally try to focus on something else. Something more pleasant. That's why I go out and exercise. Gets my mind off my troubled mind. And onto my physical being. Exercise relaxes my body. And a relaxed body tends to relax the mind. Works for me. Almost every time. Like a charm. Another thing that works. I remind myself that I'm in a loving relationship. That's usually my last thought before I fall asleep at night. Helps to stir sweet dreams. --Jim Broede

I am a human being.

I want to tell people in the bureaucracy that I am a human being. And that I want to be treated like a human being. That I have an inherent right to be treated as a human being. And that I have come to them because I have a problem. And that I don't deserve to be bogged down in the bureaucracy. That I am Jim Broede. A real being. With feelings. With needs. And that every human being is special. And therefore, every human being should be treated as special. I don't care what level of bureaucracy I am in. It could be customs. Or the postal authority. Or a private courier. Or an attorney. Or furniture movers. Or a bank. Makes no difference. I am to be treated as a full-fledged human being. I am to be treated decently. And with respect. And that I intend to treat bureaucrats with decency and respect. As human beings. That it's a two-way street. So let's start. Right now. I'll tell them I have a problem. And that I need their help in getting it solved. And it hasn't been solved up to this point. I am caught up in a bureaucratic mess. In a bureaucratic hell. And that it's time that the bureaucracy became more humane. Because we're all dealing with human beings. Real people. --Jim

A lesson I learned.

When Jeanne was in the nursing home for 38 months, I found time to come home. And found solitude. So that I could recuperate and handle the next day. Almost as if I were on vacation for a few hours. I got so that I enjoyed being Jeanne's care-giver. Maybe because I was able to get away, so to speak. Every day. Inside my head. Inside my being. Getting away is a mental state. One must work at it. Mind over matter. Maybe it's impossible if one is a 24/7 care-giver. I didn't accomplish such a feat when I was 24/7. Only when I became an 8-10 hour-a-day care-giver. One has to learn to make time for one'e self. To, in a sense, take a daily vacation. A daily break. Then life begins to make sense again. I learned that lesson when I was an Alzheimer care-giver. And I still apply it today. --Jim Broede

Keep the faith. We shall overcome.

After all these years, we (the USA) are gonna work out a deal with the Taliban in Afghanistan. The war really was unnecessary. That pretty much goes for any and every war. But still, we persist. We wage senseless war after senseless war. We humans are fallible. Very fallible. We make mistake after mistake after mistake. And when it comes to war, we never learn. We assume that wars are necessary. That we must kill each other. Make each other miserable. Exploit each other. Hate each other. Even amongst ourselves, we wage continuous wars. Between the Republicans and Democrats. The whites and the blacks. One ethnic group against another ethnic group. Even men and women wage war with each other. Little wonder that thousands of marriages break up. Daily. Often, it's a form of war. A mutual hatred and distrust. And here I am today. Keeping my head above the morass. I'm in love. And I tell my kindred soul to not worry. We'll survive. We shall overcome. Keep the faith. --Jim Broede

Thursday, October 14, 2010

I consider myself blessed.

I like being me. There's nobody else I'd rather be. I suppose I could be a better human being. But I also recognize that I'll never achieve perfection. However, I won't stop striving to become better. I'm comfortable with myself. Knowing that I'm a romantic idealist, a free-thinker, a liberal and a lover. I'm also a troublemaker. Yes, I like to stir things up. And I'm trying to become a citizen of the world. Not merely an American. I want to feel at home no matter where I am. My loyalty is to other human beings. Not to a country per se. I'm grateful that I was born. And that I've evolved into an alive and conscious being. Able to pursue happiness. And able to connect with another unique living soul. In a loving way. I have a desire to live forever. And maybe I will. In a spiritual realm. But if not, I'm appreciative of having lived in this instant in time and space. I consider myself blessed. --Jim Broede

A worthy consolation.

I'm gonna move to Italy for the winter. And that's gonna be a big change for me. I'll be living on an island in the Mediterranean Sea. With my Italian girlfriend. I'll think of it as Paradise. In her town, she's seen snow only once in a lifetime. But hey, I'll make do without snow for the first time since I lived in Florida back in the 1960s. Anyway, I won't feel deprived. Because I'll escape America and a sad state of politics. Unfortunately, I may be entering an even sadder state of politics. In Italy. Where a buffoon, Silvio Berlusconi, is the prime minister. But still, I tell my girlfriend that the reign of Berlusconi can't be any worse than the 8 years we Americans had to put up with George Bush. She tells me that's not so. That Berlusconi is worse. We'll see. Maybe I can't escape the world's worst politicians. But I'll make the best of it. With my sweet love. That's a worthy consolation. --Jim Broede

Too stupid to know better.

This upcoming national election is fixed. Pre-determined. By a misinformation blitz. Paid political ads by conservatives. And big corporations. By Republicans. And Republican sympathizers. And because of a listless effort at rebuttal from Democrats and liberals. We are allowing our nation to be taken over once again by the very people that led us into two terrible immoral and costly wars and left our economy in a shambles. Yes, the Republicans are telling us it's all the fault of Democrats and socialists and a gawd damn black president. And to prove that we are a nation composed largely of idiots, we'll buy into the scam. And believe everything we're being told by the scam artists. Yes, we are about to sell out our nation. Because we are too stupid to know better. --Jim Broede

The making of a racist society.

I am more convinced than ever that we have a racist society in America. Doesn't necessarily mean that most of us our racists. Only that a big number of us are capable of being sympathizers of the Ku Klux Klan. And maybe even of the Nazis. And we would have been comfortable living in the South Africa of a generation ago. I sense that there's an underlying hatred of Barack Obama in America. Not necessarily expressed by a majority. But by a minority that can sway an election and make life difficult for Obama and anyone who isn't white. People will say they dislike or despise and even hate Obama because of his political stands or because they doubt that he was even born in America. But the real reason is his blackness. Even though it's a light shade. After all, he had a white mother. Only a black father. But that makes him persona non grata with white racists. They fume that this man made it all the way to the White House. Which really is a credit to the non-racists amongst us. Decent people may even be a majority in the USA. But many of us too often stay home on election day. And we allow racists and lunatic fringe Republicans to carry the day. And that's what makes us a racist society. --Jim Broede

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

How to catch the nitwit vote.

Maybe Barack Obama is too much the professor. He should be teaching philosophy or political science at a university. Not serving as president of the United States. I have long thought that philosophers would make great presidents. But Obama is proving me wrong. He doesn't have the meanness and cheating moxie that makes for an effective politician. He's far too nice. Too honest. Too professorial. Ordinary people find it difficult to relate to philosophers and professors and honest souls. They speak over the heads of most people. In order to be a success in politics, one must talk like a nitwit/Republican. And be a shyster. That's a sure-fire way to catch the nitwit vote. --Jim Broede

For being too competent & black.

Democrats, Obama and liberals have right on their side. But they don't know how to play politics mean and dirty. In essence, they don't know how to defend themselves. And sell their ideas to the electorate. They need to find new forms of expression. By talking in persuasive ways. To people that are generally quite stupid. Republicans are the masters of selling a bill of goods. They really have nothing to say. Except for a few platitudes. And a mish-mash of meaningless words. But they know how to bamboozle stupid people into thinking that Republicans will magically save America. When really, they'll destroy America by making the rich richer and the poor poorer. But the poor and middle classes have been told by Republicans that's the true American way. And that the patriotic thing to do is elect Republicans and consider impeaching Barack Obama. For being too competent and black. --Jim Broede

I'm willing to become a worrier.

I have friends and acquaintances who tend to worry far too much. So I've decided to come to their aid. I'll ask them to prepare a list of things they intend to worry about. Then we can review the list. And determine if it's really worth worrying about so many things. If the answer is 'yes,' then I will volunteer to become his/her designated worrier. As an act of friendship and love. The thing about me is that I can worry without really taking it too seriously. I've made worrying a pleasant and relaxing art form. Nobody gets hurt. And I don't even lose sleep. And I save my friends lots of anguish. --Jim Broede

I'm a good psychotherapist.

Maybe I've avoided depression because I practice psychotherapy. Virtually every day. I talk to myself. I analyze myself. In a sense, I treat myself daily. I try to understand what's going on inside me. And if I don't like it, I adjust. If I'm going negative, for instance, I steer onto a more positive channel. I discipline myself. I'm not saying this would work for others. But it works for me. Sure, I lose it sometimes. I become downbeat. Sad. Annoyed. Even angry. But I deal with the negativity quickly. And put it into perspective. And if there's a problem, I try to solve it. Only then will I be at ease. And it gives me satisfaction. Knowing that I can find solutions. Often, I can choose from multiple alternatives. I know that I'm supposed to be a depressed being. Because my father, my mother, my sister and my brother all grappled with depression. Like it's in the family genes. Maybe I was adopted. And mom and dad never told me. But more likely, I've found an effective way to deal with potential depression. By becoming a good psychotherapist. --Jim Broede

Makes for a good feeling. Now.

I'm amazed by the people who refuse to live today. Because they are waiting for tomorrow or next week or next year. Yes, waiting for the future. As if today isn't worth living. Because tomorrow will be so much better. Well, I don't buy into that. Haven't for a number of years. Because there's no guarantee that there will be a tomorrow. Oh, I'm healthy. And I'm an optimist. So I assume there'll be many tomorrows. But just in case, I'd rather play it safe. And make the most of today. Savoring it to the fullest. I'm doing that right now. Reflecting on life. As it stands today. Reminding myself that I am happy. And in love. Makes for a good feeling. At this very moment. --Jim Broede

One must want...with passion.

I've been cautioned by a friend to not talk about depression. Here in my blog. That people don't like to be reminded that maybe they are in depression. And then I come along and tell them they don't have to be in depression. That they have a choice. And they counter that they don't have a choice. That they are condemned to depression. Maybe because of a chemical or hormonal imbalance. Or just because... Yes, I'm of the mind that one can talk one's way out of depression. With psychotherapy. By probing one's depths. One can become one's own and best psychotherapist. By talking to one's self. By getting to know one's soul. One's self. Yes, that's the best therapy of all. Believing in one's self. I've talked to people on the verge of suicide. Because of depression. They don't want to live any more. They cannot stand the despair. The hopelessness. I talked to one the other night. He's hooked on drugs. And says that's the only thing that makes him happy. But he sounded more in despair than happy. There was no reasoning with him. I told him to call back. When he's sober. But he won't. His life has jettisoned out of control. Because he has lost his way. He doesn't know how to pursue happiness. I don't know if it can be taught. Maybe you either have it. Or you don't. I suspect that one must really want happiness. With a passion. Otherwise, it will remain elusive forever. --Jim Broede

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Bullshit causes brain damage.

I want truth in labeling. And let's start with the Republican Party. The truthful label would be the Bullshit Party. Republicans are so full of bullshit, that if collected, it could fertilize every farm field in the USA and increase our agricultural production enough to feed the entire world. But that won't happen. Because the Republicans collect their own bullshit and apparently eat it. Because I see bullshit coming directly out of their mouths. The stench is awful. And the scene is gross. But the thing that bothers me more than anything are polls showing that a majority of Americans are buying the Republican bullshit. They think that the Democrats are responsible for economic and political mess inherited from eight years of the George Bush Administration. Because that's what the Republican bullshiters tell 'em. How can people be so dumb? Well, I think it's someting in the bullshit. A magic ingredient. Guess all it takes is a whiff of bullshit. And it causes irreparable damage to the brain. --Jim Broede