I am feeling like a Sardinian.

When I travel, I hardly ever get fazed. I expect some things to go wrong. And I take it all in stride. Even when my checked bag with most of my essentials gets missent to Sicily, when it's supposed to be in Sardinia. Because of inept Italian baggage handlers. Years ago, that would have greatly annoyed me. Could have ruined my day. Or my whole week. But I am a happy camper these days. Because I have arrived in Paradise, the land of my true love. I count my blessings. The Italians have ways of correcting their dumb-headed ways. With compensation of 50 euros a day until my bag arrives. That is supposed to cover the personal inconvenience. For which I am grateful. And the lost and found specialist at the airport is apologetic and accommodating. He welcomes me to Sardinia. And he approves of me having a Sardinian girlfriend. He says that I am, indeed, a good romantic idealist. In the grand Italian tradition. And that I deserve to be an honorary Italian. Anyway, the experience fortifies my belief that from every bad event springs a good event or two. God, in his infinite wisdom, is teaching me to be an eternal optimist. To be happy that I am in Italy and on a wonderful island in the Mediterranean Sea. And not just for a few days. But well into March. I am beginning to feel more Sardinian than American. Lost bag and all. --Jim Broede