Life on the cheap.

I have a feeling that the cost of living may be less here in Sardinia than in the USA. So far, it’s based on anecdotal evidence. I’ll have a better idea after being here for three months, I’m sure. Seems to me Sardinians spend less here than I do when I’m living in Minnesota. Maybe it’s more a case that people here work for lower wages. Therefore, services don’t cost as much. A repairman was in today, to fix a few things around my friend’s house. And the bill was considerably less than I’d pay back at home. Now someone is building shelves in a storage room. He seems to be taking his good-natured time. But in the end, I’m guessing the bill will be less than in the states. Maybe substantially. Also, many of the products in grocery stores are cheaper here. Same goes for a cup of coffee at the snack bars. And the coffee is much better. The regular coffee is espresso. Which puts regular American coffee to shame. As for air fares to other cities in Europe, they are advertised as cheaper than the ones I get traveling in the United States. Gasoline prices are higher here. But the vast majority of people drive economy cars, with substantially more mileage efficiency. And I see more bicycles and motorcycles. And good mass transit. And oh, another thing. I’m able to stay here rent free. Another advantage of having an Italian girlfriend. She has a good deal, too, when she comes to Minnesota. Rent-free living. –Jim Broede

Trying to warm up my heart.

I don’t like to anguish over personal problems. Or for that matter, over virtually any problem. I prefer getting directly to solutions. Some prefer starting with pity parties. They’d like me to tell ‘em, ‘You poor, pathetic soul. I feel so very sorry for you. Come lean on my shoulder and have a good cry.’ Instead, I tend to say, ‘Get over it. Things ain’t all that bad. We can solve the problem. No need to cry.’ Seems to me that’s the best way to alleviate distress. I hate feeling sorry for myself. Because that’s an indication that I’m not coping adequately with life. I generally apply the same criteria to other people. Encourage them to not feel sorry for themselves. To get on with life. Yes, that might make me seem a little cold-hearted. But it works for me. That’s the way I treat myself. Cold-heartedly. But maybe I’m learning to make concessions for other people. I’m trying to warm up my heart. Just a little bit. Especially for my friends. –Jim Broede

Looking and listening, too.

Try it sometime. Sit down. Close your eyes. And listen. I did it the other day. In an empty outdoor amphitheater yesterday. Near the City Center, in Carbonia, in Sardinia. I heard one sound after another. The traffic noise. A honking horn. A barking dog in the far distance. Trickle of water from a fountain. Chatter. I wished to hear the chirp of a bird. But didn’t. But I heard so much that I wouldn’t have heard. If I hadn’t consciously listened. Anyway, that was enough to awaken an awareness in me. On the way home, I opened my eyes. I saw vivid details I hadn’t seen before. Because now I was looking as well as listening. –Jim Broede

Bringing the outdoors indoors.

I am used to bringing the outdoors indoors. Into my home. With big picture windows. With sliding glass doors. With mirrors that reflect the trees and the lake. I suspect that’s largely the American way. And I like it. But I sense that here in Carbonia in Sardinia, that too much of the outdoors is kept outdoors. It’s not brought so much into the interior of homes. There are smaller and fewer windows. Oh, the interiors may be colorful. Nice warm colors. And pastels. All very comfortable. And homey. And many of the upper crust homes are hidden behind gates and high fences. And some windows have bars. Not so much like jail bars. Because there are nice-looking decorative bars. But still, bars are bars are bars. Meant to shut something out. Albeit, these are touted as security measures. Maybe it’s that Carbonia is located inland. Away from the Mediterranean seacoasts. There I tend to see far more openness. The outdoors coming indoors. Maybe, too, it has something to do with the way Carbonia was formed in the 1930s. As a coal mining town. Mainly to house 12,000 miners. I wonder if miners are used to being enclosed. I’d rather think they need to come home to living quarters that are bright and airy. Full of the sunshine found outdoors. –Jim Broede

Always turning things around.

I’m thinking that life is largely mind over matter. One has to learn to be optimistic. To expect success. In virtually every endeavor. Sure, there’ll be failures along the way. But the optimist thinks of those failures as learning experiences. And if I fail time and time again – well, that’s the way to fill one’s life with learning experiences. Sometimes, it takes an awful long time to learn. Heck, I need multiple lifetimes to learn even a small percentage of everything that I need to know. Just to survive. Amazing that I have survived this long. Some 75 years. Never thought I’d do it. Even though I’m basically an optimist. I’m surrounded by people who think that if something can go wrong, it’ll go wrong. So sure enough, it goes wrong. On a daily basis. Yes, they set themselves up for failure. Automatic failure. I refuse to do that. I sort of failed yesterday and the day before that. And come to think of it, I’ve sort of failed every day of my life. Every night, too. But please note, I say ‘sort of failed.’ It’s never been total failure. That’s my saving grace. I have never conceded that failure really is failure. Because I’m always in the process of turning things around. –Jim Broede

Makes me un-American, I suppose.

I could more or less let the world pass by. Ignoring world goings-on. And live quietly and placidly in a place such as Sardinia. Of course, it helps to not know the language. If I turn on the TV or radio, I’m gonna hear mostly Italian. Oh, I can take to my computer and the Internet and learn stuff that way. In English. But many days here in Sardinia I have better things to do. So I ignore the world happenings. Unless I decide to call up the New York Times and Chicago Tribune. Then I merely glance at the news. Rather than digest it thoroughly. I don’t allow American politics to bother me anymore. I’ve managed to distance myself. And I have no clue of what’s happening in my home state, Minnesota, or my home city, Forest Lake. And I don’t care. I pay attention to what’s happening in Carbonia in Sardinia. Out of curiosity. Me being there. And because the city of 30,000 has a history of attracting and revering socialists and communists. Better that than American-style capitalists and American political parties. I still have a little interest in my Chicago sports teams, the baseball Cubs and the football Bears. I check the scores. And I’m happy that the Bears have clinched a play-off spot. I don’t miss watching the games. I can live with that. Even if the Bears make it to the Super Bowl. I’m getting so I’d rather watch soccer and the World Cup. Makes me un-American, I suppose. –Jim Broede

Give him credit.

I am eating well in Sardinia. Mostly pasta and Mediterranean fare. And the nice thing about it, I’m not gaining weight. I’m holding steady after two weeks. Maybe because I am exercising and eating in moderation. But I do miss an occasional German-style meal. Relatively heavy food. But I’m gonna break down and cook a German meal one of these days. Probably over the protest of my Italian girlfriend. She promotes everything Italian. Maybe with the exception of politician and prime minister Silvio Berlusconi. He’s despised in this Sardinian household. I am suggesting that we American liberals would gladly trade a George Bush for two Berlusconis. And we Americans probably would come out the winner in such a deal. Albeit, Berlusconi is a pretty bad character. But he can’t be as bad as Bush. Berlusconi also lives better than Bush. Because he has a villa in Sardinia. Give him credit. He knows Paradise when he sees it. –Jim Broede

I'll keep discovering Paradise.

Clint Eastwood discovered Sardinia long before I did. When he acted in the so-called spaghetti westerns at the beginning of his film career. I’d like to see those movies again. Because many of the scenes were shot in Sardinia, an Italian island state in the Mediterranean Sea. And I can see why. Much of the topography is similar to the mountainous southwest of the USA. I’m in Sardinia for the winter. And at times I feel I’m traveling in the American wild west. Through canyons. And past cacti. I almost expect to see cowboys. And Eastwood. But I’m seeing something far better. The very real Sardinia. One of the nicest, neatest places on Earth. A combination of beautiful seashores, mountains and rolling plains and hills. And plenty of greenery. I’ll be here for only three months. But I plan to come back. Winter after winter. So I can keep discovering Paradise. –Jim Broede

Something to learn every day.

I was introduced to a singer today. A well-known singer. From my generation. But I had never heard of the singer before. And that surprised one of my friends. But it really shouldn’t. Because there’s so very much I don’t know. Far more that I don’t know than I know. And I’ll be the first to admit my ignorance. Because I have ignored a whole lot in my life. And I suspect that’s the case with all people. There’s so very much to know. Even if I lived forever I’d never come close to knowing it all. That’s why life is so full of pleasure. Something to learn every day. –Jim Broede

Being one's true self.

I’m not telling people what to do. I am merely telling people what I do. Because it’s right for me. I’m not saying it’s right for other people. Too often people assume that I’m telling ‘em what to do. They assume that’s the height of arrogance. That I’m a preacher. But far from it. I’m for people doing whatever suits ‘em. They don’t have to follow in my tracks. Any more than I have to follow in their tracks. I’m for everyone being an independent being. I’m for live and let live. I have a friend. A very close and dear friend. And she’s different. Certainly anything but my clone. Very much unlike me in many ways. And that’s a big part of the attraction. We give each other balance. Make each other more whole. I want to make her happy. And in order to do that, I may have to try to change her circumstance. So that she has less stress in her life. Which would add to her happiness. The last thing I’d want to do is change her. I want each and every human being to be their true selves. –Jim Broede

I follow my instincts.

I am in no hurry to accomplish anything. Which means, I am accomplishing a whole lot. That might seem like a strange observation. But I have learned not to put pressure on myself. To not make lists. Instead, I try to live by doing whatever comes naturally. If I feel like going for a walk, I go for a walk. If I feel like writing, I write. I don’t feel obligated to think of something to do. I just do. Oh, I could easily think of 100 things to do. And list ‘em all. But then I’d probably feel overwhelmed. Wondering how I’m ever gonna find the time for everything. Anyway, at the end of the day, I usually have a sense of accomplishment. Because I did what I wanted to do. Quite often, unplanned things. Decisions made on the spur of the moment. I merely followed my impulses. My instincts. –Jim Broede

My kind of beautiful.

One thing about me. I never try to live a double or triple life. I try to be me. No matter the setting. No matter the circumstance. Doesn’t matter whether I am with friend or foe. Acquaintance or stranger. Because I am uncomfortable with being anyone but myself. Sure, I’m well aware that people who don’t know me may get the wrong impression. Because I initially say what I think, what I feel. And that may rub some the wrong way. But my attitude generally is – so be it. In a sense, I don’t care what other people think about me. If they don’t like me, that’s their problem. Not mine. I’m aware that the nature of life is to misunderstand each other. No matter what we do. No matter how safe we play it. Part of the problem is that we don’t speak the same language. I’m with people that speak mostly English. But each of us has a different kind of English. We use the same words. But words often have different meanings. Take the word ‘beautiful,’ for instance. One’s ‘beauty’ may be another’s plainness. I see a beautiful woman. Every day. I think she’s the most beautiful woman in the world. Others may disagree with me. But fact of the matter is I know beauty when I see it. My kind of beautiful. –Jim Broede

No other place I'd like to be.

I don’t know why anyone born and raised in Sardinia would want to leave the place. It’s Paradise. In terms of scenic beauty. And with a relatively mild climate. Warm enough for cacti and palm trees. And mountains. And rocky seashores on the Mediterranean Sea. I’m in love with the sea and Sardinia. My only regret is that I don’t speak the native Sardinian language. Or Italian, the predominant language. I have to get by with English and a little broken Italian. Fortunately, my Italian girlfriend speaks fluent English. Maybe better than me. Anyway, I’m counting my blessings. And I’m dreaming of spending winters in Sardinia. Ain’t a bad idea. Because I’m a Minnesotan. And I’d just as soon flee my home state during times of snow and sub-zero temperatures. I haven’t checked today’s weather reports from Minnesota. Because I’ve been busy enjoying the sunny 60-degree day on the cliff-lined Cala Domestica beach on the southwest coast of Sardinia. Only a 20-minute drive of mountainous hair-pin turns from the inland locale where I’m staying. In the lovely city of Carbonia, All I can say is ‘My gawd, life is very good.' There’s no other place on Mother Earth that I’d like to be at the moment. –Jim Broede

Doing the right and proper.

We Americans need a shared sacrifice. And that means higher income taxes. For everyone. But especially for the rich and super rich. It’s ridiculous and immoral that the very rich, the millionaires and billionaires, are getting $800 billion in tax cuts. I have no objection to tax cuts. Maybe even for the rich. Perhaps to the tune of $100 billion. Not $800 billion. Thing is, we Americans think we are entitled to tax-cut after tax-cut. When really we should have tax increase after tax increase. For necessary basic services. For everyone. For the common good. And if that means taking mostly from the rich and giving to the poor, so be it. There’s nothing wrong with the concept of taxing the hell out of the rich. Really, it’s the moral and right thing to do. That shouldn’t be such a difficult axiom to grasp. To get it through our thick heads. If that sounds a bit like socialism – well, then it’s socialism that’s right and proper. –Jim Broede

Long live the protests!

We were stopped in traffic by a protest march last Thursday night on Via Gramsci, the main street in Carbonia in Sardinia. Not sure what the protest was all about. No signs. No placards. More or less a silent march down the middle of the road, brushing against our tiny blue Fiat. And clearing the way for the protestors were two police officers, one in front, the other bringing up the rear. We waited and watched patiently and curiously. Trying to figure out what it was all about. A few days later, we read in the local newspaper that there had been three protests that day. One over rising health care costs, another over alleged inept scheduling of transit buses and trains and still another by students annoyed over education budget cuts. And I thought, ‘Wow! If only we had such daily protests in the USA.’ That’s certainly better than staying at home and sitting on our fat asses. In the city where I live in Minnesota we are far too placid, too lazy, too apathetic. Meanwhile, once again, I am impressed by what I am seeing in Sardinia. An involved citizenry, taking to the streets. –Jim Broede

On keeping my big mouth shut.

It was a relatively quiet Christmas for me. Because I kept my big mouth shut more than usual. And just listened to the phonetic sounds and rhythms of speech. I am in Italy and I have yet to master the language. So I don’t understand everything being said. But still, it’s possible to catch the topic of conversation. So many clues. By terms similar to English. And hand gestures. That gives me opportunity to poke in my nose, if not my mouth. I ask for a translation or the gist of what’s being discussed. And then I add my two euros worth. Of course, if the conversation was totally in English, I’d be unrestrained. I’d butt in and be my usual opinionated self. –Jim Broede

The Italian way. It's pretty neat.

I grew up in a confrontational family. Before and after we siblings went our separate ways. When we occasionally gathered for holidays such as Christmas, it wasn’t always smooth going. We’d argue about almost anything. Past events. Present events. Future events. We’d disagree on political, economic, social and family matters. We’d criticize each other’s way of life. Anything for the sake of rancor. Still, I suppose, there was something nice about it all. If only because it was the Broede way. This Christmas, however, I learned that there are other ways. The Italian way, for instance. For the first time I spent a Christmas with an Italian family. And I witnessed relative peace and harmony. Oh, there was talk of politics. But no recrimination. Because everyone was agreed. Berlusconi is a cad. A no good bum. And the family members seemed close-knit. And cordial to each other. I’m not saying that we Broedes don’t like each other. But we have a different way of expressing ourselves. By lambasting each other. Maybe just to show that we are different. But I am having an easy time accepting the Italian way. Frankly, it’s pretty neat. –Jim Broede

Comfortable, if not understood

I met an Italian teen-ager the other day. And she speaks English. Very good English. And I had an enlightening and intelligent and inspiring conversation with her. In English, of course. And obviously I came away impressed. She’s only 15. I’ve never met a teen-ager quite like this before. So mature. So conversant in her second language. Learned in school. I admire her. And envy her, too. Because I wish I had a second and even a third language. That’s one of the big regrets of my life. It’s probably far too late for me to master a second language. It’s gonna take all of my limited brainpower to speak a barely rudimentary Italian. Maybe with a vocabulary of several hundred words. Certainly better than nothing. Meawwhile, I suppose I should be thankful that I can do a decent job of speaking and writing English. In a way that makes me feel comfortable, if not understood. –Jim Broede

That suits me just fine.

I’m in a red town. With a history of communist sympathizers. Believe me, that makes me comfortable. Because I’m a socialist at heart. I feel at home, in a sense, in Carbonia in Sardinia. Ironically, Carbonia was founded in the 1930s, under the regime of fascist Benito Mussolini. But that didn’t stop Italy’s communists from flocking to the place. Turns out that Carbonia’s main street has been named Via Gramsci, after Antonio Gramsci, a communist persecuted by Mussolini and died in jail. And at the end of Via Gramsci there’s a piazza named after socialist Giacomo Matteotti, who was killed by Mussolini henchmen. There’s one thing you won’t find in Carbonia. Anything named after Mussolini. Instead, the revered patrons are communists and socialists. That suits me just fine. –Jim Broede

I ain't gonna hurry back.

Indeed, Christmas Eve was a silent night in Carbonia in Sardinia. At about 10 p.m. I went out for a walk on the main drag, Via Gramsci, in the city of 30,000 residents. And I saw only three pedestrians – a couple walking arm in arm and a solitary man. The only traffic was a carabinieri ‘s car (police) that passed in front of me as I crossed the road to Piazza Roma. The piazza was empty. I had it all to myself. And my gawd, I thought this was a magnificent Christmas Eve. Because I am in Italy. No other place I’d rather be at the moment. Because I am in love. With Italy, and more. Believe me, I ain’t gonna hurry back. –Jim Broede

Giving my imagination free rein.

I find life very, very interesting. And I mean on a daily basis. Never do I allow myself to be bored for a full day. Maybe for only a few moments. What bores other people doesn’t necessarily bore me. I am more or less bore-proof. I can make something out of nothing. Because deep down it really is something. That is, if one looks for meaning. Significance. If I see a stranger walking down the street, for instance. I try to analyze him. Based on his looks. His gait. His demeanor. I use my imagination. Maybe that’s my saving grace. The ability to imagine almost anything. And why not? Wasn’t that why I was blessed with an imagination? Might as well use it. To add verve and zest and pizazz to my life. Little wonder that I refuse to be bored. Because it would be an utter waste of time. Good time. Time meant to excite and stimulate. By giving my imagination free rein. –Jim Broede

Reasonably svelte.

I’m supposed to eat healthy. Or so my true love tells me. So I’m not supposed to buy things that are non-Italian. No wiener schnitzel. Or bratwurst. Or coffee cakes and sweet rolls. But I do cheat. Bought a torte the other day. I have no qualms about feasting on Italian food. Lasagna. Parmigiana. Pizza. All sorts of pasta. An array of Italian breads. And I’m having my daily dose of espresso. But hey, I need occasional German and Czech fare. I tell my sweet love that I can cheat a little. Because I am an exercise freak. And that keeps my weight down. I weigh myself every day. And I’m holding at a steady 76 kilos. I’m not sure how that translates in terms of pounds. But I think it’s about 170 or so. And at almost 6 feet tall, I consider myself reasonably svelte. –Jim Broede

Christmas in Sardinia.

I’m anticipating an unusual Christmas. One like I have never experienced before. In Sardinia. In Italy. With my true love. And some of her family. That should be interesting. I’m sure there’s a lot I’d like to say in the family gathering. But I don’t speak Italian. And most of the others don’t speak English. But my true love’s young niece speaks English. Amazingly good for a teen-ager. For anyone. So, between her and my true love, I’ll have decent interpreters and translators. And hey, I do have some Italian phrases mastered. Well, maybe not mastered. But down adequate enough to be understood. I’ve spent my most recent Christmases more or less alone. That had become my favorite way of spending Christmas. Resting. As if it’s just another day. Nothing special. No big family gathering. No socializing. A Christmas in solitude. It really ain’t bad. I’d recommend trying it sometime. –Jim Broede

For now, I want forever.

My true love is sick today. Some sort of indisposition. Sounds better than illness. How do I console her? Comfort her? I tell her, give it time. Think ahead. Tell yourself that at this time tomorrow, you’ll feel good again. Of course, I’m all for living in the moment. Savoring today. But it’s difficult for my true love to savor anything today. One doesn’t savor an illness. Or even an indisposition. She’s got a headache. Nausea, too. I tell her I know how that feels. When I had the flu once. I had a headache. Nausea. Body aches, too. And a fever. Thought I’d die. No, that’s really an exaggeration. But I started thinking about getting well again. I envisioned one week hence. And all the misery would be behind me. I tried to live in the future. But most times I don’t do that. I’m too happy living today to want the moment to expire. I want to feel good all the time. When my true love is sick, it reminds me that I am thankful. To be an alive and conscious being. And in good health. If I weren’t in good health, maybe I’d want to die. But really, I don’t think I’ve ever been sick enough to want to die. I’d have to be gawd-awful sick for that. For now, I want forever. –Jim Broede

Might as well be honest about it.

As I learn to speak Italian, I try to take it all with a great deal of levity. Yes, I am trying to have fun. For instance, I tell people, 'Io sono un giornolista.' Which means I am a journalist. But then I quickly follow with 'Io sono un stupido asino.' Which means I am a stupid ass. And that invariably draws laughter. Lets everyone know that I practice self-deprecating humor. Occasionally, I'm advised to be more serious. Because people might really think I'm a stupid ass. Fact of the matter is, I am a stupid ass. At least, sometimes. So I might as well be honest about it. –Jim Broede

The long overdue revolution.

A fantastic number of unemployed people in Italy. Probably a much bigger percentage of Italians out of work than Americans. Obviously, unemployment is a worldwide problem. The jobless. Really hurting. Hardly a family over here in Italy unaffected by this dire human plight. Makes me wonder why more isn’t done about it. We deserve a world where everyone that wants to work can find work. So much to be done. Repairing and expanding the infrastructures. More public services, too, for the needy. The poor. Even the middle class. I keep hearing that we can’t afford it. That we’ll always have the poor and downtrodden with us. But we’ll also always have the obscenely and ungawdly rich. Let's make the rich a little less affluent. For the sake of helping the least amongst us. Putting everybody to productive work. To benefit the common good. Doesn’t mean that we’d have to eliminate millionaires and billionaires. They could still retain vast wealth. Only less of it. That won’t happen until workers arise. And take control. Yes, it’s called a revolution. Long overdue. –Jim Broede

It's all so very quaint.

My definition of shabby changed upon my arrival in Italy. Italian-style shabbiness is quaint. So pleasantly foreign. Dwellings pockmarked and heavy with peeling paint. Laundry hanging on clotheslines extending from window sills in high-rise apartment buildings. Rust on the shutters and roll down doors. Plenty of graffiti on the walls. But still, I feel an inner warmth as I stroll through the neighborhoods. A soothing kind of clutter, if there’s such a thing. Even in the Catholic cemetery. I see a mish-mash, a hodge-podge of graves and burial vaults. An abundance of flowers. In vases on the graves. And oh, the Italians respect their dead. So very much. They even build private personal chapel/mausoleums in the cemetery in Carbonia on the island of Sardinia. An opportunity for families to commune with the spirits of the dead. Entombed only a foot or two away. Yes, in the chapels. And so many pictures/photos. When they were still very much alive. Memories. The day I was there, last Sunday, the cemetery was one of the busiest places in town. No funerals. Just visitors. Gathered around. One can trek to the cemetery on winding streets and walkways made of broken cobblestone. Along the way, vendors. On sidewalks. And in parking lots. Newsstands and kiosks. Farmers markets. Merchandise displayed the old-fashioned way. I was expecting to find dirty cities. That's what I heard. Lots of trash. But I haven’t found that. Instead, it’s all so very quaint. –Jim Broede

Anything, to save the trees.

Rolling and bumpy cobblestone sidewalks in the city of Carbonia in Sardinia are a thing of beauty. In part, because they are lined with stately, towering evergreen pini trees. Many of ‘em older than the 75-year-old city. Turns out that the sidewalks and trees aren’t compatible. The bulky tree roots are literally lifting the sidewalks, making them more and more irregular. In the U.S., the trees would have been cut down long ago to make for more convenience for pedestrians. And because of the potential for lawsuits. But the Italians have long resisted that temptation. Until recently. Sadly, the trees are coming down in Carbonia. Street by street. Some Carbonians are protesting. But seems they are fighting a losing battle. That’s a shame. The preservation of nature takes second place once again. Robbing this picturesque city of some of its natural beauty. I’m able to navigate the sidewalks nimbly enough. By being watchful and careful. But I suppose others can’t. And if someone stumbles and breaks a leg or a neck, I suppose it’s gonna cost city taxpayers a pretty euro or two. But I’m with the tree-huggers on this one. I’d rather see the sidewalks promoted as fun-filled obstacle courses. Anything, to save the wonderful trees. -Jim Broede

I ain't gonna abuse me.

I don’t understand why some people abuse themselves. They allow themselves to become nervous wrecks. By taking on too much. Trying to do too many things. I know of one who makes lists. Of hundreds of things to do. Daily. Just so she can feel overwhelmed. Well, that’s a classic case of abuse. She’ll even go to bed at night making the list for the next day. So that she can ruin her sleep. Thinking about it. Having nightmares about it. And this woman lives by other people’s schedules. Rather than her own. She’ll disrupt her day just to accommodate others. Rather than herself. Of course, she’d be much better off making herself number one. But maybe she’d think that was selfish. Another way to inflict self-abuse. Anyway, I learned long ago to avoid living like that. I like myself enough to be nice to myself. I ain’t gonna abuse me. –Jim Broede

The gospel of pure hogwash.

I’d make a good preacher. Because I like to preach. Not in the customary religious sense. Because I have my own gospel. I don’t borrow from any book. I create my own thought. And I sort of preach it, one might say. Because I’m often accused in a negative way of preaching. So be it. I can’t help it. I’m coming to believe that I am a natural born preacher. I have created my own pulpit. Right here in this blog. I say I am brooding. Because I like that term better than ‘preaching.’ Sounds better than Broede’s Preachings. That probably would turn off some people. But they tend to be curious about Broede’s Broodings. As far as I know, there’s no other blog that goes by broodings. Maybe it’s an original. With me. I wrote a newspaper column in the 1960s called Broede’s Broodings. It touched on controversial topics and satire and was well-read in the local weekly newspaper. But then I went on to write for a daily newspaper, and broodings went away. In favor of straight news and feature stories. Now that I’m retired, I still write. Virtually every day. And much of my writing might be called preaching. Yes, preaching the gospel of love. I’m addicted to love and to writing. And so I have combined the two pursuits. And that makes me sound like a preacher. Because many preachers tell us that god is the god of love. Of course, I preach that organized religion seems to profess love. But often doesn’t practice love. Instead, their gospel tends more toward hate. Because they say truth and salvation can be attained only one way. On their exclusive path. And I preach that such a gospel is pure hogwash. –Jim Broede

I give you a choice.

Some people tell me that I am terrible. Yes, I am. And I am proud of it. I like being called terrible. Because it gets me to think. Why am I terrible? And more often than not, it seems I am perceived as too unconventional. And that by standing out from the crowd, I am trying to make myself seem superior. Which implies that others are idiots. But that’s not so. I have no objection to conventional thinking. Except for me. I allow others to think conventionally. But I reserve the right to think for myself. Outside the box. In my own way. Others tell me that they don’t want to make conversation with a blog. My blog, in particular. And that’s all right with me. But still, some of these very same people come back to my blog. And why? Yes, to make conversation. Which stimulates me to have the last word. My way of telling ‘em to shut up. Or come back again and again to make conversation. Think about it. Isn’t that what makes me the reasonable one? After all, I give every one an option. Shut up. Or make more conversation. Take your choice. –Jim Broede

I never stop.

I want my life to be continuous foreplay. Leading up to an act. Rather than a climax. It’s the anticipation of something about wonderful to happen. That’s really my climax. Continuous anticipation. That more than anything makes me a romantic idealist. A climax indicates that one has reached a goal. A peak. I sense that I will never reach my climax. And I thank god for that. Makes me blessed. Makes me a true lover. I am building up to something infinite. Eternal. Forever. This feeling of total and complete love. Just over the horizon. Always another horizon. Puts me in the flow of Creation. Always something more to attain. Just knowing that I am in love. Because I am always practicing foreplay. I never stop. –Jim Broede

I feel like a winner.

I don’t want a 36-hour day. I’ll settle for 24 hours. That’s all I need. So, why should I ask for more? If I can’t get everything done in a full day today, I have tomorrow and the day after that and even next week and next month and next year. I have enough time to slow down. To not be in a hurry. If I try to create a 36-hour day, I’ll drive myself crazy. I’ll be a nervous wreck. I see so very many people around me aiming for a 36-hour day. That includes some Alzheimer care-givers. They even waste time reading a book called ‘The 36-hour Day.’ Supposedly in an effort to become more efficient. To get more accomplished in the usual 24-hour day. To make it 36 hours. To cram. Not me. No thank you. I’ll get things done when I get ‘em done. Not a minute sooner. And I’ll learn to live with that pace. I have a dear friend that runs around at a torrid pace. Trying to meet self-imposed deadlines. Working herself into a sweat. Into a silly, unnecessary dither. Meanwhile, I’m acting like the turtle in the race. Taking my good-natured time. If I win the race, fine. If I lose it, that’s no big deal, either. I don’t feel compelled to win. Because often when I lose, I feel like a winner. --Jim Broede

That would be pure hell.

I had a conversation the other day. Got me to thinking. That my reality is my reality. Not always shared by others. In fact, maybe rarely shared. I have been accused of being short on the facts. And of even distorting an experience. But believe me, I don’t distort. I tell it as I see it. From my personal perspective. I’m true – to myself. If I dislike what I see, I say it. Others may find that repulsive. Which is all right. But neither of us is obligated to see eye to eye. Personally, I’d rather not live in a world of think-a-likes. That would be pure hell. –Jim Broede

It was pure bull shit.

I make some people around me nervous. In part, because I write about what’s around me. About the people. About the events. My experiences. And I suppose that my presence robs them of some of their privacy. Because they never know for certain what I may write about. And I may portray everything in ways that others don’t see. We may share the same event and same experience and get totally different realities out of it. Often I don’t see life the same way as others. Because my focus is different. I make no apologies about that. I used to read books that told me what to think and what to see. But that was nowhere close to what I was thinking and seeing. For instance, I was brought up as a Christian and I was told that a Christian was supposed to believe certain things. A credo. But I didn’t buy into all that stuff. I began to think for myself. And I didn’t fear being wrong. With not going by the book. I was told that America was always right. And that America never lost a war. And that war was good and necessary. That the American way was always the right way, the best way, in matters political, economic and social. Bit by bit I learned that much of what I learned was pure bull shit. –Jim Broede

I merely open my eyes.

My first week in Sardinia. The warmest day so far. Feels like 70. A bright sun. A light breeze. I’m seated on a low, brick wall. In Piazza Roma. My only regret. The language barrier. I don’t yet speak Italian. Discourages me from striking up conversations with strangers. Instead, I glean what I can by observing the environs and the people. Mostly old folks. Walking slowly. Why be in a hurry? People seated on ledges outside Teatro Centrale and in the open-air amphitheater across the road. Rows of stately pini trees towering over a cobblestone walkway. Tall as 4-story buildings. Forming a canopy and an eternal shade. They remain full, bushy and green, year-round. The bell tower, tallest structure on the piazza, hovers next to the church proper. I wait in hopeful anticipation of the ringing of the bells. And I want some day soon to climb the stairs all the way to the top. The tower clock tells me it’s 10:41 a.m. And now I notice scattered clouds forming on the horizon. I have a feeling that the sunshine will soon be hidden. I shift my view to sturdy metal benches beneath the pini trees. And I see chatting men. Only men. Now students have come into the picture. They are kicking a yellow soccer ball. Practicing powerful kicks more than finesse kicks. My gaze shifts to twin white 10-story buildings. The newest ones on the scene. And I’m reminded that Carbonia was designed as a new ‘garden city’ in 1937 by the Mussolini government. Mainly for 12,000 coal miners. All this started from an architectural dream. The mines have been shut down for a long time. The local economy is depressed. A sad state of affairs. But still, I sense that people are contented and happy in this corner of the world. Two men are coming toward me. Talking with their hands. In grand Italian style. Gestures similar to those of an orchestra director. The hands control the sounding and pacing of words. Rarely do I see anyone walking briskly. Life here seems to be in delightful slow motion. Now it is 11 in the morning. On Tuesday. D.H. Lawrence visited Sardinia in the 1920s. And he wrote about it. In ‘Sea and Sardinia.’ But he didn’t see what I am seeing. There was no Carbonia then. I am seeing modern Italy. But stll very much Italy. Different. Interesting. Captivating. Enchanting. Paradise. I’ll take Italy any way I can get it. And savor it. Happily. Without even having to talk to a stranger strolling on the piazza. I don’t have to. I merely open my eyes. –Jim Broede

The dummy tries to fix the system.

If one wants to survive in Italy, honesty may not be the best policy. Instead, one may be better off going along with the corrupt system. Allow your life to get bogged down in the bureaucracy. Take, for instance, the water system in a local community. In America, you get billed regularly based on the volume of water used. In Italy, you may be lucky and not get billed at all. Because of bureaucratic mix up. They don’t keep very good records. But you are the honest sort and don’t wanna take advantage of free water. Or maybe you fear that some day the bureaucracy will catch up with you and bill you for a lifetime of water. All in one big hunk. So you trot down to the local waterworks to try to get the matter straightened out. First, they’ll give you 20 pages of forms to fill out and send you from one desk to another. And maybe to another building or two. And they’ll give you a quizzical look, wondering why you are the exceptional being wanting to get things right. Maybe like a dutiful German. Anyway, I saw someone trying to do just that today. And I tried to tell ‘em, ‘You are absolutely crazy trying to fix the system. Just count your blessings and keep taking the free water. Don’t start complaining until you ain’t getting water anymore.’ As I see it, the true Italian thrives because of the bureaucracy. And the dummy tries to fix the system. –Jim Broede

As if a gift from god.

I am experiencing a spiritual orgasm. And it started yesterday afternoon. When I went to the Sardinian sea. For the first time. And we walked in the sand. And saw and heard the surf. Strong enough to carry surfboarders. Cold enough to require wet suits. Clouds. But reflected sunlight, too. And tonight I am still feeling the spiritual orgasm. Because I am with the sea. And with my true love. In a tranquil and serene way. Living a spiritual flow of life that goes far beyond a physical orgasm. The physical lasts for only seconds. An instant in time. A blink. A flash. But the spiritual orgasm is long-lasting. Forever. Magnificent. Beautiful. Penetrating. But in an extraordinarily peaceful way. Nothing like the burst of a physical orgasm. Or climax. But rather something continuous. Blessed tranquil. Blessed serene. Those two descriptive words keep coming back to me tonight. That is what I want. And I am achieving. Serenity. Tranquility. I am blended with the sea. With the fullness of meaningful life. Into the oneness of creation. I am not trying to describe the physical scene. But rather an incredible union of spirit and soul -- with that of holy and sacred Creation. This is the reason why I am. Why I exist. Why I have been given life. To feel the flow. As if a gift from god. --Jim Broede

Let the revolution begin!

I suspect that the world revolution to overthrow capitalism is more likely to start in Italy than in the USA. Which makes me happy that I'm in Italy. Because I feel more at home where young people are already taking to the streets. I am 75. But still young in spirit. And maybe I will consider joining in the protests and riots. Anything to help the cause. Which is to redistribute the wealth. To make the rich less obscenely rich and the poor less obsecenely poor. We revolutionaries want the upcoming young generation to be better off than their parents and grandparents. And to put it simply and succinctly and bluntly, that's best achieved by redistributing the wealth. To end the reign of capitalism as we know it. Especially American-style capitalism. It'll take a goodly dose of socialism, and fewer millionaires and billionaires. But so be it. Let the common good be served. Let the revolution begin! --Jim Broede

Mistaken for an Italian

I wondered how long it would take. For me to be mistaken for an Italian while walking on a street in Italy. Just four days, it turns out. Happened today. A man approached me on a street in Carbonia in Sardinia and started talking to me in Italian. Of course, I impressed him with my knowledge of the words ‘stupido asino,’ which translates to what I and other people occasionally call me. A stupid ass. I explained I don’t talk much Italian. But that I’m trying to learn. So please forgive me. Anyway, we had a conversation. In his broken English. In my broken Italian. I thought maybe he was looking for a place and that he was gonna ask me for directions. Instead, he wanted to give me a religious pamphlet. I think he was a Jehovah’s Witness. –Jim Broede

In pursuit of a beautiful Sardinian.

Sardinians are more curious than nosey. That’s my opinion. But not necessarily the opinion of my Italian/Sardinian girlfriend. She thinks of her fellow countrymen as too nosey when they inquire whether I’m a relative. ‘No,’ she says, ‘just a friend.’ She’s too polite to call ‘em nosey to their faces. The curiosity level rises when the clerk in the store over-hears me speaking English. A sign that I am not Italian. Some even wonder if my girlfriend is really Italian, despite her mastery of the Italian language. Again, I think it's the curiosity factor. Maybe my assumption is positive because I am trained to be curious. I often ask personal questions. Not out of prying, but because I genuinely want to know people. Even strangers. I was shy long ago. But I overcame the malady when I became a newspaper reporter. My job was to inquire. To know. To ask questions. I am retired now. But I keep probing. And I like it when others probe, too. I automatically assume they’re curious. My girlfriend disagrees. On occasion, she wishes I and other people minded their own business. However, I am naïve enough to think that Sardinians want to know if I’m the boyfriend. Because that would make them happy. To have stumbled across a fellow romantic idealist. In pursuit of the most beautiful and intelligent Sardinian in Paradise. –Jim Broede

Maybe I'll get there some day.

I have become a world traveler primarily for the sake of love. Not necessarily because of love for other countries. But rather for love of another being. A country is too abstract. But a woman is real. Someone I can touch. And can know in intimate ways. I can’t bring myself to feel the same way about my country, the USA. Or any country, for that matter. My total love is reserved for a woman. One woman. Of course, I can know a country in a reverent and respectful way. More like knowing nature. Or an environs. Not a human soul. True intimacy and true love is soulful. Something for which I might surrender my life. The unconditional acceptance of another. I am unwilling to die for my country, for any country. I suppose I could still proclaim love, of sorts, for my country. But it would stop short of undying love. I could become a traitor. Relatively easy. Because my love of country is conditional. As well it should be. I’m not saying that I ever loved anyone or anything unconditionally. Theoretically, it’s possible, I suppose. But I would never even want to try to love a country unconditionally. I have absolutely no desire for such an achievement. But I have a desire to love a woman. Unconditionally. That’s a good start for a romantic idealist like me. Maybe I’ll get there some day.–Jim Broede

Living riotously happy in Italy.

There's unrest in Italy. Students and young people protesting in the streets about political tomfoolery. And that's a good sign. Because some day the upcoming generation will seize power. Maybe sooner than later. Because of the social unrest. The taking to the streets. Oh, if only we had such promising signs of discontent in the USA. But our young people are mostly passive and silent. Yes, they helped elect Obama in 2008. But they were noticeably absent this year when the Republican lunatics and Tea Party conservatives were swept into office. Unfortunately, we Americans don't know how to riot and raise hell. We have forgotten our former revolutionary ways. We do little to correct the gawdawfulness of our political, economic and social systems. At least in Italy, I'm feeling joy when every night I see the filmed protests in the streets. Students clashing with the police and government authorities. And maybe some day the corrupt Berlusconi government will be toppled. Berlusconi barely survived by a 314-311 vote in Parliament this week. Triggering more protests. More riots. Yes, it's exciting. And my kind of thing. No reason to take the status quo sitting down. We Americans are wasting away on our fat, do-nothing asses. While the Italians stay trim and hopeful by taking to the streets. I tell my Italian girlfriend the revolution will come to Italy long before it arrives in America. So let's be happy. Because at the moment we are living in revolutionary-minded Italy. --Jim Broede

My search for significance.

I like to have time on my side. Never having to be in a hurry. Taking time to think. And ponder. I am always looking. For something significant. Without really knowing what’s significant. Therefore, I have to make my own significance. Like the other day. When I went shopping with a friend. She was looking for a key-maker. In a shopping center. And we looked and looked. Unable to find the place for a while. Because we really didn’t know to look in the unlikeliest of places. In a tiny, secluded corner of an underground parking ramp. I had to wonder. Why there, of all places? How strange. But I am in another country. In Italy. On the island of Sardinia. And I thought, how unique. We Americans would never have thought of putting a key-maker’s shop in a remote corner of an underground parking ramp. But the key-maker seemed busy. And there was a table of knick-knacks for sale just outside the door. Including two stool-like chairs sculpted from wood and shaped like the palm of a hand. With the fingers serving as the back-rest. Never seen anything like that before. But now I am disappointed in myself. Because I didn’t sit down and test the chairs for comfort. But I’m determined to go back. To test the chairs. To learn how they were made. And whether this is an ancient Sardinian craft. –Jim Broede

Two strangers I came to know.

When I travel by plane to Italy, or any place for that matter, I don't allow passengers seated next to me to remain strangers. The woman was reading a book and writing copious notes. "Pardon me," I said, "but am I allowed to be curious? I want to know what that is you are reading, and why?" She's positively responsive. She's exploring the spiritual nature of life. In an attempt to get her hectic life in order. She's also a stewardness flying for free. In first class, too. From Minneapolis to Philadelphia. And she lives in Lakeville, Minnesota. Her husband is originally from Charlotte, North Carolina. And they eventually plan on moving back to Charlotte. Partly to escape Minnesota winters. Yes, so many ways to make for a better, more comfortable life. Nicer weather. But first, she's all-out to improve the spiritual climate of her life. She's taking to religion. Non-denominational. And I explain that I am spiritual, too. But not religious. A free-thinker. I steer clear of organized religions. Anyway, we hit if off. We connect. I've achieved my goal. Of getting to know something significant about a stranger sitting next to me. Just by chance. And I don't quit. Next to me on the flight from Philadelphia to Rome is another woman. In her 20s. A graduate student at the Universitry of Maryland. One semester away from a master's degree in psychology. She's from Baltimore. I learn her life history. Even that her parents' marriage broke up after 13 years. But that they are both still civil with each other. Meanwhile, the woman is having a bit of bad luck. Her inflight screen for movies is on the fritz. Gone blank. And it can't be fixed. So I offer her the opportunity to connect to my screen. Because I'm really not interested in watching a movie. I'd rather read a book and study the passengers. She accepts my offer. And later asks, "You really don't mind, do you?" And I assure her, "I'm positive. Now enjoy the movie." --Jim Broede

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

Ah, life is an adventure.

Stay tuned everyone. The next time you hear from me I'll be in Italy. My new home for the remainder of winter. Let's see if I get homesick. Or if I adapt quite well to my new environs. I expect the latter. Ah, life is an adventure. --Jim Broede

I got it right by turning left.

Obama is who he is. And I'm not gonna change that. So I just let him be. Accept him. And I'd rather he be president than anyone else. Including me. I have faith. That he knows what he's doing. Sure, he may get some of it wrong. But we all do. I can live with wrong. I have. All my life. But in the end, it all turns out well. Because we get to where we want to go. Though the course may be circuitous. I don't understand it all. But I know whom to trust. And it amazes me. That I got it right. By turning to the left. --Jim Broede

I miss the yellow sofa.

At the moment, I'm an impressionist. An artist, of sorts. A dreamer. With a meaningful impression. Nice to see her study all lit up. Almost makes it look like a halo shining down on her head. That's one thing I know about her. She likes light. When the creator proclaimed, 'Let there be light,' I'm sure that she applauded. Interesting how I'm seeing her new place/environs take shape. From Skype. An audio-video hook-up. In living color. A little like the perspective I'd see from the mechanical rover on Mars. I'm imagining the big picture. Glimpses of the hallway. And a tiny corner of the kitchen. And the window in the study. And the curtains. And the armchair. And the bookshelves. And the tile floor. But I miss the yellow sofa. --Jim Broede

This grand adventure.

Life is an adventure. And, oh, I like adventures. I take life a day at a time. But I know that tomorrow will be an adventure. Always has been. Often, the unexpected happens. And I like that. No script. Instead, I just watch the story of the day unfold. Often many stories in a single day. And I'm an active participant. Never bored. And often at the end of the day, I savor it all. To make it even more meaningful. This grand adventure. --Jim Broede

Stay tuned. I'll let you know.

Looks like I'm not getting out of Minnesota quite fast enough. We had 18 inches of snow overnight. Better now, however, than on Monday. When I'm catching a flight to Italy, where I'll spend the rest of winter. In Sardinia, an island in the Mediterranean Sea. Yes, I deserve to be there. I've earned such a life. No snow. And probably no freezing temperatures. Sardinians don't know real winter. Just as well. In a few days, I should be posting in my blog from Paradise. I used to think that meant Tahiti in the Pacific Ocean. Shows that a guy can be wrong. I'm betting, instead, that the natives in Paradise speak Italian. Stay tuned. I'll let you know. --Jim Broede

My unpredictability is a virtue.

Come to think of it, I don't mind being misunderstood. Rather like it in some ways. For instance, sometimes when I'm being funny, it's even funnier when people think I'm serious. Or the other way around. When I'm serious, they think I'm funny. Gets me to laugh. Either way. Fact of the matter is that occasionally I don't even know if I'm being funny or serious. So I let the listener decide. Talk about freedom of choice. Often enough, I like to bait people. Get them to nibble. And then I'll catch 'em. In a trap, of sorts. Contradicting themselves. Meanwhile, I have no qualms about contradicting myself. Because that's my nature. I'm inconsistent. And proud of it. Makes it hard to pin me down. See, I'm often in a state of flux. Trying to find the right answer. And the search can be elusive. I also have an open mind. I may have a particular opinion one minute, and I'll change it the next. Because I've heard a persuasive argument. In that sense, I'm unpredictable. I consider that a virtue. --Jim Broede

Forgive me if that's wrong.

One must learn acceptance and get on with life. That's what I learned from the Alzheimer experience. I find far more to love and like about life than to dislike. At some point, I even have to put the guilt aside. Today is today. And by golly, I'm gonna enjoy the day. Forgive me if that's wrong. --Jim Broede

Maybe we just don't know it.

I have to accept the inevitable, don't I? The fact that I'm gonna die. Sooner or later. Just like everyone else. Not any of us are gonna get out of here alive. Now whether that's good or bad, I don't know. I wish it weren't so. Because I've always found more reason to live than to die. Even when loved ones around me die, I still want to live. Despite the sadness. Despite the loss. In a sense, I welcome the sadness. Sure beats indifference. Makes me aware that I'm alive. Doing more than just going through the motions. I suppose the creator gave us life conditionally. With the idea that it wouldn't be permanent. That we had only so much time to make something of it. If we had forever -- well, then we could postpone everything forever. No hurry. No sense of urgency. But still, I'm unsure that the creator himself ever did anything with urgency in mind. Because he has forever. Or so I am assuming. But then again, maybe I am assuming wrong. Maybe as some philosophers speculate, god is dead. Maybe we just don't know it. --Jim Broede

Makes me an individual.

I accept political outcomes. Because I don't want to participate. I'd get my hands too dirty. And I'd stain my soul. But that doesn't stop me from spouting off. From being critical of politicians and the decision-making process. As an individual, I'm helpless to influence the outcome. Yes, I know masses of people can make a difference. But I tend to avoid being part of a mass. Even of a mass movement. Albeit, I wasn't always that way. I was active in the civil rights movement in the 1960s. That felt good. But the movement would have succeeded without me. Didn't really matter whether I was a member of the masses. In that sense, I'm rather insignificant. But I'm significant in one respect. I'm the only being that's me. Makes me an individual. --Jim Broede

Learning the nature of happiness.

I have a positive impression of black people. In general. The ones I know tend to be happier than white people. Maybe that's all my imagination. And it's not real. I think black people have more fun in life. They know what's important. The spirit. The soul. More than material things. Maybe it's because they've been deprived. And they've accumulated less than white folks. Certainly, their incomes are lower. And the jobless rates are higher. I think that's a dirty rotten shame. Due in part to long-standing white racist political, economic and social systems in the USA. Life really shouldn't be all that much different because of the color of one's skin. But I'm sure it is. Because of the racist nature of our society. My life would have been quite different if I had been born black. I would have been sort of disadvantaged. Discriminated against. I know there are angry black people. Because of it. But still, so many of 'em have risen above it. Much better than I would have. And my heroes are the ones that have coped. Rather magnificently. By learning the true nature of happiness. --Jim Broede

That beats disliking 'em.

I have favorite people. My girlfriend, for instance. And I like myself, too. That's very important. Liking one's self. Too many people have a disdain for themselves. That's not good. I have learned to like myself by becoming what I want to be. A romantic idealist. A free-thinker. A liberal. A lover. And I like my girlfriend because she's what she wants to be. Her own being. Not like me. But different. And I have no desire to change her. I can accept her. Pretty much on an unconditional basis. Of course, I can't do that with everyone. But for the most part, I'm able to ignore 'em. They aren't a big part of my life. They go their way. I go mine. But if we have to interact, I find a way. Actually, I like to find ways to get along with people I don't like. And amazingly, I sometimes find ways to like 'em. That beats disliking 'em. --Jim Broede

Liberals need more passion.

Liberals could well take a lesson from conservatives. By becoming just as passionate as conservatives when it comes to advocating their cause. Liberals, though, are too passive. Too laid back. Liberals don't like to think of themselves as going off the deep end. It's like contrasting an evangelical Christian with a Unitarian. Unitarians are more reserved. Placid. Like liberals. That's why you'll find liberals in a Unitarian congregation. Meanwhile, how many liberals are evangelicals? Hardly any. Because evangelicals are embarrassingly demomstrative. They let it all hang out. Like Jesus freaks. And they flock to the conservative ranks of the Republican Party. To the so-called lunatic fringe. And they're proud of it. Liberals, for the most part, run to the Democrats. And they are polite to the moderates in their party. Even reasonably courteous to blue dogs/conservatives. Liberals cast an image of toleration. In sharp contrast to the intolerant conservatives. In case of a war, liberals would take prisoners. Because it's the humane thing to do. Conservatives never take prisoners. They prefer killing the foe. They ain't gonna spend for room and board for prisoners of war. Conservatives are ruthless. And that's why they out-gun liberals in Congress. Liberals are capable of making noise. And making threats. But that's all it is. A sham. A bluff. Conservatives don't bluff. They go on a scorched-earth rampage. They'll die and kill for their cause. And that's precisely what liberals must learn to do. Engage the enemy. With immense passion and firepower. No more half-measures. Instead, an energetic pursuit of the liberal cause. Because it's far more compassionate than the conservative cause. --Jim Broede

I'm impressed.

I find that black people are more accommodating than white people. Maybe it's just my imagination. Or my limited experience. And it may be different in America than it is in other parts of the world. I suspect it's because of the black experience. Here in America. For generations, blacks have been suppressed and oppressed. Even held as slaves. Denied basic human rights. That's gotta have an effect. To rise above it all, blacks had to be accommodating. They learned to gain their rights and gain respect a little bit at a time. Yes, I can't emphasize it enough. They had to be very accommodating. In order to survive. They accepted compromise. Because maybe they had no other choice. Initially, they had to give more than they took back. In a way, that makes me like black people more than white people. Because they did things the hard way. Under the most adverse of circumstances. I think that the experience strengthened their souls and spirits. Yes, that's what I sense. The black soul has amazing strength. It's not nice, the way whites have treated blacks. And still do in our racist society. But it's another example of how life works in strange and mysterious ways. Our first 'black' (actually, he's a blend) president is superior because of it. He has mastered the art of accommodation. Of bringing people together. Black and white. I'm impressed. --Jim Broede

In my search for the truth.

I'm no longer afraid to abandon my intellect. My mind. In favor of my heart. In my younger days, that wasn't so. I was almost all mind. And no heart. No sentiment. Now I'm a romantic idealist. And a free-thinker. And a liberal. And a lover. I put much more emphasis on my emotions. On what feels good. Deep down, inside my being. My soul. My spirit. In other words, I don't necessarily need scientific proof to believe something. I believe because I want to believe. An article of faith, one might say. I used to reject acceptance based on faith. But I got to the point where proof was unnecessary. Especially in matters of spirit and soul. In matters of love. I know when I'm in love. I need no absolute proof of it. I just am. I don't have to analyze it in scientific terms. Meanwhile, lots of people doubt that I truly believe in god. Because I don't believe in their god. The god touted by organized religion. Such as Christianity. But I know better. I believe because I believe. I can't define god. But still, I'm able to talk to and have an actual conversation with the undefinable god. An instinctive dialogue. That's the nature of romantic idealism. As I define it. As I grasp it. I'm amused by the scientific minds that say I must quote published experts to adequately defend my belief system. The thing is, I don't buy into 'experts.' Because over the ages, so many, many of the once recognized experts are no longer considered experts. They've been proved wrong, scientifically. The thing about science is that it's an inexact science. Always changing. Because we humans seem unable to understand the nature of creation. So I might as well follow my emotional instincts. They may be closer to the truth than my intellectual or mindful instincts. I sense it. --Jim Broede

A novel approach to politics.

If liberal Democrats and conservative Republicans don't like Barack Obama's compromise on tax cuts and budget trimming, let 'em defeat it. Fact of the matter is, they can't. They don't have the votes. Instead, the Obama crafted plan will pass. For one simple reason. It has the votes. Yes, Obama is a pragmatist. He takes what he can get through Congress. No more. No less. Sure, the high-principled bases of each political party would rather stand up for their pure principles. But that won't get anything done. Instead, it'll just preserve the status quo. Which a majority of American people don't want. So the shrewd and canny and manipulative Obama is giving the people something close to what they really want. That's a novel approach to the political game, isn't it? --Jim Broede

As good as it gets.

Getting along with people that one doesn't like. I think that's an art form. Takes some real doing. Forces one to find common ground. I ask myself, why don't I like this person? Many reasons. But then I suggest that everyone must have a saving grace. Something likeable. That even goes for Hitler. Nobody can be all bad. Maybe only 99 percent. Often, I find something funny about people that strike me in a wrong way, in a bad way. If he/she makes me laugh, that's something to like. So I focus on the entertainment value. Someone may be a natural born comedian. For instance, take Sarah Palin. She's funny. Funny enough to be lampooned. Imagine Palin in the White House. As our esteemed president. Answering questions at a press conference. It'd be hilarious. I wouldn't miss it. I don't particularly like Palin or her politics. But I have to admit that her stand-up comedy schtick is about as good as it gets. --Jim Broede

An idiot is an idiot is an idiot.

I gotta give Obama credit. He annoys me no end. But at the same time, he wins me over. Because he's such an unusual guy. He gets along with everyone. Doesn't matter whether you are a Republican, the devil or a full-fledged asshole. Or a composite of all three. Obama will be nice to you. And try to reach accord. Compromise. Maybe he learned this from growing up black. In racist America. He's accommodating. He knows how to get ahead. Evidenced by the fact that he got himself elected president of the USA. No small feat. Especially for a black man. That takes talent. Know-how. Obama knows what he's doing. Albeit, some of us will question that. That only shows our ignorance. Obama is crafty. He knows how to operate in the political realm. He's smarter than me. He's smarter than you. I'm learning to trust him. Especially in battle. I'll tell you what makes Obama succeed. His ability to deal with idiots. Most of us don't have a grasp of that craft. Because we are idiots. But Obama is a genius. When it comes to dealing with idiots. He pecks away. Picks their pockets. A little bit at a time. And before they know it, he's picked everything. Republicans, for instance, think they are shrewd. That they've outmanipulated Obama. But if Republicans ever wake up, they'll know they've been outsmarted. Only thing is. An idiot is an idiot. And will always be that way. A Republican is an idiot. And an idiot is a Republican. No matter which way you look at it. Backwards or forwards. Obama knows it. And he exploits that knowledge. --Jim Broede

Love. In a belated sort of way.

Elizabeth Edwards. I thought of her as stoic. Had to be. To live with John Edwards. She died of cancer today. I'm not sure whether she wanted to die. Or to live. Maybe the real cause of her death was sadness. A broken heart. For having never been loved fully. And knowing it. She probably always knew that the marriage was a charade. And then the realization that she would die. Before she got what she wanted. True love. But maybe now. In death. She'll get it. Posthumously. Better late than never. Certainly from her children. And others who knew her. Maybe even from her husband. In a belated sort of way. --Jim Broede

So many ways for me to create.

I'm impulsive. By doing what I feel like. On the spur of the moment. Rather than think about something. And then not do it. Often, I sit down and write. On impulse. Because I want to gather my thoughts. And it helps. By putting the thoughts into words. Written words. I find that thoughts are fleeting. They disappear. Vanish. And maybe they don't occur again. Unless I capture 'em in writing. I've been fascinated with the written word since I was a youngster. To see words that I created. On paper. And printed. In the sixth grade, I got 'A' in penmanship. Because I wanted to make words look beautiful. Maybe even better than sounding beautiful. Meanwhile, my penmanship has gone to hell. I scribble. Of course, it really doesn't matter. Because now I create words on a computer screen. Goes faster that way. And it's more legible. Now I'm creating a thread. For my blog. But later tonight, I'll write a love letter. That'll be a work of art. Similar to painting. But with words. Full of meaning. Oh, so many ways for me to create. With words. Written words. --Jim Broede

Being wrong? Perish the thought.

I think many people are hateful without knowing it. Maybe even me. Because we don't stop to think about the effect of our words and our actions. I see it every day. When we criticize people. And the nature of life. Many of us have a superiority complex. We think of ourselves as god's gift to the world. And therefore we are entitled to tell people where to go and how to behave. In a sense, we become little and big Hitlers. We become politicians. Powerbrokers. Dictators. Yes, even Republicans. We think that we are right. All the time. And that our way is the only way. And so we will impose our way. Without compromise. Because we are principled with the undeniably correct principles. Other people are too dumb to understand that. We discard the possibility that we may be wrong. --Jim Broede

Maybe Obama is on god's path.

Maybe Barack Obama will go down in history as the Great Compromiser. Willing to reach accommodation with his foes. To make friends, of sort, with virtually everyone. Even his opponents. I don't know if that works. But we'll see. I'm experimenting with such a strategy, too. By saying nice things about people who appear to be my enemies. My severest and often unprincipled critics. Let's compromise, I tell them. Let's reach accord. What will it take? I'm willing to give more than you. I never thought of that approach as even worthy of a try. But hey, maybe I should be more like Obama and go into this with an open mind. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Guess I should start by telling Republicans that they are nice guys and gals. And that they are making me see the light. Or maybe I should tell the devil I'm willing to sell my soul. That is, if the price is right. What do you have to offer me? Seems to me that even god was/is a compromiser. By deciding to make something less than a perfect world. By creating human beings. And Republicans. Therefore, god must be sending us a message. That it's all right for we humans to follow his example. And to compromise on our journey through life. Could be that Obama is one of god's many abiding disciples. --Jim Broede

Soak us all. Nobody exempted.

I'd be willing to be soaked with higher taxes if that's what it takes to soak millionaires and billionaires with higher taxes. Personally, I'd prefer that only the rich be soaked. But that won't happen. Because of political realities. The Republicans won't let it happen. They want continuation of the temporary tax cuts imposed during the Bush administration. The cuts are supposed to expire at the end of this year. Democrats would favor keeping the tax cuts only for people making less than $250,000 a year, which means 98 percent of us. But Republicans would filibuster such a deal. Because they want the richest 2 percent of us to get richer. With tax cuts, too. Of course, that would widen the already gaping gap between the nation's rich and poor. Therefore, the Obama administration has devised a compromise with the Republicans. To approve continuation of the tax cuts for the rich for an additional two years. Albeit, the cuts might eventually be extended far beyond that. In the end, all this tax-cutting is expected to add enormous amounts to the federal budget deficit. And the only solution will be to cut spending. Which means gutting social security and medicare and other entitlements that benefit the middle class and the poor. In other words, future generations of the middle class will be stuck with the bill. Our children and grandchildren. Instead of the elite rich. But if we raise taxes now on everyone, rich and poor alike, we'll all be paying. Now. So, I say, let us all make the sacrifice. By paying higher taxes. Until the deficit is eliminated. So we can save social security and medicare and other entitlements. Yes, let's soak everyone. To the tune of whatever it takes. That's certainly better than letting the gawd-damn rich off the hook. Yes, I'm willing to be personally soaked if that's what it takes to soak the rich. Soak us all. Nobody exempted. --Jim Broede.

I wanna be a distinctive nut.

Someone implied the other day that I may be nuts. Because I espouse an unusual philosophy. A philosophy that she doesn't hear others sharing. Therefore, I must be nuts. Because I'm living outside the mainstream. I guess if that's the way she defines nuts, then I am nuts. By her definition. To tell the truth, I don't mind being nuts. Because that may well be the very thing that makes me sane. I have no doubts about it. I'm me. Even if I am defined as nutty. And that's all I wanna be. Nutty me. Doesn't bother me in the least. Actually, the worst fate that I could suffer is to be recognized as very much like others. My aim is to be a distinctive nut. Not just a mere pecan or almond or coconut. --Jim Broede

She has no heart.

I know someone from a distance. Not all that well. But I keep learning about her. Because she's posting -- about 8,000 times so far in the past three years -- on a message board. She goes by three initials. All capitalized. And I think of her as a doozy. In that she wants to tell everybody how to behave. How to live. Me included. She's intelligent. But I suspect too much dominated by her gigantic ego. Even bigger than mine. Which means her ego has to be gigantic gigantic. I like to feed her ego. To make it swell even more. Maybe that makes me evil. Because I want to see the ego burst. So that it explodes. And splatters all over. It will. Some day. Actually, I've put a curb/restraint on my ego. It's still big. But it ain't getting bigger. There's something nice to be said about that. Being able to contain one's ego. But this woman may be hopeless. She's an egomaniac. She has to keep feeding her ego. Like an overeater. But the sad thing is that she feeds her ego by relying on 'experts' to get her knowledge. Rather than digging deep into herself. She thinks that when people spout their personal opinions, they should back 'em up with evidence from so-called published experts. From academic papers and books. That's all right. But she overdoes it. She reminds me of a walking encyclopedia. She borrows far too many of her thoughts from others. Rarely ventures out on her own. With original or offbeat thoughts. Basically, she's afraid of becoming a fool. Of taking risks. Of making mistakes. My guess is that she's never been truly in love. Not even with herself. Because she allows her mind to dominate her heart. And the ego rests in the mind. She has no heart. --Jim Broede

Like everyone else.

I'm trying to learn how to be reasonable. Ain't easy. Because I encounter many unreasonable people. And the tendency is to counter with an equal degree of unreasonableness. For instance, take a look at our political system. It's a bunch of unreasonable politicians tossed in to the same room with each other. And they get nothing accomplished. Because all of 'em are grossly unreasonable. No give and take. No compromise. No honest dialogues. Meanwhile, I'm trying to be reasonably reasonable. I keep suggesting that we work things out. For the sake of a solution. Better than constantly quibbling. But I keep hearing people say they'd rather quibble than settle their differences. That seems unreasonable. So, what can I guy do? I seem to be caught up in an unreasonable world. Maybe that's the nature of mankind. Why we pursue nasty politics and nasty relationships. We have lost the fine art of reasonableness. That is, if we ever had it. I think I'm a reasonable fella. But maybe that's why I don't fit. Guess the only way is for me to change. Into an unreasoable being. Like everyone else. --Jim Broede

A curse turned into a blessing.

Being an Alzheimer care-giver for 13 years was a learning experience. For me. Taught me how to not only deal with someone afflicted with Alzheimer's. But also how to deal with other care-givers. And with people generally. In essence, you enter their world. You even agree with them when they are obviously wrong. To simmer 'em down. I looked around at the people around me. The general population. And I saw a fair number of angry people. With and without Alzheimer's. So-called normal people that were angry. Or lived in a world in which they almost always thought they were right. When they were obviously wrong. But these people were intolerant. They thought there was only one right way. To deal with a problem or an issue. When in reality, there usually are multiple ways. Conventional and unconventional ways. Not only with Alzheimer's. But with all sorts of every-day matters. Used to be that I intentionally alienated people that disagree with me. But now I find ways to let 'em have their say. To listen to 'em. To even agree. For the sake of agreeing. Rather than disagreeing for the sake of disagreeing. In a sense, I'm practicing my good vibes therapy not only on Alzheimer patients, but on regular people I encounter in every day life. And it works. I admit that I might be wrong. And that maybe they are right, Because often there's no sense in having a confrontation. I'm learning to reach people in different ways. In less antagonistic ways. I practice my new-found approach daily. On the Alzheimer message boards. And anywhere else I may be in the world. In a sense, I've set my ego aside. By admitting I could be wrong. But many find that hard to do. Because they don't listen. They don't accept the idea that there can be honest disagreement. Without being hostile. Yes, sometimes life works in strange and mysterious ways. The Alzheimer's experience, for instance. I once thought it was a curse. And now I think of it as a blessing. --Jim Broede

Maybe even better than America.

One thing I like about my blog. I can write about virtually anything. Within the realm of human decency. If I go elsewhere, I can't always do that. For instance, I post almost daily on the Alzheimer's message board. Have for a long time. But there I can't be as free and open as I am in my blog. So on the message board I've learned to be better mannered. More polite. I follow the rules. Because the message board belongs to the Alzheimer's Association. And when in Italy this winter, I'll try to act more like an Italian than an American. I want to learn the Italian way. I'll even try to speak Italian. Speak their language. That's better than speaking mine. Especially if I want to be understood. But when it comes to my impressions of Italy and Italians, I'll tell it as i see it. In my blog. Warts and all. But I'm sure it's gonna be mostly nice stuff. Because I've been to Italy before. And I like the place. Maybe even better than America. --Jim Broede

I do as I darn well please.

I don't always play by other people's rules. Instead, I prefer my own rules. As long as I don't infringe on others, I think that's perfectly okay. I know that I annoy some people. By playing by my rules. But they choose to be annoyed. They don't have to. They are merely bothered by the thought that I play by my rules. For instance, I have a rule to never vote for a Republican. Because they are generally despicible people. Of course, I'm not doing a Republican or anyone harm by my action. I'm not being physically violent. I'm just choosing not to vote for the ignorant cad. Sure, I'll call a Republican names. Such as ignorant cad. And that's not nice. But that really does no harm. Other than to one's ego. If I used sticks and stones, that would be another thing. I could break bones. But again, that's where I draw the line. Absolutely no physical violence. Every day I break rules. Such as jaywalking on the main street in my town. But I do it anyway. Because I prefer my own rule. Which allows me to jaywalk. In good conscience. I also like to violate the laws of common sense. For instance, common sense dictates that I not ride my bicycle on a snow-packed road. But I have no such prohibition in my rule book. And I do as I darn well please. Snow or no snow. --Jim Broede

The nature of my sense of humor.

I'd not hesitate calling myself crazy, nuts or bonkers. Because I am sort of weird. And I like those terms better than mentally ill. Of course, I consider myself quite sane. And well-balanced. With it, so to speak. So I would not be the least bit offended if I was called crazy, nuts or bonkers. In fact, I occasionally sign my name as Crazy Jim. I wear the name as a badge of honor. Some people tell me I shouldn't call other people such names. Especially if they are genuinely mentally ill. I buy that. But in casual conversation, I wouldn't mind calling the likes of almost any Republican crazy, nuts and bonkers. Because that implies some degree of humor. But some Republicans tell me they don't think it's funny. That only spurs me on. Makes it even more funny. Anyway, I think some people take life far too seriously. By quibbling over the terms crazy, nuts and bonkers. As if it's in poor taste. Or disrespectful. But then that's the nature of humor. At least my sense of humor. --Jim Broede

I'm my own leader.

Pardon me if I have little faith in many of the so-called experts. In virtually any field. Many of 'em know less than they pretend to know. They often operate in the dark. And at the very best, they take educated guesses. That goes for doctors. For economists. For politicians. For diplomats. For astronomers. For theologians. For philosophers. Just turn back the clock at any time. Whether it be 100 years ago. Or 1,000 years ago. Many of 'em were recognized as experts in their time. But they've been proven wrong. Many of today's 'experts' will face the same fate. Just give 'em time. I happen to take a laymen's perspective on many matters. Medical. Theological. And all kinds of theoretical stuff. And sometimes I figure my guess is as good as any expert. Heck, I can make up my mind about the nature of god. I don't need someone to tell me what to believe. I can figure things out for myself. By digging deep inside my spirit/soul. Who better to penetrate my interior than me? I'm not afraid to take a look. Doesn't scare me one bit. But still, people keep telling me I'm wrong. That I need to read and listen to the experts. Baloney. Thank you. But I'll feel my own way. I'll consider anyone's advice. But ultimately, I'm gonna follow me. I'm my own leader. --Jim Broede

Racist hearts.

Seems to me we have a political party that doesn't want economic conditions to get better until after 2012. Because that will be good for Republicans. A way for Republicans to heap the blame for it all on the Obama administration. Yes, it's a game. Don't allow Obama to succeed. Block his agenda in any and every way. With lies. With filibusters. With negative sound bites. Make it seem that the nation's economic lethargy is all Obama's fault. But the saddest thing of all is that Obama is letting Republicans get away with it. He's not fighting back. At least, not in an effective way. This is a political war. And Obama is acting like someone willing to turn the other cheek. But Obama has yet to recognize that doesn't work. He comes off as a wimp. Maybe an intellectual, too. But a wimpy intellectual. Maybe it's that the Republicans happen to be the party of rich people. And white people. And Obama is black. For so many, many years, black people were docile. They turned the other cheek. They didn't fight back. So we whites literally got away with murder. With suppression. With oppression. We formed a racist society. We treated blacks as second class citizens. Even at a time when we catigated Nazis. For being racists. We had our own deeply racist society. In many ways, we white Americans were (and some of us still are) just as bad and evil as the Nazis. We mistreated black people. Didn't even allow them into our schools. Made them live in ghettos. Denied them decent jobs. Even lynched many of 'em if they tried to get too uppity. Even today, blacks aren't treated fairly when it comes to matters of life and death. Blacks are far more likely to be executed than white people. Anyway, maybe that's why white Republicans think they can get away with the shenanigans aimed at making Obama fail. He's black. And he deserves to fail. Furthermore, that fool Obama is helping the Republicans. By repeatedly turning the other cheek. Offering to compromise. I'm waiting for Obama to decide that enough is enough. That it's time for a black man to stand up and fight. For what is right and decent. Yes, these Republicans are mostly racists. They treat a black president like he has no right to live in the White House. Because he's black. I'm white. And I know better. That's why I'm not a Republican. I despise Republicans for their racist ways. I see deep down into many of their hearts. Racist hearts. --Jim Broede

To hell with the super rich.

In the early stages of the civil rights movement in about 1962, when I went to work for newspapers in Florida, I was disappointed in many black people. For not being militant enough. Some of 'em were far too docile. Maybe because they had been oppressed and suppressed for so many generations. I didn't head to Florida to join the movement. But I soon did. When I saw the way black people were treated. It was gawd-awful. I even got myself appointed to the executive board of a local NAACP chapter. And I advocated militancy. Demonstrations. Protests. And astounding as it may seem, many black people had to be prodded into protesting. Into becoming militant. Into proclaiming that they weren't gonna take disgraceful foul treatment any more. Nowadays, I find that many folks, both white and black, aren't militant enough. Mainly, poor people and the middle class. They have been flagrantly mistreated in recent decades. Evidenced by the alarming widespread gap between the rich and the poor. It's a dirty rotten shame. Almost equivalent to the longtime denial of civil rights to black people. Fortunately, the blacks became militant in the 1960s. And won their rights. But meanwhile, many of us middle class Americans are sitting on our hands and doing virtually nothing about economic disparity. When really, we need to become militant. And maybe even storm congress and Wall Street and the big private corporations to demand reform. Yes, let's take to the streets. And start hanging the power moguls and Republicans in effigy. Let's start scaring the daylights out of them. Let's seize control. Let's elevate the middle class to positions of power. And to hell with the super rich. --Jim Broede

A truly patriotic war.

Once again, I'm sickened by Republicans. But just momentarily. I always get on with life. Because some things I can't change. Including Republican negativity and obstructivism. Trying to stymie the entire agenda of Obama and the Democrats until they yield to the Republicans' demand for tax cuts for millionaires and billionaires. That's gawd awful. But then that's the nature of Republicans. Gawd-awful people. Not everyone is a nice being. I have to accept that. Instead, I dream of Obama and the Democrats standing up to the Republicans. Declaring war, if necessary. On the Republicans. Now that's a war I could support. A truly patriotic war. In which we take no prisoners. --Jim Broede

I fit and don't fit at the same time.

I fit into this world because I don't fit. That may sound like an odd statement. But it's true. That is exactly what makes me feel comfortable. I don't wanna feel like a clone. I want to be an individual. One of a kind. That's the beauty of life. Having the option to go one's own way. For instance. To write in my own style. I don't want other people telling me how to write. Oh, on second thought, they can tell me. But I don't have to follow their advice. I can still do my own thing. I can still think as I please. Of course, that may put me in danger. I may be ostracized. Or put into prison. Or killed. But still, I have a sense of being free. To pretty much make my own choices. To not fit in. To deviate from society's mores. Ever since I became a conscious being, I began to think as an individual. To act and live like an individual. Yes, like me. Maybe that's why I learned to write. I discovered that I could write what I want to write. No limits. Oh, I may not be able to show people what I write. Unless I wanted to be labeled. Or persecuted. But still, I have complete freedom to write anything. I can choose to keep it secret. Or now I can even put it on the Internet. In my blog. In that sense, I'm being published. I'm in the public domain. But I also write things that I don't post. That I keep secret. That's my choice. Meanwhile, people have the option to read or not read what I post in my blog. That's nice. They can like it or not like it. Or they can be totally indifferent. I really don't care. But if I want to care, I can care, too. In so many ways, I fit and don't fit in this world. At the same time. --Jim Broede

It scares the hell out of me.

I'll tell you what scares me about Republicans. They are fanatics. To the very core of everyone of 'em. They'll stick together. Vote as a bloc. No individuality about these Republicans. United we stand, divided we fall. Nobody abandons ship. All the monolith mind cliches apply. Look at the U.S. Senate. There's no deviation. The minority Republicans can always rely on having 42 votes to block virtually any legislation by the filibuster. There's no way that Democrats would ever be so cohesive. Democrats are a divided lot. They are individuals. A mix of liberals and conservatives and moderates. Republicans have all become varying degrees of conservatives. There is no such thing anymore as a moderate or liberal Republican. To be a Republican, one must surrender his/her mind and body and soul to the conservative cause. No matter how lame-brained. Republicans march by a locked zombie-step. It's as if they have been taken over by an alien force. By body-snatchers from outer space. Yes, science fiction has come true. I don't know about you. But it sure scares the hell out of me. --Jim Broede

Obama, please pursue a decent life

I don't know about the rest of you. But I feel disenfranchised. Because I really don' t have a political choice. No matter whom I vote for, it ain't gonna make a difference. Our congressmen and senators and even our president are bought and paid for by oligarchs. By big business. I might as well just stay home. Why waste my time going to the polls? Sure, I could write in my name or that of someone else that I trust. But my vote ain't gonna make a difference. My vote won't even be counted. Won't be registered and reported in the final tally. I might as well live under one of the old communist regimes. In countries where one had to be a communist to even qualify for the ballot. Your only choices were communists. Well, in America, we have Republicans and Democrats and independents. But they are essentially all of the same ilk. Ready to sell their souls for a price. That's why many of 'em got into politics. To wheel and deal. Not to serve the common good. Yes, I sound cynical. Because I am. I have yet to find a politician that I trust. Even Obama has let me down. Let us all down. Everyone of us that voted for him. He's a better man than most of 'em. But he's still a politician. He ain't gonna change the game. Instead, the game is changing him. Corrupting him. If Obama had any sense of decency, he'd quit. Get out. And pursue a decent life. --Jim Broede

If that's what it takes, so be it.

I rant and rave about the state of politics in the USA. But in reality, there's nothing I can really do about it. I can't affect the big picture. What will happen, will happen. No matter what I do as an individual. My action, my presence won't make a difference. So I guess I have to learn to live with it. I can control my relationship with another human being. Someone close to me. But I can have virtually no impact on a big event. Such as the national election in 2012. In a sense, it's all predetermined. Of course, there may be powerful characters/forces on the scene that do influence the outcome. Look at the guy (Lee Harvey Oswald) that shot JFK 47 years ago. Changed the entire course of history. But I'm not that kind of player. And I really wouldn't want to be. I'll just let things happen. Rather than play god. And pretty much accept life the way it comes. Except, I can make a few choices that directly affect my life. And maybe a few people around me. In little ways. Things that may have a significant and long-term ripple effect. Certainly on my life. And my Italian girlfriend's life. That's because I'm dedicated to the pursuit of happiness. Dedicated to being a romantic idealist, a free-thinker, a liberal and a lover. Even an optimist. In my own way. Sure, my actions may be dependent on some events around me. But not on the outcome of the next national election. I'm still gonna try to live life in my own way. Maybe I'm fooling myself. But hey, if that's what it takes, so be it. --Jim Broede

No need to wipe one's brow.

Many people have a tendency to sweat the small stuff. Of course, there can be disagreement over the definition of small. What I consider 'small' may be big to others. I find that the vast, vast majority of problems have practical solutions. That even goes for serious problems. Therefore, it makes little sense to sweat it. I've discovered that the world is full of worry warts. They worry about any and everything. For instance, that little things may become big things. When really, all that's needed is to nip the little thing in the bud. Right away. Then there's no need to wipe sweat from one's brow. --Jim Broede

No matter where, I can be a lover.

Things I do. The way I live. I sense they are right for me. But not necessarily for others. We each have to find our own ways. That's what I mean by freedom. Freedom to choose. I'm always feeling my way. And I love it when I come to a junction. And I have to decide whether to turn right or left. Or go straight ahead. Or return on the path from which I've come. Decisions. Decisions. I love to make decisions. Especially the decision to love. Nothing better or more satisfying than that. In that sense, it doesn't matter which direction I take. Whether I am in Minnesota or Timbuktu or on another planet. No matter where, I can be a lover. --Jim Broede

Because it makes me feel good.

Some people think I'm nuts. Because I insist on getting my daily exercise. Which generally consists of two or three hours of aerobic activity. Such as brisk walking or bicycling. Even when it snows and rains and turns fantastically cold. I've got to get outdoors. And on the move. For instance, yesterday I biked 14 miles on snow-packed roads. I didn't break any speed records. But I pumped away. And then for good measure, I walked four 15-minute miles. In the dark. Clad in a reflective vest. Why do I do it? Because it makes me feel good. That's why I do most everything I do. Life really is more simple than some of us make it. Here it is. Early morning. And I'm at my desk. Writing. Because it makes me feel good. Soon I'm gonna go back to bed for a while. Because it makes me feel good. And then I'll get up for a breakfast of a cinnamon swirl and a glass of milk. Because it makes me feel good. --Jim Broede

I have the solution to our woes.

If I were in charge, I could put the nation's budget in order. Yes, I could solve our problems. But I'm not gonna become king. Ruler by divine right. So it's gonna take a while to get things right. And fact of the mattter is that we may always live in a messed up political, economic and social state. Because we all want to run the show in our own way. Yet the solution is so simple. Soak the rich. Redistribute the wealth. Reform the capitalist system. Make it more socialist. And then fall in love with each other. And with life. --Jim Broede

Precious moments.

I'm amused by people who want me to get things done. In a timely manner. This and that. Little chores. Big chores. Taking care of details. Like things I have to do before leaving for Italy later this month. I have to pack. Bring the right things. But I refuse to get into a frenzy. No doubt about it. I'll leave some things go to the last minute. I won't be the complete and perfect traveler. Or for that matter, the complete and perfect human being. But I'll adjust along the way. And make the best of the situation. I know that not everything will go as planned. And I may get momentarily rattled. But hey, things will get resolved. Sure, I wish life would fall into place in a neatly wrapped package. And ultimately, it does. For a moment, at least. And that's what I prize most. Precious moments. --Jim Broede

I'm looking for happiness and love.

Have you noticed a general theme in this blog? I'm a disenchanted individual. In that I take issue with our political, economic and social systems. But still, I'm happy. Because I'm in love. Almost always, if not always. Love. Yes, that's the difference maker. That has allowed me to become what I am. A romantic idealist. A free-thinker. A liberal. And a lover. I keep getting back to the same roles. At any given moment, I'm one or the other. And maybe all of 'em at the same time. I know what I wanna be. And what I am. Maybe I could add several other roles. Dreamer, for instance. Come to think of it, I like to dream a lot. Another thing. Often, I don't know where I'm going. Because I don't have a grand plan. A scheme. I'm trying to live my life one day at a time. In order to savor the moment. Writing helps me do that. Because when I write, I solidify the moment. I grasp life in words. In thoughts. Guess I'm looking for meaning. And for happiness. And for love. --Jim Broede

Until I get it right.

I have a tendency or inclination to make my life an open book. In other words, I have nothing to hide. Even if I'm ashamed of things that I've said or done. I have nothing against letting it all hang out. Certainly, that beats deception. Some people tell me I talk too much. And maybe I do. But I'd rather err on the side of talking too much rather than too little. Maybe it's that I am a free spirit. I allow myself to flow. Naturally. Didn't always do that. And I sensed that was a mistake. But I keep adjusting. Until I get it right. --Jim Broede

Without sacrificing my integrity.

I like the concept of indivdual rights. And living in a world in which an individual can be truly an individual. But I also could be persuaded to place the individual in a secondary or subordinant role. For the sake of the common good. For the collective good. But it's difficult to say where one should draw the line. Because some individuals, in doing as they please, could easily infringe upon the rights of other individuals. At some point, the individual has to submit to the collective will. Yes, one must learn to compromise. To work cooperatively with others. Even with people we dislike. Unfortunately, I'm living in a time and place that often doesn't allow for ample give and take. Especially in the political realm. Where politicians in power want all or nothing. Where conniving occurs every day. Where deceit and dishonesty have become accepted practice. But I am resolved to find a way to live in this world without sacrificing my integrity. --Jim Broede

Looking ahead 20,000 years.

Imagine a society in which it would be against the law to be a billionaire. Or maybe even a millionaire. A society in which no one was allowed to be filty rich. Monetarily speaking. One's earnings beyond a certain amount would have to be put into a pool. To serve the collective or common good. I can imagine such a society. I'm not saying whether that would be a good or bad thing. But I'd like to write a story. Imagining what life would be like if that happened. Maybe at a time in the distant future. Sounds a little like science fiction, doesn't it? I'm thinking of a society in which such a concept is widely supported. Not forced. Because a vast majority of people thought it was the right thing to do. I could see it happening. Maybe in 20,000 years. If we humans survive that long. And keep evolving and experimenting with new ways of life. Maybe the accumulation of money will no longer be considered a necessity of life. That there will be things far more precious. More meaningful. Such as knowledge. Education. Service to the greater good of society. --Jim Broede

Things will get better. Believe it.

Seems to me that life always gets better. If only one gives it time. That's my observation after 75 years of living. Ultimately, something goes wrong. Life spirals in a direction that you don't want it to go. But then things get better and better. Problems get solved. That keeps me going. Knowing that ups follow the downs. Has to. Because I won't have it any other way. I wouldn't be able to live with a constant flow of downs. I suppose the final down ends in death. But until then, one has life. And I wanna try to live life to the fullest. Reasonably happy. Fulfilled. And whenever possible, in love. If not with someone, then with something. I have this inner confidence. Call it faith. That when I'm not feeling good mentally, physically or spiritually, it's only temporary. Things will get better. Believe it. --Jim Broede