I'm gonna become a dandy.

I frequent thrift stores. And buy more than I need. But I also donate stuff. Lots of stuff. More than I buy. So I’m recycling stuff. It’s fun. For instance, the other day the thrift store had a 75 percent off sale on everything marked with a pink tag. Bought a batch of shirts and sweaters. Cost me about $1 each. Good stuff. New. Or almost new. Had to clean out my closets to hang the stuff. And yesterday, lo and behold, I bought a leather couch and love seat. Used. But in beautiful shape. No pink tag. Cost me $80 for the couch. And $40 for the matching love seat. Wow! Still a steal. It’s a burgundy color. A dark red. Replaces furniture I’ve had in my living room for maybe 30 years. Anyway, it has a masculine look about it. And I’m thrilled. By the new look. And, oh, so comfortable. I’ll spend more time in the living room now. The two pieces face each other. Several days ago I purchased a huge framed modern abstract painting. For $15. I had been looking for artwork to hang over a high-on-the-wall entry door to an attic storage area. Just off the living room. It’s perfect. The painting picks up the burgundy in the leather furniture. Now I’m looking through my newly purchased shirts and sweaters. For color apparel that matches the furniture and painting. I’m gonna become a dandy. Blending perfectly into the setting. –Jim Broede

The essence of salvation.

Sometimes, things just happen. Nice things. There’s a saying that ‘shit happens.’ But so do blessings. That’s how I’ve fallen in love. Twice in my life. It just happened. As if pre-destined. As if it was meant to be. Sure, there are things that happen that I wish didn’t happen. Such as my dear Jeanne dying. After 38 years of marriage. After a 13-year sojourn with Alzheimer’s. But life goes on. Something good comes of a grievous event in one’s life. Love crosses my path again. And I’m drawn to Italy. Where I’m gonna keep spending my winters. With my new true love. And she’ll spend her summers with me. In Minnesota. Yes, things happen. Sure, some bad things. But also many, many nice things. Blessings. That’s the way of life. Especially if one is able to fall in love. Maybe that’s the essence of salvation. Love. Pure love. –Jim Broede

Makes me inquisitive and personal.

I’m unusual. In that I’ll talk about almost anything. Even very personal stuff. Maybe because I am very personal. So I’m just being me. I like to get personal. With people. Even those who don’t wanna be personal. That doesn’t stop me. I’ll even get personal with strangers. Because that’s the way to get to know someone. I tend to like people who get personal. Sure beats being impersonal. I wasn’t always so personal. Maybe because I didn’t care that much about other people. Or maybe I was shy. And maybe I thought people were entitled to privacy. I suppose they are. But that doesn’t mean they have to take advantage of their entitlement. If they stay very private or totally private, I don’t have an opportunity to really get to know them. And I like to know people that I deal with or that I encounter on a fairly regular basis. I think that’s the right thing to do. At least it is for me. Makes me inquisitive. Or personal, one might say. –Jim Broede

By the way, his name is Ted.

The guy at the local bicycle shop has called me John. For a long time. I don’t see him all that often. But to him, I’ve been ‘John’ for years. But today I corrected him. Probably should have done it sooner. But really, it doesn’t make that much difference what I’m called. I don’t even mind a little bit of profanity aimed in my direction. Anyway, I didn’t know the name of the guy. Until today. I just didn’t use his name. Which may be just as bad as calling him by the wrong name. By the way, his name is Ted. –Jim Broede

We can't do everything.

Occasionally I stumble on someone on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Indeed, that’s a sad state of affairs. Usually, it’s because one feels overwhelmed. Often by too many responsibilities, too many demands. The best cure-all, I suppose, is to get away from it all. For an extended period of time. But I tell ‘em to start living moment to moment. Handle only one moment at a time. Don’t move on to the next moment until you’ve completed the present moment. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Eventually, one learns to live an hour at a time. Then two hours. And maybe even a day at a time. One has to slow down. Savor the moment. Savor life. Unfortunately, we humans tend to rush through life. We try to do too many things. Some of us even try to be all things to all people. Which is idiotic. Instead, we have to learn to pick and choose. To establish our priorities. Because we can’t do everything. –Jim Broede

I gotta have romantic thoughts.

I like to think that I control my thoughts. To a significant degree. On a daily basis. For instance, I just sat down. And decided to think romantic thoughts. Because that invariably puts me into a good frame of mind. Of course, I could make other choices. And think of something negative. Maybe something political. And I may choose to do that later today. But not for now. Because I want to get the day off to a good start. So I think of my true love. In Sardinia. And the fact that I’m gonna connect with her soon. On Skype, an audio-video hook up. One of the many technical wonders of the modern age. It’s like having her here. Sitting in my study. Or my living room. Or maybe I can think of it as me sitting in her study or living room. Conversing. As if we are together. The other day, we were connected for 3 hours and 27 minutes. Not always directly talking to each other. Because we were also doing things around our places. Taking phone calls. Doing a chore. Yes, more or less taking care of business. Sharing our days with each other. Some days we connect several times. We’re in daily touch. Always. I like that. I think it’s romantic. When we’re separated, I also write at least one love letter every night. So it’s there for the reading in the morning. When she gets up. Fact of the matter is that I’m a romantic idealist. Which means, I gotta have romantic thoughts. Usually morning, noon and night. –Jim Broede

A positive influence.

I call my sister at least once every several weeks. At the behest of my true love. I didn’t used to keep contact with my sister. Because I thought I had better things to do. But my true love prodded my conscience. Suggesting that it’s good to maintain family ties. So when I call my sister, I tell her I’m doing so, in large part, because my true love put me up to it. My true love says I shouldn’t tell my sister that. But still, I do. Because I like to be honest about it. Anyway, I think my true love has made a favorable impression on my sister. For having a positive influence on me. –Jim Broede

I'm nice to the respectful.

I’m supposed to show respect. For just about everyone. Or so I’ve been taught. But I can’t bring myself to do it. Because I live in a disrespectful society. A disrespectful world. Yes, so many of us are disrespectful of each other. It’s like a disease. That infects us all. But still, I try to show respect, even for people I don’t like. But pardon me if I don’t show full respect. For certain people. Such as conservative Republicans. And racists. And cold-blooded killers. And tyrants. I justify my disrespect because it’s aimed at disrespectful people. I’m nice to the respectful. –Jim Broede

Makes 'em racists. And idiots, too.

Too many conservative Republicans tend to be racists. They generally don’t like black people. They think of blacks as inferior. As un-American. They don’t even want to acknowledge that Barack Obama was born in America. A recent poll showed that 71 percent of Republicans that go to vote have doubts about the authenticity of Obama’s birth being in Hawaii. It’s hard for them to think of Obama being a pure, real American. Because they think of pure as white. Yes, that makes them racists. And idiots, too. –Jim Broede

Wrongs inflicted by white people.

The blacks dislike of whites isn't based on race. It's based on shoddy treatment blacks received from whites. In the past. And even now. But the whites dislike of blacks is based on racism. It's racist all the way. Blacks are victims of racism. Whites are not victims. What one sees from blacks is not racism. It's annoyance. Caused by white racists. Racism is mostly a one-way street. Some whites like to accuse blacks of reverse discrimination. Of despising or even hating whites. But once again, that’s not racism. It’s blacks trying to correct wrongs perpetrated by white people. –Jim Broede

I'll play an adagio next.

I’m listening to a CD of solo guitar music. Sounds nice. It’s relaxing. Just right. Not too loud. Not too soft. Tranquil. Serene. That’s my mood. Everything falling into place. Loverboy. My beloved cat. Has come to see me. Sitting on my desk. Looking at me. We’re both transfixed on each other. Calm. That’s the day. The weather. No breeze. The morning sun bouncing off the snow drifts. Yes, beams of light. At 186,000 miles a second. But so fast that I can’t see movement. Everything is still. Silent. Until I hear the clock chimes. Reminds me that the CD has played out. I’ll play an adagio next. –Jim Broede

I could be drifting on a cloud.

I don’t mind making decisions. Over what to do next. But often it’s just nice to let a day evolve. In its own mysterious way. Just going with the flow. Feels like I’m living in a story. Which is better than reading a novel. Because it feels so much more real. Guess that’s because it is. Some of the most comfortable moments in my life came when I just let things happen. Naturally. I’m going through such a period now. Events don’t even need analysis. Albeit, I’m naturally analytical. A little like Sherlock Holmes. That’s part of the fun of life. Trying to figure things out. And giving events a romantic aura. That makes everything more meaningful. Occasionally I stumble across people who tell me they are tired of making decisions. Day in and day out. I suspect they are making the wrong decisions. Because they ain’t going with the flow. I often feel like I’m flowing down a river, or a babbling brook. Through a primeval forest. But I also have choices. I could be drifting on a cloud. –Jim Broede

Can't think of anything so stupid.

I just read a novel. With a cataclysmic ending. Which was sad. Not the way I would have written it. And I think god would have ended the story differently, too. But I guess the nature of life is to have cataclysm. To let situations go awry. When really, situations could be easily salvaged. Because there’s a fix for almost everything. That is, if people think things out. And look at the options. The alternatives. But in reality, people are irrational. They do dumb things. They choose to be unhappy. Rather than happy. Can’t think of anything more stupid than choosing to be unhappy. –Jim Broede

One must take control.

I visit the Alzheimer’s message boards almost daily. Even though it can be a downer. Because the message boards are a haven, of sorts, for unhappy people. Care-givers. Many of ‘em overworked. Exhausted. Overwhelmed. I can’t do much for ‘em. Which is frustrating. I could throw pity parties, I suppose. But I seldom do that. Instead, I look for solutions to their problems. And invariably I urge them to take care of themselves. To arrange their lives to get daily respite. Even if that means putting their loved ones into nursing homes. Shared care-giving. Making care-giving a team effort. Really, that’s what it takes. One can’t do it alone. Indefinitely. On a 24/7 basis. Without breaking down. Sooner or later. But still, so very many care-givers persist. They push themselves beyond reasonable limits. Like martyrs. They don’t have to. There are alternatives. But they have to be actively pursued. Things aren’t just gonna fall into one’s lap. One must take control. And find solutions to life’s problems. –Jim Broede

Feeling romantic.

I like to do romantic things. Not just dream about ‘em. But actually do the romantic. Live the romantic life. Once upon a time, I thought that being romantic was impractical. Or too zany. Too absurd. Too ridiculous. That was in my younger days. And I had other things to do. Such as pursuing my career. Writing for newspapers. But then I realized that I was in a romantic profession. Writing stories. Heck, that was better than digging ditches or working in construction or selling cars. Although I did dig ditches. In a romantic way. Working one summer between college terms. Reinforcing a railroad bridge across the Frazer River near the Continental Divide in the Colorado Rockies. And later I joined the U.S. Army. As a soldier. Serving as a sportswriter for an Army newspaper in Germany. That gave me a sense of the romantic, too. And then I got married. And lived with the same woman for 38 years. Again, a romantic adventure. And now I’m in love again. With an Italian. And so I’m living part-time in Italy and part-time in Minnesota. Feeling romantic. –Jim Broede

Winter from my perspective.

I’m assuming that the snow removal budget has been depleted in my small town. Because my side street hasn’t been plowed since the last big snowfall about week ago. The road is still passable. Despite the rutted ridges of ice and snow. Mixed in with slush and slop. I’m even able to walk. But it’s too treacherous to ride my bicycle. Unless I walk the bike out to the main county road. That’s been plowed. I’m told we’ve had one of the nastiest winters ever here. I take people’s word for that. Because I spent most of the winter away. In Sardinia. An Italian island in the Mediterranean Sea. Where there are cacti and palm trees and an absence of snow and freezing temperatures. Makes me chuckle. That I had to miss a few blizzards. And extended periods of sub-zero temperatures. I just tell local folks that winter doesn’t seem too bad so far. From my perspective. –Jim Broede

Or Texas, for that matter.

Winter is hanging on here in Minnesota. In that it’s cold. Relatively speaking. By that I mean the temperature gets only a degree or two or three above freezing during the day. And dips to 10 or 15 degrees in the evening. But the days have been mostly sunny. And a walk in the sun makes for a warm feeling. If one wears a jacket and a knit cap. Pulled down over the ears. So really I have no serious complaints. I can live with this. All spring, if necessary. Anyway, it wouldn’t do much good to complain. The weather is the weather. And I’ve learned to accept it. I’d also rather be living in Minnesota than in the Arctic Circle. Or Texas, for that matter. –Jim Broede

Give me $11 million, and I'll pitch.

I’ve decided to not like Carlos Silva. The Chicago Cubs pitcher. He’s likely to be released soon. And become a free agent. Able to sign with any club that will have him. Silva could just as easily choose to stay with the Cubs. By going down to the minor leagues to pitch. And maybe be called up to the Cubs later in the season. He’s guaranteed a salary of $11 million. Whether he’s in the major leagues or the minors. But hey, he’s guaranteed the salary even if he’s released and doesn’t play baseball any more. And if he signs with another team, the Cubs still have to pay virtually his entire salary. So one would think that if Silva was a decent guy, he’d pitch with the Cubs team in Iowa. Just to show that he’s a decent guy. Willing to earn his pay. One way or another. But Silva thinks it’s an insult to be relegated to the minor leagues for even a few weeks. That’s his ego talking. His gigantic ego. He says the Cubs are thinking of him as merely an insurance package. And he won’t have that. He says that’s an insult. My gawd. I’d work for a year almost anywhere, and quite willingly, as an ‘insurance package.’ Especially for a salary of $11 million. –Jim Broede

It's crap in any language.

I’m watching less TV since I’ve returned from three months in Italy. Which means less exposure to American politics. And it’s a welcome relief. I got used to living without American politics in Italy. Instead, it was Italian politics. And I learned that politics are politics are politics. Nasty. Crappy. No matter where one happens to be. I don’t speak or understand much Italian. But I didn’t have to. Because gibberish is the same. In any language. It all sounds like gibberish. Politicians and pundits trying to talk louder than each other. Shouting. Rude. Looking and acting like clowns. Idiots. And I wondered, why do we even have the TV turned on? It’s punishment. Self-inflicted. Turn it off. Go for a walk. Read a book. Have a nice conversation with one’s true love. Political talk on TV isn’t informative. Or entertaining. It’s a waste of time. So many better things to do. I’ve had enough of the political bullshit. Doesn’t matter whether it’s Italian or American. It’s still bullshit in any language. –Jim Broede

Certainly, god must be joking.

I have to spend part of every day being at least a little bit silly. I can’t spend a whole day being serious. It would go against my grain. Anyway, life is both sacred and funny. And I think that’s a nice combination. Maybe that’s what makes life so sacred. That it can be so funny. So unpredictable. So absurd. But often in pleasant ways. I have sometimes wondered if god has a sense of humor. Of course, he must. God wants us to laugh. To have a good time. To see the humor. Because he made some of us look like and act like clowns. Like court jesters. And he made some of us downright stupid. Take the typical Republican, for instance. Certainly, god must be joking. –Jim Broede

I've learned to beat the system.

We all live oppressed lives. To some degree. In that we aren’t ever completely free to do as we please. Without risking, in many instances, dire consequences. Because there are rules. And laws. And bullies. And tyrants. I’m far more free in the USA than I would be in Libya, I suppose. Although maybe if I were an Arab, I’d rather live in Libya. For one reason or another. I might even have been reared to accept Gadhafi as my political leader. After all, we are all capable of being brainwashed. For evidence of that, look at the Germans who rallied behind Hitler. Yes, the world is a strange place. Maybe mysterious, too. Some of us are caught up in systems that we don’t particularly like. But as individuals, we can’t change ‘em. And we find ourselves going along with stuff we don’t like. Even here in America. I don’t like the fact that I live in an oligarchy. That the ruling elite are rich people and big corporations. And politicians that have been bought with money. Rather than votes. A Wall Street banker has far more say so than me. That’s just a fact of life. Yes, special interests get served. Far more than the common good. Of course, occasionally there are mass movements. For change. But even those movements are corrupted by the ruling elite. Because they know how to maneuver. To cheat. To retain vast amounts of power. That’s just the way it is. Therefore, things won’t change that much. No matter where one lives. We common folks will be oppressed. To some significant degree. But in my case, I still find ways to live. Happily. And in love. In a sense, I’ve learned to beat the system. –Jim Broede

Wine made to be shared.

I like things a little bit exotic. Yesterday, I bought a bottle of wine. But I didn’t want just any kind of wine. I asked for wine from Sardinia. Because I just spent the winter in Sardinia. And it would have been inappropriate for me to drink wine from any other region. I was there. And I wanted to capture the flavor of Sardinia. To savor it in Minnesota. To me, that’s exotic. And romantic. And the right thing. Interestingly, I was able to find a bottle of Sardinian wine in my little community tucked away in a small town in another side of the world. Now I’m debating when to open the wine. A nice red wine. Think I’ll wait until I’m invited to a neighbor’s for dinner. This wine should be shared. That makes it even more special. Meanwhile, I purchased two bottles of beer. One from Russia. The other from Salzburg in Austria. I have no qualms having a beer with dinner. At home. Even when I’m alone. But Sardinian wine is made to be sipped with other people. –Jim Broede

Why Loverboy and not Lovergirl?

Maybe my cat Loverboy is a loverboy because he demands attention. He demands loving. He wants to be loved. And he’s learned that he has to give love in order to receive ample love. Loverboy is an initiator. He comes to me. He purrs. He even grooms me. As if I’m another cat. And he follows me around. Like a shadow. I happen to like that. I interpret Loverboy’s actions as genuine acts of love. But maybe he’s merely craving attention. His mate, Chenuska, likes attention, too. But not as vociferously and demanding as Loverboy. I wonder if that makes her less of a lover. Maybe my cats are teaching me something. I love ‘em both. But it’s interesting that I named Loverboy Loverboy. And I didn’t name Chenuska Lovergirl. –Jim Broede

I'm for getting on with life.

I have potential solutions to people’s problems. Because I’m usually looking from the sidelines. That gives me an advantage. I’m on the outside looking in. Like watching a game unfold. As a spectator. That makes problem solving easier. And more theoretical. Like I say, potential solutions. Doesn’t mean they’ll work. Or that attempts will be made to implement ‘em. I merely suggest. Try this or that. Generally, I make suggestions in nice ways. But I can be sarcastic, too. Depends on my mood. Many people don’t want solutions. They want empathy. Or a pity party. I can give that, too. But I’m more inclined to go for the potential solutions. I’m not good at pity. Because I don’t want people to feel sorry for themselves. I’m for getting on with life. –Jim Broede

I have better control of myself.

When I become stressed, it’s usually because I allow myself to become stressed. It’s my choice. I don’t have to be stressed. I can react in a more calm, cool and collected manner. Often I do that. Didn’t use to. But I learned. And I’m still learning. I still allow stress to faze me. Occasionally. But I’m more in control. And sometimes I brag about it. And I become over-confident. And I lose it. But such happenings are few and far between. Because I recognize what I can control, and can’t control. I can control my own reactions. But not the reactions of other people. When I was younger, I thought I could change the world, and people, too. But I’m wiser now. I have better control of myself. And I pretty much accept the world as it is. –Jim Broede.

Because I'm in love.

I’m seeing the first signs of daybreak. A sky that’s beginning to show light. I can still see the mostly amber artificial lights across the lake. And a moon trying to break through the haze. And my neighbor to the south has a light on. Also, the ground and the lake have a white blanket. Snow. Snow. Snow everywhere. The trees are forming silhouettes. With white-topped branches. A little like a winter scene out of Dr. Zhivago. Makes me appreciate living in Minnesota. A winter wonderland. Come to think of it. Doesn’t matter where I am. I appreciate life. Because I’m in love. –Jim Broede

Not up to unconditional love.

I’m aware of some Alzheimer patients that live and savor each good moment for as long as they can. Especially those in the relatively early stages. They know they have Alzheimer’s. They know that their situation will gradually deteriorate. But still, they make the most of it. While they can. A few contemplate suicide. But generally, they get on with life. Which I find remarkable. The irony is that their care-givers often are the ones with the most difficulty. Because they are challenged. And they learn that maybe they aren’t up to unconditional love. –Jim Broede

Maybe there aren't any.

Generally, a racist won’t admit he’s a racist. And they tend to get a little less respect from me than a racist who’s honest about it. I like honesty. Even though I don’t like racists. At least when one is honest, it’s easier knowing what one is dealing with. Easier swaying an honest being rather than a deceitful one. But there’s another kind of racist, too. The one that really doesn’t know he’s a racist. And if he did, he might be convinced to change his ways. I know scores of white people who are racists. But I hardly know any black racists. Maybe there aren’t any. –Jim Broede

I find Obama very likeable.

I understand why political neo-conservatives and George Bush supporters and lunatic fringe Republicans don’t like Barack Obama. And oppose whatever he does. Every step of the way. Because Obama isn’t a neo-conservative or a George Bush or a lunatic. They want him to be all of those things. And he just ain’t gonna do it. Instead, he’s gonna tend to be moderate to liberal, and himself, rather than Bush. And you’ve gotta give Obama credit for being reasonably sane and sensible. And a generally good guy. Intelligent, too. And he’s black. Therefore, little wonder that he annoys the people that he annoys. He’s everything they dislike. Which means I find Obama very likeable. –Jim Broede

Let's redistribute the wealth.

I’ve said it before. And I’ll say it again. I’m for tax hikes. Pretty much across the board. But especially on the rich. And by huge amounts on the super rich. If we exempt anybody from the tax hikes, it should be the poor and the lower middle class. Everybody else should be expected to pay. Until we get the nation out of debt and on the road to economic recovery. Fact of the matter is that we don’t need the austerity being advocated by Republicans. This nation isn’t broke. Far from it. The rich have oodles and oodles of spare cash. They can afford to pay more. A whole lot more. And they’ll save the nation in the process. By making it possible to redistribute the wealth. Serving the common good. –Jim Broede

Call me Jim, Giacomo or Vaclav.

If you ever telephone me and the call rolls over to my voice mail, you'll get the following greeting:

'Jim, also known by the Italian name Giacomo, can’t take your call right now. But please leave a message. And I’ll get back to you sooner or later. By the way, Giacomo is the Italian name for James. Sometimes I go by the name Vaclav. Which is Czech for James. Call me by whatever name you prefer.'

Yes, folks, I'm going by three names now. Just for the fun/heck of it. And to become more worldly. More cosmopolitan. More international. --Jim Broede

So many loving thoughts.

My best teachers made me think. And they weren’t necessarily school teachers. Just acquaintances and friends. We’re all capable of being teachers. Actually, I’m one of my best teachers. I teach myself. To think. By practicing thinking every day. About what I’m gonna write in this blog, for instance. I could be the only being on a desert island. And I’d think. About lots of things. Maybe how to get off the island. Or maybe how to enjoy my stay. Or how to survive. I’m not on a desert island. But this past winter, I was on the island of Sardinia. In the Mediterranean Sea. Living with my true love. And I gotta tell you. She’s a good teacher. The best. She has me thinking. Oh, does she ever. So many loving thoughts. –Jim Broede

In good conscience.

One has choices on how one wants to interpret life. And the events in one’s life. Such as my father’s suicide. My brother makes a choice. My sister makes a choice. I make a choice. Three different choices. I suggest that my brother and my sister made negative choices. They lament. They allow the event to bother them. Even in later life. Meanwhile, I make a positive choice. I see the suicide as a heroic act. It generates much good for the family. Far more good than the contrary. I could write a novel, include such an event, and make it all come out like a blessed event. Here's how I look at life. In the long term. And in my personal life. I am what I am, in part, because of the way I interpret life and events. In a relatively positive manner. I end up living a relatively happy life. I chose my course. My attitude. My philosophy of life. Some people may say I’m fooling myself. That a ‘normal’ being would think more like my brother and my sister. That they are being more realistic. Being bothered by a family suicide. Facing the truth. Yes, I concede they are facing truth. After all, one’s truth is one’s truth. My truth is my truth. Just as true as my brother’s and my sister’s truths. I have designed my life to live by my truth. The others have designed to live by their truths. To each his/her own. I’ve learned to take responsibility for my life. If someone close to me commits suicide, it’s their choice. Not my choice. Their life. Not my life. Not my responsibility. Therefore, I don’t generally go on guilt trips. I don’t think I would (go on a guilt trip) if my sister or my brother killed themselves. They would have made their own choices. Not me. I would have encouraged them not to do it. And I would have done the same for my father. I would have told him not to do it. To learn to love life. But ultimately, it’s up to them. I don’t have the power to control their decisions. And I don’t know that I would want to. Incidentally, I don’t consider it an immoral act to commit suicide. I wouldn’t want to kill myself. I love life too much to want to do it. But could I ever change my mind? Certainly. But right now, I’m more in the mood to want to live forever. Happily. And without feeling guilty about it. Or about most of my life decisions. Yes, I can live with 'em. Happily. In good conscience. --Jim

Doing as I darn well please.

More and more, I’m living as I darn well please. I know this won’t last forever. That’s the nature of the good life. The important thing is to enjoy and savor life. To take advantage of the opportunities. While they exist. Which means moment to moment. Day to day. Week to week. Whatever. And don’t get ahead of one’s self. Such as imagining bad times ahead. I see so many people failing to enjoy good moments. Because of fear that it won’t last. In other words, leaping ahead to an imagined glum future. To their own demise. They use ‘demise.’ Because ‘death’ scares ‘em. Anyway, even in so-called ‘bad’ times, I had ‘good’ moments. Pleasant breaks. Peaceful interludes. Largely because I learned acceptance. For instance, I accepted beloved Jeanne’s Alzheimer’s. Because I didn’t have much choice. So we tried to make the best of it. Together. And now I’ve learned to cherish the fond memories. Better that than lamenting. As for today, I had my heart set on biking 30 miles. But we had a foot of snow overnight. That kills my plan. But I’ve been out shoveling snow. The entire driveway. Wow! Quite a workout. More than if I had been biking. Now I’ve decided that shoveling snow is more enjoyable than biking. It’s exactly what I want to do. Once again, means I’m doing as I darn well please. –Jim Broede

Making the most of winter.

After missing so much of winter by living in Italy, I’m learning it’s not too late. To enjoy winter. Like it or not. Because we’ve had a foot of heavy, wet snow overnight. Here in Minnesota. Despite the fact that, based on the calendar, spring arrived three days ago. That potentially disrupts my plan to pedal my bicycle at least 30 miles for the 10th day in a row. Of course, I’ll still get my daily exercise. My daily workout. Shoveling snow. And trudging down the snow-covered road. On foot. I’m hoping that the snow melts fast. So that I can maneuver on my bicycle before nightfall. Maybe I can still log 30 miles. A lot can change in a few hours. But I’ll adjust. Adapt. And make the most of winter wonderland. One way or another. –Jim Broede

One can't do it all.

My most friendly neighbors are a couple living several doors up the road. They occasionally have me over for dinner. And I’ll take them out, too. Last year, they sent out a feeler. Wondering if I’d consider becoming a part-time professional care-giver. To her parents, who are living with them. Both in their 80s. And with some degree of dementia. Maybe even Alzheimer’s. But I have no desire to get back into the role of care-giver. After being one for 13 years. To my dear Jeanne, who died 4 years ago. Anyway, I’m busy with other things. Not the least being living with my Italian true love. In Sardinia. For most of the winter. And maybe for longer than that in the future. I’d like to start living in Italy for half of the year. In late autumn, winter and early spring. Meanwhile, I worry a little bit about my neighbors. And the task they face. In trying to care for two aging parents at the same time that they work virtually full-time. Of course, they bring in hired care-givers when they are at work. But still, it’s a grind. I admire their efforts. Their devotion. Their love. But still, it’s physically and mentally draining. Stressful. Discouraging. I think the day is fast coming when the couple may have to put the parents into assisted living. For everyone’s sake. I know that’s sad. But that’s the nature of life. One can’t do it all. And sometimes it boils down to hard choices. –Jim Broede

In a non-clinical musing manner.

Even though I haven’t been a care-giver for four years, I keep posting on the Alzheimer’s message boards. Not daily, like I used to. But maybe several times a week. And mostly under a section called ‘musings.’ Because I prefer to muse. Rather than give clinical advice. So many care-givers come to the message boards for moral support. And often they get advice in terms that I consider far too clinical. Sounds like it’s coming from a doctor or a clinician. I’d encourage care-givers to spend more time in ‘musings.’ Musing about their situations. In a non-clinical musing manner. –Jim Broede

Proper balance.

I’m a remarkably balanced person. You don’t know that. But I do. Because I feel balanced. I am what I choose to be. Balanced. By my terms. My definitions. You may think of me as not so very balanced. Maybe because I’m not like you. If I were, I’d be out of balance. I’d probably feel more like you. Rather than like me. That’s a horrid thought. I say that to be funny. Which is one of the traits that makes me balanced. I can be either serious. Or funny. Or something in between. By being balanced, I’m very adaptable. I’m able to adjust to life. I just let it come. Let it happen. And try to make the best of it. By putting everything into proper perspective. Proper balance. –Jim Broede

I'm good at fooling myself.

Some people tell me it’s wrong that I constantly try to make myself look good. I find that curious. I suppose I do. But I don’t particularly see anything wrong about it. That’s better than trying to make myself look bad. Although I don’t mind that either. At least occasionally. Because if I admit that sometimes I’m bad. A cad, of sorts. It actually makes me look good. For being somewhat honest about it. So in very many ways, I can be devious. Sometimes, I don’t even know if I’m being good or bad. Because I’m good at fooling myself. –Jim Broede

I'm focused, meaningfully.

I’m rabid about some things. But not obsessed, as some people describe me. For instance, I try to exercise physically. Daily. Hardly ever miss a day. Yes, some call that an obsession. I don’t. I merely find it a requirement of living. Just like breathing. If I don’t exercise regularly, I’ll die sooner than I want to. Because I’ll be out of shape. So if I’m not walking or jogging or running, I’m bicycling. I took up bicycling last summer because I had a sore foot. The foot is healed. But I’m still pedaling. Every day. At least 30 miles. Helps me control my weight, too. But more than anything, it relaxes me. Makes me feel good. Not only physically. But mentally. And emotionally. That’s why I write every day, too. Often morning, noon and night. It’s another form of exercise. Not so physical. But mental and emotional. If I skip a day of physical or mental exercise, I don’t feel right. It bothers me. Again, not to the point of being obsessed. Instead, it makes me out of focus. And I want to be focused. So I get back into my rhythm. Completely focused. On living. Actively. Meaningfully. –Jim Broede

Castro: A decent human being.

Fidel Castro is one of my heroes. And a friend recently told me that’s shameful. That Castro isn’t such a nice guy. That he’s tossed a number of people in prison. For their political views. I’m not so sure about that. Anyway, I don’t believe that everyone portrayed as bad is really all that bad. Badness and goodness are relative terms. For instance, what if I had to choose between Moammer Gadhafi and Italian prime minister Silvio Berlusconi and Castro? Which of these individuals come closet to being a decent human being? No doubt in my mind. It’s Castro. Easily. Of course, some people would argue that all three of ‘em are 'bad guys.' My choice for 'good guy' or 'decent human being' or 'hero' is Castro. Because I think he’s truly working for the common good. Of society as a whole. Rather than for the good of money-grubbers or an elite few or special interests. –Jim Broede

Where are you Fidel Castro?

I’ll tell you what the rebels in Libya need. A Fidel Castro-type leader. Someone capable of pulling off a revolution from the grassroots. A dedicated idealist. Maybe even a communist ideologue. Castro pulled it off in Cuba. In dazzling fashion. And the Cubans have been better off for it. They’ve molded a decent society. Much better than what they had under capitalist dictator Batista. And in Cuba, it’s been a long-lasting thing. Truly appreciated by most Cubans. Castro has shown that communism can work. When the system is run properly. I suppose capitalism could work, too. If run properly. But too often it’s corrupt. And turns into an oligarchy. Meanwhile, if the rebels in Libya fail to come up with an extraordinary leader, they may fail. Because Gadhafi is ruthless. And merciless. He’ll see to it that innocent people are killed. Murdered. Just to save his own regime. The Libyans deserve something better. But they won’t get it. Unless they are willing to die for their cause. Unless they get the proper leadership. Where are you Fidel Castro? –Jim Broede

Sure beats bad vibes therapy.

I want Alzheimer care-givers to learn to fake it. If that’s what it takes to exude good vibes. And I mean round-the-clock. Always. Full-time. That’s what I’d train ‘em to do. If I was teaching a course in care-giving. Maybe after they complete their stints as care-givers, they’ll be qualified to become actors. Nothing wrong with that. Many of the care-givers I’ve come to know are terrible at their job. They exude bad vibes. Almost daily. Because they are overworked. Spread thin. Unsuited temperamentally for care-giving. They tend to do more harm than good for their patients. Usually loved ones. They’d be better off leaving the task to others. To the professionals. Although some of the professionals aren’t too good at it either. I know it ain’t always easy to exude good vibes. The kind of vibes that put Alzheimer patients more at ease. They are more likely to thrive in a stress-free environment. In peace and harmony. Feeling genuinely loved. Yes, I’ll admit that some Alzheimer patients may not respond favorably to good vibes. But the vast majority will. In time. Care-givers have to learn to be patient. To stick with it. Even if the initial splurge of good vibes don’t bring positive results. Eventually, they will. By good vibes, I mean talking in a soothing voice. Never losing one’s temper in the presence of the patient. Being cheerful. Providing relaxing activities and therapies. Such as pleasant music. Body massages. Plenty of fresh air. The good vibes also may have a positive effect on the care-givers. They’ll start living their roles. A trait of a good actor. They’ll feel more at peace. With themselves. With life in general. Sure beats bad vibes therapy. –Jim Broede

The nature of things.

Getting rid of tyrants. Far easier said than done. Because tyrants are entrenched. One of ‘em for 42 years, and counting. So much wrong in the world. People suppressed. And oppressed. Ain’t right. Or many of us think so. But it takes more than wishing to bring about change. Action. But tyrants are cruel. And bold. They don’t topple easily. That’s the nature of power. It’s addictive. Corrupt. Seldom surrendered easily. And all too often, it’s tyrant that follows tyrant. That’s the nature of things. –Jim Broede

Trees looking like Gothic statues.

I liked the first day of spring. Because it was so unusual. Started with a mist. Then came the fog. Light. Then thick. Visibility of only a few hundred feet when I went biking. For 30 miles. It was a safe route. One I’m very familiar with. Very little traffic. Hardly anyone ventured out. Nippy temperatures. Never got above 40. Even though 50 was predicted. Everything blended. Into a pleasant scene. Bare trees that looked like Gothic statues in the fog. Waning amounts of snow. No wind. The sound of flocking geese. A father and his two sons playing catch with a baseball. –Jim Broede

A permeating experience.

Coming home after almost 3 months in Sardinia has its benefits. Allows me to sit back and put it all in perspective. And to savor it all. To take time to reflect. On how nicely it went. And I’m still fortifying my impressions. Seeing and feeling Sardinia for the first time. I had this constant sense of seeing something new and fresh. Different for me. The beaches. The mountains. The weather. The countryside. The cities. The villages. The people. And seeing my true love. In the town where she grew up and lived almost all of her life. I also went out and about. To Phoenician ruins. Into coal mines. Into a grotto. And caverns. Meeting new acquaintances and friends. And doing all this at a nice, leisurely pace. And not least, driving a 1986 Fiat. I’m still absorbing it all. And being home helps. Because I have time to reflect. To appreciate it all. Being home gives me a chance to look at the experience from afar. A little like backing up. Elevating one’s self. To see the forest. Without the trees getting in the way. I like the way I’ve been getting to know my true love. And to know Sardinia. And Italy. To see it all close up. In the flesh. And then to be able to back off. And see it from a distance. It’s a wonderful way to put it all into perspective. This is the way one should look at life. Close up. And at times, from afar. It’s as if I’m creating pictures in my mind. Of little details. And the big panoramic picture, too. I talk about it. I write about it. And oh, do I ever think about it. So much. So much. So much. The experience has permeated my being. My mind. My heart. My soul. --Jim Broede

I'm a loner, and very selective.

I’m more of a loner than most people. Other people tend to have an array of friends. But I have very few. And occasionally I may even go without friends. Yes, I can be a lone wolf. I carry on a bit of friendly correspondence. Rarely with men. Mostly, with women. Anyway, I was a loner even when I was married. My really only deep human contact was with Jeanne. But Jeanne died. And now I have another love. That gets me by. Yes, I’m really a loner. But one thing. I’m more sociable than most people. Or so I think. In that I’ll readily cultivate contact with total strangers. More out of curiosity. Not to become friends. Thing is, I’m really not anti-social. But I don’t cultivate many long-lasting friendships. Maybe that’s what makes me a loner. I’m really quite careful and selective about my most intimate relationships. –Jim Broede

I make new discoveries every day.

Never heard of Grazia Deledda until a few months ago. She was a writer. Mostly of fiction. Many of her stories are set in her native Sardinia. Where I spent the winter. Deledda died in 1936. She’s entombed in a little country church. In Nuoro, a Sardinian town. I was in the church. And walked the idyllic grounds around the place. And it’s left a lasting impression. And a desire for me to get to know Deledda. I’m starting to read English translations of her books. Deledda spent her childhood in a small isolated village, where the people spoke Logudorese, a dialect closely related to Latin. Her stories depict the life and customs of simple folk – small landowners, servants, farmers and shepherds. Deledda was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1926. And to think, I never heard of her. Until my true love, a Sardinian, introduced me to Deledda’s world. That’s the most wonderful thing about life. I make new discoveries virtually every day. –Jim Broede

And a genuinely crazy guy.

Once upon a time, I dreaded the thought of retirement. Thinking it might be an unproductive time. But thank gawd, I retired. Initially, to become a care-giver to my dear Jeanne. And when she died, I thought maybe I’d just mark time. Until I died, too. But the older and more ‘retired’ that I get, the more I discover real life. These are the best years of my life. Because I’m more free and independent than I’ve ever been. I made my living by writing for newspapers. But in retirement, I write even more. But only what I want to write. About anything that moves me. Motivates me. Primarily my blog. And love letters. Hardly a day passes that I don’t write. Joyfully. Enthusiastically. And I continue being me. A romantic idealist. A free-thinker. A liberal. A lover. And a genuinely crazy guy. –Jim Broede

I don't fear failure.

I’m vulnerable. In that I live a life of uncertainty. I suppose we all do. I don’t know what’s gonna happen next. And maybe I don’t wanna know. Because I like surprises. But maybe I have moments when I wanna know. And that creates the uncertainty. Anyway, I’m capable of making things happen. Not always. But sometimes. That gives me a sense of freedom. Independence. I can compel myself. But not others. Which is fine. Because I want to respect others’ independence. I probably fail more often than I succeed. Which makes me feel vulnerable. But I’ve learned to not fear failure. –Jim Broede

Perhaps like god himself.

I don’t wanna live a too limited life. And so when it comes to my imagination, I impose no limits. I imagine anything that I want to imagine. Nobody can stop me. I’m a totally free spirit. Within my boundless imagination, that is. I suppose my imagination allows me to create artificial realities. I can imagine all kinds of scenarios. Which makes me somewhat creative. For instance, I can create a story. Write a poem. Or a love letter. Best of all, I can write something, and really mean it. Maybe that takes me even beyond my fertile imagination. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m imagining that I’m alive and conscious. And that I’m no more than a figment of my imagination. Perhaps like god himself. –Jim Broede

Not ready to sacrifice my life.

You gotta wonder what motivates the Japanese workers that keep returning to the nuclear power plants. On suicide missions. Maybe they should be admired. For sacrificing their lives in an attempt to save other lives. Now that’s what I call serving the greater good of society. I’d personally find it difficult, if not impossible, to do that. I’d want to save my own hide. Yet I advocate serving the common good. Which may make me a hypocrite. I want government-funded and private-funded programs to help the poor and the unfortunate. But sacrificing my life for the cause – well, that’s another thing. –Jim Broede

I discovered I have wings.

I don’t ever get life totally right. I go off on wayward paths. In a sense, I get lost. And then I have to find my way again. Might even happen several times in a single day. But I don’t mind getting lost. Because that helps me become more aware. That I need to find my way. Again and again and again. And that’s a whole lot of fun. The search. To look around this corner and that corner. Often, when I’m lost, I find myself in a labyrinth. With so very many twists and turns. That was a problem. Until I discovered I have wings. Which allow me to soar. Up high. Amazing. The higher I go, the closer I come to Paradise. –Jim Broede

A matter of societal obligation.

I’ve lived a sheltered life, I suppose. Because I haven’t ever really suffered. Not been in a war. Haven’t experienced a natural disaster. Such as an earthquake. No devastating illness. I’ve lost loved ones. Which is to be expected if one lives for three-quarters of a century. I read about all kinds of things going wrong in the world. By natural means. And by man-made means. But it’s from a distance. From my shelter, I guess. I wonder how many of us are so lucky. Personally, I think we all deserve to be lucky. That’s why I’d like to work for the common good. To make it possible for the less fortunate to live somewhat sheltered lives. I want to make it more than a matter of luck. More a matter of societal obligation. –Jim Broede

Dying is only incidental.

I picked up a novel the other day. Called ‘The Fifth Season.’ By Robert C. S. Downs. Tells a story. That sounds like real life. About a couple. Married for 67 years. He’s 92. She’s 90. They are on the decline. Physically. Mentally. Which is to be expected at such an age. She’s got Alzheimer’s. He’s had cancer surgery. The removal of a kidney. They’re gonna die. Because everybody dies eventually. And the focus is on the ending. The final, or the 5th season, I suppose. But I’m thinking. Not about the sadness of dying. But the fact that they’ve had a grand life. Together. A blessed life. And dying is only incidental. –Jim Broede

Most of us really don't care.

We Americans aren’t gonna do anything about creating jobs. One out of six of us are unemployed. But we just sit idly by and maybe say, ‘Too bad.’ Guess that’s because five out of six have jobs. And why fret about those who don’t? That’s the American way. Everybody for himself. As a society, we seem to care less and less about the unfortunate. That’s why it doesn’t seem to bother us that 52 million Americans don’t have health insurance. Because most of us have insurance. And we don’t care all that much about the poor. Because most of us ain’t poor. I guess it’s that most of us really don’t care much about each other. –Jim Broede

I'm a master at being crazy.

As some of you know, I have crazy thoughts. I like to be known as Crazy Jim. And in order for me to do that, I have to be crazy. Really crazy. Otherwise, I’d be a fake. So I practice being crazy. Almost daily. Occasionally, I slip. And act as if I’m sane. But I’m really not. I’m faking it when I act sane. I was born crazy. And I’ve managed to stay that way. Rather consistently. Actually, I’m quite comfortable being crazy. Because this is a crazy world. If I were sane, I wouldn’t fit. I’d be a misfit. I suppose we are all crazy. To some degree. But I pride myself in being crazier than most. I’ve practiced the skill of being crazy. Really, I’ve developed craziness into an art form. I’m a master at it. My goal is to be the craziest being on Earth. Maybe even in the entire cosmos. –Jim Broede, aka Crazy Jim.

I've come back from the future.

I had a thought today. That I’m currently alive and living 5,000 years in the future. In the year 7011. And I’ve been sent back these 5,000 years, into a virtual reality, to grasp what life was like in 2011. And that when I die, I’ll wake up as my real being in the year 7,000-something. Sounds preposterous, doesn’t it? But anything imaginable in the human brain is possible. It’s just a matter of discovering how it’s done. How it’s achieved. Scientifically. Technically. Spiritually. In a sense, it’s like living in the realm of god. God is all-knowing. God can do anything. Even turn back the clock for the likes of me. To another time. I’d certainly like to go back even further in time. Some day. Maybe to the ancient Phoenician civilization on the island of Sardinia in the Mediterranean Sea. Or into the era of the ancient Greeks. Where I am now, in the 21st century, is where I wanted to go. Out of curiosity. And so here I am, from the distant future, getting a feel for life in an ancient time. Yes, the 21st century is ancient from the perspective of where I have come from. Albeit, it feels like I’m in a modern time. Has to. For me to get a full and true grasp of this intriguing trip into the far, far past. I want to feel what it was like living in the ‘ancient’ 21st century. And by golly, it’s amazing. Fantastic. An enthralling adventure. Wow! Who would have ever believed this? -Jim Broede

Too dumb to know better.

I suspect Italian prime minister Silvio Berlusconi relishes his larger-than-life image. As a virile man. Who frequents prostitutes. Including an under-aged prostitute. Only 17. Berlusconi is 74. Anyway, a prosecutor in Italy alleges that Berlusconi has had sexual relations with at least 33 prostitutes. Berlusconi scoffs at the accusation. But I think he likes it. Likes his image. And his fame. His notoriety, really. And the fact that he’s politically able to hold on to his job. Despite everything. He merely thumbs his nose at his critics. And lives life the way he wants to live it. Because he’s powerful. And a billionaire, too. And the owner of TV networks. That helps him control his image. And the amazing thing is that Berlusconi has as many supporters as he has detractors. Many Italians like him. Maybe for being larger than life. For being a unique character. I sit on the sidelines. Amazed by it all. I see political leaders in places such as Libya and North Korea that hang on to power despite their repressive and dictatorial ways. Maybe that’s what it takes. Larger-than-life images. One wonders how Hitler and Mussolini came to power. They were daring men on the flying trapeze. They gambled their lives. And their country’s lives. They snookered supposedly intelligent people. Maybe because we are all too dumb to know better. –Jim Broede

So that I can love.

I just speculated that maybe there’s nothing more fantastic than life itself. But now I’m wondering. Maybe love is even more fantastic. The notion of love. That love may be the permeating life force. Without love there is no life. Maybe love is the paramount consciousness. Makes one aware of being alive. If one isn’t aware, is one really alive? And merely going through the motions of living. Seems to me that I need a relevant purpose in life. And that has come to be a lover. Makes me really care about life. To care about being alive. So that I can love. –Jim Broede

A fantastic experience.

Life is fantastic. There’s nothing more fantastic. Than life itself. Physical being. Spiritual being. Any kind of being. Consciousness. I’m certain that I don’t have a full grasp of life. Maybe never will. But from what I know of life, I’m overwhelmed. It’s so fabulously fantastic. Sometimes, I ask myself, ‘How can this be?’ Even if this life is taken from me. And I’m returned to nothingness. It’s gotta be a marvel. That I even had a glimpse of life. An instant in time. That lasts for less than a blink of an eye. But some how, that instant is made to seem like a lifetime. Of years and years and years. And then maybe it’s gone. Forever. As if life never existed. But still, it’s been a fantastic experience. –Jim Broede

From a form of lower life.

We humans really are animals. Maybe sophisticated animals. But nevertheless, animals. That’s the way I see it. Therefore, I am hoping that all animals have souls. Not just human animals. But dogs, cats, every kind of animal. I suspect that we humans evolved from so-called lower-type animals. Maybe chimpanzees. Or apes. Maybe if one goes back far enough, we emerged from the sea. Or from a simple amoeba. From nothing. And give us another zillion years, and maybe we’ll become something super human. Maybe it’s already happened in other parts of the cosmos. Billions of light years away. Into a form of life that we think of as god. Maybe that’s what we become eventually. Gods. Maybe god didn’t always exist. Maybe god just merely evolved. From a form of lower life. –Jim Broede

Living my dreams.

I don’t mean to alarm myself or anyone when I suggest that time may be running out for me. I’m just being a realist. Momentarily. Life becomes more perilous when one grows old. Not many of us make it into our 90s. And people that survive into their 80s often are ill. They lose it physically or mentally, or both. All I’m doing is advocating living to the fullest. While one can still do it. Don’t put off living. While one still has healthy life. That not only goes for a 75-year-old man. But for anyone at any age. Normally, I don’t look very far ahead. Because when I do, I see my demise. An end to the good life. I don’t lament over the day I’ll be gone. Because I’m so busy living now. Today. This moment. That way I don’t have to be a realist. Instead, I can be a dreamer. Living my dreams. --Jim Broede

I'm savoring now.

I wonder how many days in my long life that I didn’t sit down and ponder. About how good I felt. How delightful it is to be an alive and conscious being. Instead, I was busy fretting over something. Maybe over the thought that I had too much to do. Too many obligations. When really I didn’t have to allow myself to be stretched thin. I could have slowed down. Established my priorities. Taken my time. Well, that’s all in the past. I’m living in the moment. Now. Now. Now. And I’m savoring now. –Jim Broede

Doing as I please.

I keep reminding myself how wonderful it is to be a retiree. Because that allows me to do pretty much as I please most days. No set schedule. No obligation to be at work. My ‘work’ is pleasure. Just sitting down to write. Or to exercise. To go for 32 miles on my bicycle, as I did yesterday. Or to write a love letter. Or to listen to Haydn string quartets. Or to take artsy photos with my digital camera. And to have a leisurely breakfast of cinnamon toast and espresso. And to connect with my true love on Skype. And to marvel at the beautiful orange tulips in a vase on my desk. And to listen to the purring of my cat Loverboy, also perched on my desk. –Jim Broede

It's called being blessed.

I’m frequently reminded of the fragility of life. Especially when there’s a natural disaster. Tens of thousands of lives wiped out in one big swoop. Some of us are lucky. Some aren’t. I’m amazed that I’ve survived 75 years, and counting. It’s an incredible achievement. Near the top of my list of accomplishments. And believe me, I needed lots of assistance and luck getting this far. Helps to be in the right place at the right time. Anyway, I appreciate all the time and good fortune that I can get. It’s called being blessed. –Jim Broede

The more humane society.

I will watch with keen interest how the Japanese recover from a devastating disaster. It’s gotta be a societal thing. With everybody pitching in. Making sacrifices. For the common good. Probably far more than we Americans would do for each other. We Americans have more of a every-being-for-himself mentality. As an individual, you either sink or swim. On your own. If one is struck with misfortune, you are allowed to fall by the wayside. The message is to pick yourself up by the bootstraps. That’s the American way. I think it’s a callous, uncaring way. That’s why we have an ever-widening gap between the rich and the poor. The prevailing attitude, especially in Republican circles, is that the poor choose to be poor. Just as the rich choose to be rich. Granted, that may be an oversimplification. But when I contrast American society with Japanese society, I think of the Japanese as more humane than Americans. –Jim Broede

Happy as a lark.

Ah, spring is in the air. Even here in Minnesota. Yes, I read 55 degrees on the thermometer today. And so this is a day to be savored. Even though it’s raining off and on. But that doesn’t stop me from riding my bicycle. Seven miles so far. And I’m feeling like I’d like to go 30, maybe 40. The 80 inches of snow we’ve had this winter is receding. Fast. And I’m all aglow. Happy as a lark. –Jim Broede

Truth is much nicer than fiction.

I impressed Daniela today. Or so I assume. Because I went into her coffee and candies and ice cream shop today and ordered ‘un caffe macchiato.’ And I even said ‘grasia’ Yes, my version of fluent Italian. And she understood me. She’s Italian. Married a Forest Lake man, and she’s been living here for years. And she stays busy in her little shop on Main Street. Anyway, I got served exactly what I wanted. A cup of espresso with a few drops of milk whipped in. And the espresso was a brand that comes from Sicily. I have a different kind at home. A brand from Sardinia. I’m partial now to Italians, and especially to a particular Sardinian, who happens to be my true love. I returned from a winter in Sardinia earlier this month. And my true love will join me here this summer. And she’ll meet and converse with Daniela. And this autumn, I’ll return to Sardinia, maybe for six months. Never thought I’d end up living in Italy. And drinking espresso daily. But once again, truth is stranger and often much nicer than fiction. –Jim Broede

No such thing as an ideal society.

I still have all of my teeth. But if I were ever to lose a tooth, I’d opt for a tooth implant. Yes, I know it’s costly. Maybe $4,000 for a tooth. But I’d rather spend the money on a tooth than a new car, or a whole lot of other things. My priority is to take care of myself. Physically. Mentally, too. Because if one doesn’t have decent health, it’s a real downer. I want to last as long as I can. Feeling good. Of course, I know I won’t last forever. The body and the mind wear out. Eventually. But with modern medicine, one can sometimes slow the process. I’d like to live in a society that makes that possible. For virtually everyone. But I know it won’t happen. Because there is no such thing as an ideal society. –Jim Broede

The dumbest voters in the USA.

On MSNBC tonight, pundit Lawrence O’Donnell wondered how 52 percent of the voters in Minnesota’s 6th Congressional District could have elected such a stupid congresswoman as Michelle Bachmann. He’s searching for an answer. Points out that the 6th district, which happens to be where I live, has demographics very similar to many politically liberal districts. So why does the 6th district keep reelecting Bachmann? A lunatic fringe Republican. And no doubt, a very stupid, but apparently political savvy woman. Well, I have an answer for O’Donnell. Simple. The 6th District has the dumbest, most gullible voters. The collective IQ of voters in the 6th District may prove to be the lowest in the nation. –Jim Broede

I want respect.

When someone tells me they like me or that they agree with me, I try to give them a reason to the contrary. A reason to dislike me. Or to disagree with me. Because I don’t wanna be totally liked. I want to be accepted for multiple reasons. Even for my annoying traits. And we all have ‘em. We’re individuals. And we can’t please everyone or everybody all of the time. But we have to learn to respect each other. Despite our differences. That’s what I want more than anything. Respect. I try to give it. And I try to receive it. –Jim Broede

Busy enjoying the initial reason.

If something goes wrong, I just wait a little while. And things seem to go right. Eventually. So I guess I’m being taught patience. Give everything time. That’s the way life has worked out so far. If I’m experiencing a bout of sadness, I know that sooner or later I’ll be happy again. Often, all it takes is a minute or two. I merely have to reflect. And I’m happy again. Usually by reminding myself that I’m in love. With life. And I start to count the reasons why. Seldom do I get beyond one. Because I’m busy enjoying the initial reason. –Jim Broede

My god saves everybody.

I like to tell my Catholic friends that I’ve had an audience with the pope. Of course, I haven’t. But I have nothing against pretending. That the pope would give me a few minutes of his time. Even though I’m not a Catholic. Or a Christian, for that matter. For good reason. Because I doubt that even Jesus would call himself a Christian. He’d scoff at modern-day Christianity. Thinking it has gone down a deceptively wayward path. Especially if you are an Evangelical Christian. Believing that all one has to do is declare a belief in Jesus, and be saved. Automatically. Thing is, I believe everybody is saved. Even atheists. One doesn’t have to be an Evangelical. Or a Catholic. Or a Christian. That’s the way of a truly forgiving and loving god. Everybody is given forever to get it right. If god shows up at the last minute and tells me all I have to do to be saved is to declare a belief in him, I’ll believe. That’s pretty much the same as what Evangelicals believe. Just say it. When you are standing outside the door of Paradise. Yes, a simple declaration. That you want in. –Jim Broede

Nudging from my true love.

The rabbits and squirrels in my neighborhood have built a shrine/worship place for my true love. Because she takes good care of ‘em. Through me. She insists that I put out lettuce and carrots for the rabbits and nuts for the squirrels. Especially during the winter. Unfortunately for the wildlife on my premises, I’ve been gone most of the winter. Living with my true love in Sardinia. So my friends have been forced to forage for themselves. But now that I’m back, they’re becoming fat and contented. With a more than adequate diet. Thanks to nudging from by true love. –Jim Broede

I get a sleep bonus. Sweet dreams.

I know people that don’t get adequate rest. They keep pushing, pushing, pushing. Pushing themselves to extremes. To do more. To even stay up late at night. Catching only a few hours of sleep. Then they complain. ‘Oh, I’m so tired. I always feel tired.’ Little wonder. Doesn’t surprise me. But they don’t get it. They are so tired that they don’t understand why. It’s their lifestyle. And their brains have been dulled. From lack of sleep. Personally, I love to sleep. About 8 hours. Nightly. Makes me feel good for the other 16 hours. And often I get a sleep bonus. Sweet dreams. –Jim Broede

I take after Loverboy.

My cats don’t hold it against me. For shipping them out to my granddaughter’s place. For almost three months. While I spent most of the winter in Italy. They’re back with me now. In their routine. They didn’t forget home. Adjusted immediately. Loverboy declared that it’s possible to go home again. That he never lost his faith. That I’d be back. To bring him home. Chenuska seems appreciative, too. But she’s capable to adjusting to life anywhere. Just as long as she gets her daily meals. She lives to eat. Loverboy, however, lives to love. He takes after me. Or maybe it’s the other way around. I take after Loverboy. –Jim Broede

The cold was here. Waiting for me.

I’ve caught a cold. First of the winter season. Not bad. For getting this far. Thought for a while I’d make it through winter without a cold. That would have made me feel guilty. Everybody deserves at least one cold. Especially if one lives in Minnesota. The land of deep freezes and deep snow. But I spent almost three months in Sardinia. An idyllic island in the Mediterranean Sea. But I came back to Minnesota about 10 days ago. To see if I could catch a cold. Sure enough. The cold was here. Waiting for me. –Jim Broede

It's a full-bloom glory day.

My neighbor gave me a bouquet of tulips the other day. Orange tulips. Quite a bunch. I was walking on the road. Near home. She stopped her car. Rolled down the window. And asked if I was headed home. ‘Yes,’ I said. Then she said, ‘I have some flowers for you. A welcome home gift.’ I had spent the winter in Sardinia with my true love. I’m not used to getting flowers. So I inquired, ‘Do I put ‘em in a vase with water?’ I wondered if I had a vase. Yes, I do. Found several of ‘em in the garage. A nice Japanese vase for the flowers. Which now sit atop my desk. The tulips were sort of closed yesterday. But they’ve opened to full-bloom glory today. –Jim Broede

Staying out of trouble.

I live in a peaceful place. On a lake. In Minnesota. In a town of about 15,000 inhabitants. There’s no war or revolution here. The days and nights are quiet. Except maybe on the 4th of July. I could easily ignore the rest of the world. In many ways, I do. I pay attention to the earthquake in Japan. And to revolts in Libya, Tunisia and Egypt. And I’m in touch daily with my true love in Sardinia. I guess I’m fortunate. Because there’s so much turmoil in the world. And I’ve been able to directly avoid it. Maybe by being in the right place at the right time. Rather than at the wrong place at the wrong time. So I’ve been able to more or less let the world go by. I’m not sure that’s the right and proper way to live. Just trying to stay out of trouble. And speaking my piece. –Jim Broede

I'm in control.

My personal life means more to me than world events. Because I can’t do anything to change the world. But I have some semblance of control over what’s going on directly in my life. With people I encounter. With my true love. So I know where to put my focus. On making me and the people around me reasonably happy. By the way I deal with them. I like to have a love in my life. So that I can be a lover. And a romantic idealist. I’m also a liberal. And a free-thinker. So that’s what I focus on being. I can have an effect. On me. And a few people around me. Friends. Acquaintances. Associates. I have absolutely no effect on world leaders. Or on American politicians. I can’t control the direction my country takes. What will happen, will happen. But I can control my personal life. To a large and significant degree. Yes, I’m in control of what I can control. –Jim Broede

We breathed a sigh of relief.

Nuoro. What a city. It's in Sardinia. And I sometimes wondered if I'd ever find my way out of Nuoro. I'd get lost trying to find an exit. Maybe it's that Nuoro is poorly signed. And the streets are labryinthian. Even my true love, my faithful guide and navigator, was perplexed. We stopped and asked for directions. Maybe it's that even the locals have difficulty finding their way out. Maybe they are trapped. For eternity. I remember a Spanish film. Think it was called 'The Exterminating Angel.' The gist of the story was that all these people were at a party. In a room. But for some unexplained reason, they couldn't find the door to get out. Maybe they were trapped. In hell, perhaps. Guess I wouldn't want to be trapped in any place. Although I might make an exception for Paradise. Nuoro is a nice city. But still, I wouldn't want to be caught there forever. Once, my true love and I had to take a route close to Nuoro in order to get home. And we consciously tried to avoid going into Nuoro proper. But despite our best efforts, we wound up in the town center. And we felt trapped. We thought maybe we'd never get out. But eventually we found our way. We got home. And we breathed a sigh of relief. --Jim Broede

We can do better.

We Americans have plenty of money. So many resources. The problem isn't lack of money. Rather, it's the distribution of the wealth. So much of the money is in the hands of a few. The filthy and obscenely rich. Oligarchs. If we took more of the money from the rich and gave it to the middle class and the poor, we'd be better off as a nation. We'd be serving the common good. I'm for more equality. For the narrowing of the gap between the rich and the poor. We'll always have rich and poor amongst us. But we can have more equality. A more decent society. Less selfish attitudes. I'd like to see limits on the accumulation of monetary wealth by individuals. A better defining of moral right and moral wrong. We won't ever have a perfect society. But we can do better. --Jim Broede

Feeling alive.

I'm enjoying being alive. Today. That's what I'm supposed to do. That's why I was put on Earth. To feel alive. And consider it a blessing. Even if I do nothing else. That's all I need. Feeling alive. Conscious. With it. I look around me. On my desk. There's a vase full of tulips. Orange tulips. Someone gave 'em to me yesterday. A welcome-back-from-Italy gift. Tulips make me feel alive. I'm looking out the window and the slidng glass doors. I see a flag. Made stiff. By a strong west wind. It's cloudy. And cold. Snow covers the ground. Hardened drifts. The lake ice is covered by a blanket of snow, too. And Loverboy, my cat, has jumped up on my desk. To lick a plate. Filled with crumbs from apple strudel. And I have a book on my desk. Titled 'An Anthropologist on Mars.' It's about psychology and literature. The author, Oliver Sacks, calls it seven paradoxical tales. I'm reading one now. About a man who was blind for 45 years. And had his sight restored. And he's learning to see again. It ain't easy. But still, difficulty makes life interesting. Makes one more aware. Of being alive. I'm going for a bike ride soon. Yesterday, I bicycled 30 miles. And walked 5 miles. I lost weight. And I ate good. Broiled salmon marinated in honey mustard sauce. American fries. Green beans. Toasted sourdough bread. A spinach salad. With Greek vinagerette dressing. And a vanilla milkshake, too. Everything so tasty. Made me feel even more alive. --Jim Broede

Unless unions make a comeback.

When I was a writer for 29 years with the St. Paul Pioneer Press, I was well paid. And I had good working conditions. And benefits. In large part because we had a newspaper guild. A union. I'm also receiving a pension. For the rest of my life. Thanks in large part to the guild. Little wonder that I am very supportive of labor unions. But unions are in trouble today. Especially in places such as Wisconsin. Where the Republican-dominated legislature has revoked public employees rights to bargain collectively. Under the ruse that it's gonna save money and help balance the budget. But at the same time, Wisconsin legislators are giving rich people and corporations big tax breaks. That’s why it’s so difficult to balance the state budget. The rich aren’t paying their fair share. Which means the not-so-rich have to make up the difference. By settling for lower pay and fewer benefits. Maybe they won’t even get a pension. But one thing you can bet on. The rich will keep getting richer. While ordinary workers will get poorer. Unless unions make a comeback. –Jim Broede

I ain't gonna save the food.

A huge earthquake today. Just 80 miles off the coast of Japan. The 5th biggest earthquake ever recorded. Flooding along coastal areas. Huge waves. One must look at the videos. In the New York Times. And YouTube. Japanese people are funny. In the grocery store, the clerks rushed to the shelves. To try to stabilize them. And save the stuff from falling off the shelves. I'd get out of the place in a flash. Fearful that the roof would cave in. On top of precious me. I ain't gonna save the food. --Jim Broede

In glamorous real life.

I glamorize life. And why not? I live a storybook existence. I’m gonna start dividing my time. Between living in Italy. And Minnesota. I could easily dream about it. But so much better if one lives a dream. And I write love letters. To my true love. When I’m not actually with her. Or even sometimes when I’m living with her. I’ve written nearly 1,000 love letters in a little over three years. I write every day. In my blog. And letters. To friends and acquaintances. My true love is Sardinian. She’s beautiful. And smart. Teaches English and English literature. I consider her my personal teacher, too. She teaches me so very much. How to be a lover, for instance. That’s an on-going process. One never learns it all. But that’s all right. I don’t want to know it all. Because that would make me god. I’d rather be human. Because that’s what I am. And that makes me happy. Yes, feeling glamorous. Unique. Sometimes, I think about writing a novel. But then I abandon the idea. Because I’d rather live my own storybook way. By just letting things happen. Naturally. In glamorous real life. –Jim Broede

I have forever to get it right.

Oh, ye of little faith. Maybe that’s the problem with modern civilization. We have little faith in each other. Little faith, period. In just about everything. We are cynics. Disbelievers. We have lost our faith. Some of us don’t even believe in love any more. But I remain the eternal optimist. I believe in a god that makes everything right. Eventually. Maybe it’ll take forever for that to happen. But I believe in forever. Maybe that’s the definition of an optimist. I have forever to get it right. –Jim Broede

We are still close. Very close.

I’m happy, in large part, because I’m connected to my true love. Daily. Even when I’m in Minnesota. And she’s in Sardinia. All the way across a vast sea. But we have Skype. An audio/video connection. And we converse. Hardly ever miss a day. And I write a love letter or two. Virtually every night. My last act, before I go to bed. This life makes me happy. Very happy, indeed. Because I’m in love. Real love. Some people tell me we should live together. In the same place. Day after day. I could take that. And savor it. But I also can savor what I’ve got at the moment. By making the most and best of it. I don’t feel short-changed. Because I am actually in love. It’s no pretend. It’s as real as real can be. I live my love daily. I don’t put it off. I’m pleasantly consumed by it. I get sustenance from my true love. And I give her sustenance. It’s a mutual sharing of our lives. Doesn’t matter if we are near or afar. We are still close. Very close. –Jim Broede

I'd try almost anything.

I think I could become an actor. A good actor. Getting up on stage. Playing a role. I have never done it. Because when I was younger, I would have suffered from stage fright. And I didn’t know how to play a role. I’d have merely gone through the motions. Of memorizing my lines. Without really feeling anything. But now I could capture the feeling of a character. Truly lose myself in the role. And so maybe for the first time in my life, I may consider becoming an actor. On a stage. To see if I can pull it off. I wouldn’t be afraid to do it. Unlike in my earlier days. I’d try almost anything. –Jim Broede

And risk going to hell.

Occasionally, I like to startle people. By going out of character. Spoofing. For instance, yesterday I pretended to assume the role of being negative. A complainer. Right here in this blog. To see how people react. I like to wonder. How many people will take me seriously. When I’m really not serious at all. I suspect some personalities in the media do that. They develop a schtick. They really aren’t what they seem. Such as ardent, rampant conservatives. Ones that have gone off the deep end. Just to make a name for themselves. To attract attention. Even notoriety. Because they want to become a celebrity. Or to make money. They become rich and famous that way. Because people are gullible. They believe ‘em. Take for instance, Glenn Beck. Rush Limbaugh. Ann Coulter. They can’t be real. Nobody could be quite that absurd. But then again, maybe they started out with their acts. Only to start believing it. And actually becoming that personality. Full-fledged idiots. Sometimes, I wanna feel what that’s like. So yesterday, I intentionally assumed the role of an idiot. For a little while. Just to see how many people fell for it. And believe me, many do. The scary thing is that if I play the role often enough, maybe I become a Beck, Limbaugh or Coulter. And risk going to hell. –Jim Broede

Teaching an old dog a new taste.

I've never been much of a coffee drinker. I can easily survive without a daily cup of coffee. And used to be that I didn't drink coffee at all. But my true love is an Italian. And she introduced me to espresso. At first, I thought it was like taking medicine. Espresso is awfully strong stuff, especially for someone unused to drinking coffee. But I've gradually cultivated a taste for espresso. With brown sugar and a few drops of milk mixed in. Goes to show one can teach an old dog a new taste. --Jim Broede

When I'm in love.

I like to go off deep ends. Plunge into something new. In terms of thoughts. To experiment. And see where it takes me. Allows me to have fun. With life. But I always keep coming back to my base. That love is everything. Love permeates everything. I'm in love with life. Because life allows me to be free. To love it all. Maybe that is the true nature of love. Going off deep ends. Letting one's self go. Not being afraid. To venture anywhere. Love makes me courageous. Makes me whole. And fulfilled. Maybe I'm truly alive only when I'm in love. --Jim Broede

What would Jesus do?

I can fix the USA's fiscal problems. Easily. Without hurtin' anybody. Really. My solution would keep the rich, rich. And make the poor less poor. All that's necessary is to raise taxes on the rich. Individuals. And corporations. To the tune of eliminating the budget deficit. Maybe over the next 10 years. And that would also raise enough money to keep entitlement programs that serve primarily the poor and the middle class. And I'd toss in significant cuts in the defense budget. To help make ends meet. That's all it would take. The money is there. For the taking. Of course, the rich may protest. But even many of the rich would be honest enough to concede that they can easily afford to pay more in taxes. And still be rich. Even filthy rich. It's nonsense to suggest that the federal and state budgets can be balanced without raising taxes. To accomplish that it would take draconian cuts in spending for the poor and middle class. That would be immoral. The moral thing is to take from the rich and spread the proceeds where it's needed most. Thereby narrowing the gap between the rich and poor. Actually, the rich would benefit by giving more. They'd move closer to the kingdom of heaven. Or so that fella Jesus asserted long, long ago. Now all we need is approval from Congress. Where the members are predominantly professed Christians. Maybe it's time for them to ask themselves, what would Jesus do? My guess is that he'd solve the problem. My way. Pronto. And he'd be doing everyone a favor. And be saving the nation in the process. --Jim Broede

I'm still waiting for the snow.

We have weather terrorists in Minnesota. Meteorologists who warn of impending doom. Of the sky falling. About a week ago, they warned us of a big storm brewing out west. And it was to hit Minnesota on Tuesday and Wednesday. With the potential to be devastating. And so we were to be worried. To live on the edge. To fret over the fact that we live in gawd-forsaken Minnesota. It's Thursday. Tuesday and Wednesday came and went. And the weather has been fine. In fact, yesterday I went 28 miles on my bicycle. I'm still waiting for the snowstorm. The one that the weather terrorists promised. --Jim Broede

And most amazingly. Soulfully.

I'm still living in Sardinia. Even though, technically speaking, I've physically left the island in the Mediterranean Sea. But I have been permeated by the experience. Of living most of the winter. In Sardinia. With my true love. I am still experiencing Sardinia. A presence that could well be with me. Forever. I'm still savoring. Sardinia. And my true love. I made it happen. Made it real. And now I'm enjoying the lingering effects. I will return. Physically. Some day. But it's also as if I've never left. I am in Sardinia. At this very moment. Because I choose to be. I have integrated Sardinia and my true love into me. Into my soul. My spirit. The essence of my being. I am connected. By audio. By video. And most amazingly. Soulfully. --Jim Broede

Simple love.

Don't know if I have connected thoughts. Thoughts that form a chain and lead somewhere. Maybe all I have are random thoughts. Disconnected. I try to make sense of things. Of what's going on. Happening. Immediately around me. And in this place called the world. Existence. Creation. I have a permeating feeling. Which I call love. That seems to be the stabilizing force in my life. Leads me down the path. To happiness. To Paradise. That is, as long as I take life moment to moment. And not get ahead of myself. I wonder if one moment is connected to another moment. Is there a natural progression? Do I really know where I am going? Does it really matter? I crave consciousness. Awareness. But I'm constantly moving on. From one moment. To another. And then I am no longer aware of the moment I experienced a few minutes ago. Because I have moved on to something new. I have allowed the chain to be broken. Except when I write. Because I am able to retrieve words. And thoughts. But still, it all seems so random. Except this notion of love. Maybe that's what ties it all together. Simple love. --Jim Broede

To properly savor a moment.

I like to walk and jog and run by myself. Not with others. Because I want to move at my own pace. I don't want someone else setting the tempo. Of course, when I'm out and about with others, I have to be reasonably courteous. And maybe move slower or faster than I'd like. But still, I may choose the pace. And just sit down on a sand dune rather than stroll the full length of the beach. Depends. The thing is, I have to do what I have to do. To properly savor a moment. --Jim Broede

Until there is no more forever.

I like good stories. Without endings. Instead, it's best to leave the ending hanging. So the reader can imagine where the story goes. If I've written the story, I may decide on different endings on different days. Depending on my mood. On where I want to take the story. But generally, I just let things happen. As in my own life. I don't know what's to come. I want to be surprised. I want events to unfold naturally. And often unexpectedly. Because maybe there is no such thing as an ending. Life goes on. Forever. Until there is no more forever. --Jim Broede

I need to show more empathy.

I tend to write off some people. Especially those on drugs. The type of drugs that impair their personalities. In negative ways. Into something I don't like. For many years, I wrote off my sister. Kept my distance. Because she's an alcoholic. Fortunately, she's now a recovering alcoholic. So we've renewed contact. And it's pleasant. Anyway, maybe it goes to show that I have a low tolerance level for people on drugs. Even excessive amounts of alcohol. Doesn't bother me that I cut ties with people that have been close to me. Real friends. And relatives. I know. A friend is a friend is a friend. Supposed to be. But I don't want to be dragged down. Even by a friend who happens to be on drugs. Because I think they have a choice. They don't have to be on drugs. I tell them that. And I encourage them to get help. But if they don't, I generally steer clear of 'em. I'm more tolerant of people in depression. I try to console them. And get them help. I'll generally keep some degree of contact with 'em. But not to the extent of letting 'em drag me down with 'em. Eventually, I run out of patience. I'm not sure if I like this side of me. I need to show more empathy. More sympathy. More understanding. More compassion. --Jim Broede

I'm working on a Ph.D. In love.

I attribute much of my happiness to being in love. With someone. But I don't necessarily have to be in love with someone to be happy. Just as long as I'm in love with something. That's sufficient. For instance, I'm in love with writing. With nature. With life, in general. But being in love with someone. That's the best kind of love. Come to think of it, maybe I'm always in love with someone. If there's nobody else to love, I can always love myself. For being in love with the notion of love. For being me. A romantic idealist. A free-thinker. A liberal. A lover. Maybe I also should list myself as an explorer. Of the concept of love. When I went to college, I majored in English and history. But in the matter of actual life, I consider my major to be love. I'm working on a Ph.D. In love. --Jim Broede

I see 'em as court jesters.

I take life with a huge dose of humor. Even when I'm serious. Then I'm most funny. That goes for most people. They don't intend to be funny. And that in itself is funny. Hilarious. The moment that I consciously realize I'm being overly serious, I break out into a fit of laughter. And I tell myself to lighten up. To start acting more like a stand-up comic. I'd make a good one. By just getting up on stage. Without a script. And being me. Ridiculous me. Silly me. Much of life is absurd. Or so it seems. And that makes life funny. I look at the people around me. They look absurd. They act absurd. Take your average politician. What can be more idiotic and more absurd than a politician yapping away? Especially a Republican. Certainly, he's not to be taken seriously. I picture 'em all in a clown suits. Trying out for roles as court jesters. --Jim Broede

I live in happy land.

Pollsters try to measure just about everything. Including degrees of happiness and sadness. Gallup just did it. And concluded that the happiest people in the USA reside in Hawaii. And the unhappiest are in West Virginia and a southern tier of states. I was happy to see that Minnesota, where I live, ranked as the sixth happiest state. And I'm gonna claim credit for Minnesota's high-ranking. Without me, one of the happiest men alive, Minnesota may have finished in the middle of the pack, or worse. A lot may have depended on when the poll was taken. Because I was out of the country this winter. Living in Sardinia in the Mediterranean Sea. Which seemed to me to be the happiest place in the world. A paradise. I suspect that wherever I live at a given moment may be the winner in any happy land contest. At least from my happy perspective. --Jim Broede

She's also very understanding.

My true love has a girlfriend that she's very close to. That she confides in. That she talks to almost every day. But I don't have a boyfriend. Equivalent to her girlfriend. Maybe that makes me more a loner. Than her. Although, I consider my true love a loner. Someone who can survive on his/her own. Without a particular close friend. I find that my true love is more than sufficient. For me. She meets my needs. And I think I meet her needs. The fact that she has a girlfriend is a plus. A positive. Because that makes her a better person. A happier person. More relaxed. And when I'm not there, she has someone in which to confide. I've met the girlfriend. And she's kind. And considerate. And understanding. And very stimulating for my true love. My true love also has colleagues. People she works with. She likes some of 'em. But she hardly talks to others. Because they rub her the wrong way. My true love has a strong personality. She's independent. Doesn't hesitate to do things her way. I like that. But she's also very understanding of other people. Especially me. --Jim Broede

I'd rather they be themselves.

Some people just plain don't like me. But it doesn't bother me. I never intended to be so likeable that everyone would like me. That would be stupid. And impossible, too. I find that I'm most disliked for being myself. Being me. Some people don't want me to be me. They think it's shameful. That I'm a cad. So much of what they abhor. But I write this all off. Because they don't know me. Or maybe because at times I can be a cad. I like to poke fun at people that dislike me. Because they amuse me. They are very entertaining. Even to the point that I tend to like many of 'em. I don't consider them enemies. And maybe in a round-about way I'm learning to love my so-called enemies. I make them less an enemy. And more an acquaintance. Maybe even a friend. Yes, I think it's possible to have a friend that dislikes me. Some of 'em would like to remake me. Into the image they desire. That's not very friendly. But I don't require my friends to be friendly. I'd rather that they be themselves. Even if they are asses. --Jim Broede

I'm going flag-shopping.

I didn't bring back everything I meant to. From Sardinia. Where I spent the winter. Yes, I wanted the Italian flag. And the Sardinian flag. So that I could fly both of 'em on my premises in Minnesota. Normally, I'm not a flag waver. I have no particular desire to fly the American flag. Because I abhor the idea of being a super patriot, American-style. Just going through the motions. Such as flying the flag or reciting the pledge of allegiance or singing the national anthem. But I feel more a sense of closeness and nostalgia to Sardinia and Italy. Because it's the homeland of my true love. The love I feel for her runneth over. To her homeland. I think of Sardinia as Paradise. Because I associate it with my true love. Don't know if that makes any sense. Maybe that's the nature of love. Doesn't make any sense. It just is. Brings out the desire in me. To fly the Sardinian and Italian flags. So, I'm going flag-shopping. --Jim Broede

The wonder of it all. No limits.

I have a very detailed map in front of me. Of the island of Sardinia. In the Mediterranean Sea. Shows virtuallty all of the accessible roads. From one end to another. Hundreds of cities and villages. And landmarks. Maybe thousands. Might take a lifetime and more to get to see everything. My true love has lived in Sardinia virtually her entire life. And when I was with her this winter, she got to some places for the first time. Discovering Sardinia is like discovering my true love. I can find something new and captivating every day. The same goes for Minnesota. My home state for the past 45 years. So much of Minnesota I have yet to see. Never will see it all. But that's what I like about life. I can't go everywhere. I can't ever grasp the full complexities of life. Even if I have forever. That's the wonder of it all. No limits. --Jim Broede

To arrive, I need forever.

Seems to me that eating one's meals should be true dining. Not just putting food into one's mouth or drinking a beverage. I watch people as they eat. And many of 'em are merely there to fill their stomachs. Quickly. So they can get on with other things. Eating should be a nice ritual. So that a little bit of food lasts for a long time. I try never to eat in a hurry. When I eat alone, I intentionally try to slow down the process. By reading a book. An especially good book. Riveting. Captivating. Or by listening to relaxing music. Maybe I even light a candle. If I'm dining with someone, I like pleasant conversation. Maybe I try to avoid the subject of politics. If I'm dining with several people, I want to be the last to finish. Even though I may be the one that consumes the least amount of food. That especially goes for my favorite foods. I wanna make them last. Taking the opportunity to savor. To make dining a pure pleasure. My cat, Loverboy, has taught me the proper way to eat. He takes his good-natured time. His mate, Chenuska, empties her dish and fills her tummy with record-setting speed. As if dining is a sprint. A race. To get everything down fast. Little wonder that she sometimes urps it all up. A stomach wasn't built to go from empty to full in an instant. Yes, I find that the slower I move through life, the better the pleasure. That goes for almost everything I do. I don't wanna be in a hurry. That's why I need forever to get to where I'm going. --Jim Broede

I'd rather be a free-thinker.

These ain't my words, folks. I picked them up this morning from an article in the Huffington Post. Gives one something to think about.

The results from a recent poll published by the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life (http://www.pewforum.org/Politics-and-Elections/Tea-Party-and-Religion.aspx) reveal what social scientists have known for a long time: White Evangelical Christians are the group least likely to support politicians or policies that reflect the actual teachings of Jesus. It is perhaps one of the strangest, most dumb-founding ironies in contemporary American culture. Evangelical Christians, who most fiercely proclaim to have a personal relationship with Christ, who most confidently declare their belief that the Bible is the inerrant word of God, who go to church on a regular basis, pray daily, listen to Christian music, and place God and His Only Begotten Son at the center of their lives, are simultaneously the very people most likely to reject his teachings and despise his radical message.

Jesus unambiguously preached mercy and forgiveness. These are supposed to be cardinal virtues of the Christian faith. And yet Evangelicals are the most supportive of the death penalty, draconian sentencing, punitive punishment over rehabilitation, and the governmental use of torture. Jesus exhorted humans to be loving, peaceful, and non-violent. And yet Evangelicals are the group of Americans most supportive of easy-access weaponry, little-to-no regulation of handgun and semi-automatic gun ownership, not to mention the violent military invasion of various countries around the world. Jesus was very clear that the pursuit of wealth was inimical to the Kingdom of God, that the rich are to be condemned, and that to be a follower of Him means to give one's money to the poor. And yet Evangelicals are the most supportive of corporate greed and capitalistic excess, and they are the most opposed to institutional help for the nation's poor -- especially poor children. They hate anything that smacks of "socialism," even though that is essentially what their Savior preached. They despise food stamp programs, subsidies for schools, hospitals, job training -- anything that might dare to help out those in need. Even though helping out those in need was exactly what Jesus urged humans to do. In short, Evangelicals are that segment of America which is the most pro-militaristic, pro-gun, and pro-corporate, while simultaneously claiming to be most ardent lovers of the Prince of Peace.

Now there's some thoughts to ponder. And if that ain't enough. Here's even more from the same article.

What's the deal?

Before attempting an answer, allow a quick clarification. Evangelicals don't exactly hate Jesus -- as we've provocatively asserted in the title of this piece. They do love him dearly. But not because of what he tried to teach humanity. Rather, Evangelicals love Jesus for what he does for them. Through his magical grace, and by shedding his precious blood, Jesus saves Evangelicals from everlasting torture in hell, and guarantees them a premium, luxury villa in heaven. For this, and this only, they love him. They can't stop thanking him. And yet, as for Jesus himself -- his core values of peace, his core teachings of social justice, his core commandments of goodwill -- most Evangelicals seem to have nothing but disdain.

And this is nothing new. At the end of World War I, the more rabid, and often less educated Evangelicals decried the influence of the Social Gospel amongst liberal churches. According to these self-proclaimed torch-bearers of a religion born in the Middle East, progressive church-goers had been infected by foreign ideas such as German Rationalism, Soviet-style Communism, and, of course, atheistic Darwinism. In the 1950s, the anti-Social Gospel message piggybacked the rhetoric of anti-communism, which slashed and burned its way through the Old South and onward through the Sunbelt, turning liberal churches into vacant lots along the way. It was here that the spirit and the body collided, leaving us with a prototypical Christian nationalist, hell-bent on prosperity. Charity was thus rebranded as collectivism and self-denial gave way to the gospel of accumulation. Church-to-church, sermon-to-sermon, evangelical preachers grew less comfortable with the fish and loaves Jesus who lived on earth, and more committed to the angry Jesus of the future. By the 1990s, this divine Terminator gained "most-favored Jesus status" among America's mega churches; and with that, even the mention of the former "social justice" Messiah drove the socially conscious from their larger, meaner flock.

In addition to such historical developments, there may very well simply be an underlying, all-too-human social-psychological process at root, one that probably plays itself out among all religious individuals: they see in their religion what they want to see, and deny or despise the rest. That is, religion is one big Rorschach test. People look at the content of their religious tradition -- its teachings, its creeds, its prophet's proclamations -- and they basically pick and choose what suits their own secular outlook. They see in their faith what they want to see as they live their daily lives, and simultaneously ignore the rest. And as is the case for most White Evangelical Christians, what they are ignoring is actually the very heart and soul of Jesus's message -- a message that emphasizes sharing, not greed. Peace-making, not war-mongering. Love, not violence.

Of course, conservative Americans have every right to support corporate greed, militarism, gun possession, and the death penalty, and to oppose welfare, food stamps, health care for those in need, etc. -- it is just strange and contradictory when they claim these positions as somehow "Christian." They aren't.

Ah, another reason why I'm not a modern-day Evangelical Christian. Instead, I prefer being a simple free-thinker. Associated with no organized religion. Seems to me that's more like what Jesus really was. A free-thinker. Certainly not an Evangelical Christian. --Jim Broede

Let's see what happens.

I have a feeling that this is gonna be a productive day. Not sure what that means. So I'm thinking about it. Now. Means I'm gonna accomplish something. Significant. May be a bunch of little things. An accumulation. Or it may be one big thing. But at the end of the day, I'm gonna say it was a productive day. Maybe that means I'm getting a little bit ahead of myself. By setting a goal for the day. Something called production. A word that I find hard to define. Maybe that's what I'm finally gonna do. Define productive by what I actually do today. Let's see what happens. Productively. --Jim Broede

They always wear a cloak.

I like to make people nervous. At least a little bit nervous. By probing. By asking questions. Which may prompt some beings to wonder, 'What's he up to?' In a sense, I like to strip people. Force them to walk naked. To reveal themselves. And to do that, I often find it necessary to become naked myself. To show that my intentions are good. Seems to me that nakedness begets nakedness. Honesty begets honesty. So often people hide behind masks. Or facades. That's a shame. Maybe they say they are trying to protect their privacy. But generally, I think that's bogus. They are merely afraid to go naked into the world. And to be their true selves. Many people are not what they appear to be. And that's what I want to find out. It may not be that they intentionally hide their identities. But more a case of not really knowing their identities. They've never looked at themselves in a naked way. They always wear a cloak. --Jim Broede