Saturday, April 30, 2011

I started thinking for myself.

I’ve always questioned the way we live. As a society. Even when I was a youngster, I questioned whether it was the right way. The way we treat each other. Things just didn’t seem right. Instinctively. The idea that black people were inferior. Because it had something to do with the color of their skin. That didn’t seem to make sense. Even to a 7-year-old. And I always questioned the existence of god. Because nobody could adequately explain to me the concept of god. And when they tried, they often described a ruthless and avenging god. One that required belief in him. I thought that was preposterous. Anyway, I thought I was being dealt a line of bullshit. And that I had better start thinking for myself. –Jim Broede

And even twiddling my thumbs.

I had no desire to see the royal wedding. In fact, when I accidentally turned it on, I immediately turned it off. I wasn’t even curious to take a peek. Now, I’m normally a curious being. Very curious. But for whatever reason, the royal wedding didn’t interest me. In the least. I find that rather curious. That I had no interest. I just thought I had better things to do. Like little projects around the house. And going bicycling. And reading a novel. And even twiddling my thumbs. –Jim Broede

On seeing the light.

In my lexicon, profit often is a dirty word. Especially when it comes to serving the common good. One must eliminate profit. And provide services more or less at cost. For the benefit of society as a whole. Health care is only one example. Public services, in general, should come without building in enormous profits. Especially when those profits go into the pockets of a few. Yes, exploiters. In our capitalist society, we tolerate such stuff. That’s why we have an ever-widening gap between the rich and the poor. Centuries from now we may look back on the capitalist era as grossly unfair and immoral. Just as immoral as slavery was in the 18th and 19th century. It took a while to see the light. To fully express and live by more decent and humane moral standards. –Jim Broede

Protector of the common good.

Seems to me that some people hate government just for the sake of hating government. And maybe it’s because they are in the private sector. And they see the government as unfair competition. Because it’s possible for government to provide services without a profit motive. Merely for the common good. Yes, government can in some instances do things cheaper. And that often benefits the consumer. That’s why I’m for a single-payer health care system. In the long-run, it may prove to be the most efficient. And help to lower costs. To the consumer. Guess I’m suggesting that good health care should be a right. For everyone. Not just for the rich. And if we are to get it, we need extensive government involvement. Including government regulation. For the purpose of protecting the consumer interest. More so than the desire of providers to reap enormous profits. Seems to me that the high cost of all sorts of things are the result of ungawdly profits going to the private sector. Yes, rip-offs. In the health care industry. In the energy market, too. The high price of gasoline comes at a time that the energy companies are making record-high profits. Bilking consumers. So that a relatively few wheeler-dealers can become richer and richer. Seems to me that ain’t fair. And that government can bring more fairness into the market. Long live well-intentioned and efficient government. Protector of the common good. –Jim Broede

Friday, April 29, 2011

Portraying fiction as fact.

Some polls show that up to 25 percent of Americans have doubts that Barack Obama was born in the USA. That’s incredible. But it shows that if enough people tell a lie repeatedly, eventually some people come to believe it. Despite the lack of proof. Despite the truth. Let’s face it. There are lots of stupid and gullible people in this world. Right here in America. Maybe they can read words. And speak English. But that doesn’t mean that they comprehend. Or think for themselves. Tell ‘em a lie, and they’ll believe it. Tell them that night is day and day is night, and a certain number will go along with it. Unquestioned. That’s why there are Republicans. Spouting falsehood after falsehood. About Obama. About the budget. About everything. Knowing full well that they can get away with portraying fiction as fact. –Jim Broede

Thank god for English translations.

I really should spend more time learning to speak Italian. But then, I often find something better to do. Better, in the sense that I think it’s a more useful way to spend my time. Such as reading books written by Grazia Deledda. A Sardinian who died in 1936. She won the Nobel Prize for literature in 1926. If I read everything Deledda has written, it’ll take me a long time. Something like 30 novels. I’m on the fourth one now. I never heard of Deledda. Until I was in Sardinia this past winter. I’m trying to learn more about Sardinian and Italian culture. Even before I learn the language. And Deledda is helping me. But she’s side-tracking me when it comes to practicing my Italian. I have Italian language software in my computer. But instead of going to it, I picked up another Deledda novel. Thank god. For English translations. –Jim Broede

I'm easy to please.

You know, even though I gripe and complain a lot, I’m a very happy being. Because I’m in love. That makes the difference. I have a true love. In Sardinia. Part of Italy. An island in the Mediterranean Sea. And I’m in touch with her daily. On Skype. An audio-video hook-up. And we spend lots of time together. In the flesh. In Sardinia. In America. And traveling in the world. Anyway, this makes me feel free. And cosmopolitan. I don’t have to be tied down to Minnesota. Or America. I move about. In pursuit of happiness. And I speak my piece. My mind. My mood. Which changes from day to day. But essentially, I’m happy. Very happy. Because I’m a free spirit. A romantic idealist. A free-thinker. A liberal. A lover. And I’ve learned to live one day at a time. Able to savor precious moments. Daily. And all I need to make my day is a single precious moment. I don’t need two or three. Or 1,000. I can settle for one. In that sense, I’m easy to please. –Jim Broede

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Helps me stay fit and trim.

I’ve taken to riding my bicycle daily. At least 30 miles. Sometimes 40 miles. Which means I’m about to have a 1,000 mile month. I’m at 930 miles. With two days to go. Which means I have to pedal 70 miles Friday and Saturday. And I’ll do it. I have to get out a map. And see where I’d be if I had headed out for 1,000 miles in various directions. Of course, I never ventured more than 10 miles or so from home. And I often took a circular route. I took up bicycling last summer. When I had a sore foot. Which hurt when I walked. The foot is all right now. But I find that bicycling is more aerobic than walking. Helps me stay fit and trim. –Jim Broede

The coming of an idiotdom.

If you are a celebrity in the USA, you can say and do pretty much anything you please. And you’ll get ample publicity. Doesn’t matter whether you are spreading outlandish lies. Doesn’t matter whether you are a pompous ass, such as Donald Trump. You’ll still get attention. Because that’s the way the media operates. Everything is celebrity oriented. Trump, for instance, is allowed to spread an allegation that Barack Obama may not be a U.S. citizen. That there’s no absolute proof that he was born in the USA. When any rational and credible person knows better. Even the media knows better. But still, Trump is given a forum. To say anything he wants. And it’s printed and recorded and sent all over the world. By the media. And there are dumbbells who believe it. Because they’ll believe anything. That the moon is made out of cheese. And that the moon landing was a hoax. Yes, we live in an age when idiots are given a forum. An opportunity to address their fellow idiots. And that’s a scary thing. Because it’s possible that there are enough idiots in the world to constitute a majority. And quite often in a democracy, the majority rules. Evidenced by the fact that the USA is being transformed into an idiotdom. --Jim Broede

The shame of America.

I know it. You know it. Barack Obama is held to a different standard. Because he’s black. That’s the nature of white racists. They don’t treat blacks the same way they treat their fellow whites. No way would a white president’s place of birth be questioned. But well, if you’re black, you gotta produce a lengthy form birth certificate. And when you do that, the authenticity of the certificate will be questioned. Because blacks didn’t come over on the Mayflower. And just think of it. The racists wonder if Obama is truly a Christian. And they wanna link him to the Rev. Jeremiah Wright. And to a one-time left wing radical William Ayers. And now that he’s produced his birth certificate, the white racists want him to produce his college grades. Yes, racists always have to keep putting a black man to a test. To a double standard. Gotta put him up on stage. For grilling. Like at a slave auction. Because a white racist is galled. That a black man happens to be superior. Happens to be a better human being than a white racist. Starts to make the racist feel inferior. Fact of the matter is that the racist is inferior. Is a bigot. Is detestable. Is the shame of America. –Jim Broede

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

God may be a black dude.

I’m learning to accept the USA as a racist country. Begrudgingly. And sadly. But I recognize there’s nothing I can really do about it. Racism is engrained in the American soul. Was from the very beginning. And I don’t know how we rid the nation of it. It just is. And probably always will be. I thought for a while that we were making great strides. By electing Barrack Obama as president. Of course, it helped that he had 96 percent of the black vote. A big chunk of white Americans are racist. Especially Republicans. And especially the conservative ones. Of course, there’s hardly any such thing as a moderate Republican any more. Republicans are in deep anguish because a black man occupies the White House. That galls them no end. They can’t accept a black man as a true American. So they imagine that Obama is an imposter. Not a real American. They so much want to believe that he was foreign born. To the point that they actually believe it. Based on faith alone. Like a belief in god. By the way, Republicans believe that god is white. But I’m guessing that god is a black dude. And that could thwart white Republicans’ plans to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. –Jim Broede

I'm for class warfare.

I’m all for waging class warfare. Right here in the USA. I want to pit the poor and the middle class against rich people. And I want to pit workers and unions against corporation big-wigs. That’s the kind of wars we need in America. Sure beats waging battle in Iraq and Afghanistan and Libya. I can really get involved in a class war. I associate with the poor and the middle class. With the proletariat. I’d tax the rich to such a degree that it’d bring millionaires and billionaires down to the middle class level. It’s time they saw how the less affluent barely scrape by. Yes, the rich have the monetary advantage. They can hire mercenaries to do their fighting. But the middle class has a vast numerical advantage. They easily outnumber the rich. In a real skirmish, I’d send wave upon wave of middle class warriors in to overwhelm the armies of the rich. And I’d take no prisoners. Instead, I’d take their wealth. And redistribute it. In a way that serves the common good. –Jim Broede

My gawd. My gawd. My gawd.

Our media makes very ordinary freaks famous. Maybe that’s the main problem with modern civilization. The media. It doesn’t know how to differentiate between the ordinary and the extraordinary. All one has to do to catch the attention of the media is to act like an idiot. Do something completely idiotic. Act like an ass. For instance, take the slew of Republican Party would-be candidates for president. Tell me that even one of ‘em isn’t an idiot. You can’t. Not if you’re honest. Donald Trump. Newt Gingrich. Sarah Palin. Michele Bachmann. Mitt Romney. A guy named Huckabee. His first name escapes me at the moment. And I don’t wanna waste my time looking it up. They’re all full-fledged nincompoops. If you consolidated all of their brains, you wouldn’t have a single, solitary, solid, legitimate brain. Some birds have bigger brains. But there they are. Being paraded in front of us on a daily basis. Round the clock. In the 24-hour news cycle. The media doesn’t know any other way to fill up time. I’m sure there are wise and intelligent people out there. But they are ignored by the media. Because they aren’t freaks. Intelligence doesn’t sell. Ignorance is bliss. People buy into the stupidity thing. The outlandish. They wanna be fooled. Sold a bill of goods. They want leaders that remind them of themselves. Ill-informed. Dunces. Sad sacks. And look at the media figures that promote these idiots. Rush Limbaugh. Glenn Beck. Two examples of loonies widely embraced by the public. They have avid followings. They are the voices of the Republican Party. The modern-day king-makers. My gawd. My gawd. My gawd. –Jim Broede

To not be manipulated.

I like a crisis now and then. Because a crisis usually forces one to make a decision. To resolve the crisis. That’s better than staying in limbo. Better than postponing decisions forever. I think it’s a crisis when an idiot takes charge of the world. Takes charge of the political scene. Or tries to manipulate the lives of others. Especially if it’s the manipulation of me. But often, the manipulated one isn’t me. Rather someone that I know. And I always tell ‘em, don’t allow yourself to be manipulated. Because manipulation is generally a source of unhappiness. Acute and lingering unhappiness. The point I wish to make is that the world is full of manipulators. You find ‘em everywhere. They can’t be avoided. But one can outwit, out-manipulate the gross manipulators. Maybe by being a bit ruthless. By standing up for one’s rights. To not be manipulated. –Jim Broede

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Here's the low-down on Trump.

I think Donald Trump is a foreigner. An illegal immigrant. Masquerading as an American born citizen. If he has a birth certificate showing that he was born in New York City, it’s probably bogus. Trump is talking about running for president. But sounds to me like it’s a sham. He really won’t run. Because he knows he was born in Patagonia. And that disqualifies him for the presidency. You gotta have been born in the U.S. There’s no doubt that two of Trump’s ex-wives were foreign born. He’s got foreign connections. Of course, Trump is making a big issue of Barack Obama’s place of birth. He said he has serious doubts about Obama’s claim that he was born in Hawaii. Trump and his Republican cronies also have speculated that Obama may be a secret Muslim. But I have information that suggests that Trump is a secret Hindu who wants to turn the U.S. into a Hindu theocracy. –Jim Broede

I'd like a self-correcting god.

I really don’t want things to go my way all of the time. That would be awful. I want some adversity. Really. Maybe god doesn’t have adversity. But I’m human. Imperfect. Vulnerable. And often enough, things don’t go right. I can’t be like god. By dictating all outcomes. Although, now that I think about it, maybe god wants to be human, too. And therefore leaves outcomes to chance. Random chance. Yes, it’s quite possible that god just lets things happen. Without intervening. Maybe god is watching us. Much like we humans watch a football or baseball game. Not knowing who’s gonna win. For all god knows, maybe we’ll destroy ourselves. Annihilate each other. It’s possible that god created humans just so he could be entertained. Of course, god could end the game at any time. Erase us all. And start all over again. With a new kind of creation. With innovations. By correcting mistakes he made the first time around. I’d like that. –Jim Broede

Doing what comes naturally.

Yesterday was sunny. And 65 degrees. So pleasant. Today, it’s raining. Softly. And it’s only gonna be 45 degrees. But still, so very pleasant. I like variable things. Even variable weather. If it snowed today, I’d still rejoice. Because it was unexpected. A surprise. I don’t know exactly what I’m gonna do today. I have no set plan. I’ll follow my impulse. My instincts. And do whatever comes naturally. –Jim Broede

I don't have to be consistent.

When it comes to spiritual matters, I believe what I want to believe. I erase all doubts. And if I don’t wanna believe something, I automatically raise doubts. I don’t mind being a Doubting Jim. Or for that matter, I can relish being a true believer. Of anything. If I really want to believe it, I’ll believe it. Nothing can stop me. However, I still try to keep an open mind. I can be swayed. Between belief and unbelief/disbelief. On a day to day basis. I’m fluid. Flexible. Constantly on the move. For instance, I can believe in god one day. And not the next. I don’t have to be consistent. –Jim Broede

I am what I am.

Happy people tend to be themselves. They like themselves. I awakened with that thought this morning. The unhappy ones don’t like themselves. They want to become another being. Or it could be that they’ve never learned to be. They’d rather not be. Yes, it’s a question of to be or not to be. I’m sure that some people were born to be unhappy. Which is all right. That is, if they fully know they want to be unhappy. In a sense, that makes them happy. If it’s consciously recognized that’s their divine mission in life. Strange as it may seem, I know people that shun happiness. Because that makes them unhappy. They dread the thought of not being their real selves. Can’t blame ‘em. As for me, I gotta be happy. I have to find a way. To be genuinely happy. No matter what. Not just fake happy. I have to be pursuing happiness. Always. That’s why I’m a romantic idealist, a free-thinker, a liberal and a lover. I am what I am. And I accept it. Happily. –Jim Broede

Monday, April 25, 2011

I'm the true patriot.

I consider myself an exceptionally good citizen of the USA. A true patriot. Because I’m not gonna buy into the typical Republican crap. Which tells us government ain’t good. That we need less of it. That it’s all right to have an ever-widening gap between the rich and the poor. And to hell with the common good. Long live capitalism. And let’s privatize Social Security and Medicare. Yes, that’s right. I’m not buying into any of that Republican crap. Because that’s what it is. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap keeps coming out of the Republican mouths. Republicans have turned into full-fledged asses. And some of ‘em are in Congress. Even my own congresswoman in the 6th district of Minnesota. Michele Bachmann. She’s gotta be the looniest Republican this side of hell. And I’m not gonna take her crap. And if that means that I have to find other places in the world to live, so be it. But I’ll split my time. Between here and abroad. So that I can wage a fight. To defeat Bachmann. To defeat Republicans. To get America back on track again. I’m the true patriot. Bachmann isn’t. She’d destroy America. –Jim Broede

We all have a voice.

I don’t mind being an American. As long as I can sound off. Speak my mind. Speak my piece. Maybe that’s the nicest thing about being American. Having the freedom of speech. If I don’t like something, I can spout off. Right here in this blog, for instance. Maybe it’s good that I have a limited audience. Helps to keep me out of trouble. But it gives me a sense of freedom. Maybe it’s more the Internet that makes me free. More than living in America. Because I’m connected no matter where I’m living in the world. We all have a forum now. We can create our own blogs. Edit our own copy. Publish, in a sense. That even gives us the freedom to be idiots. Yes, Republicans. Of course, I choose another course. I’d rather be intelligent. And anything but a Republican. But we all have a voice. If we choose to use it. –Jim Broede

Seeing how other people live.

I’m fortunate. In that I don’t have to live in America. I can come and go. I can be cosmopolitan. I travel about. And I’m well aware that there are things wrong with America. Because I see other parts of the world. Where life is better. Because it’s more civil. More decent. More congenial. I’ll be the first to admit that life ain’t perfect abroad. But it’s closer to my conception of Paradise. Because life moves at a slower pace. And the focus is more on serving the common good. That’s why other industrialized nations have socialized medicine. And less of a gap between the rich and the poor. Yes, a better distribution of the wealth. Reminds me that life could be better in the USA. But I’m really not complaining. Because I adapt. I find ways to make the best of life. Such as spending time away from America. Seeing how other people live. More and more, I’m thinking of myself as a citizen of the world. –Jim Broede

Sunday, April 24, 2011

I don't wanna go home again.

I’m not so sure I’d ever want to go home again. I have no compulsion to live in the past. I’ve never gone to a reunion. High school or college. Maybe in the 70s I returned to my hometown. Passed through it. Just for the hell of it. But I haven’t been back since. But I suppose that if I happened to be passing nearby, I’d poke my nose in. For a few moments. Out of curiosity. Yes, that would be the compelling force. Curiosity. And yes, the place seems smaller. Because I was smaller then. A child. A foot or two shorter. So everything seemed bigger to me then. In proportion. My brother and my sister always had a tendency to live in the past. To dredge up the past. Mostly in negative and pessimistic ways. That was harmful. To their psyches. I can think of fond memories of the past. But I don’t need them. I’m occupied with the now. With today. I’m not immersed in the past. Or even the future, for that matter. I have to find ways to savor today. This moment. I don’t want to waste my time reliving the past. Although, there’s nothing wrong with analyzing some of the past. To make for a better life. At this moment. I suppose that helps me understand myself. By understanding what I once was. Seems to me I’m not the same being. I’ve learned to be far more expressive. In that sense, I don’t want to return to the past. It’s much more exciting living today. And even thinking about living forever. Evolving. Evolving. Evolving forever. Into something new and wondrous. I have more abilities, more depth now. I’m living in another dimension now. And if I live forever, there’ll be dimensions that I can’t even imagine now. I find that fascinating. And not the least bit frightening. Because I am in love. With life. With all of the possibilities. Maybe something that even goes far beyond my present notion/concept of love. --Jim

Saturday, April 23, 2011

By my definition of moderation.

I don’t over-do the exercise. I’m moving in moderation all of the time. If I had to, I could keep going for hours. Non-stop. Because I proceed at a comfortable pace. Whether I’m bicycling or walking. If I had to, I could bicycle 100 miles in a day. That is, if I were going something like 10 miles an hour. Then it’d take me 10 hours to go 100 miles. That’s a pace I could handle. I don’t have any plan to do it. But I’m convinced I could. I think 30 to 40 miles a day is an easy workout. It doesn’t tire me. Instead, it relaxes me. Revitalizes me. Stimulates me. It’s the way I live. The way I stay alive. By staying in motion. I was born to move. To exercise. Moderately. I was born to think, too. And I do that every day. And I was born to write. And I do that, too. Daily. And I was born to be a romanticist. And a free thinker. And a liberal. And a lover. And I do it all in moderation. By my definition of moderation. --Jim

Paradise beckons.

I’m an optimist. Because a New York Times poll shows that Americans are becoming more pessimistic. And to that, I say it’s about time. It’s a good sign. Americans are starting to face reality. The hard truth. That they’ve been putting up with political tomfoolery for too long. It’s as if America has been run by idiots. Not only by three stooges. But multiple stooges. By the entire Republican Party. Time to recognize that we are on the path to hell. If not already in hell. Where there may be no escape. At least for some of us. Not me, of course. Because I know my way out. I have an escape route. Because I’ve fooled the devil’s disciples. Those Republicans. They can’t contain me like they contain stupid and pessimistic Americans. I don’t fall for their crap. Their labeling of Barack Obama as the anti-Christ. When it’s really Republicans that are all that’s evil and bad about America. So very many Americans are devil worshippers. Yes, beholden to Republicans. No longer knowing right from wrong. No longer knowing goodness from badness. No longer knowing intelligence from stupidity. We Americans have been cast adrift. We have been gullible. Hoodwinked by Republicans. Put to sleep. Finally, some of us are awakening. Finding ourselves in hell. I’d feel pessimistic, too. If there was no way out. But I have found an escape route. Even though I'm not afraid to return. For brief periods. To challenge Republicans. To make ‘em uneasy. And to let others know that I have found Paradise. All I have to do is get on a plane. And go. And in a few hours, I can be in Paradise. Knowing that I can live there for the rest of my life. Yes, on the island of Sardinia. In the Mediterranean Sea. The home of my true love. Nothing compels me to stay in hell. Paradise beckons. –Jim Broede

I believe in romance.

I don’t know whether or not to recognize my limitations. On one hand, I’d like to think I can achieve virtually anything. Even the impossible. If I just set my mind and heart to it. But then I have a doubt or two. And I suspect I really don’t believe it. A little bit like walking on water. I think it’s theoretically possible. But theory is one thing. Practice another. If I make walking on water a romantic venture, then it’s possible. Because I believe in romance. Beyond a doubt. But I’m not sure that walking on water qualifies as a romantic gesture. –Jim Broede

With real and intimate meaning.

I find that learning a second language or even a third language is very frustrating. In that I recognize my inability to ever master another language. That I’m stuck with English. Whenever I truly want to express myself. It’s taken me a lifetime to get this far. To speak in a truly expressive manner. With English. Oh, I could still do better with my English. But still, I feel unshackled with English. With German. Or with Italian. I’m shackled. Very limited. But then, I can fall back on my English. And feel that I can say or write almost anything. Which makes me feel free. And with most of us, I assume, it’s only our original native language that makes it possible. To have a free flow of words. With real meaning. With intimate meaning. –Jim Broede

Trump, Trump, Trumping along.

Donald Trump. A comical character. And a racist extraordinary. Has surged to the top of the list of potential Republican candidates for president. Yes, president of the USA. This is my country, folks. And I become more ashamed/disenchanted of its dastardly political realities. On a daily basis. I awake. And tell myself that nothing can get more pathetic on the American political scene. That we’ve finally bottomed out. And things will get better. But what happens instead? Donald Trump arrives. And he’s anointed as the candidate with the most public support among Republicans. Mind you, not yet a majority. But more than any of the others in the early opinion polling. More than Mitt Romney. Or some preacher guy named Huckabee. Or certified right-wing loonies Sarah Palin and Michele Bachmann. Or gawd-awful hypocrite Newt Gingrich. Or an ex-governor with a brain numbed by living on the Minnesota tundra during cold, cold winters. Indeed, a motley crew. Even before Trump happened along. But Trump makes it even more motley. By making his big issue Barack Obama’s citizenship. Casting doubts on whether Obama was really born in the USA. Suggesting that maybe he’s really a Kenyan. And a secret Muslim. And the anti-Christ. Because he’s a black man. That automatically gets Trump the racist vote. Little wonder that he’s surged to the top in opinion polls. Because America is a racist nation. Sad. But true. A hard reality for some of us Americans to accept. We try to deny it. But then comes along my trump card. Trump himself. Making preposterous claims. Because there’s no way he and other racists can tolerate/accept the idea of a black man in the White House. –Jim Broede

Friday, April 22, 2011

I prefer good government.

My guess is that if Republicans had their way, they’d dissolve government. And allow the U.S. to be run by a big private corporation. Everything would be privatized. Capitalism would reign. Seems to me that Republicans want to destroy government. By whatever means. Maybe by making government go broke. Maybe by wrecking government programs such as Medicare and Social Security. Republicans want government to fail. So that big business can take control. Republicans want government to be run like a business. A private business. Where the owners and the boards of directors dictate the course. And the company’s best/selfish interests are served. Rather than the common good. Seems to me that’s the basic difference between private corporations and government. Government’s mission is supposed to be to serve the common interest of society as a whole. Private business, meanwhile, wants to exploit society for the purpose of making money. Making a profit. For a limited, chosen few. Government, meanwhile, is in business to provide services. For the many. Without making profits. I like that concept. Yes, I prefer good government over bad business. –Jim Broede

Humor can be a serious business.

I like to compliment intelligent people. By telling ‘em they aren’t as stupid as they look. That they are actually very smart. That’s my brand of humor. And I often tell jokes with a straight face. To try to confuse folks. Into wondering whether I’m serious or joking. Even the way I write. I may be serious. And other times, I’m trying to be funny. In sort of a serious way. To throw people off track. To make ‘em think. Sometimes, I even fool myself. I’m not sure whether I’m being serious or funny. Because I’m walking a narrow line. Occasionally, I’m talking to two people at the same time. And I want one of ‘em to take me seriously. While I make the other one laugh. I suppose humor is a funny thing. In that it can be taken in many ways. One thing I know. For certain. Humor can be a serious business. –Jim Broede

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Understanding the nature of hell.

I can’t think of a form of life any lower than that of politician. And specifically, a Republican. That’s the scum of the Earth. Some people tell me they don’t like rats or snakes or other kind of vermin. But such animals don’t bother me. I like all forms of animal life. Except for Republican politician. I’m assuming god created Republicans. I’m not sure what he had in mind. Or maybe it was an experiment that went bad. Seems to me that god should have immediately corrected his mistake. Canceled out the Republican and started all over. Or it could be that god wanted to show mankind that even he’s capable of making horrid mistakes. Or it could be that god has a mean streak. And he wanted humans to suffer. Even more than Jesus suffered on the cross. By subjecting us to the presence of Republicans in our lives. So that we’d have a better understanding about the nature of hell. –Jim Broede

I have a unique vantage point.

Maybe some people really don’t know themselves. Because they don’t know how to think. To probe. Their inner depths. Could be that even the thought of it scares ‘em. Or maybe it’s too difficult. I make it a point to go exploring daily. Inward. Excavating. Digging into myself. Maybe that makes me self-absorbed. But not necessarily. Because I’m also analyzing how I relate to other people. And how they relate to me. There can be a big difference. On how I see them. And they see me. I find myself in a strange world. One that I won’t ever fully understand. But I know one thing. I’m me. And in a sense, I’m living in my own world. I can see it. From inside me. And nobody else has that unique vantage point. –Jim Broede

A single dream can seem like 1,000

I’m a romantic idealist. One who dares to pursue his dreams. And some people tell me that’s a luxury. That most people don’t have such opportunities. But I suggest that’s not true. That everyone can be a romanticist. If only they believe. If they want to. They must have the desire. The gumption. The willingness to take risks. And to recognize opportunity. If they keep dreaming, eventually a dream or two will come true. Maybe not all of ‘em. I’ll grant that. But some of ‘em. And all it takes is one fulfilled dream to make life grand and glorious and magnificent. The thing is that even living a small romantic dream can be sustaining. Because one can savor it forever. That’s the nature of the romantic life. One can live it and cherish it in the moment. As if it’s forever. One can make it last. On a daily basis. Constantly renewing it. Because romanticism has a permeating effect. One becomes smitten. One becomes a believer. Because living a single dream can seem like 1,000. –Jim Broede

I still believe in America.

I can’t tell for sure if Republicans are the shrewdest, most cunning politicians in the world. Or, the dumbest. Because what Republicans stand for sounds idiotic and immoral and just what a majority of the American people don’t want. Yet, Republicans have concocted a majority in Congress. So maybe a case can be made it’s the American people that are stupid. Not the Republicans. The Republicans keep advocating more and more tax cuts for the rich. And the dismantling of Social Security and Medicare as we know it. Yes, the greatest social programs we’ve ever had to benefit the poor and the middle class. It’s as if the Republicans think they can get away with all of this. Pull it off. I don’t think they can. I’m going with my instinct that the Republicans are stupid. And about to commit political suicide in the 2012 elections. But then, I’ve been wrong before. And I could be wrong again. So I’m keeping live my option to flee America. To live elsewhere. And give up being an American. But still, deep down, I’m the eternal optimist. Believing that America will still miraculously find its way. –Jim Broede

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

When silence is appropriate.

I’m really a very good listener. Much better than some people surmise. For instance, the other day I was taken to task by someone miffed, maybe even pissed, because I hadn’t replied to several emails. Therefore, it was a one-sided dialogue, so to speak. Because I wasn’t participating. But the point I wish to make is that I was participating. By listening. In silence. That’s the mark of a good listener. He listens. And tries to keep his mouth shut. Rather than preaching or analyzing or giving advice. The person writing to me really needed a listener. Much more so than advice. In a sense, I was being a psychiatrist. Listening to the patient. Allowing the patient to talk things out. There’s a time to speak. And a time to remain silent. I know when silence is appropriate. –Jim Broede

What are we gonna do about it?

If I‘m white and caught using illegal drugs, I’m most likely to end up in rehab. But if I’m black, I’m five times more likely than a white man to go to prison. That’s the statistical truth in the USA. Also, studies show that rehab is about 7 times more effective than prison. And prison is more costly, too. But things ain’t gonna change. Because we live in a racist society. We discriminate against blacks in so very many ways. And it’s apparent. Especially in our judicial system. That’s the way it is, folks. And what are we gonna do about it? –Jim Broede

Feeling good about life. And snow.

I’ve awakened this morning to snow. Here in Minnesota. A month to the day after the arrival of spring. Snow on the ground. Snow weighing down the branches on the evergreen trees. Snow to shovel. But I’m not complaining. I’m accepting the snow. Thinking it’s wonderful. And I’m not pretending. It’s beautiful. I’m reminded of the snow scenes out of the movie ‘Dr. Zhivago.’ Of course, I could gripe, too. I could complain. That we Minnesotans deserve a balmy 70 degrees today. But my attitude is that we’ll have 70s and the sun. Sooner or later. Just be patient. Wait a while. And appreciate what I’ve got at the moment. Snow. Snow. And more snow. The ground is white. No longer a drab brown. And the air is fresh. Sure, a bit nippy. But fresh. And I’m feeling pretty good about life. And about snow. On April 20. –Jim Broede

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

So much better to live the story.

I like to use my imagination. Because it’s a way to create. Thought. I can take a thought. And play with it. Imaginatively. That’s how I became a romantic idealist. I imagined being romantic. And I defined how I could make it become real. By practicing. First, with my imagination. And I thought, my gawd, this is the way I should live. Romantically. In real life. That’s how one creates. By imagining how it’s done. And then doing it. I discovered so many opportunities. Opportunities that were always there. But I didn’t see ‘em. Because I was blind. I wasn’t seeing life with a romantic eye. When I did, I soon learned that I could make things happen. By being romantic. Actually taking on the role of a true romantic. I knew how to do it. To make it more than a dream. By living my dream. I could have merely settled for writing a story. A romantic novel, for instance. But I decided that would be a waste of time. So much better to live the story. In real life. –Jim Broede

To be aware that life's profound.

I’m capable of getting lost. Within myself. By experiencing something mystical. By walking through an Italian village, for instance. Or strolling along a Mediterranean beach. I lose track of time. It’s as if I’ve entered another era. In the distant past. And I’m mingling with spirits. Very much alive spirits. Because spirits never die. They are forever. I’m in a different reality. A different dimension. It’s as if I’ve been given additional senses. Beyond the usual human comprehension. Maybe it’s that I lived in another time. And that I was here. On this very spot. Centuries ago. And I’m connected again. To another life. Another time. Maybe it’s all a coincidental thing. Or maybe it’s meant to be. I was supposed to return. To finish some business. Or to become aware. That life is profound. –Jim Broede

Amazing and happy endings.

I’m amazed. Amazed that more people don’t consider themselves amazing. Because they lack self-confidence. Self-esteem. But I see them doing amazing things. Daily. Such as giving loving care to their loved ones. Alzheimer patients. Sometimes, I criticize them. For allowing themselves to become beleaguered. For trying to do too much. For trying to become saints. And not learning to pull back. To be realistic. To get proper respite. To take care of themselves. So that they can adequately care for others. So I call them out for that. For being too close to the forest to see the trees. They have to learn to pull back. And some of ‘em don’t. Which is sad. But others do see the light. They accept their situations. And handle them wisely. Adeptly. And they become the amazing ones. Which usually makes for amazing and happy endings. –Jim Broede

Monday, April 18, 2011

Slower than a Kenyan runner.

It’s an incredible feat. Running a marathon in 2 hours and 3 minutes. That’s 26.2 miles. Running at almost 13 miles an hour. Less than a 5-minute mile. I can’t even cover that distance on my bicycle in two hours. The Kenyan that won the Boston Marathon today would beat me. Even if I had the advantage of a bicycle. When I first started running seriously in the early 1970s, I wrote about running. And I ran with some marathoners. In training. Just to see what it was like. And I quickly decided that I’d rather run alone. At my own pace. Just to relax. Not to compete. That’s my style of life. I’ll workout. Doing the equivalent of a marathon daily. But on a bicycle. And much slower than amazing Kenyan runners. –Jim Broede

Why hurry?

I like to do things at my own good-natured pace. No hurry. But I think I was brought up to hurry. To do things pronto. To get ‘em out of the way. My obligations. My chores. That was my mother’s credo. And the credo of many of my teachers, too. And I did pretty much as I was taught. But now I have learned to put up resistance to what I was taught. Because it was wrong. My proclivity is to slow down. To savor life. To put things off. Especially the not-so-important things. In other words, to focus on my priorities. And not to sweat the small stuff. And maybe not even to sweat some of the big stuff. Enjoy life. In a leisurely, slow-moving fashion. Why hurry? That’s a key question. I ask it often. And the answer is, no reason to hurry. Instead of doing five things today, I’ll settle for doing four or three or two or maybe only one. But I’ll do it good. Doing it the way it’s supposed to be done. Enjoying every minute. Unhurried. –Jim Broede

Sunday, April 17, 2011

I'm penetrating an Italian mind.

I’m learning about how Italians think. Because I sort of want to become Italian. It’s kind of late in life for me to pursue such an endeavor. I’m 75. I should have started when I was younger. But turns out I’ve met an Italian. And she’s become my true love. So I’m making some effort. I’m not real good at learning the Italian language. It’s coming slowly. Very slowly. But I’m reading Italian writers. Novelists. And journalists. And I converse with my Italian true love every day. And I’m now spending my winters in Italy. And my true love will be with me in Minnesota in summertime. It’s a nice arrangement. A nice relationship. We’ve also traveled together. In Italy. Germany. Britain. Iceland. Believe me, I’ve learned a lot about Italian ways. And Italian food. And Italian thinking. I’m immersing myself in things Italian. But I’m not gonna be able to manage it all. I’ll probably never become fluent in the Italian language. I’d rather be able to think like an Italian. To actually feel Italian. Fortunately, my true love speaks English. Actually, she teaches English and English literature. She might even teach me to speak better English. While she tries to teach me Italian. Anyway, I’m penetrating her Italian mind. And it’s delightful and wonderful. I’m learning so much. –Jim Broede

I give myself leeway.

I got taken to task today. For not replying to someone's emails. And I’m thinking that I can’t make everybody happy. Because that’s the nature of life. That I can’t be all things to all people. Even to the people that I dearly like. I’ve gone through stretches when I even more or less ignored my own mother and my own sister. Because at the time I thought I had more important obligations and responsibilities. Only so much one can do in a day. Or a week. Or a month. Or a lifetime, for that matter. And it ain’t all gonna get done. And I try not to go on guilt trips. Because of what I don’t do. I refuse to be made a villain or a cad. For what I don’t do. Yes, maybe I could use my time better. And be more efficient. Get more done. But that ain’t me. I insist on taking breaks. On resting. On essentially doing nothing for a while. On wasting time. On being lazy. In order to handle tomorrow. In a reasonable way. That’s why I try to give people leeway. Because I give myself leeway. --Jim Broede

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Signed by Patriotic Jim.

I don’t mind paying taxes. In fact, I think it’s rather patriotic. I’m even willing to pay more taxes to help get the nation’s financial house in order. After all, I want rich people taxed at a higher rate. And if that happens, I’ll gladly kick in more myself. Even though I’m merely a beleaguered middle class retiree. And far from monetarily rich. I don’t quite understand the Republicans calling for trillion-dollar tax cuts for millionaires and billionaires. Seems to me that’s downright unpatriotic. It’s time for all of us to pitch in to try to save America. I’ll set an example. By sending the Internal Revenue Service an unsolicited check. Signed by Patriotic Jim. –Jim Broede

I'm trying to reform.

I wouldn’t mind being born into the world as Chinese. In China. Because I might feel more comfortable being Chinese than American. I like Chinese moral values. More than American ones. In that the Chinese seem to be working for the common good. For the good of society. Rather than putting the selfish individual good first. In the long haul, that’s probably best for the individual. For society, too. And for the country. In America, we think it’s all right for individuals to exploit other individuals. Just for the hell of it. Because that’s our sense of freedom. For the individual to do as he/she damn well pleases. That’s why we have the richest 1 percent of Americans controlling 40 percent of the nation’s wealth. That’s obscene. Because it creates an ever-widening gap between the rich and the poor. The Chinese allow for rich people, too. But not to the extent that we encourage it in America. Meanwhile, I act like an individual. A maverick. And I generally do as I damn well please. But still, I acknowledge an obligation to the common good. I recognize that I am a selfish American. But I’m trying to do something about it. I’m trying to reform. –Jim Broede

It's up to you, the reader.

I like to take what people have to say in at least two ways. Seriously. And not so seriously. And then I ask myself, which is the most positive interpretation? And I give most people the benefit of positive thinking. I try to frame it in the most positive way. The way that makes it come across in the best light. But I generally make exceptions with Republicans. I frame what they have to say in a negative light. Because Republicans are natural born jerks. Now such a statement can be taken seriously. Or not so seriously. It's up to you, the reader. I give you the option. --Jim Broede

Without complaining.

I awakened this morning to a thin layer of snow. On the ground. On the tree branches. And although I wish for a balmy, sunny day, I’ll accept this. Even on April 16 or May 16 or June 16. Because I have no choice. I can’t control the weather. And so, I am bringing myself to appreciate snow and cold. Even at this relatively late date. It’s beautiful. Idyllic. And I’ll even go bicycling soon. Wearing a winter coat and a choker and a cap and mittens. Without griping. Without complaining. –Jim Broede

Choices. Choices. And still more.

Often in life, there’s no clear-cut right or wrong. Because it comes down to an individual choice. What’s right for one may be wrong for another. The French writer and philosopher Sartre gave the example of a man in France that had to choose during World War II whether to stay at home and care for his ailing elderly mother or to go away and join the French resistance to the Nazis. And different individuals will choose different paths. One has to choose one’s own priorities. And live by ‘em. That’s precisely what sets us free. Some may choose for love of an individual, and others may choose for the love of a cause. I can be pulled betwixt and between. And try to do both. But sometimes I am more or less forced to make a choice. And I have to choose between Option 1 or Option 2. Or maybe even choose between 10 options. That’s a nice thing about life. I generally have many, many options. Choices. Choices. And still more choices. –Jim Broede

Friday, April 15, 2011

I find my own meanings.

The nice thing about the written word is that it can be taken in many, many ways. The reader can find his/her own meaning. One that the writer may not have intended. Which is all right. Especially in literature. I used to write a newspaper column. And often people didn’t know whether to take it seriously, or not. That was fine with me. I allowed the readers to put themselves into the column. I allowed the readers to take it whichever way they preferred. Knowing full well that it could be taken in different, even multiple ways. I’m reading some stories now by the Sardinian writer Grazia Deledda. And it could very well be that I’m taking the stories in ways that Deledda never intended. But I don’t hesitate doing that. Because I want to find my own meaning. My own interpretation. I want to put myself into the story, in a sense, and relate it to my own personal experience. I don’t necessarily like what Deledda does with a certain plot or certain characters. And so I improvise. And I give the characters motives that make sense to me. A good writer allows the reader to take license. Expects it. Allows me to find my own meanings. --Jim Broede

Some fanatics are beyond reach.

The most conservative of Republicans remind me of religious fanatics. Actually, in many cases, that’s what they are. Religious fanatics. And there’s nothing I detest more than a religious fanatic. Because they are totally uncompromising. They think they are right. And that everybody else is wrong. No self-doubts. Religious fanatics are dangerous. They’ll kill for their cause. In the same manner that Hitler would kill. They’ll try to exterminate the opposition. And they’ll do it by shouting righteous platitudes. Congresswoman Michele Bachmann is that way. Maybe even Sarah Palin. But Bachmann is even farther to the right than Palin. More of a zealot. Which is scary. And what’s even scarier is that Bachmann was re-elected last November. In the very district in which I live. I have neighbors that voted for Bachmann. With a passion. Yes, I live in a dangerous neighborhood. With right wing zealots. That takes courage. But I’m no sissy. Occasionally, I get a direct call from Bachmann. Inviting me to join a conference call town meeting. So far, I’ve declined. Why? Because it’ll do no good. Bachmann is beyond reach. She’s crazy. A zealot. A religious fanatic. I try to steer clear of zealots and fanatics. I know that we should talk. And have a decent dialogue. But sad to say, fanatics like Bachmann are beyond reach. –Jim Broede

I'm trying to figure it out.

Maybe the biggest marvel of life is that I’m capable of caring for someone. Other than myself. But still, I suspect that I care more about myself. Than anyone. It’s as if I’m at the center of the universe. That I have an opportunity to control my destiny. Much easier than it is for me to control another’s destiny. Because I live inside myself. And I can’t live inside another being. Even though I can care. Lovingly. Yes, there’s this feeling that connects me. To another human being. And maybe to the life force. I don’t know exactly what it is. Maybe for lack of a better word I call it love. That satisfies me for the moment. The thing is that I don’t understand exactly what’s going on. Around me. Or inside me. But I’m trying to figure it out. By digging deeper. Within me. –Jim Broede

I have a purpose.

I’m not so sure that there’s such a thing as being ruthlessly honest with one’s self. Because that would hurt too much. So maybe we protect ourselves from the truth. We tell ourselves we are being honest. When really we aren’t. It’s all a sham. That means we live in a make-believe world. Just to get by. To survive. Because if we knew the truth, we’d be scared or devastated. Or we’d go downright crazy. So we concoct scenarios that get us through. Day to day. Yes, we create our own little worlds. That’s the marvel of life. We even create gods. Or maybe just a single god. Anything that gets us by. I think of myself as creative. In a sense, almost like god. Because I have given meaning to my life. I have a purpose. To find reason to be in love. With life. –Jim Broede

Judgmental to a disturbing degree.

Many a racist tells me that their best friends include some black people. But I suspect that they are really acquaintances. Rather than bona fide friends. Racists know how to pretend. To lie. Not only to other people. But to themselves. Politicians do it all of the time. They go through the motions of saying the right things. But that’s all it is. Insincerity. That’s the way I see it. But I also admit that I could be wrong. Because it’s really difficult seeing inside another being. Even seeing inside one’s self. That’s why most of the time I try not to be too judgmental. But at times, I can’t help myself. I am what I am. Judgmental to a disturbing degree. –Jim Broede

Insincere, double-talk politicians.

Politicians talk out of two sides of their mouths. And they are about as insincere as anyone can get. For instance, take Rep. Paul Ryan, R-Wis., who chairs the House Budget Committee. Here’s what Barack Obama had to say about Ryan yesterday in off-the-cuff remarks: "When Paul Ryan says his priority is to make sure, he's just being America's accountant ... This is the same guy that voted for two wars that were unpaid for, voted for the Bush tax cuts that were unpaid for, voted for the prescription drug bill that cost as much as my health care bill -- but wasn't paid for ... So it's not on the level."

Yes, folks, Ryan has a grand plan for balancing the budget. By gouging poor people and the middle class. By privatizing everything from Social Security to Medicare. Giving insurance companies opportunities to milk obscene profits. Opportunities to screw us all. Opportunities to make the poor poorer and the rich richer. A typical Republican. It’s an example of the essence of evil. A way to work against the common good. And until we Americans confront it, we’ll have insincere, double-talking politicians such as Ryan. –Jim Broede

Thursday, April 14, 2011

All I have to do is act stupid.

I’m judgmental about Republicans. Usually, I don’t like to be judgmental. I try to avoid it. But I make exceptions for Republicans. Because they are judgmental. And I like to be judgmental about judgmental people. My aim is to out-judgmental ‘em. It’s my way of poking fun at Republicans. I like to practice some of the Republicans most repulsive traits. Being judgmental tops the list. In order to fully understand a Republican, I try to act like a Republican. Stupid. Repulsive. Judgmental. I’ve mastered the craft of being a Republican. I could play a Republican. Effectively. On stage. And in real life, too. All I have to do is act stupid. –Jim Broede

I'm up late, pursuing pleasure.

I love staying up late at night. Until I’m tired. Because I like to feel tired. Because that’s the way I’m supposed to feel at the end of the day. Causes me to relax. And fall asleep. And that’s one of the pleasures of life. Dozing off. Comfortably. If I’m not tired, I write or read or listen to music. Or go for a walk. And since I’m retired, I don’t have to wake at a particular hour to go to a job. But that doesn’t stop me from writing. Every day. More than when I was employed as a writer. I never get tired of writing. Because it’s pleasure. Maybe that’s why I stay up so late. I’m pursuing pleasure. –Jim Broede

The GOP would even reject Abe.

It’s sad to say. But I think that if Barack Obama were white, he’d be embraced by Republicans. But he’s considered black, and that deeply annoys many, many Republicans. Especially those of the conservative ilk. They inwardly fume that a black man occupies the ‘White’ House. It’s supposed to be only for white folks. Some Republicans are still fighting the Civil War 150 years after it started. They think it’s not over with yet. Evidenced by current cries for secession. Many Republicans won’t even concede that Obama is an American. They think of him as ‘foreign’ merely because he’s black. True Americans are only supposed to be white. One can sense the hostility toward Obama. He’s advocated some programs that Republicans long advocated. But once Republicans learned that Obama was supportive, they decided to change their positions to opposition on many of those issues They simply can’t bring themselves to like a black man or black woman in any way. It goes against the Republicans’ racist grain. I’m not saying that every Republican is a racist. Only a majority. There are exceptions. But many of the conservative Republicans would like to drum the exceptions out of the party. Looks to me like if Abe Lincoln were alive today, he’d be unwelcome in the Republican Party. –Jim Broede

I'd be an outcast.

If Republicans are allowed to shape the future of America, then I don’t wanna live here any more. Because Republicans pretty much support everything that I abhor. Politically. Economically. Socially. America would not be my America anymore. I would be ready to say adios. I’d much rather live in Italy or Germany or Britain or Sweden or Iceland or Canada. But I’m hopeful that most Americans will reject the Republicans’ vision of the future. And that the common good will be served. Instead of the good of rich people. Especially the very rich. The Republicans are out to screw the poor and the middle class. Economically and politically. And they’d discriminate socially against anyone that doesn’t meet Republicans' bigoted moral standards. If you ain’t white and monetarily rich, you’d be in trouble in a Republican-run nation. I’d be an outcast. –Jim Broede

The awakening of a sleeping giant.

Finally, Barack Obama has awakened. Finally, he sounds pissed. In the reasonably polite Obama way. But still royally pissed. Over the way the Republicans would balance the nation’s budget. In the most inhumane way. By stealing from the poor and the middle class. And giving it all to the rich. Especially the super rich. Obama served notice in a speech yesterday that he won’t allow that to happen while he’s president. Instead, he’ll take a progressive approach. The humane way. By making the rich pay higher taxes. The rich have been given tax break after tax break under the Republicans. The GOP would have the rich paying at the lowest tax rates since 1931. At a time when the poor and the middle class are financially beleaguered. The Republicans would even privatize Medicare and Social Security. But Obama has served notice. No way will that happen. Yes, the Republicans have finally awakened a sleeping giant. –Jim Broede

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

I like memorable first meetings.

I’m naturally curious about people. That’s why I cultivate strangers. I wanna know something about ‘em. Right from the start. Preferably, what makes ‘em tick. What turns ‘em on. Their attitudes. Their pulse beats. And I quickly volunteer that I’m a romantic idealist, a free-thinker, a liberal and a lover. I get to the important and significant things. First. And I expect the stranger to do the same. Well, maybe not fully expect. Instead, I expect to draw ‘em out. Sooner or later. And preferably sooner. That’s how I make small talk. By startling people. By getting to the crux of the matter. Putting the stranger on the spot. By asking questions they may not want to answer. Maybe even embarrassing questions. I figure, what the heck? Nothing ventured. Nothing gained. I like memorable first meetings. –Jim Broede

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Unless you are a Republican.

It doesn’t make sense. House Republicans want to cut spending on government programs over the next decade by $4.3 trillion. And they want to cut tax revenues over the same period by $4.2 trillion. If I were running the show, I’d NOT cut the taxes one penny. I might even raise them a little bit. And I wouldn’t cut spending. I might even spend a little bit more. That would get the USA out of peril. And it would be taking from the very rich and spending the proceeds to benefit the poor and the middle class. I sense that’s what most Americans want. Unless you are a Republican. –Jim Broede

Obama's dilemma, as I see it.

I’m wondering if Barack Obama is merely going through the motions of being president. Because he’s in love with his wife Michelle. Which means he thinks his marriage is more important than the presidency. So maybe he spends most of his time with Michelle. And he doesn’t have time to battle the Republicans over the budget and other things. So he lets Republicans have their way. If Obama is truly in love with Michelle, that means his mind is preoccupied with her. And that’s a good thing, or so it seems to me. Because I’m a romantic idealist. And my primary focus would be on my true love. Even if I were the president of the USA. I’d have my priorities straight. My loving relationship would come first. That’s why I’d never run for president. The job would be too time-consuming for a romantic idealist. Could be that Obama discovered this too late. That he’s had to choose between romance and his duties as president. Meanwhile, I’m hoping that he’s secretly delegated the responsibilities of president to vice president Biden or to his chief of staff or another underling. –Jim Broede

I let people be themselves.

The best relationships are the ones in which two people don’t want to change each other. There’s mutual acceptance. If not quite complete. Virtually total. Even when the two people are different. In many ways. But they tend to balance each other. Bring out the best in each other. Those are the ingredients in the best of marriages. And a sign of true love. If one or the other is in quest of changing the other, especially in significant ways, it’s gonna mean trouble. And most likely, a break-up. Seems to me that unconditional love requires lots of acceptance. Tolerance. Empathy. Forgiveness. More and more as I get older, I’m willing to accept people as they are. Because I know I’m not gonna change ‘em. People tend to change themselves. They resist being changed by others. I like it when I see people change for the better. Evolve. Without having to be pushed. But the thing is, I don’t necessarily know what’s better. It might be better for me. But not for another. That’s the dangerous thing about trying to change an acquaintance. I might make ‘em worse. I’d rather just let them be themselves. Even if they have to learn the mistake-prone hard way. –Jim Broede

Monday, April 11, 2011

Without any qualms of conscience.

When I was in the U.S. Army, I encountered a rather wide-ranging mix of people. Maybe because there was a draft. There were soldiers that really didn’t want to be soldiers. But there also were soldiers that very much wanted to be soldiers. And to be killers. I sensed that some of ‘em enjoyed violence. Killing. They didn’t like peacetime. They would have relished being on a battlefield. Because they were born to kill. That’s why they drifted into the military service. They might get the opportunity to kill. Legally. That’s why it doesn’t surprise me that it’s being alleged that there’s been a ‘killer’ platoon of about 12 American soldiers in Afghanistan. They are accused of killing Afghans just for the hell of it. For fun. Innocent people. Even children. For no apparent reason. Like a hunter might kill a deer. But they killed real people. Just for sport. And there’s speculation that such occurrences are more widespread than being reported. That soldiers get away with it. Yes, American soldiers. Capable of atrocities. I don’t doubt it. Just from the soldiers that I knew 50 years ago in Germany. American soldiers. Sadly, some of ‘em would have killed. For the fun of it. Without any qualms of conscience. –Jim Broede

For their own sake, too.

Guess I’m just out of step. I want to do the opposite of our blessed politicians. They want to cutback entitlement programs. Such as Medicare and Social Security. And I want them expanded. By siphoning money from the rich. Putting it all to good use. To help the poor and middle class. Seems to me that’s the right thing to do. I keep asking myself, what would Jesus do? And I come up with the same answer all of the time. He’d tell the rich to volunteer to pay higher taxes. For the sake of the common good. And for their own sake, too. Because that’ll help ‘em buy their way into the Kingdom of Heaven. –Jim Broede

Sunday, April 10, 2011

I pick a happy set of options.

I like it that I have many things to do. So many that I won’t ever get it all done. So I have to let things slide. I refuse to feel overwhelmed. Because I know it’s unrealistic to try to do everything. It’s impossible in a single lifetime. Therefore, I have to make choices. And that’s what I like. An abundance of choices. Better than having only a handful of options. When I go to bed at night, I don’t fret. Even though there are things still to do. But I choose to have a good night’s sleep. That’s a top priority. A restful sleep. That’s one of the paramount pleasures of life. I know people who don’t sleep well. Maybe because they have too much on their minds. They feel overwhelmed. But I’m of the notion that that I can do only so much. I can’t do it all. And I mainly pick and choose the things that make me happy. –Jim Broede

The amazing story of my life.

I don’t have an agenda per se. Because I don’t necessarily know what I want. Or where I’m going. That’s what I like about life. I can make it up as I go. Make decisions on the run. And if I take a wrong turn, I can back track. And find another way. I don’t even use a road map. I love coming to an intersection. Or a round-about. Because then I have to make a decision. This way. Or that way. And often, I’m in no hurry. I can camp out. Kill time. Or make inquiries. I’m open to suggestions. I like living this way. With some degree of uncertainty. Because I’m adventuresome. That’s the nice thing about not knowing where I’m going. A surprise or two may be around the corner. And it’s interesting to see how I deal with the unexpected. If necessary, I’ll improvise. I trust my instincts. And I love meeting strangers. My true love was a stranger once. But not for long. Amazing. That’s the story of my life. –Jim Broede

Life in all of it's grandeur.

Disappointment. I experience it many times. Because things don’t always go my way. But if I’m disappointed, I immediately set the wheels in motion to focus on something that pleases me. I get disappointed over little things. Maybe the Cubs lose a baseball game. One that they should have won. That’s disappointing. But then my next thought is that I’m in love. And that I’m in good health. And that I’m about to go for a bicycle ride. I’ll be breathing fresh air. And it’s the warmest day of spring. And I’m thankful to be experiencing life in all of it's grandeur. –Jim Broede

To see if I can annoy everyone.

I annoy people. Especially the ones that take me seriously. All of the time. I am not to be taken seriously. Much of the time. I have my serious moments. But such moments also can be funny. Hilarious. I do have a sense of humor. Sometimes, it’s subtle. And I like to pretend to be serious. One calls it a put-on. On many an occasion, I fool myself. I don’t really know whether I'm being serious or not. Because I don’t know my audience. I’m merely feeling my way. If it’s a deadly serious audience, I don’t want to be serious. And if it’s an affable audience, I don’t mind becoming serious. Just to change the mood. And see what happens. To see if I can annoy everyone. –Jim Broede

I know beauty when I see it.

It’s silly that we worship in churches. In cathedrals. In basilicas. In all kinds of expensive man-made edifices. When god has provided us with the great outdoors. With the blue sky. Or a dark, starlit night. Wonderful natural-made places to worship. And at far less cost than our crappy edifices. Oh, maybe I shouldn’t say crappy. I just say that when I compare a cathedral to the natural beauty of nature. Made by god the creator himself. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And so it’s a relative thing. Like a face. Our notions of beauty can be rather amusing. For instance, I like a clown’s face. With a big red nose. Some people think that’s ugly. But it’s really magnificent. Something bold. And charmingly beautiful. And then there’s my true love. The most beautiful woman in the world. Even more beautiful than Elizabeth Taylor in her prime. She doesn’t seem to believe it. But I do. And that’s the important thing. Because I know beauty when I see it. –Jim Broede

I like being un-American.

The American way. I wonder what it is. I’m an American. And I guess that I like to do things my own way. Even if fellow Americans don’t like it. I pretty much do as I please. I’m a dissident. I speak my mind. I’m opinionated. And I can be arrogant, too. Maybe that, more than anything else, makes me American. Arrogance. Especially when I’m dealing with my fellow Americans. I tend to be less arrogant and more courteous when I’m traveling in foreign countries. Maybe it’s that I like their ways better than American ways. Especially when I’m in countries with social democracies. Life seems so much more humane when I’m abroad. More decent. Less hurried. The values are different. More respect for other people. For the common good. We Americans tend to be selfish. Out for ourselves. We tout individual freedom. But it really ain’t being free and decent. Instead, the idea is to exploit the people around us. To cheat ‘em. For the sake of making a profit. The ‘successful’ American is the monetarily rich one. Americans worship money. And material goods. The spirit is secondary. Of course, not every American is the same. Some of ‘em act like foreigners. Rather un-American. That’s me. I’m not especially proud to be an American in this day and age. I could settle for being an Icelander or a Scotsman or an Italian. –Jim Broede

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Knowing that I am in Paradise.

Going for a walk. That’s how I’ve coped with life’s problems. For as long as I can remember. Taking a long walk. Along a sea or lake shore. Through a woods. Across a desert. Or on a mountain trail. Nothing more soothing than a walk. And breathing fresh air. Clears the mind. And heals the body and spirit. Helps to merge one’s soul with nature. And the outdoors is far better than a church or cathedral for communing with god. I’ve been fortunate. In that I’ve been able to avoid living in big cities most of my life. Instead, I’ve been in small towns or in the country. I’ve been able to get away. Away from people and civilization. Nothing against big teeming metropolitan areas and big crowds and civilized society. But I prefer solitude and peace and quiet. In the hinterlands. I’m best when I’m alone or with my true love. Walking along a solitary beach on the Mediterranean Sea. Knowing that I am in Paradise. --Jim Broede

We've been duped.

I’m for more social services. To make for better lives. Thus serving the common good. I think that people who need help, deserve help. And the true nature of society should be to provide help. For instance, in dealing with health problems. Such as Alzheimer’s. These are helpless people. They can no longer fend for themselves. Many go without adequate care. Or they are left in the hands of overworked, exhausted 24/7 care-givers. As a result, the care-givers often are in worse physical and mental condition than their patients. It’s absurd. Ridiculous. But that’s the way it is. Because of inadequate social services. Inadequate health care. Over 50 million Americans are without health insurance. We need socialized medicine. But we don’t have it. And millions upon millions of Americans are living in poverty. Despite the fact that the USA is one of the world’s richest nations. But the fact remains that the richest 1 percent control something like 40 or 50 percent of the wealth. Of course, we could siphon off some of their wealth to provide more social services. But it ain’t gonna happen. Because the wealthy want to remain extravagantly and obscenely wealthy. And they have the power. The rich also have many of us less affluent believing that they are entitled to their wealth. Because redistribution of wealth would be a form of evil socialism. And we’re all supposed to know that capitalism, especially American-style capitalism, is right and proper and good. Yes, we’ve been duped. Hoodwinked. Led astray. And I’m wondering if we’ll ever find our way. To a better society. –Jim Broede

We are mere glorified ants.

The worry warts of the world are the ones that anticipate things going wrong. They tend to be pessimists. Thinking that if the worst can happen, it’s bound to happen. They are doomsayers. I gotta admit, though, they are entertaining. Many politicians are that way. The Tea Party crowd, for instance. They think America is going to hell. But for the wrong reasons. Such as spending too much money on social services. They want to cut spending for virtually everything but national defense. And they’d cut taxes for the richest. Millionaires and billionaires. They surmise that’ll solve all of our problems. That money will trickle down to the less fortunate. But they probably know better. And it’s all a big bamboozle. If they really believe it, they have to be world class idiots. But then, I’m of the notion that we humans are one of the lower forms of life in the cosmos. That we are being observed by advanced civilizations. That look at us in pretty much the same manner as we humans look at ants. No sense in even trying to communicate. Because we so-called human earthlings can’t grasp the true nature of life and reality. We are mere glorified ants. Stupid. To the point of engaging in politics and tea parties in futile attempts to solve our woes. –Jim Broede

A real loving purpose in life.

People have come and gone on this blog . Initially, it was a bunch of depressed and angry Alzheimer care-givers. Many of ‘em pissed off at me. Because I refused to show them pity. I suggested they get on with life. And that they get help. To quit exhausting themselves. Some of ‘em had martyr complexes. They insisted on living unhappy lives. They were masochists. And they didn’t come close to understanding the meaning of this blog. It was to get on with life. In positive and loving ways. A few of ‘em learned. But I suspect some of ‘em are still lost. They are living in misery. Or they’ve died. They’ve gone away. But I’m sure some of ‘em have found happiness. And joy. A real loving purpose in life. –Jim Broede

Walking naked in the world.

Just noticed. That I started the Broede’s Broodings blog on July 31, 2007. And since then, I’ve posted 3,641 threads. I find that amazing. I’ve been consistent. Creating almost daily. Seldom missing a day. That first day, I posted 7 threads. And I explained why I started the blog. And the journey goes on and on and on. Allows me to walk naked in the world. Maybe that’s what sets me free. –Jim Broede

Friday, April 8, 2011

I will not accept defeat.

I don’t allow myself to be defeated. By anything. If I’m thrown into a morass, I find my way out. Even when my dear Jeanne had Alzheimer’s. The two of us found a way to cope. Together. To continue our lifelong love affair. By cultivating unconditional love. Maybe there is no such thing. But I could be fooled into thinking there is. And that’s good enough for me. Because I’m capable of living in a dream world. In which I emerge victorious. I’m able to live like a knight in shining armor. Even after Jeanne died, life went on. In grand and glorious and loving ways. Because I insist on living happily ever after. I will not accept defeat. –Jim Broede

I am saved by love.

Yes, politics is a partisan game. Very partisan. But I keep wondering, why does it have to be partisan? Can’t politics also be a friendly, courteous debate? In which so-called partisans respect each other. Enough to compromise. Enough to meet each other half way. I’m an idealist. When it comes to important matters. Such as romance. Therefore, I’m a romantic idealist. But I’d also like to be a political idealist. Though it won’t ever happen. The ideal political system. In which we get along with each other. In a reasonable manner. At least in the realm of romance, we allow love to bring us together. To be nice and, yes, loving to each other. But in politics, it’s mostly just the opposite. We become hateful of each other. Not the least trace of love and respect. Seems to me that especially here in America, we’ve concluded that’s the true nature of politics. Can’t be changed. We have to live with it. In some ways, I try to ignore politics. The obscene rhetoric. The hateful speech. The distortions. The lies. Here I am. Wanting to focus on love. On life the way it should be lived. And I’m able to do that. Achieve the impossible. But every day, I’m exposed to the reality of politics. American-style. Which reminds me that the world is a foul place. But despite it all, I’m able to fall in love. With someone. With life. In that sense, I live in paradise. I am saved. Every time that I embrace and savor a loving thought. –Jim Broede

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Doing the decent and right thing.

If I was monetarily rich and selfish and wanted to become even richer, I’d probably be a Republican. Because that’s the Republican agenda. To make me richer. Even if that means making the poor poorer. The key factor in all this is selfishness. Because if I weren’t selfish, I might become a Democrat. Or even a socialist. Because I’d conclude that I’d want to share my wealth. To help less fortunate people. In that sense, I’d be serving the common good. And I’d be doing the decent and right thing. –Jim Broede

I go with my natural flow.

Here’s the way I look at life. One deals with one’s issues the best way one can. And if something doesn’t get resolved to one’s total satisfaction, one still gets on with life. Yes, make the best of the situation. And don’t lose too much sleep. Over anything. Stay rested. Stay relaxed. To the best of my ability. I try to not get too upset over anything. Especially over things over which I have no control. Which means I have to continuously learn acceptance. And to focus on what makes me reasonably happy. I try to not sweat the small stuff. And to not even sweat the big stuff over which I have virtually no control. Such as the political situation. Or the outcome of a ball game. Guess I have control over my attitude. Toward life. I can choose whether I become angry or upset. Yes, I can control my emotions to some significant degree. I try to avoid negative emotions. And I try to savor positive emotions. Mostly, I try to focus on loving thoughts. On thoughts that tend to make me a romantic idealist. Because that’s what I want to be. More than anything. A romantic idealist. Which means I’ll sometimes be mistaken for a fool. Which is all right. Because I don’t mind being crazy in love. With someone. Or with life, period. Yes, I’m able to get carried away. To go off deep ends. And I’m proud of it. I’ll take risks. Because I like the spirit of adventure. Of going with the flow. But that doesn’t make me a conformist. Instead, just the opposite. A maverick. Because I go with my natural flow. Not the flow dictated by society or others. –Jim

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

To the pursuit of love.

I’m seeking an honorary Ph.D. In love. From none other than god, himself. I’ve been working on a degree all of my life. But especially in the last 30 or 40 years. I’ve been studying the craft and art of love. And in the process, I’ve evolved into a romantic idealist. I’m a love poet. And a prolific writer of love letters. I craft loving words. And loving thoughts. My whole life revolves around the notion of love. I talk and write about love daily. Never miss a day. Even if I’m sick, I become a special kind of sick. Love sick. I’ve thought of getting my Ph.D. from a bona fide university. But they don’t seem to offer Ph.D.’s in love. So I’ve gone to the master. The god of love. He has the authority to grant me a degree. I’m trying to work it out with him now. I’m unaware if god has granted any other degrees. In love, or anything. But why not? I could become the first. And then there might be others to follow. Someone has to set the example. And become first. I can think of no higher purpose in life. Than to devote my soul and spirit. To the pursuit of love. –Jim Broede

Makes me a romantic idealist.

Being romantic can mean lots of things. In discussions I’ve had on a message board, some seem to think that being romantic automatically implies having physical sexual relations. Nope. That’s not necessarily true. Oh, so many, many ways to be romantic. Often, it’s a thought. A romantic thought. Writing a love poem, for instance. Or sharing a spiritual presence. Just seeing each other for 1,000 days in a row. Writing love letters every night. Kind words. Loving words. With my dear Jeanne, in the last years of her life, I experienced romance without the usual sexual acts. Just from Jeanne’s presence. From a sense of spirit. A bond built over our 40 years together. A pervasive and deep love. And Alzheimer’s didn’t diminish that love. It enhanced the love. It tested that love. I had to find new ways of loving Jeanne. Of expressing my love. Ways I had never dreamed of before. I began to explore the notion of unconditional love. And there’s nothing more romantic than that. Makes me a romantic idealist. –Jim Broede

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Thinking about life's implications.

Maybe the Sardinian writer Grazia Deledda is toying with us. The reader. In a fun way. With surprise endings. Another O. Henry. Who loved surprise endings. She did it in her novel, ‘The Mother.’ Killing off the mother at the end. In a surprise way. The mother just drops dead in church. At the end of Mass. Presided over by her son, Paul, a priest. Who really shouldn’t be a priest. Instead, he should run off with his true love. Agnes. But he doesn’t. I suspect because of the influence of his overbearing mother. Who would much rather that he be a priest. And that he love god. Rather than Agnes. When really, he should have followed his inclination. And run away with Agnes. And say to hell with the life of a priest. After all, god is an abstract. Agnes is real. Physical. Present. And his real source of spiritual fulfillment. We think that Agnes is gonna get up on the pulpit. At the end of Mass. And denounce Paul. For living a double life. For toying with her. And living a secret life. That he’s really afraid to pursue to fulfillment. Because of the influence of his mother. But Agnes decides at the last minute not to publicly denounce Paul. But at that same moment. The mother drops dead. Maybe from the anguish and fright of thinking that Agnes is about to denounce her son. In public. And we have to wonder if the mother’s death is what will finally free Paul. And maybe he’ll do what he really should do. Run off with Agnes. And live happily ever after. Like a true romantic. Maybe I’m reading something into this. Writing my own ending. But I have that right. And maybe that’s what Deledda wants. To allow the individual reader to write his/her own ending. Maybe god did Paul a favor. Knocking off his mother. Making him a free man. Truly free. No longer shackled by his mother. Maybe some sons are bonded far too much to their mothers. Maybe we have to cut ties with our parents. Our mothers. Our fathers. It’s an interesting thought to pursue. Not necessarily a sacrilegious thought. It’s just a fact of life. One must find a way to become one’s own being. And some mothers try to prevent that in their sons, and even in their daughters. Think about it. Maybe that’s what Deledda wants us to do. Think about life. And all the implications. --Jim Broede

I have the energy and the desire.

I've evolved into a romantic idealist. Even at age 75. I know that's difficult for some of you to believe. But romance can be experienced on a daily basis. And last forever. And it keeps going and going and going. I am living my dreams. One day at a time. And I haven't missed a day for a long, long time. I have become a true believer. In love. I dare to be crazy in love. That's what it takes. I have the energy and the desire to be a lover. Of life. --Jim Broede

I want it all to last forever.

I’ve been talking to people about love. On a message board. On the Internet. And I’m learning something. People have all kinds of definitions for love. Some of ‘em think that romantic love really isn’t love. That romance is generally short-lived. It doesn’t last. And eventually it turns into routine love. When lovers more or less go through the motions. But I feel romantic virtually every day. The kind of love expressed by a poet. Or a rather young person. But the older I get, the more romantic I feel. It’s as if I’m drifting on a cloud. Gives me joy. And contentment. Peace of mind and spirit. I’m really in love with someone. And with life. And I want it all to last forever. –Jim Broede

Monday, April 4, 2011

You gotta have faith.

I suspect that some people aren’t in love because they aren’t loved. And maybe that makes them bitter. And immune to love. Because they want to be loved first. I think that’s sad. One should try to love even if one isn’t loved. Just to get a feel for the act of loving. I say give it a try. Love someone. And just maybe you’ll be loved back. Some day. You gotta have faith. –Jim Broede

Still living my dreams.

I think it’s possible to stay in love for virtually the entirety of a marriage. Even a long marriage. And to even fall in love again in one’s 70s. I’m really an adult. Chronologically. Maybe one that hasn’t fully grown up yet. Still living my romantic idealist dreams. --Jim Broede

Let us pray it's all a joke.

Michele Bachmann and Donald Trump. Both running for president. Yes, president of the USA. One has to wonder. If they are doing this just as a lark. Or do they actually feel they have a serious chance of winning? If this is a new political reality in my country, gawd help us. If any of the oft-mentioned names for Republican nominee actually become president, it’ll be time for me to exit. To another country. Italy? Maybe Scotland or Iceland. I’m considering the alternatives. If I stayed in the USA, I’d have to close myself into a cocoon. And try to hide in my separate little realm. Pretend I’m in another world. Sarah Palin would be bad enough. These other clowns would even go beyond preposterous. An absolute nightmare. A living hell. A reality I couldn’t buy into. And still retain my sanity. It’s bad enough that Bachmann is my congresswoman here in Minnesota. In what I once thought was a liberal state. More advanced than the rest of the USA. If Bachmann can happen in Minnesota, we’re in deep doo-doo. I’d expect a Bachmann to emerge in Texas. But Minnesota? How can my state produce a liberal such as Senator Al Franken at the same time that Bachmann gets reelected? It’s incredible. Franken gives me hope. Bachmann drives me batty. All the way to despair. And she’s not even the end of the horrific Republican mix. Gingrich. Huckabee. Barbour. Pawlenty. Romney. The list goes on and on. Tell me, is this an extended April Fool’s Day? Are the Republicans pulling our leg? Let us pray it's all a joke. –Jim Broede

Sunday, April 3, 2011

What did god intend?

When I’m feeling a bit down or disappointed or annoyed or unhappy, I often sit down and write. About something positive. I try to buoy my spirits. And think optimistically. That’s how I turn a downer into an upper. And I tell myself that I wouldn’t have done this if not for having experienced negative feelings. In essence, I make something good spring from something bad. It’s like my father’s suicide. A long, long time ago. Exactly 62 years ago today. When I was still a teen-ager. It seemed like a bad or cataclysmic event. But when I look at the event over the long-term, the suicide and my father’s absence from this world opened the way to good things. Pleasant and beneficial events in our lives that might not have otherwise occurred. I often get back to this theme. Because it fascinates me. It’s as if god has a master plan. In which a tragedy is transformed. Ultimately leading to something magnificent. But we humans directly involved in the event are too close to it to see how the common good was positively served. I ask myself, what did god intend? Maybe it was to serve the common good rather than the individual good. –Jim Broede

For god's comic relief.

I wonder if god has perfect days. When everything goes right. I’m told that god is perfect. All-knowing. Therefore, I assume that he must personally design a perfect day. At least for himself. If not for the rest of us. Maybe god doesn’t want us to be perfect. Or to have a totally perfect day once in a while. Maybe he doesn’t want a perfect world. If that’s so, I wonder why. Possibly, god did create a perfect world. But then he put us in charge. Maybe that was his greatest mistake. Maybe his only mistake. And maybe god has lived to regret it. But if god had any sense, one would think he’d erase it all. And start over. But it also could be that the world is the prime source of god’s amusement. His entertainment. And he’s created us as his perfect amusement. For comic relief. –Jim Broede

I believe in miracles.

Baseball, and especially the Chicago Cubs, has helped teach me to accept life pretty much as it is. That there are outcomes that I can’t change. So I might as well accept ‘em. I’ve been waiting all of my life for the Cubs to win the World Series. And it probably ain’t gonna happen. The last time they did win was in 1908. And I was born in 1935. But if absence of the Cubs in the winner’s circle is the worst thing to occur in my life – well, then life has been pretty good. I’ve had some bad things happen. Such as the loss of loved ones. People dear and close to me. So if the Cubs keep losing forever, it’s no big deal. Funny as it may seem, in my younger days it was a big deal. I became glum and disconsolate because the Cubs lost a game they should have won. But I’m over that. I merely get annoyed for a few minutes. And then get over it. But that doesn’t stop me from predicting every spring that the Cubs will go all the way this year. Knowing full well that I’m a liar. Though I do keep deceiving myself. And actually do believe it to some degree. In that I believe in miracles. –Jim Broede

I always find a way. To be me.

If something is bothering me, I tell myself, ‘Get over it.’ Yes, deal with it. Get over it. Accept the situation. Or solve the problem. Fix it. Get on with life. With living. In a reasonably happy manner. Guess I give similar advice to other people. Unhappy people. People who dwell on misery. They don’t always like the advice. They wish I’d shut up. And mind my own business. But I generally don’t know where to draw the line. So I offer my opinion. Even if it’s unsolicited. Because I’m opinionated. Anyway, I don’t mind listening to opinions. Because it gives me the opportunity to disagree. Or for that matter, to learn something. Maybe to even change my opinion. I’m not always right. Some days I’m more wrong than right. But that doesn’t bother me. After all, I’m just feeling my way through life. Nothing ventured. Nothing gained. Gives me a sense of walking naked in the world. What you see is what you get. Although I’m not afraid to fake it. To act brave when I’m scared. Depends on the situation. Yes, I’m flexible. I give preference to people I like. Which means I don’t treat everyone the same. I play favorites. And my mood may change from day to day. Even moment to moment. That’s one of the things I like about life. Changeability. Adaptability. I refuse to be stuck in a rut. If I’m caught in one, I get out. One way or another. I always find a way. To be me. –Jim Broede

A better everything.

Amazing. How life takes on a nice aura when most everything is going relatively smooth. In one’s personal relationships. Then work seems like play. That’s been the story of my life. Things have gone smooth. Especially when I’ve been in love. There was a little rough stretch. When dear, sweet Jeanne was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s in 1993. That temporarily scared the hell out of me. Took me a few years to adjust. To get back on track again. To realize that I still loved Jeanne. More than ever. And that Jeanne meant more to me than anything. Even more than my job. More than my career as a writer for newspapers. That’s why I retired early. At age 62. Once upon a time, I thought I’d stay employed until the day I died. They’d have to carry me out on the last day of my life. Because life was going smooth. Things were falling into place. Neatly. Then Alzheimer’s entered the picture. Jeanne fading. Dying gradually. Jeanne had to adjust. And I had to adjust. We had to help each other adjust. I had to get my priorities straight. I had to put my emphasis on love. On a loving relationship. It was at that point that I had to become a romantic idealist. A genuine lover. And maybe that has made me a better human being. Even a better writer. A better everything. –Jim Broede

Saturday, April 2, 2011

Salvaging something meaningful.

I tell unhappy people to never allow a day to be a complete loss. In other words, find something to be happy about. At least for a while. Maybe an hour or two. Maybe it’s something one likes to do. Such as going for a walk. Or having a nice dinner. Or reading a book. Or listening to music. Or taking a nap. Yes, making time for one’s self. A period of relaxation. Rejuvenation. A happy time. To be savored. A way to salvage something meaningful from an otherwise unhappy or bad day. A moment of satisfaction. Contentment. Peace. Happiness. –Jim Broede

Accepting life as it is.

Nothing is more complex than justice. Rightfully so. What is justice? I don't know if there's a totally right answer. Or if there should be one. It's a judgmental thing. I’ve been listening to people debate the issue. On a message board today. And they have all sorts of opinions over what should be done with murderers. Or with anyone that commits any sort of crime. Ain’t an easy thing to decide. Especially when one factors in the forgiveness factor. In a religious or spiritual context. Maybe life has been designed to be unjust. Or maybe justice is ultimately served in the eternal context. I don’t know. But in a sense, I have no choice. I have to learn to accept life as it is. –Jim Broede

Friday, April 1, 2011

Beautiful. Peaceful. Serene.

I listened to Schubert’s Piano Sonata in B Flat D960 tonight. And I think that it may be the most spiritual piece of music I’ve ever heard. I am totally enthralled. Carried away. Especially by the slow movement. You must listen. And allow yourself to be absorbed by the music. Totally. Surrender to it. I remember listening to it 30 or 40 years ago. In a recording by Artur Schnabel. Probably recorded in the 1930s or 1940s. I may still have the phonograph record. And I was captivated by it from the very beginning. It’s the last sonata Schubert composed only months before his death at age 31. Maybe it reflected his premonition…not so much of death…but of heaven. Paradise. So beautiful. So peaceful. So serene. Listen. Particularly to the slow movement. --Jim Broede

The way civilized people do it.

Sliced bread. It’s one of the worst inventions of all time. I hate sliced bread. I want no part of it. I want unsliced bread. So that I can slice it to my desired thickness. At whatever time I want. But in America, I often have difficulty finding unsliced bread. It’s pre-sliced. We Americans have something far less than the best bread in the world. And that’s partly due to it coming sliced. In Italy, I hardly ever see a loaf of sliced bread in the stores. Italians know better. Bread shouldn’t be sliced. Actually, many Italians don’t even slice bread on the table. Instead, they pull it out of the loaf in chunks. By hand. That’s the way civilized people do it. –Jim Broede

I'm a genuine, bona fide fool.

I’m a fool. Always have been. I was born a fool. And I’ve cultivated the art of being one. I’m a master at it. One of the best in the world. Yes, a world class fool. And I’m assuming that the likes of me are being honored today. April Fool’s Day. I’m not afraid to be a fool. Especially when I’m in love. When I’m perceived as a fool, I take that as a compliment. Because I’m being recognized for what I am. A bona fide fool. The real thing. No fake. A genuine fool. An honest fool. I’m of the notion that we need more fools in this world. People who go off the deep-end. And embarrass themselves. Yes, people who know how to accept themselves. As fools. –Jim Broede

Overly serious people are funny.

I like to be pleasant. And funny. That’s a nice combination. Sure beats being unpleasant and too serious. My kind of people are pleasant. And funny. We hit it off. Immediately. Doesn’t necessarily mean we have similar personalities. We may very well have different goals and pursuits and priorities in life. But we are generally tolerant of each other. Maybe because of the common bond. Tending to be pleasant and funny. I can even like a pleasant and funny Republican. Albeit, they are few and far between. But mostly, they are more funny than pleasant. Funny, often, without knowing that they are funny. I’m being funny now. But overly serious people aren’t laughing. And that’s very, very funny. –Jim Broede