Making life a pleasure, not work.

I'm occasionally accused of not working. Of having life too easy. As if that's a sin. People tell me I'm lucky to be retired. That they are less fortunate. Because they are working. Laboring. Gainfully employed. But I quickly remind them that when I was employed and earning a living, I didn't look at it as gruelling work. It was mostly pleasure. Except maybe for a short time when I became disenchanted with the news business. Writing for newspapers. And so I retired relatively early, at age 62, and became a caregiver for my dear wife Jeanne. Until she died almost 5 years ago. But I learned to look at life as an Alzheimer's care-giver as a pleasure. By making it an act of love. Also, by making care-giving an 8-10 hour day. So that I got respite. Rest. Time-off. That made everything a pleasure. Not work. After Jeanne died, I went through another period of disenchantment. But only for a short time. Because I decided to get on with the rest of my life. Some call me lucky. And I am. I've been lucky virtually all of my life. Because I've been in love. Twice now with beautiful and wonderful and intelligent and loving women. But just as importantly, I've been in love with life. I intend to stay in love right up to the day I die. And if I have my druthers, even after physical death there will be continuation of life. In a different form. A different dimension. Life is life is life. I'll take it any way I can get it. And I'll try to make it pleasure. Not work. --Jim Broede