The only decent way to live.

I'm adjusting to life in a foreign country. At age 76. Which ain't bad. Always thought of foreign travel and residency as a young man's game. But hey, I'm finally learning to be young at a traditionally old age. Maybe because I've learned to live one day at a time. And to make the most of each day. And each moment, for that matter. My dear sweet wife Jeanne died almost 5 years ago. From Alzheimer's. But I've gotten on with life. Just the way Jeanne would have wanted me to. I have a new true love. An Italian. In Sardinia. An island in the Mediterranean Sea. And I keep reminding my true love we have the good life. In a sense, we always have. It's just that we often didn't recognize it. Even when things go bad, they're really going good. Because we always seem to rebound. Into something better. Until the day we die. And then we're all right, too. Because we had the good life as long as it lasted. I hear people lament. All the time. That life could be better. But the secret is to make the most of life. Whatever it be. One day at a time. Salvage something. Something good. As for me, I have a romantic inclination. I look at almost everything as having a storybook aura. Why not? I momentarily thought after Jeanne died, life was over. But then I thought that maybe Jeanne had advanced to another dimension. That she was still more alive and well than ever. Maybe not on Mother Earth. But in a place even more divine than Earth. So, no reason to feel sorry for Jeanne. Or for me. The message was to get on with life. Whether it be in Minnesota or, as it turns out, Sardinia. My gosh, I never dreamed I'd end up in Sardinia. Happy as a lark. And my oft-repeated message to one and all is to get on with life. That's the only decent way to live. --Jim Broede