Maybe it's never too late.

I am blessed. With German relatives. And the best of 'em all are Fritz and Monika Broede. In the city of Homburg, on the edge of the well-forested and rolling hills of the Palentine region. Southwest Germany. Not far from Saarbrucken. Fritz is my cousin. Somewhat distant. But as close as one can be in spirit. We shared the same multi-great grandfather. Something like 4 or 5 generations ago. A guy named Valentin Broede. Had no idea of having living German relatives. Until after I retired in 1998 and started researching my paternal ancestry. Wrote to about 200 Germans with the surname Broede. And got 30-some replies. Probably from the most curious of the Broedes. Fritz was about the 30th to respond. And lo and behold, we connected. With Fritz turning out to be a prolific ancestral historian. He's diligently traced our paternal lineage back to Switzerland, in the 1600s. When our surname was spelled Brathi. Sounds very much like the German 'Broede.' And so we 'Brathis' adopted the German spelling. I suspect that all of the Broede ancestors are happy in spirit that Fritz and I finally connected and cultivated a new kind of Broede-family tradition. We visit each other. Regularly. And it makes for good Broede camarderie. Last week, I spent 5 days with Fritz. In Homburg. Which is not to be confused with the north German big city port of Hamburg. Homburg is sort of in the hinterlands. A city of about 50,000 inhabitants. Fritz, by the way, was in love with the U.S. long before I met him. He had already made 8 trips to the U.S. He's been to parts of the U.S. I've never been to. And he's come to visit me in Minnesota. Twice. I'll come to Homburg more often now that I'm living half the year with my Italian true love in Sardinia. It's only a two-hour flight to Frankfurt, where Fritz picks me up. Fritz is a retired furniture salesman. He's 71. And he and Monika are enjoying a new life, of sorts, as grandparents. Identiical 3-year-old twins Maria and Julia and 6-year-old grandson Bastian. I'm expecting Fritz and Monika to visit my true love and I. In Sardinia. Maybe this spring. I feel closer to Fritz than I ever did to my own brother and sister. We Broede siblings went our own ways. To far-flung disparate parts of the U.S. and more or less lost contact with each other. Maybe the family ties I've cultivated with Fritz will spur me to become reacquainted with my sister, Barbara. It's too late to reconnect to my brother Bruce. He died several years ago. In an accident. But maybe I can contact his spirit. Because I'm successfully communing with the spirits of my ancestors who lived in the 1600s. So, hey, brother Bruce. Let's try to connect. Maybe it's never too late. --Jim Broede