Making a living -- a fun part of life.

I know so very many people who don't like their jobs. Which I find strange. Because I've never disliked so-called work. From my very first job. When I was 12. I delivered a daily newspaper. Still remember it vividly. Got paid $3.65 a week. And by the time I was a teen-ager, I was working after school. At an office supply store. Stocking shelves. Unpacking deliveries. Clerking. Making 50 cents an hour. When I went to college, I worked at the school. Refinishing furniture. During summer breaks, I found employment as a ditch-digger, reinforcing a railroad bridge across the Fraser River at the Continental Divide in the Colorado Rockies and making automobile tires at a factory in Denver. Then I went into the U.S. Army, where I spent most of my army career as a sportswriter for the 3rd Armored Division weekly newspaper in Frankfurt, Germany. And after the army, I wrote for newspapers. In Florida, Wisconsin and Minnesota. I retired in 1998. But I kept writing. Whatever I feel like writing. Such as this blog. Anyway, I've loved every job I've ever held. Even the ditch-digging. Because the setting was idyllic. I could have made my living doing almost anything. I would have found a way to savor any and everything. Because I made it fun. More so than actual work. Making a living is a part of life. And I'm in love. With life. --Jim Broede

The war that ends all wars.

Can't say that I'm totally against warfare. Because there may be such a thing as a good war. Especially if it's class warfare. I'm for poor people and the middle class declaring war against rich people. Particularly the filthy rich. Millionaires and billionaires. My feeling is that the rich aren't doing enough to serve the common good. They should be doing much more. Paying more taxes. In an effort to narrow the gap between the rich and the poor. The war I'm proposing would be a highly moral war. A decent war. Certainly more decent than the wars we've waged in Vietnam and Iraq and Afghanistan. Those wars benefit the rich. The oil barons. And the munition makers. I'm in favor of wars that benefit the poor and the middle class at the expense of the rich. If the rich insist on selfish wars -- well, then let them be the ones that don uniforms and go and sacrifice their lives. Now they just recruit the underclasses to fight their wars. To make the ultimate sacrifice. I'd try to make the class war reasonably humane. In that I wouldn't take everything from the rich. I'd let them stay rich. Only less rich. They'd still live comfortably. All I'm asking is that the common good be served. Maybe that could be the war that ends all wars. --Jim Broede

The good, the bad and the ugly.

Germans have the lowest unemployment rate in Europe. Maybe because the Germans are ingenious and humane. Many German companies, at the behest of their government, have reduced the work week and pay of their employees by 20 percent. That affords the companies the opportunity to hire more employees. The unemployed suddenly become employed. Although everyone is earning a little bit less. But think of it. The Germans are serving the common good. Setting an example for the rest of us. And in the Fresno School District in California, the $280,000-a-year superintendent of schools persuaded his school board to fire him, and then rehire him as superintendent for $31,000-a-year, the beginning pay for a teacher. That allows the school district to spend his old salary on education that directly benefits the students. Wow! Meanwhile, in our nation's capitol, Republicans refuse to vote for nominal tax increases for millionaires and billionaires. Instead, Republicans are annoyed that many of our poor people don't pay any income taxes. Of course, that's for good reason. They can't afford to pay because they are living hand-to-mouth. A fact that seems to escape the scrutiny of heartless idiots, also known as Republicans. --Jim Broede

I've thought it out.

I am capable of saying the right things and the wrong things. Of making people feel happy or sad. A gamut of emotions. I like to be able to do that. My aim isn't always to make people feel good. I want some people to feel bad. Because that's good -- for them. Because it makes them think. Maybe even to change their ways. But then, that isn't necessarily my aim. I may just say things for the hell of it. Without knowing the effect. In other words, I'm not required to think before I speak. But still, I am a thinker. I think a whole lot. Daily. It's one of my favorite pastimes. I was born to think. But not every minute of the day. I take non-thinking breaks. Because I think that's a good thing. I've thought it out. --Jim Broede

I'm free to try -- and fail.

I'm free. Because I choose to be free. Or maybe it's that I've convinced myself that I am free. When I'm not. Does it matter? Maybe freedom is a state of mind. Thing is that my circumstances limit my freedom. Maybe I can't afford to do everything. Such as travel around the world three times a year. Or even once, maybe. But then, I ask myself, do I really want to do that? And the answer is that I have no overwhelming desire to do it. Maybe if I had the desire, I'd find a way. To do lots of things that I don't do. I tell myself that I have to be realistic. But then again, I'm often unrealistic. I pursue dreams. Even impossible dreams. Just for the heck of it. For the sake of merely trying the impossible. Knowing that I'm gonna fail. In pursuit of a losing cause. But that's precisely what makes me feel free. I'm free to try. To put my thoughts and desires to a test. --Jim Broede

I try to savor life.

In my blog. I have good threads. And bad threads. And threads that fall somewhere in between. Depends, in large part, on the perception of the beholder. Life is full of judgments. Arbitrary judgments. I accept that. But I try to keep my judgments flexible. Fluid. Subject to change. On a moment's notice. It's called an open mind. I'm full of mistaken judgments. And I know it. That's been the story of my life. But I still continue to make mistakes. Because I find it impossible to do otherwise. That's the nature of the human condition. But I don't mind. Again. Let me emphasize. I accept it. Because I don't have a choice. That's the way it is. Therefore, I try to let life flow. Naturally. Accept the good and the bad. And even the stuff that one can't decide whether it's good or bad. I merely try to make the most and best of it. At the moment. Without fear and trepidation. In other words, I try to savor life. --Jim Broede

Maybe god has mercy on us.

I like the notion of acceptance. People accepting each other. As they are. Not trying to change 'em. Of course, that's difficult. Maybe not even desirable. For instance, if someone is a cad. A no-good cad. What is one supposed to do? Maybe one has to teach civility. Therefore, I guess it's a matter of conditional acceptance. One becomes accepted if he straightens up and flies right. And we choose to judge. And decide what's right. Well, then, maybe it boils down to love. Unconditional love. Does one continue to love an unfaithful spouse? Some religious gurus tell us love the being, but not his action. Which sounds like bull shit. In other words, let's love Hitler. But not the evil things he did in life. Yes, love the devil. But not what he stands for. Maybe common sense should be our criteria. But then, the debate begins. Over what is common and what is sense? Impossible to get agreement over that. Anyway, I have a true love. And my aim is to accept her. Unconditionally. Accept her, love her, just as she is. Without having to change her. Without a reshaping project. I'm able to do that. Pretty much. Maybe that's the closest we ever get to the unconditional anything. Pretty much. Because god has mercy on us. And never puts us to an ultimate test. --Jim Broede

A cool cat. Not just in name.

I'm shy. Yet very bold. That makes me a brave man. Because I overcome my shyness. With daring. I'm able to approach strangers. And cultivate relationships. Despite being shy. Maybe that makes me more bold than shy. Not sure about that. Maybe it's that I'm curious. And that's a trait that doesn't allow me to be shy in practice. I am compelled to satisfy my curiosity. Some people can be so shy that they don't pursue their curious side. That's sad. I like cats. Because they're curious. The saying goes that curiosity killed the cat. But that's an old wives' tale. Ain't true. Curiosity brought the cat to life. I know. Because I'm a cool, shy cat. My cat, Loverboy. He's cool, too. And I doubt that he's shy. He's one of my best teachers. Sets a fine example for me. He seems to be in love with life. In a very cool manner. He's always cheering me up. Talks to me all the time. Follows me around. He tells me he wants to be more than a cool cat. A real cool being, too. A true loverboy. In practice. Not just in name. --Jim Broede

Life came with the pulse beat of love.

So many ways to feel alive. Mentally. Emotionally. Physically. Combine the three, positively, and it makes for a good life. A good feeling. But I gotta admit, that some days I'm more alive physically than mentally. And vice verse. Which is all right. One can't be clicking on all cylinders all the time. One out of two or three ain't bad. But I find that I tend to get my act totally together when I'm in love. That's the secret of success. Love. I was a slow learner. Didn't really fall in love with anyone until I was about 30. And I've been blooming ever since. Which means that if I had died before 30, I might never have truly lived. Yes, it takes time to learn how to become alive. I wasn't born the moment I was conceived, or when I got pulled from the womb. It wasn't until I felt the pulse beat of love. --Jim Broede

All I need is a loving thought.

I make it a point to write about something every day. Doesn't have to be an event or happening. Merely a thought. Something on my mind. Makes me aware that I'm alive. And conscious. And able to prove it. With words. Meaningful. At least to me. If I miss a day of writing, I begin to wonder if I missed the whole day. And passed through it unconsciously. That's a frightening thought. Because I hate to waste a day. Without a solid recorded thought. I suppose the most predominate thought in recent years has been my personal observation that I'm in love. Yes, truly in love. And that adds a wondrous dimension to my aliveness. Of course, I don't have to be in love to be consciously alive. But it helps. Thing is, I don't have to be in love with someone to be in love. I can still be in love with life, period. Love can be felt in an infinite number of ways. And so it amazes me when I stumble across people who declare that they aren't in love. With anybody or anything. That's hard to do. Because it's self-denial. One has to wear blinders. And block out so many things. All I need is one loving thought. And I'm off to the races. --Jim Broede

Unleashed in my dreams.

I had a series of angry dreams last night. Strange, isn't it? Because I pride myself in never becoming angry any more. I must have been dreaming of past angers. Because I remember in one of the dreams, I was driving an Oldsmobile Delta 88. A car that I had 10 years ago. Anyway, I'd wake from one dream. Then go back to sleep. And have another dream. And still another after that. I can't fully remember the details of each dream. Only that I felt anger. So finally I decided to get up and stay awake for a while. Hoping that I could break the chain of bad dreams. That worked. Later, I went back to bed again. And slept peacefully. But today, I'm wondering. If the dreams were significant. If I was being told something. Maybe telling myself something. But then, maybe dreams are just dreams. Meaningless. I know one thing. I practice not being angry. I'm good at it. But maybe I have repressed anger. Unleashed in my dreams. --Jim Broede

Time to face the truth.

It's time to recognize that many of our nation's founders weren't very decent people. They shouldn't be revered. They were hypocrites. They publicly proclaimed that all men are created equal. But they didn't believe it for a minute. Because they relegated black men into slavery. And even white men weren't deemed equal. The poor and downtrodden weren't given the same equal voice as rich white men. And please notice that women were given inferior status. From the beginning. Wasn't until around 1920 that they got the right to vote. And even today women are discriminated against in the work force. And exploited. Just like Thomas Jefferson exploited Sally Hemmings, his black slave. The founders were mostly Christians. In name only. Because they didn't come close to practicing Christian principles. Maybe that's why America is still a nation that doesn't practice what it preaches. Because it got off to a bad start. Time we Americans recognized the truth. That would be a good start. --Jim Broede

For the sake of human decency.

Americans have an opportunity to obtain good government. If they elected people like me. Not me. But like me. Because I don't wanna hold public office. I have better things to do. But if people like me got elected, they'd bring about a good blend of heavily regulated capitalism and socialism. It'd work. Wonderfully. Because then government would be designed to serve the common good. Unfortunately, American style government was designed right from the start to serve the elite. The few. Mainly people with money and privilege. Others were treated like scum. Such as the working class. And Africans. Foisted into slavery. In order to benefit the ruling class. The over-riding theme was for the few to exploit the many. Just the opposite of serving the common good. And that theme has been carried out throughout the nation's history. Right up to today. And it's gotta change. For the sake of human decency. --Jim Broede

Let's clamor for good government.

Government ain't necessarily bad. In fact, government can be darn good. That is, if it serves the common good. But too often it serves special interests. The powerful people. With money. Lots of money. Selfish people. Capitalists. Out to make money/profits for themselves. Rather than serving the common good. An example of serving the common good would be to narrow the gap between the rich and poor. To provide services that benefit society as a whole. Such as socialized medicine and public education. The problem with government in the USA is that it's being misused. Especially by conservative Republicans. Because it's being designed to stock the coffers of the rich. At the expense of the relatively poor and middle class. Comes down to robbing the poor to feed the rich. A policy that's obscene and immoral. To offset that, we need more socialism. More programs that address human dignity. Yes, the serving of the common good. Republicans will argue that capitalism serves the common good. That's true to a degree. If it's carefully regulated. And blended with democratic socialism. So, let's get to it folks. Let's start clamoring for more government. Rather than less government. But let's make it good government. --Jim Broede

Mother Earth, my home.

I'm a resident and citizen of Mother Earth. That's how I think of myself. Rather than as an American. I don't want to be identified in narrow terms. Maybe I even want to go beyond Earth. And consider myself a resident and citizen of the cosmos. Of all of creation. Maybe it's that I dislike the negativity that accompanies nationalism. Because that divides us. Often makes us rivals. And we discriminate against each other. We even wage nationalistic wars. I could be persuaded to support world government. At least in concept. Maybe that's what we need. A united approach. In order to serve the common good. To eliminate the evils of this world. Such as poverty. The wide gap between the rich and the poor. Oh, I know there always will be a gap. But let's narrow it. Move closer to making life more tolerable for the masses of people that inhabit Mother Earth. Seems to me that we have to learn how to take care of each other. To be a more loving universal society. Yes, in that regard I am a Pollyanna. But that's what I wanna be. I want to aim for the ideal society. Even though we'll never achieve it. --Jim Broede

A musing on unconditional love.

I'm capable of loving another being unconditionally. Or so I'd like to think. But I can't love my country unconditionally. And why is that? I suspect it's a matter of desire. I have no desire to pledge unequivocal love/loyalty to my country. Because that would be stupid. A country is a political entity. And political creations can and do evolve into something totally alien. A detestable body politic. Such as a Nazi Germany. Or an ungawdly conservative Republican America. But can't the same apply to an individual human being? Such as Hitler. But I detect a difference between a genuine human soul and an artificially created body politic. Maybe because I'm a romantic idealist. And because I come to my conclusions on a theoretical basis. With a biased romantic perspective. Which means that I've never been put to a true test. And maybe never will. I have never been in love with America. Or with any country. But I have been in love. With other souls. At least two. And maybe I have been in love with several animal souls, too. Living beings. As to whether any of this love was unconditional is debatable, of course. Maybe it all comes down to innate desire. I'm speculating that I was created with a potential to love unconditionally. Someone. Another soul. But not something. America, for instance. --Jim Broede

Like living in a dream.

I like traveling. Into unfamiliar places. Because I'm fascinated. By what I see. I become an astute observer. I see detail. Little things I might not notice back at home. Because it's all too familiar. And thus fades into the background. But when I'm abroad, I think of it as a different world. And I'm there to capture the scene. And the sense of place. Even today, I vividly remember my treks in Sardinia and the Italian Alps and Scotland and Iceland. Every day was a significant day. Because I was so very conscious. Of everything. Enthralled. It was like living in a dream. But knowing that it was real. --Jim Broede

From one paradise to another.

I welcome the coming of autumn. Especially when the first signs arrive in late August. Here in Minnesota. Tonight I opened the east windows. And the air had the scent of autumn. Cool. Drifting in from the marshlands across the road. Almost a chill. But comfortable. And I'm reminded that by the time my birthday arrives on 9/11, the overnight temperatures have more often than not turned the lake water too cool for bathing. But still, the months of September and October can be Minnesota's best. Not too warm. Not too cool. Just plain pleasant. But still, I won't be sticking around for a complete autumn. Instead, I'm returning to Sardinia and the Mediterranean Sea. Probably before October. Without complaint. Because I'll be moving from one paradise to another. --Jim Broede

Maybe it's time to say goodbye.

America is going through a period of costly and obscene wars. When the money and effort could have been spent so much more wisely and humanely. On putting people back to work, for instance. And on narrowing the gap between the rich and the poor. But we Americans have a mentality that war is necessary. That we have to be tough hombres. And enforce our stupid ways on the rest of the world. Mainly for perceived economic gain. For oil. For profit. Not profit for the nation as a whole. But rather for a few oligarchs. The one or two percent of Americans that control the majority of the wealth. They also control our body politic. Which makes all of this crap possible. The saddest thing of all is that we poor and middle class Americans sit idly by. And allow it to happen. Maybe because we don’t know any better. Because we act stupid and helpless. Too many of us assume that’s the way it is. And nothing can be done about it. A little like living in hell. With no escape. But I’m not of such mind. I want to bring about change. One way or another. Through reform. Through revolution, if necessary. But if change can’t be achieved that way, I’m also willing to leave America. To go elsewhere. To another part of the world. Used to be that people from all over the world wanted to escape their enslavement and come to the USA. In order to be free. To find a more decent life. But believe me, some of us are now thinking of migrating in the other direction. Away from America. –Jim Broede

Silly, isn't it?

I don’t like going to bed until I’m truly tired. When I’m about ready to fall asleep on my feet. That’s been my practice since I retired. Because often I can sleep in in the morning. Guess I like to get slept out, too. Some people tell me they are so tired. That maybe they should go in for a physical. On further inquiry, I learn that this tired feeling comes at their usual bedtime. As if they’re not supposed to be tired at the end of the day. Silly, isn’t it? --Jim Broede

Call me a very fortunate rebel.

My true love is a teacher. A darn good teacher. Maybe one of the best teachers in the world. Because she knows the true mission of a teacher. And that is to encourage her students to become rebels. To reject much of the crap that they are being taught. Mostly by know-nothing teachers. Teachers that teach by rote. Rather than teach students to think for themselves. Independently. Imaginatively. Many teachers teach only so that their students can pass a test. A test that tests their robotic skills. Not thinking skills. When I went to school, I had some lousy teachers. But fortunately, I still learned to be a rebel. I rebelled against my teachers. I refused to allow them to turn me into a robot. Or into an unquestioning patriot. Or a dunce, also known as a Republican. Instead, I became a romantic idealist, a free-thinker, a liberal and a lover. A rebel, too. Maybe a rebel first and foremost. Maybe it’s that I was born a rebel. I didn’t have to be made into one. I’ve always had a disobedient streak. I don’t succumb to or accept the conventions of polite society. Anyway, it’s helped me get through life. Helped me find a true love and a darn good teacher, all rolled into one. Call me a very fortunate rebel. –Jim Broede

Laughter may be our saving grace.

I am an inferior being. And I know it. And that automatically makes me superior. Because I know I’m inferior. Most of us don’t know it. We live a delusional life. Completely unaware that we are inferior. Thing is, those of us that recognize our inferiority are in a better position to do something constructive about it. We begin by accepting our inferiority. Accepting the truth. Accepting reality. We don’t mind being inferior. We even accept our mistakes. And try to learn from ‘em. Even though that may be futile. Still, it’s a great lesson to have learned that we humans were born to make mistakes. To bungle virtually everything. Of course, we all could fret over it. But I’m choosing to laugh. Laughter may be our saving grace. –Jim Broede

The most decent thing to do.

I assume that creation is teeming with life. All sorts of life. Intelligence far, far beyond human intelligence. With a far better grasp of reality than we humans. Yes, we’d like to think of ourselves as the highest form of life. As if we were gifts from god. But what if we are one of the lower forms of life? I don’t discount that. It’s a possibility. And it’s my fervent wish, too. I want creation to abound with truly intelligent life. Life that makes humans look like nincompoops. In comparison. Because if we humans are the best that god can create – well, that makes him a real loser. I suspect that many humans sense this. That we innately know that we are relatively inferior beings. That’s why we create the notion of god. We acknowledge that we are helpless. And that we need a mighty assist from a higher life in order to survive. We want to prolong our lives. Because it’s pleasant to feel alive. And especially to feel in love. Therefore, we create a god of love. We tend to worship whatever pleases us. Outside forces. That we can’t fully explain. Because it’s beyond mere human comprehension. Thing is, though, that many of us don’t know how to love. Because we are too stupid. That’s why we do dumb things. Stupid things. Such as playing politics. And going to war. And ruining our planet. Yes, we are in the midst of destroying ourselves. And maybe that’s just as well. Because the decent thing, the best and most noble thing we humans could do, would be to go away. And allow truly intelligent life to prevail. –Jim Broede

Big doesn't have to be bad.

I'm for big government. Big progressive government. Big liberal government. Government should be big enough to counter big business. I'd much rather have big government than big business. Because government is supposed to serve the people. Especially the common people. The poor. The middle class. Business, meanwhile, is out to make the owners rich. To make big profits. To create wealth. Even if that means widening the gap between the rich and the poor. Government, meanwhile, is supposed to serve the common good. And to see to it that the wealth is fairly distributed. Which means narrowing the gap between the rich and poor. Government isn't supposed to make a profit. That's what I like most about government. Big doesn't have to be bad. --Jim Broede

All I want is fair treatment.

I have lost respect for the baseball god. Because he lets bad things happen. To my dear Chicago Cubs. He seems to be so uncaring. Chances are, he’s a baseball fan. But not a Cubs fan. So he shows preference for the likes of the Boston Red Sox and the New York Yankees and the Philadelphia Phillies. But he treats the Cubs like scum. Never gives ‘em a break. The baseball god has made a doormat of the Cubs. On which he wipes his dirty feet. I feel like taking him to task. Making an appeal to his superior. A supreme god. I’d like to see the baseball god dethroned. Replaced. By a more kind and compassionate baseball god. One that tends to be more fair to all of the teams. But especially to the Cubs. We Cubs fans have taken enough crap from the baseball god. His work performance should be evaluated. And graded. I’d give him an ‘F.’ Yes, he’s been a failure. At least from my perspective. Yes, I may be a bit biased. But overall, I think I’m fair-minded. I fight to overturn injustice. Even if it’s perpetrated by a god. This baseball god is not only unfair, he’s completely inept. I don’t want any part of him. I’d put him out to pasture. Into permanent retirement. But believe me, I’m not vengeful. I’d let him diddle-daddle on a beach in the middle of nowhere so he can’t do any harm. Far away from baseball. Listen, if I were less compassionate, I’d recommend that he be sent to hell. All I want is for the Chicago Cubs to be treated fairly. –Jim Broede

I can accept. And be thankful.

I’m able to surprise myself. Which is helpful. Gets me through life. In a happy frame of mind. Because I like surprises. For instance, I’m surprised when I fall in love. It’s happened twice in my lifetime. Each time, it came as a complete surprise. I wasn’t planning on it. It just happened. I know I’m in love when I become aware that it’s gonna last for a long, long time. Gives me a sense of forever. I never want to let go. Even though death do us part. But even then, it’s really not a parting. It’s a shifting of dimensions. One learns to adapt. And to never let go of true love. Because it’s a blessing. A gift. Maybe from god. Albeit, I can’t be sure about that. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t have to know everything. I can accept. And be thankful. –Jim Broede

I can pretend that I know it all.

Could be that many people don’t know what they believe. About anything. Politics. Economics. Social issues. They merely drift through each day. Mark time. Don’t even get to know themselves. Or other people more than perfunctorily. Occasionally, I think that describes me. In that I’m constantly feeling my way through life. I don’t know what to believe. Or how to deal with people. But I’m learning. Often, that I’ve been wrong about this and that. So I remake myself. My attitudes. My opinions. Guess that’s better than being static. And concluding that I know it all. Sometimes, I think I know very little. But still, that doesn’t discourage me. Because I’m naturally curious. I have a desire to learn. Despite knowing that I won’t ever know it all. Because that’s impossible. I wasn’t created to know it all. And I accept that. Which allows me to use my imagination. So that I can pretend that I know it all. –Jim Broede

Added all up, I'm a good guy.

I play at being what I am. And that makes me good at life. Because I play at it virtually every day. I'm not necessarily excellent at what I do. But I'm good. Good enough. I give myself an overall rating of 'B' for good rather than 'A' for excellent. Shows that I'm somewhat modest and humble. I'm a good writer. A good exercise freak. A good romanticist. A good human being. Maybe I'm not great at anything. But I'm damn good at some things. I'm all right as a writer. Because I write and write and write. I practice. I'm not an exceptional writer. Never will be. Wait a minute. On second thought, I'm exceptional when it comes to writing love letters. Even far better than good. Thing is, I'm good in the way I want to be good. By my standards. I don't live by other people's rules. I prefer my own. I also think I'm a darn good amateur psychoanalyst. I can psychoanalyze myself, and other people. Accurately. Also, I'm a good Chicago Cubs fan. And I have a good sense of humor. And I'm a good liberal. And a good free-thinker. In fact, I'm a good thinker, period. Added all up, I'm a good guy. --Jim Broede

I wonder if there's pure hate.

Republicans hate Obama as much as I despise Republicans. Maybe that explains why I hold many conservative Republicans in such a low esteem. They hate. I dislike people that hate. I don’t hate ‘em. I just despise ‘em. I try to avoid sinking to the same depth as a hateful Republican. I avoid hate. Because it’s wrong to hate. A grievous sin. Hate is intense hostility and aversion. Deriving from fear, anger or sense of injury. Extreme dislike or antipathy. Loathing. I haven’t sunk to that feeling toward Republicans. But some Republicans have such feelings toward Obama. And I think it’s largely because he’s black. These Republicans are racists. Deep into their souls. That causes me – more than anything - to dislike Republicans. As for hate, I can’t say that I truly hate anything. Or anybody. I don’t even hate people that hate. I pity ‘em. And feel sad about their plight. With some Republicans, it doesn’t matter what stand Obama takes on an issue. They are against it. Even if Republicans once espoused the same position. Republicans would sell out their own nation to defeat Obama. They would even sell their souls, if they had a soul left to sell. I find this fascinating. Such a degree of hatred of another human being. It’s incredible. Almost beyond belief. I’ve heard of pure love. And believe in pure love. Some far right Republicans make me wonder if there’s such a thing as pure hate. –Jim Broede

I've been insubordinate.

I’m trying to negotiate with the baseball god. To demonstrate that I don’t want everything. For instance, I have suggested that I can settle for a split of the Cubs current four-game series with the Atlanta Braves. If the Cubs win only two, I’ll be happy. I figure that if I ask the baseball god for a sweep by the Cubs, he’ll think I’m asking for too much. That I’m greedy. And he may counter by allowing Atlanta to win ‘em all. That would make me sad. Yes, I’d be elated if the Cubs surprised the baseball world. And went on a long winning streak. But I know full well that the baseball god doesn’t want me to be spoiled. Maybe even wants me to grovel a bit. And suffer. Because the baseball god may be a little mean-spirited. Especially when it comes to dealing with Cubs fans. He tells me he has to take into consideration the wishes of the Atlanta fans. And that I should have compassion for them. So I remind the baseball god that Atlanta has won something like 14 division titles in the last 15 years. And the Cubs hardly win anything. And what response do I get? The baseball god tells me that patience is a virtue. And I retort that’s bullshit. Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut. Won’t surprise me if the Cubs go on a long, long losing streak. Maybe the baseball god is vengeful and wants to teach me a lesson. For being insubordinate. –Jim Broede

Believe me, this is no babble.

I hardly ever know exactly what I’m gonna write. Until I sit down and start writing. I let my impulse take over. Seems to me that I don’t necessarily need to have something to say. I’m free to babble. Which means to talk foolishly. To prattle. To talk excessively. Nothing wrong with that. Because if I keep babbling on and on, eventually I begin to say something that’s reasonably coherent. Yes, I surprise myself. Proving that I am not as stupid as I look and often sound. That’s a boost for my ego. My self-esteem. Seldom have I ever been accused of being modest. Because I welcome all the plaudits I can get. Even if it’s merely me patting myself on the back. Which, by the way, makes for a sore arm. But that’s all right. Because the pat feels very good. Incidentally, I find that many people suffer from low self-esteem. Especially women. Many of ‘em need constant bolstering of their morale. Because they’ve been mistreated. Mostly, by men. I’m surprised that more marriages don’t break up. Because of maltreatment. There are more women that should walk out of their marriages. But they lack the courage. The self-esteem. And they take undeserved abuse. Fortunately, some of ‘em wise up. And decide it’s not too late. To start anew. On their own. They are my heroines. And believe me, this is no longer babble. –Jim Broede

I can live only now.

I like my Italian true love anyway I can get her. In other words, I appreciate her close up. In the flesh. And also from a distance. When we are 5,000 miles apart. Because we still connect daily. On Skype. By audio and video. We rarely miss a day with each other. Most days, we’re connected for several hours. At several different times. And when we are separated by distance, I never miss writing a nightly love letter. Ready for the reading in the morning. There’s a 7-hour time difference between Minnesota and Sardinia. I’ve been pursuing this romantic approach to life for almost four years. About 9 months after my dear Jeanne died of Alzheimer’s-related stuff. Makes me think that life follows a natural flow. One just needs to jump in and go with it. Don’t resist. And I keep taking it all one day at a time. Making the most of now. No sense in trying to live in the past or the future. We’re always in the now. In the moment. I can savor moments out of the past. And I can dream of the future. But I can live only now. –Jim Broede

I'll settle for a look from a distance.

I like to think there’s a solution to every problem. Maybe I’m wrong about that. But still, it’s what I believe. Maybe one can’t find a solution immediately. But somewhere out there, a solution exists. It’s just a matter of finding it. I hear people lament. That they aren’t in love with life. And that makes them depressed. Maybe even suicidal. Makes me wonder if it’s absolutely necessary to be in love to still enjoy life. To some tolerable degree. And that even an unending search for love can be a captivating pursuit. Seems to me that life isn’t a total loss. As long as one keeps searching. Looking around the corner. Maybe expecting success. Some day. It’s a little like being a Chicago Cubs fan. I want ‘em to have a winning season. And go on to the World Series. And win it all. And the Cubs may never achieve that dream in my lifetime. But still, being a Cubs fan has been a rewarding experience. I get great pleasure in the near misses. The genuine effort. One doesn’t have to reach the top of the mountain to be happy. I’ll settle for a look at the mountain peak. From a distance. –Jim Broede

Time to have faith in yourselves.

I’m assuming that being fat is an option. One can choose. To be fat, or not to be fat. I’ve been reading a thread on the Alzheimer’s message boards. With the exception of me, I think all of the posters are women. Overweight. To varying degrees. They complain that it’s difficult to stop eating. Because of the stress of care-giving. And I give advice. Probably advice that most of ‘em don’t wanna hear. They’d rather that I commiserate. And tell ‘em, “Poor, babies. I understand.’ But I don’t coddle them. Instead, I proclaim: Exercise. Exercise. Exercise. I've been addicted to exercise. For a long, long time. If not walking or jogging or running, it's bicycling. I've put 5,000 miles on my bicycle in less than 5 months. I have no weight problem. And it's relaxing. And when I was a care-giver, it relieved much of the stress. Take 20 minutes here. And 30 minutes there. It adds up. And it'll make you feel good about yourself. Start slowly. And work up to it. It's a positive addiction. Reading good books can be positive, too. And writing, too. Try psychoanalyzing yourself. And fall in love with life. Makes care-giving more tolerable. I know all this stuff is easier said than done. But it ain't impossible. Oh, and another thing. Dream. Romantic thoughts. Dreams come true. When you set your mind to it. Believe me, this is not Pollyanna stuff. It works. Start today. Build up to it. Take charge of your life. You can do it. Even in the worst of times. But you gotta believe. You gotta have faith. I have faith in you. Now get going. At least there's someone that has faith in you. Time for you to have faith in yourselves. –Jim Broede

Thank gawd, for the imagination.

I suspect that communication will be far easier in the spirit world than in the physical world. If for no other reason than a common language. We’ll be able to read each others’ minds. Merely by thought transference. No such thing as a foreign language. Makes me think that honesty will prevail. Because it’ll be like going around with a naked mind. Impossible to hide one’s thoughts. Maybe that will create more incentive to have pure thoughts. I practice that now. By speaking my mind. Right here on Earth. Of course, my thoughts may be a little devilish. Rather than pure. But believe me, I’m working on it. I’m also assuming there’s a spiritual realm. I’ll be mightily disappointed if there isn’t. Anyway, I’m creating a spiritual world. In my mind. With my romantic-oriented imagination. Thank gawd, for the imagination. –Jim Broede

A new beginning's gotta be better.

We Americans don’t worship gods any more. But rather, we worship celebrities. People who have been glamorized by the media. Mostly freaks. Take, for instance, the candidates seeking the Republican nomination for president. Everyone of ‘em is a gawd-awful freak celebrity. Home-grown, full-fledged idiots. So idiotic that they have become celebrities. Because they stand out above all other idiots. They are elite idiots. One of a kind. And that’s what the rest of us idiots like. A Michele Bachmann. Or a Rick Perry. When they were created, the mold was broken. And that gives us the opportunity to pick a leader like none other in the world. No duplicate. Yes, they will make terrible leaders. But that’s incidental. More important, they’ll be entertaining. Doing things their own way. In idiotic manner. We’ll never know what’s coming next. It’ll be surprise after surprise. So unpredictable. And that is precisely what makes political life so interesting. It’s like committing collective suicide. But not knowing exactly how it’s gonna happen. Only knowing it’s gonna happen. Sooner or later. I know this is a pessimistic outlook. But it’s reality, folks. The end of America is coming. But look at it this way. That creates the opportunity for a new beginning. And it’s gotta be better. –Jim Broede

Dreaming is part of living. Now.

I am not yet living in the future. That is impossible. But I am dreaming. Today. I am dreaming. Today. This is all a dream. Of the future. Of next summer. Or next spring. Or next winter. It is impossible to live tomorrow today. Because I am always in the now. A true romantic idealist dreams. Often. But he always dreams now. And he lives now. And part of living is to dream. To imagine. At the moment, I am writing. Writing thoughts. I am romanticizing. Now. I love to romanticize. I romanticize in order to love. I am also setting the stage for the Chicago Cubs victory today. Setting the stage. By creating the right aura. Doing the right things. To please the baseball god. I'm wondering, too, if there's a god of romance. Not merely a god of love. But a god that specializes in romance. Genuine romance. --Jim Broede

Am I to be taken seriously?

I like to keep people guessing. As to whether I’m serious, or not. Because sometimes, I don’t even know. I’m feeling my way. Trying to decide. I’m carrying on a debate. Within my heart and soul and mind. And that can be confusing. Because my mind may be headed in one direction. And my heart and soul in another. Hard for me to determine which one will win out. I suppose my best decisions are the ones that factor in all of the elements. My total being. And even then, I can’t be certain. Because there may still be other outside influences. Maybe I have to listen to god. And go completely against reason. I’ve been accused of doing that. Of being completely crazy. Which ain’t always a bad decision. Anyway, this is an example. Of not knowing. Whether I’m serious, or not. –Jim Broede

I believe in a baseball god.

I believe in multiple gods. Minor gods. And some people may not even consider them to be true-blue gods. But spirits, instead. But I give ‘em more lofty status than that. Maybe even assistant gods. Executive assistants to the supreme god. I’m speculating that there’s a baseball god. One that reigns over the game of baseball. And this god, if he so wishes, can put the Chicago Cubs into the World Series. He hasn’t done that since 1908. Although he’s come close a time or two. But for more than 100 years, he’s decided to make Cubs fans suffer. Believe me, I know. I’ve suffered. And maybe rightly so. Because the baseball god probably thinks I’m not showing enough faith. And because I’ve been a crybaby. And maybe even cursed the baseball god a time or two. That ain’t fitting conduct. I know it. And it won’t be until I get it right that the baseball god will bless the Chicago Cubs and their fans. I’m trying mightily to please the baseball god. But maybe I’m trying too hard. Maybe he feels I’m putting unrealistic demands on him. And that I’m just faking being nice to him. When underneath, I’m fuming. And pissed. That he’s treated Cubs fans so shoddily. It ain’t fair. But it’s possible that the baseball god wants to put Cubs fans to a test. A test more awesome even than the one faced by Job. I think he’s telling us have faith. Become believers. Instead of Doubting Jims. Only then will the long-awaited 'next year' finally arrive. –Jim Broede

That's the American way, isn't it?

I’m for creating more jobs. Enough jobs to put everyone back to work. Even if it costs billions of dollars. In increased taxes on the rich. It’s the humane thing to do. Serving the common good. In the long run, it’ll help the nation’s economy. Working people have more money to spend. That’s good. And it’ll improve the morale of almost everybody. That’s good, too. And many of the jobs can be in the public sector. Construction work. To enhance and expand our infrastructure. Anyway, a jobs bill sure beats an austerity program. Of course, some people with money are for austerity. Because they’ve already got their share. But the people without money – well, they need jobs. Guess I’m a patriot. Because I think the rich should help the poor. That’s the American way, isn't it? –Jim Broede

Far better than fiction.

I choose to romanticize life. And one way of doing that is to use my imagination. And I imagine that there’s a romantic spirit that pervades creation. And I try to tap into it. I’m imagining that it’s that spirit that finds me a true love. Connects us. And maybe the spirit is something god created. And humans with a romantic yearning/notion are able to connect to this spirit. To get an assist. In achieving a romantic life. Sort of a storybook life. One has to use his own spirit to create a romantic aura. A romantic scenario. With the help of imagination. And believe me, I have a romantic imagination. I’m able to dream. Romantically. And make dreams come true. I give romantic connotations to daily events. And the way a relationship evolves. Maybe I couldn’t write it any better. And I wouldn’t want to. Because I prefer living it. Real romantic life is far better than fiction. --Jim

Tell me, that ain't mean-spirited.

Republican politicians. Especially those on the far right. The so-called lunatic fringe. The ones that tend to be religious zealots. I’m nominating them as the most mean-spirited people in the world. Now, I admit, I could be wrong about that. Because a mean-spirit is in the eye of the beholder. And plenty of people accuse me of not seeing straight. Nevertheless, Republicans scare me. Because they seem to be so very mean. Wanting to screw up everything. Destroy the world as we know it. Michele Bachmann. Rick Perry. The current leading Republican contenders for president. They claim to be right. To know everything. And proclaim that everybody else is wrong. And they are so sure of themselves that they’d foist their ways on everybody. For starters, we’d all have to be die-hard fundamentalist Christians. In order to be trusted. And we’d have to pass loyalty tests. Prove that we are true-blue patriots. By their definitions. And black people wouldn’t qualify. Because you’d have to be white-skinned. That, in itself, is a glaring sign of the mean spirit. And they want to sock it to the poor. The downtrodden. And cater to the rich. The very rich. Millionaires and billionaires. Because making unlimited sums of moola is the American way. Poor people are to be detested. Simply because they are poor. And lack gumption to become rich. And powerful. They detest the poor. Because the poor have it too good. They get too many government hand-outs. And what little money they have, they waste it. Because most of ‘em own refrigerators and microwave ovens. And many of ‘em don’t even pay income taxes. Despite having incomes of $22,000 a year to support a family of four. Now tell me, that ain’t mean-spirited. –Jim Broede

Tells us something

I like to keep defining myself. On a regular basis. Because if I don’t, other people will try to define me. And invariably, they’re wrong. They miss the target by wide margins. I’ve discovered that throughout life. Many of ‘em don’t have a clue. That’s a problem. People trying to define other people. When they can’t even define themselves. Politicians do it all the time. Defining their opponents. In negative terms. Instead of defining themselves. Though in a sense, they are. They are telling us something. That they are stupid. And mean-spirited. –Jim Broede

I am a man of moderation.

A friend tells me that I’m overdoing it. Bicycling too much. Because some nights I get muscle spasms in my thighs. But I think muscle spasms are good. Shows that I’m pushing myself to limits. Testing my limits. To me, that’s the proper way to exercise. No pain, no gain. I don’t look at muscle spasms as true pain. But as an indication that I’m not a sissy. That I’m able to endure. And do a little bit extra. To toughen up. Even when I sit down to write, I like to spend extra time. Or even meet a magical quota. To do a little more than I intended. But still, I think of myself as a man of moderation. Even though I’ve put on almost 5,000 miles on my bicycle since April 1. Yes, I’m averaging better than 1,000 miles a month. I’m doing it consistently. I could easily be doing 2,000 miles a month. Proving that I am a man of moderation. –Jim Broede

To break the ice.

When I go walking, I try to make eye contact. With everyone coming toward me. And I find that some people simply refuse to make eye contact. Maybe because they’re shy. But I suspect it’s more than that. Instead, they think it’s best to remain aloof. To not make contact. Especially with strangers. But in some cases, I’m not a stranger. I might have passed the persons multiple times. And always, they avoid eye contact. Even people who live nearby. They may not be my next door neighbor. But they have to be aware that I’m not a total stranger. That I live in the vicinity. I suppose I should force eye contact. By stopping ‘em. And actually talking. Being sociable. Eventually, I do that. I force the issue. And I’d like to ask ‘em, ‘Why have you repeatedly avoided eye contact?’ But I don’t. Because maybe that would be too invasive. Used to be that maybe I was the one that avoided eye contact. In my younger days. Because I wasn’t curious enough. About people. About strangers. Now I like to cultivate strangers. No matter where I go. Especially when I visit foreign lands. Even if I don’t speak the native tongue. I at least try to make eye contact. And make a perfunctory greeting. Guess I think it’s the nice thing to do. To break the ice. –Jim Broede

Shame on us.

The Republicans are good at blaming Obama for lack of jobs. For the high unemployment rate. But the Republicans control Congress. And they’ve done absolutely nothing to create more jobs. Instead, they just sit on their hands. And put the blame on Obama. The economy and the job situation went sour during the George Bush administration. Yes, during a time that the Republicans controlled the White House. And the Republicans let Bush get away with disastrous spending policies. We’re in a mess today because of the Republicans. And they try to keep heaping the blame on Obama. Hoping that the American people are idiots, and that they buy such bull shit. Fact of the matter is that many of ‘em will. Because so very many Americans are stupid. Maybe even a majority. They can be swayed. By stupid sound bites. By Republican babble. For the most part, I suspect, we Americans don’t take much like for politics. We get on with our lives. The issues seem abstract. Confused. We don’t stop to analyze how we’re being manipulated. We’re told that the American way of life is the best in the world. That we are lucky to be Americans. That we should be proud. Like I say, it’s mostly bull shit. We fall for that crap. Hook, line and sinker. Shame on us. –Jim Broede

The rich could become our saviors.

America is a wealthy country. The wealthiest in the world. And America could solve its economic problems. Almost with a snap of the fingers. Easily. Merely by redistributing the wealth. Now a huge portion of the wealth is in the pockets of the richest few. Maybe 2 or 3 percent of the population controls most of the wealth. Well, if I had my druthers, I’d take from the richest, and stabilize the economy with the proceeds. Put everyone back to work. Rebuild the nation’s infrastructure. Create social programs that serve the common good. At the expense of the rich. And then I’d honor the rich for their contributions. For saving the nation. For doing the right thing. I’d erect statues of the richest. And call them patriots. Saviors of the world’s richest country during hard economic times. –Jim Broede

I'm scared as hell.

I wonder what it was like living in Germany when Hitler was in power. And what I would have done. As an individual. Let’s say I was a young man. An adult. Would I have served in the German Army during World War II? Would I have gone along with the Hitler craze? Or would I have resisted? And if so, what would have happened to me? Or would I have merely tried to fade into the background? And not be noticed. Maybe I would have fled Germany. So I wouldn’t be forced to go along with madman politics. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m faced with a similar dilemma today. In the USA. I’m fearful. That some day Rick Perry or Michele Bachmann could come to power. Maybe that’s not equivalent to a Hitler. But still, it’s scary. Has me thinking that I’d want to leave. Flee. I’m not young any more. Would that have made a difference? If I had been an old man in Nazi Germany? Maybe I would have merely retreated to my cocoon. And waited things out. But maybe I would have fled. To the USA instead. Especially if I had a true love living there. She could house me. Accept me. Give me refuge. Yes, maybe I would have taken advantage of the opportunity. To leave Germany. Rather than remain in hell. Now it’s another time. And I’m thinking about fleeing the USA. Fleeing a new kind of potential political hell. Especially if the wild-eyed Tea Party and the Republican conservatives seize control. I wouldn’t want to live under them any more than I would have wanted to live under a Nazi regime. No, they aren’t one and the same. But they both scare the hell out of me. –Jim Broede

Better late than never.

I’m able to create my own little world. No matter where I go. I can live in relative isolation. Alone. Or with my true love. Maybe that’s the nicest thing about life. The ability to get away. To sort of hide. I can even block out news reports. And lose track of what’s happening in the rest of the world. I don’t need to know. Because I can’t do anything about it. And the less I know, the happier I am. Besides, many of the news reports are inaccurate. And the commentaries tend to be asinine. So nice that I’m retired. And don’t have to work to make a living. Thank gawd for social security and a pension. Of course, it’s also nice to have good health. Maybe health is more important than anything. Because that helps me stay mentally and physically active. I know I’m running out of years. Out of time. I once dreaded the thought of growing old. But it sure beats the alternative. Dying young. And I don’t worry about it. Because I’ve learned to live one day at a time. Which I should have done when I was young. But better late than never. –Jim Broede

How often has god been wrong?

I’m not sure if the outcome of one’s life is determined by pure luck or pre-determined fate. I sway back and forth. If it’s luck, random chance comes into play daily. If by fate, maybe a higher force has control. And manipulates everything. Maybe I’d rather it be luck. Because then I can be the manipulator. And steer myself in certain directions. Taking calculated risks. Hoping I’ll chose a path that brings good luck. If there’s a god and he’s all-knowing, life would be pre-determined, it seems to me. If god doesn’t know what’s gonna happen next – well, then he ain't as advertised. All knowing. And that’ll upset some true believers. Personally, I have no problem believing in a god that doesn’t know everything. Makes him a little more human. Capable of making mistakes. And maybe his biggest mistake was creation. Although, there’s a possibility that creation existed before god. And Christians and other religions give him credit for something he never did. The popular view is that creation needs a beginning. But I’m suggesting that creation always was. That it never had a beginning. And quite possibly it may never have an end. I don’t necessarily buy into the concept that everything needs a beginning and an end. In which case, god didn’t have to bother with creation. It was ready-made. And that would make god a mere observer. A spectator. Trying to guess what’s gonna happen next. I’ll bet he’s being highly entertained by it all. Making wild guesses. I’m curious to know. How often has god been wrong? –Jim Broede

It'll take me forever to get it right.

A friend tells me I’m lucky to be living in the modern age. Because if I had lived in the Middle Ages, I might have been burned at the stake. For heresy and blasphemy. For my radical spiritual views. For my unorthodox definitions of god. For being a free-thinker, a liberal and a romantic idealist. Anyway, I surmised that I may have lived in the Middle Ages. And that I did get burned alive. And that I have been put to the test multiple times. Maybe for thousands of years. In scores of lives. If so, I must believe in reincarnation. Which ain’t a bad concept. Because it’ll take me forever to get it right. –Jim Broede

I'm capable of creating god himself.

I like to imagine what god is like. In a sense, I am creating god. Rather than allowing god to create me. Reversing the roles. Maybe that’s what god intended. To allow each one of us to define him. In other words, god is flexible. He can be so very many different kinds of gods. Maybe we are supposed to think of him in multiple ways. Your perception and my perception may both be correct. Maybe god is everything. Life itself may be god. Anything that lives. And especially the conscious mind. That could be the real manifestation of god. The true god. The mind gives me the ability to create. Through my imagination. Yes, I’m perfectly capable of creating god himself. –Jim Broede

And to live happily ever after.

I’d rather get under other people’s skin rather than allow them to get under mine. In that endeavor, I have pretty much succeeded. I’ve developed a thick skin. Maybe thicker than an elephant’s. I don’t let other people bother me. I take umbrage with ‘em. Call them out. But I don’t get irritated. To the point of fuming. Or losing sleep. Instead, I just have my say. Like here in this blog. It’s a nice release. Keeps me content. And happy. In the process, I’m learning to treat people very much like I treat myself. Kindly. Considerately. That is, if they return the kindness and consideration. If they don’t, I’m perfectly capable of getting under their skin. Yes, I can be very annoying. Which is all right. To annoy a Republican, for instance, can be a very pleasing and gratifying experience. Downright fulfilling. At the same time, I don’t allow the Republican to get under my skin. I retain the upper hand. Maybe in that regard, I’m a little bit sadistic. I not only plunge a knife beneath the skin, I twist it. Because that’s exactly the way Republicans tend to operate. Especially those from the lunatic fringe of the GOP. I want to give them their just dues. Anyway, one must learn to deal with the realities of life. Not everyone is a nice guy. I’m nice to nice people. Very nice. But when it comes to not-so-very-nice people, I can be not-so-very-nice. I don’t always believe in turning the other cheek. Sometimes, yes. Other times, no. My conscience and basic instincts allow me to be flexible. And to live happily ever after. –Jim Broede

My nightmare.

I’ve said it before. And I’ll say it again. There’s one place on Earth where I don’t wanna be. Yes, in hell. In Texas. It’s one and the same. I’ve passed through hell several times in my life. And I shudder at the thought. I couldn’t get out of the place fast enough. I concede there may be some nice people in hell. But overall, it’s a gawd-forsaken place. A terrible climate. Weather-wise. But politically, economically and socially, too. Every which way. The governor, Rick Perry, has on several occasions, advocated that Texas secede from the union. Because he hates the U.S. government. He’s for making Texas a completely independent country of hell. And that would be just fine with me. But I don’t think he’s serious. He's got bigger plans. Because Perry has tossed his hat in the ring. He’s running for the Republican nomination for president of the USA. That’s a horrific thought. That is, if I thought he could win. And I do. Because it looks to me like the USA has been drifting toward hell for a long time. Imagine goof-ball Texans running the show. Something worse than the devil himself. George Bush was president for 8 years. So we got our taste of what it’s like. Yes, a foul taste of hell. But Perry would bring old-fashioned racism to hell. I’m not kidding. He says that Barack Obama has brought a ‘black cloud’ over the USA. And Perry means it. Literally. He wants a pure white cloud. Maybe I’m wrong. But I sense he hates the color black. Especially if it’s a black skin. And he’s a very, very fundamentalist Christian. Again, that makes me shudder. Many of ‘em would kill in the name of god. They've gone over the edge. Yes, Rick Perry is a nightmare. My nightmare. Look out, folks. He easily could become all of our nightmares. –Jim Broede

Behind Obama's disguise.

Seems to me that Barack Obama is a moderate Republican. Disguised as a Democrat. That’s the only way a moderate Republican can survive today. A moderate can’t find a place in the GOP. Because the party has moved so far to the right that a middle isn’t in sight any more. Now the Republicans are divided into a right wing and a lunatic wing. Absolutely no moderation. An old-fashioned moderate Republican isn’t tolerated. Instead, he’s labeled as a liberal and un-American. Precisely the tag being attached to Obama. When really, he’s a moderate Republican. –Jim Broede

Worrying is no way to enjoy life.

Mondays have become my favorite day. Maybe because it’s the beginning of the week. And I have so much to look forward to. Although I live one day at a time. And I try not to get ahead of myself. But still, Monday seems like a beginning. It certainly was before I retired. The weekend had just ended. And I was going back to work. For at least five days. But now, it’s all pleasure. I don’t think of life as work any more. So I know I am in for a week of pure pleasure. A month, too. And a year, for that matter. Because that’s been the pattern. Oh, it may come crashing down some day. But I don’t worry about that. Because worrying is no way to enjoy life. –Jim Broede

I might wave goodbye.

As an American, I deserve a better political climate than I’m getting. And I’m hoping that other Americans feel the same way. I’m downright disgusted with the state of our politics. On both sides of the aisle. But mostly, it’s the intransigence of Republicans, especially those on the far right, that have me seriously considering moving to another country. Yes, leaving America, my homeland. Sad, isn’t it? Fortunately, I have the opportunity to move. To another country. For most other Americans, that probably would be impractical. Even if they wanted to go. My attitude may be sharply influenced by the outcome of the 2012 elections. If the likes of a Michele Bachmann or a Rick Perry carry the day, I want out. I don’t want to live in a country that moves that far to the right. And I’m sure that Bachmann or Perry would say good riddance. They might even buy me a one-way ticket out of America. –Jim Broede

The perpetual motion mouth.

I rub some people the wrong way. I don’t always mean to. Maybe it’s just my personality. Speaking my mind. And not always being tactful. Maybe it’s that I often come across as arrogant. Anyway, I don’t lose any sleep if I’ve offended someone. And maybe I should rightfully apologize. But I may just be too busy. Offending someone else. Therefore, I never get around to saying I’m sorry. But then, I may not be truly sorry. Another sign of arrogance. Thing is, I’m not easily offended, personally. Could be that I mistakenly assume that other people are like me in that regard. Built with thick skins. And I have a biting sense of humor. Maybe that’s why I don’t get offended easily. I’m able to laugh off insults. That tends to offend people. They don’t want me to laugh. Especially when they are hurling insults. I’d offend fewer people if I kept my mouth shut. But forget it. That’s impossible. My mouth was designed to be in perpetual motion. –Jim Broede

To be perceived as nice crazy.

Now and then, someone tells me they are shocked by what I have to say. Suggesting that I be more restrained. Less opinionated. That I shouldn’t call anyone ‘crazy.’ Or ridicule or poke fun at Republicans. But still, I persist. Maybe because I use self-ridicule. Often. And I have no qualms about labeling myself crazy. Nuts. Daffy. Because I am. In my own peculiar ways. I don’t wanna be normal. I actually think it’s good to be crazy. For instance, crazy in love. I like crazy people. Such as my true love. She’d have to be sort of crazy to link up with me. Because I’m a continually evolving romantic idealist. A free-thinker and a liberal, too. I make life interesting. For myself. And others. In some admittedly crazy ways. Nice crazy. There’s a difference between nice crazy and not-so-nice crazy. I practice nice crazy. Which is possible. Especially when one has positive and optimistic attitudes. And a sense of humor. That allows one to break away from rigid rules. To be perceived as crazy. Nice crazy. –Jim Broede

Who should be embarrassed?

Chicago Cubs pitcher Carlos Zambrano has mental problems. Serious mental problems. And for this, he’s being ostracized by his teammates. And being criticized and punished by the Cubs' management. For acting like a nut. For, one might say, going out of his mind. Going crazy. During and after a ball game two nights ago. If Zambrano had a physical affliction/disease, he’d be treated far more humanely. Understandingly. He’d be given immediate medical help. Taken to a hospital. Treated sympathetically. But a mental disorder – well, that’s another thing. He doesn’t get understanding for that. He’s told that his zany action/conduct won’t be tolerated. That he may never pitch another game for the Cubs. All because he can’t control his actions. Really, actions brought on by his mental disorder. In a way, Zambrano can’t control some of his actions any more than he could if he had a heart attack, a stroke or cancer. But those are physical diseases. Not mental diseases. Players and others around Zambrano want no part of him because he didn’t act like a ‘proper’ teammate. He lost his temper. His cool. Lost control. He was out of his mind for a while. During the game, he threw a baseball intentionally at a batter. He was ejected from the game by the umpire. And then he went to the locker room. And acted bizarrely. Emptied his locker. Told bystanders that he was quitting baseball. Retiring. That he’s had enough. Zambrano was in the midst of a breakdown. He’s done bizarre things like this before. Stuff that he later would regret. Because of his mental disorder. Personally, I think Zambrano is crazy. To a degree. Crazy enough that he should be under the care of a psychiatrist. Maybe even crazy enough to be put into a mental hospital. Temporarily. For treatment. He’d certainly automatically get treatment if he had a serious physical disorder. But in America, we are still learning how to deal and cope with mental illness. It baffles us. We want no part of it. We want Zambrano to go away. To not bother us. Because he’s an embarrassment. When really, teammates and other bystanders/onlookers are the embarrassment. –Jim Broede

Like little Hitlers.

Objectivity. I like the word. It means emphasizing or expressing the nature of reality as it is apart from personal reflections or feelings. Or to put it another way, to express or involve the use of facts without distortion or personal feelings or prejudices. Wouldn’t it be nice if that’s the way politicians operated? Especially in out nation’s capitol. Might be an effective and pleasant way to run our country. Instead, we have obstinate politicians. On both sides of the aisle. Standing firm. On asinine principle. Just for the hell of it. Like little Hitlers. No room for compromise. –Jim Broede

In defense of socialism.

People are more free in a socialist society than in a capitalist society, it seems to me. Because socialist programs tend to provide everybody with the basics, such as a decent education, health care and affordable housing. If one has the basics, it’s easier pursuing a reasonably happy life. One doesn’t necessarily need much else to navigate. Then maybe the emphasis can be on family and friends and relatively leisure pursuits. Poor people can’t do that. Especially in a capitalist society. They are often relegated to horrid living conditions. While the rich bask in luxury. Nothing against luxurious living. But I’d like to see far less poverty than we have in the USA. Let’s do a better job of narrowing the gap between the rich and the poor. With socialist programs. Such as single-payer socialized medicine, which can be found in virtually every industrialized society. America being the glaring exception. Anyway, I come close to having the basics. Because I’ve lived long enough to retire. With a pension. With social security. With Medicare. Yes, all of these are socialist programs. But we have far too little socialism and far too much capitalism. Unfortunately, many Americans have been brainwashed. Negatively. To think that ‘socialism’ is bad. Without really understanding what it’s all about. Socialism is meant to serve the common good. To serve everyone’s needs. Rather than merely the special interests that generally benefit from capitalism. –Jim Broede

I'd rather think in terms of forever.

Ultimately, I suppose we’re all responsible for ourselves. We are what we are. Because we choose to be. We have the ability to change. To become something else. But it’s up to us to make the change. Individually. I can’t change you. You can’t change me. At least, that’s the way I see it. So, if I’m a jerk, it’s because I choose to be a jerk. I don’t have to be one. Of course, I could claim that I’m a jerk because society made me a jerk. But that’s a cop-out. I have a sense that I don’t have to be what I am. I can change. And believe me, I keep evolving. I’m in a state of transition. Virtually all of the time. Because that’s what I wanna be. I don’t wanna be static. Don’t wanna be exactly the same being forever and ever. That would be horrid. Because then I would have learned nothing. I’d rather feel my way through life. And risk making mistakes. Even serious mistakes. Thing is. Nothing ventured. Nothing gained. So I’m gonna try living life. To the fullest. Right up to the last day. And my most fervent wish is that there not be a last day. I’d rather think in terms of forever. –Jim Broede

A horrid thought. Makes me shudder.

Maybe it’s just a matter of time before I set up permanent residence in Sardinia. Because I’m fast losing faith in America. Some day soon I won’t wanna be an American any more. Sad thing to say, I know. But I don’t like the direction my country is going. It’s no longer the land of the free and the home of the brave. We have right wing kooks taking over. And an ever-widening gap between the rich and the poor. This isn’t what America was supposed to be. It’s something gawd-awful. I don’t know if this pathetic trend can be stemmed. I suspect not. And if that proves so, I’ll leave. I’ll find another country. One that may still be far from perfect. But better than the USA. I want to reside in a left-leaning place. Politically. Economically. Socially. I’ve found a city in Sardinia where the main street is named after a dead leftist patriot. That’s a good sign. You won’t find such a place in America. Instead, one may find a main street named after a living right wing demigod. That’s too much for me to take. I’ve survived in America in recent years by hiding out. In my cocoon. My own little world. At least that keeps me sane. And feeling sheltered. But it’s possible that some day my cocoon won’t be safe any more. It’s a horrid thought. Makes me shudder. –Jim Broede

The inmates are seizing control.

In many ways, I live in a make-believe world. Because I allow myself to imagine all sorts of things. I am able to create stories. By interpreting events. The way I wanna interpret events. We all do it. Generally, my interpretations are as good as anyone’s. I have an idea of what’s happening in the nation’s capitol. In Washington. Because I watch clips. On TV. Or listen to the radio. They’re entertaining. Clowns. In action. Idiots. And crazy people. I’m seeing inmates of an insane asylum. Used to be that I could hardly believe what I’m seeing. Witnessing. Take Michele Bachmann, for instance. She’s actually running for president. And some of the inmates think she has a chance. Even Bachmann thinks she does. That’s similar to me thinking that I’m the reincarnation of Napoleon. Or Genghis Khan. Or Alexander the Great. Look at the other aspirants. Tim Pawlenty. Mitt Romney. Newt Gingrich. Rick Perry. Have you ever seen a more motley crew? They’re all crackpots. Thinking they have a chance to make it to the White House. And the scary thing is that maybe they do. We have reached that stage in America. Yes, the inmates are seizing control of the asylum. –Jim Broede

They'd rather die for a cause.

Seems that we Americans are on the verge of civil war. Because we have extremists showing up at most political rallies. Either those on the far right. Or the far left. And they are telling our elected officials in Washington to NOT compromise. To hold steadfast to their positions. To draw lines in the sand. Even if that means going to war. With each other. Nothing short of violence. We must die for principle rather than give in. Of course, those in the middle are watching anxiously. They generally don’t show up at the rallies. For fear of being lambasted by the extremists on both sides. Yes, caught between feuding factions. They’re the innocents that are gonna die in a civil war. They don’t want war. But see no practical way to bring the sides together. Into the middle. It’s a sad state of affairs. A little like World War I. When 10 million soldiers and 12 million civilians died. It was a senseless war. A war that could have been prevented. Instead, it was fought. And eventually it led to another slaughter. World War II. A sign that extremists never learn. They’d rather die for a cause than live in a compromised world. –Jim Broede

I don't mind being a lovelorn fool.

I tell my son Jack that it’s pretty much his fault. That is, if his life doesn’t turn out the way he wants it to turn out. That he’s gotta work harder. That he needs more patience. More endurance. More commitment. That he shouldn’t blame other people. Not even his father. For his failures. I try to set the example. By not blaming myself for my life. Instead, I take the credit. Or the blame. If things go wrong. Some people try to tell Jack that nothing is his fault. That it’s society. Or other people that are to blame. Or for that matter, credit. If he happens to succeed. Jack, I say, it’s your life. You make the choices. Daily. And moment to moment. You’ve made some stupid mistakes. But you’ve also learned from some of ‘em. And therefore, they no longer are mistakes. You’ve made corrections. In midstream. You deserve plaudits. But you also deserve criticism when you make mistake after mistake after mistake. Repeatedly. When you never learn. I happen to make mistakes every day. Haven’t lived a mistake-free day yet. But I’m not gonna blame mother or dad or my sister or brother or son or daughter, not even god, for any of ‘em. They were my mistakes. Totally. Sometimes, very stupid mistakes. And on occasion mistakes that I keep repeating. As if I never learn. Makes me seem like a full-fledged idiot. An ass. A nincompoop. A fool. But that’s my fault, Jack. Not yours. Fact of the matter is that I don’t mind being all of these things. Even a crazy fool. Especially when I’m in love. With someone. And with life. –Jim Broede

On being humble and decent.

Maybe I’m just as arrogant and wrongheaded as a Republican. That’s a horrid thought. Which means that I’d have to start looking at myself with disdain. In order to be fair. Anyway, it’s a possibility. I may be just as extreme as the lunatic fringe Republicans. Only in a different direction. I veer to the left. The conservatives veer to the right. Politically speaking. Of course, I know some Republicans. Including my daughter and my son-in-law and my sister. And I think of ‘em as decent people. Therefore, I could easily conclude that many, many Republicans are decent. Despite their political views. But I don’t always portray them that way. I poke fun. I ridicule. I’m sarcastic. Sometimes, downright nasty. I try to justify my action by saying that I’m merely acting like Republicans. Giving ‘em tastes of their own medicine. Fighting fire with fire. Playing politics. To borrow a cliché or two. Maybe the annoying thing about life is that I’m not any better than anyone else. I’m just as arrogant and wrongheaded. Maybe even more so than most blokes. Just depends. On how I evaluate/analyze the situation. I know one thing though. That I feel best when I accept another human being just as she is. Unconditionally. Seems to me that’s true love. And the closest I ever come to being humble and decent. –Jim Broede

Let the protests begin.

I’m wondering if riots – like the ones in Britain -- will come to America some day soon. If riots happen, it won’t particularly upset me. Because then I know that Americans are becoming upset. And that’s what they need be. Damn upset. Royally pissed, one might say. We Americans are far too docile. We spend far too much time sitting on our hands. Rather than taking to the streets. And protesting. For one thing, the poor and middle class should be protesting the ever-widening gap between the rich and the poor. I’d certainly join in that demonstration. Even if it turned into a full-scale riot. Let ‘em bring out the water canons to quell us and cool us down. Especially on a hot summer day. I’d be willing to travel all over. Almost any place. To protest the acts of our politicians. Especially when they want to savage Social Security and Medicare. Anyway, let the protests begin. I’ll be there. Ready to rush past the barricades. Shouting slogans, and more. –Jim Broede

Time for a wake-up call.

Just imagine how much better the American economy would be if we had never started wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Or if the super rich hadn’t been given tax cuts. Oh, yes, we average Americans would be so much better off. George Bush and the Republicans, primarily, did us in. And the irony of it all is that Republicans are blaming the terrible economy on Barack Obama. Because he’s the president now. Doesn’t matter that Obama and the Democrats inherited a colossal smelly dung heap from Bush and the Republicans. And a big chunk of American society has fallen for the bull shit flowing in torrents out of Republican mouths. Yes, gross stupidity prevails in the land. We are a very ignorant people. That includes the poor and the middle class. The ones being hurt the most by the debacle. Maybe it's an indictment of our educational system. And our irresponsible media, too. Some how, some way, many of us are missing the truth. We are being bamboozled. Suckered. Lulled to sleep. My gawd! It’s time that we Americans had a wake-up call. –Jim Broede

Yes, this is life.

Maybe it’s that I’ve learned to accept my fate. And like it. Because maybe I don’t have a choice. So I might as well accept it. Make the most and best of it. I’m not sure if that’s what I really believe. But it is. At the moment. And I know that things can change. From moment to moment. One doesn’t know what the future holds. Even though it may be pre-determined. But I’m not privy to the future. And I’m not sure I’d want to be. Although I think I know that I’m gonna die. Some day. But then, maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll have an eternal life. Though it may not be in human form. Guess I shouldn’t discount anything. Even the fact that I may not be real. I could just be a random thought flitting through the universe. An imagined universe. I’m used to seeing thoughts that evaporate. Into the mist. Never to be seen again. At least by me. I often think that I’m thinking. Consciously. And that’s amazing. I even think I have flesh. A body. A vessel. But my thought – well, it doesn’t seem to have a physical existence. Although I’m capable of putting the thought into written words. On paper. On a computer screen. In something called language. It all seems fantastic. Yes, this is life. –Jim Broede

We'll see.

The more I think about it, the more I suspect that Barack Obama doesn’t care whether he gets a second term as president. Instead, he’s gonna do things his way. And allow the chips to fall where they may. He’s an easy-going guy. Trying to be fair to his opponents. Idiot Republicans. Which happens to be redundant. Because idiots are Republicans. And Republicans are idiots. Obama ain’t gonna change that. Because Republicans can’t be changed. You gotta just let ‘em be. And it could be that a majority of the American people are idiots. Capable of following Republicans over the cliff. We’ll see. If it happens, it happens. Maybe Obama believes in fate. In destiny. One can’t change the ultimate outcome. We are all swept into the flow. And we have to ride it. To the end. Maybe that sounds fatalistic. But not necessarily. Maybe it leads to Paradise. Rather than to Hell. We’ll see. –Jim Broede

Doing one's thing. Happily.

I don’t know why some people allow sadness to permeate their lives. They spend more time being sad than happy. Maybe it’s that they have a proclivity for sadness. A chemical imbalance. That brings on depression. Now there are tiny pills being heralded as solutions to sadness. But I suspect the depressed need more talk therapy than pills. They have to learn to talk to themselves. To be persuasive. To convince themselves that it’s much better to be happy. Of course, they’ll say that’s easier said than done. But I don’t completely buy that. I suspect that some of ‘em are downright lazy. It’s easier to fall down than to get up. But think about it. For Sisyphus, he found happiness in his labor. His task. Sisyphus was a wise man. He found happiness. No matter what. He outfoxed the gods. The very gods that tried to punish him and make him unhappy. Instead, he thumbed his nose at the gods. Doing his thing. And being happy about it. –Jim Broede

Happy with life. In love.

I suspect that most people really don’t care about what’s happening in the world. Many of ‘em may not pay attention. To the news. Instead, they just get on with living their lives. In their little communities. Or neighborhoods. Knowing that they can’t do anything to change the course of human events. They’d rather not even be bothered by what’s going on. Because it really doesn’t affect them. As for me, I plug into what’s happening. By reading news reports. And going on to the Internet. More out of curiosity than anything. Meanwhile, I go about my daily routine. Such as riding my bicycle. Mostly on a circular route. Close to my home. I’ve biked 4,470 miles since April 1. Averaging better than 1,000 miles a month. And I keep daily contact with my true love. In Sardinia. Where I’ll be this fall and winter. Makes for a good life. Because I don’t let happenings in the world get me down. Or depressed. Instead, I try to forget all of the crap. And find reason to be happy with life. In love. –Jim Broede

Outlandish and impossible.

I suppose if I were a politician, I’d be ruthless. Because that’s the way the game is played. The ruthless ones succeed. The others fall by the wayside. That’s the way I see it. And I spent much of my lifetime covering politics. Writing about it. For newspapers. Oh, I know there are exceptions to the rules. Even in politics. But it’s mostly the ruthless and the unprincipled that get their way. They know how to maneuver. To manipulate. If I sound cynical about politics, that’s because I am. It’s a dirty power game. Corrupt. Influenced by big money. And it’s played by people with big egos. They love the feel of power. And power usually comes with money. Nobody should be surprised that roughly half of our Congress and Senate are millionaires. Those who aren’t are certainly influenced by big money interests. And many of the non-millionaires will become millionaires eventually. Because of their political connections. I’d like to see politics played in a different way. To make politics more honest. More decent. So that the common good is served. Rather than the big-money interests. But it won’t happen. Because the powerbrokers would rather die than surrender their power. They live for power. For politics. I’d rather see citizens drafted at random to take turns as our senators and representatives. Seems to me they’d do a better job of it than our elected officials. They’d be more representative of the true nature of the American people. Just another one of my dreams. Outlandish and impossible. –Jim Broede

A wonderful dream.

I gotta admit that Barack Obama has been a disappointment. A less positively effective president than I had hoped. Primarily because he has not been ruthless enough in dealing with Republicans. He’s been far too kind. Too wishy-washy. He’s allowed Republicans to get away with too much. Maybe Obama is the sort of Christian that turns the other cheek. Far too often. He’s gotta learn to slug back. Pow! And I mean Pow!! Pow!!! Pow!!!! Blow after blow. And the more I watch Obama, the more I wonder if he really has the gumption and know-how and manly fortitude to be a skilled politician. And believe me, it takes skill and maybe even a total lack of conscience. Obama needs to take no prisoners. In order to bring about a truly liberal/socialist agenda. He needs to force feed Republicans. Literally cram stuff down their throats. With a plunger. Like brutal farmers do when they stuff a live goose. Obama needs to become a true revolutionary. And I’m afraid that ain’t gonna happen. It wasn’t until black people became revolutionaries in the 1960s that they really started gaining their legitimate civil rights. They had to become militants. And take to the streets. Along with white liberals. They had to seize control from the stinking white conservatives. The racist ruling elite. They had to kick ass. And declare we’re not gonna take this crap any more. They set an example for what a modern-day Barack Obama should be. Instead, Obama is pussyfooting around. As if he’s living by old Jim Crow standards. He ain’t standing up for principle. For human dignity. He’s letting scumbag Republicans run the show. Just like black people let racists run the show for more than a century after the civil war. That will always go down as one of the most shameful periods of American history. And unless we decent Americans take to the streets and do something about the present deplorable political and economic situations, we’re all gonna be doomed to a sorry future. Oh, if only Obama had the guts to lead the revolution. He could. With a new, fresh start. It's not too late. Maybe by pushing a jobs bill. Getting all of the unemployed back to work. By taking money out of the pockets of the filthy rich. And redistributing it. To help the poor and the truly needy. By correcting the American shame wrought for these many years by racists and Republicans and oligarchs. Oh, I have a dream. A wonderful dream. –Jim Broede

Far worse than being in solitary.

Often, I like being ignored. Not always. But often. Gives me the opportunity to be alone. Not bothered. Sure, I like attention, too. But only from a special, elite few. My very good friends. Or people that arouse my curiosity. I could easily go days without human contact. Except for my true love. When I'm alone, I do a majority of my thinking. I carry on conversations. With myself. Uninterrupted. I suppose that’s when I most appreciate being ignored. If I were in prison. In solitary confinement. I could survive. If I had books. And pen and paper. So that I could write. I’d occupy myself. And maybe even forget that I was in solitary. I suppose I wouldn’t be completely solitary. The guards would bring me my meals. I probably wouldn’t need a radio. Or TV. But I’d certainly miss my true love. I’d try to write to her every day. To deny me the opportunity to write and think – well, that would be cruel and unusual punishment. Far worse than being in solitary. –Jim Broede

Fearless, too.

The headline in my newspaper had two big words this morning. ‘Running Scared.’ And beneath that the subhead declared, ‘D.C. is in Gridlock, Europe in Turmoil, Wall St. in a Panic.’ Guess the message was that I’m supposed to be living in fear. But I refuse. I’m living happily. And in love. And dividing my time between Minnesota and Sardinia. I’m leaving for Sardinia around Oct. 1. And I won’t be back until near the end of winter. And then I’m gonna spend the month of March in Arizona. Taking spring training with the Chicago Cubs. I’m not gonna allow politics and the economy get me down. I’m gonna live life the way it’s supposed to be lived. Lovingly. And really, that’s the way we all should do it. We have choices. We can either change our politicians. Or ignore ‘em. And when it comes to politics, I’m aloof. Detached. But when it comes to my true love. I’m passionate. Involved. Fearless, too. –Jim Broede

I'm open. Revealing. Even naked.

I have no secrets. Doesn’t mean that I tell everything. But doesn’t mean that I intentionally hide anything. I try to live life in an open manner. Sort of like going naked. Oh, sure, I wear clothes. Because it’s comfortable. And the decent think to do. In order to fit in. I don’t bare my whole being. Because I don’t feel like it. But I have no qualms about opening up. Under the right circumstances. Because I basically believe in the truth. My truth. Which may not necessarily be other people’s truth. I generally don’t like to fake it. But I do. For convenience sake. And often to be funny. Yes, I have the ability to be an actor. On the stage of life. That doesn’t make me dishonest. It merely makes me an actor. I’m playing a role. See, I often think of myself as being in a play. Or a storybook. In a novel. I have a vivid imagination. And it would be a waste not to use it. I’m quite aware of who and what I am. No denying it. A romantic idealist. A spiritual free-thinker. A political liberal. A lover, especially of life. No sense in keeping any of that stuff secret. Because if I did, my acquaintances might try to define me. I reserve the right to define myself. And to proclaim it publicly. In speech. In writing. Whenever I feel like it. You gotta admit, I’m pretty open. And revealing. Yes, even naked. –Jim Broede

It's all so romantic.

Maybe I’m a romantic idealist more than anything. I’m also a political liberal and a spiritual free-thinker. But first and foremost, I’m a romantic idealist. I sense a romantic aura to life. It’s as if romance is in the air. No matter where I go. I didn’t always feel that way. Wasn’t until I grew up. I wanted to be a writer. For newspapers. Maybe because I thought that was a romantic occupation. And I wanted to move about the country. To travel. To get out and about. Even when I joined the Army. I thought of it as a romantic pursuit. Because it would take me places. I joined in peacetime. I didn’t want to go to war. Because that wouldn’t be romantic. It’d be obscene. And a waste of life. Instead, I spent most of my army career as a sportswriter for an Army weekly newspaper in Frankfurt, Germany. That’s my idea of a romantic pursuit. Making the most of an unusual opportunity. On and on my life goes. All sorts of adventures. Like now. Living half of the year in Italy. Traveling to exotic places. Having an Italian true love. Living a storybook existence. It’s all so romantic. –Jim Broede

The decent thing to do.

I want a society and government that guarantees everyone the basic necessities of life. Enough to get by. With the basics. Good health care. A good education. A job. Housing. A retirement pension. If citizens want more than that, that’s all right. Give ‘em the opportunity to acquire more. But tax ‘em extra when they have the extras – to help offset the cost of the basics for everyone. Sounds like socialism, doesn’t it? That’s all right. Because capitalism certainly hasn’t provided the basics for the entire population. Instead, it’s created an obscene and ever-widening gap between the rich and poor. Anyway, that’s the way I’d solve the world’s economic dilemma. Redistributing the wealth in a way that guarantees everyone the basic necessities. It’s the decent thing to do. –Jim Broede

An odd kind of Catholic.

I think it’s possible for me to jinx my Chicago Cubs baseball team. By not showing faith during a game. By constantly checking the score. Instead, the Cubs are more likely to win if I just wait it out. Wait until the game is safely over. Maybe even the next day. In other words, remain a bit aloof. Detached. I suspect that if there’s a god, he wants me to practice faith. Faith in the likelihood that everything will turn out all right. To not constantly worry that something will go wrong. Such as thinking that some how, some way, the Cubs will find a way to lose the game. That’s an example of lack of faith. And for this lacking, god is gonna punish me. And see to it that the Cubs lose. My true love tells me that makes me superstitious. But I tell her that makes me Catholic. Though I’m not Catholic. And she is. But sometimes I suspect that I’m more Catholic than she. Odd, isn’t it? –Jim Broede

A fascinating and crazy life.

Sometimes I wonder if there is such a thing as reality. And that maybe I am just dreaming. Everything. My existence. My true love's presence. Everything. And that maybe I have the ability to shape my dream. In any which way. To whatever kind of reality/life I desire. And that my subconscious mind dictates everything. Just like my true love's subconscious mind recently dictated a dream about her being surrounded by a herd of gentle and inquisitive horses. I have this strange feeling that maybe life isn’t predetermined. That if this life/reality of mine is all a dream, I can shape actual events. Dependent on my whim. If I want the Chicago Cubs to win bad enough, they can be made to win. But I want to deny myself this pleasure. In order to toughen and discipline myself. To deny some of my most fervent wishes. Because for some odd reason, pleasure and life always going good, isn't good for the soul. Maybe the real me is an immortal being that has gone to sleep. To relax. And to dream. Of what it's like to be mortal. I’ve been created in his dream as Jim Broede. And that’s who it seems I am. Even though I might not be real. But I gotta admit I feel very real and very much alive. If I were immortal and wanted a respite from immortality, I’d try to imagine that I was mortal and had died. Death being my form of sleep. It’d make me forget that I was immortal and alive. Until I waked. Anyway, I’m not sure if I have a grasp of reality. Or if I even want to grasp such confusion. Especially if I only exist as the creation of an imaginative dreamer. Maybe I can accept that. After all, it makes for a wonderfully fascinating and crazy life. --Jim Broede

A sense of humor would help.

I’m learning. Every day. Without miss. Something. Maybe it’s only trivial stuff some days. But many, many times, it’s things that help shape a better life. Intellectually. Emotionally. In very significant ways. Maybe I should learn more. Maybe I never learn enough. But I’m not gonna let that bother me. I’ll proceed at my own pace. And be thankful that I’m capable of learning. Anything. Certainly that’s better than nothing. Anyway, it’s a fascinating life. Spending almost all of my time learning. It’s as if I’m in school every day. And I have so many teachers. Everybody I meet is a potential teacher. Whether they know it or not. Nice thing is that I don’t even have to pay them. But I often do. With a simple thank you. Even the most stupid people in the world teach me something. Republicans, for instance. They teach me how to counter ignorance with humor. Good-natured humor. Even though some Republicans are too dumb to recognize it. Maybe it’s that they lack a sense of humor. –Jim Broede

Just depends. On the circumstances.

I marvel at people who tell me they speak the same way no matter the audience, no matter the place. Because I think that’s bullshit. Unless they are mealy-mouthed all the time. I find it necessary to be selective in one’s comments. Because I can’t get away with being completely honest all of the time. I can’t always say what I’d like to say, for instance, on the Alzheimer’s message boards. I’m not complaining about that. It’s just reality. And I accept it. Because the Alzheimer Association sets the rules. And if I wanna continue posting, I’d better follow the rules. Or I’ll get suspended or banned. It’s happened to some people. Even to me (suspension) once or twice. Deservedly so. I have a different set of rules that I follow here in my blog. I’m more free. More flexible. More honest. More daring. Thank gawd, for blogs. I’ve been taken to task by a frequent poster on the Alzheimer’s message boards. She thinks I’m pulling some of my punches on the message boards. At least compared to what I have to say in my blog. Well, she’s correct. But I see nothing wrong with that. Because I want to survive. And therefore, I obey the rules. Even rules with which I may disagree. Because I don’t wanna accept the consequences. Don’t we all do that? I’d like to speed down the highway. But I don’t. Because I don’t wanna be caught and fined and maybe even be put in jail. Instead, I use common sense. Or maybe it’s that I decide to compromise. For the sake of getting along. For the sake of decency. Oh, I’m not afraid to break rules, too. I take risks. I often like to tell people the brutal truth. Even when it hurts. Generally, that’s when I’m talking to someone. Directly. One-on-one. In private. But I can do it publicly, too. Just depends. On the circumstances. –Jim Broede

Long live everything Italian!

For a relatively old man like me, the best way to learn about and get a feel for Italy is through my true love. She’s a Sardinian. I couldn’t ask for a better teacher. She's making me well-versed in everything Italian. I am learning. Fast. Not so much the Italian language. Because that comes hard for anyone my ripe age. But I’m grasping all sorts of Italian ways. Customs. Food. Politics. Literature. Music. Fashions. You name it. I’m getting it. Because I spend much of my time living and traveling with my true love. Primarily in Sardinia, an island in the Mediterranean Sea. But I’ve been to other parts of Italy, too. To behold a beautiful country. A paradise. This is the way to live. And to learn about Italy and the Italian character. By total immersion. With a beautiful and intelligent Italian at my side. Much better than being a random tourist. Instead, I converse with my Italian true love. Daily. In the flesh. Or by audio/video hook-up. If I were still a young man, I’d most likely be gainfully employed. Side-tracked making a living. Fortunately, I’m old enough to be retired. Able to devote full-time to my true love. And I’m receiving an extraordinary education. About fantastic Italy. My second home. I’m fascinated by the wonder of it all. By my true love. By Italy. That joyful shout you hear. It's me. Long live everything Italian! –Jim Broede

As long as I keep learning.

Think of me as a complex being. Not easy to figure out. I suspect many of us are that way. I recently encountered someone trying to find the real me. Because she thinks I’m a different being on the Alzheimer’s message boards than I am on my blog. I suppose she’s right. In the sense that I might come across differently. Depending where I post. Because the rules are different. From place to place. Much depends on my audience, too. And sometimes, I talk differently to people in private than in a public forum. Often, I tailor my words to an individual. For instance, I’ll talk intimately to my true love. But not to you. And I may confide more to a friend than to a stranger. So it all depends. On circumstances. And how I feel on a particular day or at a particular moment. Another thing. I’m evolving. I’m not the same being I was 10 years ago. Or even yesterday, for that matter. My opinions keep changing. Because I’m learning. I’m having new experiences. I have an open mind. Although that may be open to dispute. Many people judge me from a distance. On a very limited amount of information. That amuses me. But then, I do the same. I often make a preliminary assessment of someone I’ve recently met. And later on, it proves wrong. Seems to me that life is pretty much in a constant state of flux. One has to adapt and adjust. And learn from one’s mistakes. By the way, I have yet to live a mistake-free day. But that doesn’t scare me. As long as I keep learning. –Jim Broede

Happiness in an unhappy way.

Seems to me that some unhappy people only have themselves to blame. They merely choose to be unhappy. They don’t have to. They could find reasons to be happy. But don’t. By choice. If that’s the case, it doesn’t bother me to agitate them. A little bit. Because maybe that’s what they want. To be agitated. Because that makes them be more unhappy. Makes me an obliging fella. Yes, I give ‘em what they want. And in a sense, that makes them happy in an unhappy way. –Jim Broede

I like to keep people guessing.

Many opinions I express in my blog I can’t get away with saying in another forum. Because it won’t be tolerated. That’s why I have a blog. So that I can feel more free. To say what I want to say. Makes me more honest. Yes, it’d be nice to be able to speak honestly all of the time. But I don’t pretend to do that. Sometimes, dishonesty is a good thing. For instance, I might tell a sick person that he looks good. Just to make him feel a little bit better. To boost his morale. But on other occasions, I may want to intentionally deflate an inflated ego. And I’ll resort to sarcasm. Such as, ‘You’re pretty smart. Not nearly as dumb as you look.’ I often say things just for the sake of being funny. To try to make a conversation less serious, less tedious. I love to contradict myself, too. And portray myself as a villain. Just for kicks. I like to keep people guessing. About whether I’m being serious or just plain funny. –Jim Broede