Saturday, March 31, 2012

I never feel alone.

Interesting. How some friends come and go. We lose touch. Maybe because of geographic separation. But for other reasons, too. We don't take time to write to each other. Or call. And as for me, I usually am focused almost entirely on my true love. I've had two of 'em in a lifetime. Which ain't bad. Some people go through life without a true love. Or it just lasts for a short time. But my true loves last until death do us part. And that sustains me. Maybe that's the reason I can live without multiple friends. Though I do tend to cultivate a handful of friends. People I genuinely like. And they seem to like me. But it takes a two-way effort to stay in touch. Sometimes, it's my fault. Other times, it's their fault. When it comes to long-lasting, lifetime true love, there's always dual effort. That's why it lasts. Anyway, I've discovered that I have to be in love. Always. Preferably with someone. But if there isn't someone, I always find something. Nature and the great outdoors, for instance. And exercise. And with places. And with words. Meaningful words. That's why I write. Daily. Often, just to myself. Yes, I have internal conversations. Including some with god, himself. Therefore, I never feel alone. --Jim Broede

I know beauty and brilliance.

My Italian true love is both beautiful and brilliant. And I tell her so. Often. Seems to me that she's a very rare woman/human being. Because she gets more beautiful and more brilliant every day. Age serves her well. Some people age badly. She ages good. Lucky. Maybe. But I suspect it's more than that. Because she exudes an inner beauty, an inner intelligence. It's pure. Some people have it. Others don't. Maybe it's that I'm blessed. That I see all of this in her. While others may not. Because they are blind. I'm so darn lucky. I know beauty and brilliance when I see it. --Jim Broede

I like variety in my life.

More and more, I'm becoming addicted to bicycling. Not sure if that's the same as biking. I now own two bicycles. One is virtually new. In perfect working order. The other needs a new crankshaft. I'm getting it fixed. Because it's my favorite bicycle. Which I bought used. Several years ago. For $89. I've put several times that amount into repairs. I'm bicycling about 1,000 miles a month. Not on long trips. But circular routes of several miles. Near home. It's not unusual for me to spend two or three hours a day on a bicycle. I also walk every day. Maybe 10 or 12 miles. Sometimes a brisk 13-minute mile. Maybe it's that I'm addicted to exercise. Don't think I overdo it. Because I find it all relaxing. Comfortable. I initially took up bicycling because I had a sore foot. Maybe from all the walking. But the foot isn't sore any more. So I blend walking and bicycling. And this summer, I'm gonna try to get addicted to swimming. I like variety in my life. --Jim Broede

Peacefully.

I like to get up at all hours of the morning. Whenever I have the inclination. Mostly when I have good thoughts. About life. I'm never troubled by insomnia. Because I don't have to try very hard falling asleep. When I want to. When I'm feeling tired. But good thoughts often awaken me. And I feel that I have to get up. To record 'em. In writing. That makes me feel good. Occasionally, I even get pleasure over recording a bad thought. Because ultimately it leads me to resolve a troubling issue. I'm really not afraid. To think. About virtually anything. I was born to think. And to sleep. When necessary. Peacefully. --Jim Broede

Just because I want to.

I've known people that didn't want to live. So they committed suicide. Including my father. A long time ago. If I stumble across people of similar ilk/persuasion, I try to see that they get psychotherapy. And I might try to sell them on the benefits of living a while longer. But if in the end, they take their own lives, I certainly don't grieve forever. I may even conclude that they did the right thing. For them. That was certainly the case with my father. I'll concede that he made the wise choice. For him. Not everybody is suited to continued life. They are happy ending it all. And so maybe it's best to be happy for them. Rather than sad. My guess is that even god is happy for them. That maybe he personally encouraged them to check out. Could be that's the positive way of looking at suicide. On the other hand, I want god to allow me to live forever. Just because I want to. Because I have the desire. --Jim Broede

Friday, March 30, 2012

It's been a wise choice.

I just read in the New York Times of a tragic end to a marriage of 61 years. The husband killed his wife, who had Alzheimer's. And then committed suicide. Sad, isn't it? I suppose I could have done the same thing five years ago. Instead, I took care of dear sweet Jeanne til the day she died. And got on with my life. Because Jeanne taught me to savor life. It's been a wise choice. --Jim Broede

Let's appoint a layman.

I'd be better on the Supreme Court than the conservative justices. Even though I'm a layman. With no law or judicial background. That's what would make me a better justice. I'd have a different perspective. Which is exactly what the court needs. Balance. A fresh approach. Including a layman member or two. Sometimes, lawyers and judges are too full of baloney and legalese. Jargon that the common citizen doesn't understand. I'd drop the legal terms. And use practical, understandable English. And common sense. And I'd act less like a politician. Of course, I have no chance of being appointed. But I'm sure there are amply qualified laymen. Intelligent. More qualified than most experienced lawyers and judges. --Jim Broede

Pompous Ass Scalia.

I'm no longer calling Supreme Court Justice Scalia a justice. Instead, I've tagged him Pompous Ass Scalia. Because I want to show him utter disrespect. The guy is a very pompous pompous ass. Of course, Scalia probably thinks of me in the same vein. As a pompous ass. So if he calls me Pompous Ass Broede -- well, that's all right with me. Scalia has the right to treat me the same way that I treat him. As an ass. Scalia is really a pompous ass politician. Seems to me that he has a 100 percent conservative political agenda. I'm assuming that Scalia will vote to find Obamacare unconstitutional because it's gonna mandate that everybody buys health insurance. That'll spread out the cost of providing health care to everyone. Making health care more affordable. By keeping the costs lower than if only the sick/ill bought insurance. But Scalia argues that such a mandate puts the federal government on a slippery slope. That the next thing you know, Congress will mandate that everyone buy broccoli. Because it's good for one's health. That's an absurd hypothetical premise. But then, asses tend to be absurd. And Pompous Ass Scalia is no exception to the rule. --Jim Broede

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Ever so slow.

My Italian true love tells me that in Europe the other day there was a celebration. An observance of a 'slow day.' Europeans were being encouraged to slow the pace of their living. At least for 24 hours. To consciously slow down. To work more slowly. To walk more slowly. To think more slowly. To breathe more slowly. And I thought, how wonderful. And that I have been observing 'slow time' for a long, long time. For years. Ever since I retired in 1998. I keep getting slower and slower every year. Making a day last longer than 24 hours. By savoring the precious moments. I avoid getting ahead of myself. I even lose track of time. It's as if I can almost make time stop. And to think, I used to hurry. As if life were a race. When really life was always meant to be slow. Ever so slow. --Jim Broede

Thank you, Mozart.

I'm listening to Mozart piano sonatas today. And that has me thinking. About how wonderful it is to live in the modern age. If I had lived 100 years ago, the only way for me to hear Mozart would have been to go to a live concert. Now I have hundreds of compact discs that allow me to listen to virtually everything that Mozart composed. I can even walk or ride my bicycle, and listen to Mozart. Amazing. Amazing. Amazing. Mozart gives me another reason to appreciate life. To feel blessed. That I'm alive. I wonder if Mozart ever stopped to think that he'd be speaking to the likes of me in the year 2012. Thank you, Mozart. --Jim Broede

I don't like it.

I don't like the U.S. Supreme Court. Because I think the court lacks objectivity. And because the court is dominated by political conservatives. And I'm a liberal. If the court were dominated by the far left, I'd be happy about it. I could accept that. But I also could accept judges with objectivity. Judges that tried to elevate themselves above politics. But that ain't happening. Because the politicians that appoint the justices keep appointing politicians. Even lying, deceitful politicians. Ones that deny they are politicians. Which makes them liars. Used to be that the Supreme Court had some semblance of objectivity. Justices that had some sense of fairness. But politicians have taken over the court. Which means that many of their decisions are political. And distasteful. I don't have to like it. But I have little choice when it comes to doing something about it. I'm forced to accept the corrupt practices of the Supreme Court. Because I'm merely a powerless individual. All I can do is complain. And declare that I don't like it. And then get on with the rest of my life. --Jim Broede

Racists are everywhere.

I try not to be judgmental. But I don't always succeed. Fact is, I am judgmental. At least occasionally. I tend to be judgmental of people that I think are racists. When maybe they aren't. Don't always know for sure. And I act on my suspicions. For instance, that guy Zimmerman in Sanford, Florida. The one that shot and killed a black youth. I've jumped to a conclusion that he's a racist. I have a gut feeling about it. And I'm judging him without complete evidence. Because I've lived in the South. In Florida. A long time ago. During the big civil rights push in the 1960s. And I knew many racists then. No doubt about it. Of course, Florida may have changed a whole lot since then. But still, I sense that racism is still prevalent. Not only in Florida. But all over America. Even in Minnesota. Where I live now. Because I talk to people. About race. About their views. Their opinions. And they're racists. In my judgment. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm being too judgmental. But still, I think that many, many Republicans are racists. They don't like Obama because he's black. They won't openly admit it. They may even be lying to themselves. Many of 'em won't even concede that Obama was born in America. And many of 'em even think he's a Muslim. They're either plain downright stupid. Or racists. Seems to me that they can't be that stupid. So I conclude in my judgmental way that they are racists. I look upon them with judgmental disdain. The fact that Obama got elected. That says something positive about America. An indication maybe that most Americans aren't racists. But still, there are hordes of racists in America. Among far right wing conservatives. Among many of the Tea Party faithful. Among religious zealots. Especially among Christian fundamentalists. I'm acquainted with racists. Have been. All my life. I even have racist relatives. Some of my best friends are racists. It's impossible to avoid racists. They are everywhere. The world will never be free of racists. Or of judgmental people like me. --Jim Broede

Scares the hell out of me.

I like to live part of every day with my tongue firmly planted in cheek. To not take everything so very seriously. And I don't always want people to know the position of my tongue. Whether I'm joking, or not. Keep 'em guessing. Because it's entertaining. Watching people figure out how to take me. Fact is, I can be serious at one moment. And joking the next. That's how I keep my sanity. By laughing. A whole lot. Especially when I'm expected to be serious. At a funeral, for instance. I like to lighten things up. No sense in being totally tearful. I find that most people have lived funny lives. And so that's what I try to recall. The funny stuff. Of course, many of these people have thought of themselves as serious. They seldom smiled or laughed. But that's exactly what made them most funny. Their serious natures. Occasionally, I find myself taking life too seriously. I start to act like a Republican. And that scares the hell out of me. So I waste no time getting back on the left track. --Jim Broede

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Shoving medicine down a throat.

I accept bad events and bad decisions. Because they often lead to good events and good decisions. For instance, if the U.S. Supreme Court throws out Obamacare, that may ultimately prove to be a godsend. Because such a decision will piss off many people, especially on the left. It'll be another indication that the Supreme Court has become political. And something will be done about it. Because that's not the way the court is supposed to be. And a majority of Americans know it. And if they are pissed, they'll do something to bring about change. One way or another. There will be a revolt. And ultimately, things will be set right again. The conservatives in America overreached. Becoming unreasonable and uncompromising. Continually seeking all or nothing on their radically conservative agenda. And that's exactly what they'll get eventually. Nothing from their agenda. Instead, they'll get socialized medicine. Delivered under a one-payer system. Exactly what America needs. But what Republicans despise. Socialized medicine is even better than Obamacare. Because Obamacare was designed as a compromise. A peace offering to Republicans/conservatives. Giving them some of the things they wanted. Not everything. But something. The lesson to be learned is that there's no compromising with Republicans/conservatives. The only way to deal with Republicans/conservatives is to shove medicine down their throats. For the sake of the common good. --Jim Broede

Ain't easy.

People tell me that I too often write about things I shouldn't write about. Things that are too personal. But I disagree. Life should be far more personal than it is. I wanna know what lies beneath. Everyone that I meet. Instead, people hide behind cloaks. They don't want other people to know them. Truly know them. They live secretive lives. Maybe because they are dishonest. And that's shameful. They know it. And so they hide their shame. But I'm not afraid to be naked. I've grown accustomed to being highly personal. In my dealings with people. That's my way of showing respect. Dealing honestly. Being forthright. When I go to bed at night, I want to be able to say that I lived an honest day. That I put forth real effort to be a decent human being. Of course, I'm still trying to define decency. Ain't easy. --Jim Broede

An adventuresome existence.

I was born to think. That's the first thing I do when waking in the morning. Think. Think. Think about lots of things. But mostly about being alive. I become aware. Of existence. My existence. And of my environment. And the world, in general. My best days are spent thinking. Almost round the clock. I wasted the early years of my life. Because I was incapable of thinking. I hadn't yet mastered language. And maybe I'm still relatively illiterate. Because I have yet to master a spiritual language. I'm still a novice. But at least I'm headed in the right direction. Or so I think. Could be fooling myself, of course. But I'm dedicated to cultivating the art and craft of thinking. That's the primary reason for being on Mother Earth. To think. And to record my thoughts. To make sense of everything. Even though that's impossible. I suspect that not even god thinks sensibly. That god is feeling his way. Through life. That god is just as stupid as the rest of us. At best, god has only a speculative idea of where he and the world is going. Which means that god lives tentatively. One day at a time. And each tomorrow comes full of surprises. Which makes for an adventuresome existence. --Jim Broede

Two kinds of richness.

I'm more pro-government than anti-government. And I'm more anti-business than pro-business. Yes, our society's salvation is in government. Because government was created to serve the common good. That's why I don't want government to be run too much like business. Greedy, profit-making business. In which wealth tends to go into the hands of a relatively few. An ever-widening gap between the rich and the poor. I want government to step in. To see that fairness prevails. That there's less selfishness in the world. It's all right for government to become the regulator. Capitalism tends to put the individual good ahead of the common good. Unfortunately, the typical capitalist focuses on accumulating individual wealth rather than collective wealth. Seems to me that the anti-government crowd, the so-called Tea Party element, wants government out of their lives. So that they can more easily accumulate individual monetary wealth. Which tends to be corrupting. I want the wealth to be spread to benefit society. Everyone. Not a few select individuals. To me, that's the essence of true spiritual religion. One cannot enter Paradise with pockets full of money. A pauper has a better chance than a monetarily rich man of getting it right. Yes, there are two kinds of richness. --Jim Broede

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Without noses.

The problem with America. I've identified it. Too many church-goers. That breeds conservatives. Political conservatives. Social conservatives. Economic conservatives. We need more liberals. Especially the ones that don't belong to a church. They tend to make more sense. They believe in evolution. And in science. Many of 'em are agnostics or atheists. And it seems to me that liberals are more intelligent than conservatives. More open-minded. And willing to meet conservatives half-way. You won't find conservatives meeting anyone half-way. They want their way. No compromise. No give and take. A conservative will cut off his nose to spite his face. Little wonder that conservatives look ugly. No noses. Anyway, I have good reason to steer clear of churches. Turns my stomach. To look at people sitting in pews. Without noses. --Jim Broede

Ashamed to be an American.

Sad. Sad. Sad. That the U.S. Supreme Court has become so politicized. Once upon a time, the judges seemed to be above politics. But not any more. Five judges with a conservative agenda. And four with a liberal agenda. Thought the judiciary was supposed to be above politics. And it used to be. But not any more. Sounds like the Supreme Court will find Obamacare to be unconstitutional. By a 5-4 vote, most likely. But I'm not gonna worry about it. I'll still have my Medicare. Because I'm a senior citizen. But so very many Americans will be without health insurance. We need socialized medicine. Medicare for everyone. A single payer health care system. Maybe we will get it some day. When liberals take over this country. And push legislation that serves the common good. But first, we need to cleanse the Supreme Court. I don't know what's more disgraceful -- the Supreme Court or Congress. Makes me ashamed to be an American. --Jim Broede

Because he was black.

I'm not sure that this guy Zimmerman should be a neighborhood watch captain in the Florida city of Sanford. Because he shot dead an unarmed 17-year-old because he thought the boy was a 'threat.' Didn't matter, I guess, that Zimmerman outweighed the boy by 100 pounds. You'd think that a tough and brazen fella that acts like a policeman could handle an unarmed lightweight teenager in a less lethal way. No need for a gun, really. That is, if he knew what he was doing. And maybe he did. Thinking that it was better to kill a black youth. Maybe just because he was black. --Jim Broede

Monday, March 26, 2012

A sad state of affairs.

Can we take any of the Republican presidential hopefuls seriously? I certainly can't. But the fact that the news media keep covering that motley crew gives them far too much credibility. It's a sham and a shame. Maybe there's entertainment value in what they have to say. Letterman and Leno make more sense. At least their comedy is a little bit sophisticated. Good for genuine laughs. But as for Romney and Santorum and Gingrich and Paul -- they're unsophisticated. Unsuitable presidential material. The fact that Republicans can't put up anyone better than them, says a lot about the Republicans. We Americans deserve better. Much better. It's a sad state of affairs that Republicans will have one of these guys on the ballot in November. But it'd be an even sadder state of affairs if Americans are dumb enough to elect any of 'em. --Jim Broede

I'm acquainted with a 'Crab Lady.'

I know someone I've tagged, 'The Crab Lady.' Yes, truly a crab. I've been thinking about her tonight. If I were her friend, I'd try to get her to recognize that she's a crab. And that it really does her more harm than good to be so crabby. She gets upset and crabby far too easily. Over relatively trivial stuff. Seems to me that she's gotta learn to recognize and acknowledge it, and become less crabby. If I were a true friend, I'd be able to tell her that I privately call her the 'Crab Lady.' I'm not proud of it. And I'm more an acquaintance than a friend. So I haven't told her this to her face. But that's the first impression she made on me. Being a crab. My guess is that other people have gotten the same impression. I think she's got some serious mental problems, which may be the result of some bad experiences in her life. She really needs psychoanalysis. To get well again. But then, I suppose we all are a little bit sick. Mentally. Everybody has a hang-up or two or three. --Jim Broede

The ability to imagine anything.

Life is a wonder. The fact that I exist. That I am conscious. A thinking being. Sometimes, I can hardly believe it. But here I am. I'm real. Although maybe that's merely a figment of an imagination. And I'm not really me. Just an illusion. But if so, I'm a real illusion. And that's the same as being alive. Being me. I could live as an illusion. Forever. And be happy. Because I'm capable of fooling myself. Of becoming anything that I can imagine. No limits. Maybe that's the same as being god. The ability to imagine anything. Even life itself. --Jim Broede

Not even a memory.

I'm not always sure how I should be perceiving the world. Whether it's a warm and cozy and comfortable place. Or if it's a scary place. On one hand, I think of Mother Earth as an armed camp, full of rogues and dangerous and dumb people. But then, I remind myself that I'm in love. With life. Right here. And that I really live in Paradise. Maybe because I don't see and experience the whole world. Just a small, limited portion of it. Mostly in Minnesota and Sardinia. I avoid the truly troubled spots. Or just happen to be lucky. Anyway, I've survived for 76 years, and counting. And life has been enjoyable. For the most part. Really, I have few complaints. I merely fear what might happen. And I go on living. One day at a time. Keeping my fingers crossed. That I don't encounter a string of bad luck or bad experiences. So far, I've been able to make the best of any bad situation. And I've managed to live happily and reasonably well. In my cocoon. My little niche in the world. Without a major calamity. Does that make me a fortunate or blessed one? Maybe. I'm more an optimist than a pessimist. But still, I have this nagging fear. That everything will go kaput. Some day. That the world will fall apart. That life will end. And that nothing will exist. Not even a memory. --Jim Broede

Sunday, March 25, 2012

How does one value a life?

I sense Americans are shocked over the execution-style murder of 16 Afghan civilians, including nine children, by a U.S. Army sergeant. But maybe not as outraged as they'd be if the situation was reversed. The killer being an Afghan and the victims being Americans. And why is that? My guess is that Americans generally think of American lives as more valuable than Afghan lives. Foreigners don't count as much as real Americans. Gotta admit. That ain't saying much for Americans. Seems to me that human beings are human beings. And we've got to start thinking of them as sort of equal in value, no matter their ethnicity. After all, we all share the same planet. Maybe my grief over the loss of 16 innocent lives should be equal, whether they be Afghans or Americans. --Jim Broede

Better a duel at the OK Corral.

America is reviving the lifestyle of the Old Wild West. Where virtually anyone can become a gunslinger. In order to protect one's self. Take Florida, for instance. It's legal under a state law to shoot someone who may be perceived as a threat to your life. You can claim you did it in self-defense. That's how a teenager was killed. A neighborhood watch captain thought the unarmed 17-year-old was a threat. Maybe because he was black. So he shot him dead. And he ain't been charged with murder. Yet. And may never be. Thing is, many racists perceive anyone who's black as a threat. So, bang, bang, bang. Might as well kill him before he kills you. Yes, in America we have made killing too easy. Unfortunately, too easy to get away with. Thanks to the gun lobby. Which claims that our constitution provides for the right to bear arms. Even in Minnesota, it's legal for me to carry a concealed weapon. Virtually any place I go. To protect myself. Just like in the Old Wild West. Never know when one might happen across a threatening hombre. Guess it's supposed to give me peace of mind if I can pull out a Glock with a laser beam and shoot him dead. And if I'm in Florida, I can even shoot an unarmed black teenager and maybe get away with it. If I personally deemed him a threat. But seems to me that the cowboys in the Old Wild West would have given the teenager a better and fairer chance. By giving him a gun, and challenging him to a duel at the OK Corral. --Jim Broede

Saturday, March 24, 2012

I'm a multi-umbrella man.

I bought an umbrella today. For less than a dollar. At the local thrift store. I have several umbrellas. And I really don't need another. But hey, it was a bargain. And often I find it difficult to pass up a bargain. Of course, I try to justify such a purchase. Because my other umbrellas may wear out. But also, it may be wise to distribute my collection of umbrellas. I have two cars. Might put an umbrella in each trunk. And I could ask my friends if they need umbrellas. And make them a gift. And having umbrellas of multiple colors and designs will give me more opportunity to be well-coordinated when I go out in the rain. I'll take the umbrella that best matches my clothes. Yes, buying that umbrella was the right decision. --Jim Broede

Thank gawd, I'm content.

I'm content. More than I used to be. Maybe because I've learned to more or less accept life. The way it is. And I just try to make the best of it. I have some control over events in my life. Not total control by any means. But a reasonable amount. And I've learned to live in my own little world. My immediate environment. And I try to avoid places of conflict. For instance, I'm not gonna vacation in Syria. Or for that matter, in Texas. Because there's so many things I dislike about Texas. I don't wanna blame Texans. It's just that I don't feel psychologically or physically at ease in Texas. The political, social and economic vibrations ain't good. I'd become discontented if I had to live in Texas. Thank gawd, I don't. --Jim Broede

Take your choice.

Maybe the world is turning topsy-turvy. For the past 10 days or so, we've been getting daily temperatures 20 to 40 degrees above normal. In Minnesota. Where I live. Normally about this time of year I'd expect a snowstorm or two. Wet, heavy snow. Maybe followed by bitter cold air. The lake I live on has been free of ice. For two weeks. Meanwhile, I spent a couple weeks in Arizona. And I had to don a coat. The kind I'd normally wear in Minnesota. It was darn cold. I watched the Chicago Cubs play an exhibition game in Mesa, and the temperature was 58 degrees. At the same time, the temperature in Chicago was 84 degrees. Yes, maybe the world is turning upside down. I suppose if one lives in Minnesota, one starts believing in global warming. But if one is in Arizona, maybe a case can be made for global cooling. Take your choice. --Jim Broede

Friday, March 23, 2012

In every living creature.

When it comes to cats, I love 'em all. Makes no difference. All. I'm most in love with whatever cats happen to be living in my household at the moment. I've had a long line of cats in my home. Even as many as five at a given moment. And when one cat dies, I grieve. For weeks. Maybe even months. But I get over it. And focus on the living cats. Therefore, I am always actively in love with a cat or two or three. Cats give me much sustenance. More than a dog. Though I'm fully capable of loving dogs, too. I talk to my cats. And they talk to me. We converse in English. But we also talk in a spiritual language. Merely by thought. I can read a cat's mind. And cats can read my mind. Maybe it's a sign that language is inherent. In every living creature. --Jim Broede

I like the arrangement.

When I'm gone from Minnesota for a relatively long time (months), it helps me see Minnesota in a more positive light. In some respects, I miss the place. But I also talked to a native Minnesotan now living in Arizona. And he tells me he doesn't miss the place. He'd be all right with never returning. That he prefers other parts of the country. Even Arizona. In the summertime, no less. But he also talks of recently falling in love with Oregon. Especially along the Pacific coast. He'd rather vacation in Oregon than in Minnesota. My attachment to Minnesota came through my first true love. She lived in Minnesota all her life. Now I have my second true love. And she's Italian. Living in Sardinia. That's lured me away from Minnesota for half of the year. And I like the back-and-forth arrangement. --Jim Broede

In short sleeves and shorts.

Spring has arrived early in my part of Minnesota. But I'm not yet certain if that's a blessing. Temperatures 40 degrees above the normal highs of 40-some degrees have caused the buds on bushes and trees to come out already. But hey, it's still possible to get a hard freeze and snow, even as late as mid-April and early May. If that happens, it could bring devastation to the growth. So I'm keeping my fingers crossed. That the warm trend continues. Even the lake I live on opened several days ago -- completely free of ice. Normally, that doesn't happen until the second week of April. Meanwhile, I'm hiking and biking in short sleeves and shorts. --Jim Broede

Judge me by the way I live.

Does it matter whether god exists? That's the question posed in an article in the New York Times cyber edition. And I'm fascinated by such talk. The philosopher John Gray says that belief in god should have little or nothing to do with religion. He points out that in many cases, such as 'polytheism, Hinduism and Buddhism, Daoism and Shinto, many strands of Judaism and some Christian and Muslim traditions' belief is of little or no importance. Rather, 'practice -- ritual, meditation, a way of life -- is what counts.' He goes on to say that 'it's only religious fundamentalists and ignorant rationalists who think the myths we live by are literal truths' and that 'what we believe doesn't in the end matter very much. What matters is how we live.' I can buy into that concept. Makes me laugh when some religions insist that one must believe in god. No ifs, ands or buts. I'd much rather be judged on the way I live than by any professed belief in god. I've long argued that many atheists are more truly Christian-like (doing as Jesus would do) than holier-than-thou fundamentalist Christians. Yes, I'm saying the atheists have got it right, and the fundamentalists have got it wrong. --Jim Broede

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Finding out.

I like to stay in one place. For a relatively long time. Even when I travel. I abhor the thought of constantly/frequently moving from one location to another. Instead, I want to be able to unpack my bags. And get a true feeling for a place. Which takes time. And I like to meet people. Strangers. Wherever I go. But I also like solitude. Getting away from people. All by myself. Or only with my true love. Guess it's that I seek balance. I like time to myself. Because then I can reflect and ponder and record my thoughts and experiences. Gives me the opportunity to catch life's pulse-beat. I find it necessary to think. About life. And why I'm here. Not exactly sure. But hey, I'm having a good time. Finding out. --Jim Broede

My displeasure with capitalism.

There's gotta be an economic system better than capitalism. Not sure that I know what it is. But I'm for exploring systems that more evenly distribute the wealth. Narrowing the gap between the rich and the poor. Seems to me it ain't moral to have an ever-widening gap. Of course, morality is in the eye of the beholder. And some people think it's the right thing to allow everyone to make unlimited amounts of money. Maybe so. But I ain't buying it. That's not the standard I'd set if I tried to imagine the ideal society. In Paradise. In Nirvana. In Valhalla. And right here on Mother Earth. Meanwhile, I accept the world as it is. Gotta deal with it the best I can. Knowing that I can't always have my way. Anyway, I wouldn't want the authority to run the world. Or for that matter, I wouldn't even want god's authority. Too much responsibility. But nothing stops me from sounding off. At expressing my displeasure with capitalism. --Jim Broede

Too stupid to catch the message.

I want the monetary profit motive taken out of many of life's endeavors. Medicine, for instance. Medicine and our health care system should be designed to serve the common good. Without making much, if any, profit. When somebody discovers a new drug that benefits people, let's make it available to everyone. At minimal cost. Without people, even the inventor, making a huge profit. Instead, let's do what's best for society, as a whole. It's not a good idea for a few select individuals to reap a monetary fortune. And maybe doctors should work for an established annual salary. Like at the Mayo Clinic. A reasonable salary. But nothing exorbitant. Shouldn't be essential that anyone has to become a millionaire. Especially a multi-millionaire. The pursuit of medicine should be for the purpose of making people healthy. Through medicine. Through health care. Not to make people monetarily rich. Some day, I expect society will evolve in such a manner. And generations from now, people will look back on the 21st century as an extremely selfish era. When boundless greed prevailed. We'll all have become far more civilized. More decent. In terms of serving the common good. People will go into their professions not to make excessive amounts of money, but to do good. For society on the whole. Seems to me that's what the true blue religious leaders have been trying to teach us. For a long, long time. But we don't get the message. Even that guy Jesus was telling us that. In his Sermon on the Mount. But we don't listen. Or we are far too stupid or stubborn to catch the message. --Jim Broede

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

A fascinating place.

I'm headed back to Minnesota today. After 18 days in Arizona. And I'm thinking that's where I'm most comfortable. Minnesota. Because I've lived there so very long. Since 1965. Though I split my time mostly between Sardinia (with my Italian true love) and Minnesota. I like the idea of being a world traveler. Going all over Europe. And to Iceland, which also is considered a part of Europe. I get around. Born in Chicago. But raised in Wisconsin. Spent most of my three-year army stint in Germany. And worked for several years in Florida. But still, my favorite spot is Minnesota. Where I feel most relaxed. When I'm alone. Of course, I'd rather be with my true love. And I am. No matter where I'm living. Because we are connected. Daily. No matter where I am. Thanks to modern technology. Sometimes, though, I wonder if that inundates us with too much knowledge. Used to be we didn't know what was going on in the other side of the world. Or if we did, we learned about it long after the fact. But I ain't gonna trade the new ways for a return to the old ways. Because I've invented my way. When necessary, I create a cocoon. And crawl in. I create my own world. Believe me. It's a fascinating place. --Jim Broede

How to spend a worthwhile day.

A visit to a wildlife rehabilitation center in the Sonoran Desert made my day. Because I saw mountain lions, bobcats, coyotes, fox, hawks, a great horned owl and -- not least -- the fascinated facial expressions of my great grandson and great granddaughter. They were excited and enthralled by it all. At ages just under 2 and 4. Taking youngsters to see the wonders of nature is a good start at education. So stimulating. Of course, I'm stimulated, too. As a 76-year-old great grandpa. And I put the emphasis on great. Because I feel great. I could spend the day being captivated by the animals. Including my two pet cats, Loverboy and Chenuska. Anyway, I want youngsters to grow up knowing that life is wonderful. Despite the shit that happens every day. Somewhere in the world. But still, that shouldn't stop anyone from savoring the good stuff. Yes, it's virtually impossible to totally ignore the bad stuff. Especially if one reads the newspapers and watches TV. But still, I know how to spend a worthwhile day. With my great grand kids. --Jim Broede

Monday, March 19, 2012

Budapest sounds better.

Shoot. Yesterday, I missed the opportunity to get to know two people from Budapest. A bit better. Because of threatening rain, they left the Cubs-White Sox exhibition game early. To avoid getting soaked. But turns out, they didn't have to leave. The rain never materialized. I had planned talking to the loving middle-aged husband and wife after the game. They were seated in front of me. I knew when they sat down that they were foreign born. Because of their accents. Wasn't exactly sure from where. But I soon found out. Budapest. They left and came to America while Hungary was still under communist control. Apparently settling in the Chicago area. Where they became Cubs fans. Seems to me, that especially goes for her. She applauded every good play by the Cubs. Very demonstrative. Just the opposite of what I am at a Cubs game. I often pay more attention to the fans than to the game. Especially if it's a boring game. Which happens when the Cubs lose. As they did once again. In extra innings. But I salvage something. Learning a little about the people sitting around me. The guy on my right is a farmer. In northern Illinois. Near the Iowa border. He came to the game in shortsleeves. Despite a game time temperature of 48 degrees. A cold front had moved into the Sonoran Desert. After a high of 80 degrees two days earlier. Like the Budapest couple, the farmer left early, too. Presumably because he was shivering. Anyway, my Italian true love and I once talked of going to Budapest. For a long weekend. Because she has access to a friend's apartment in Budapest. Maybe next winter. Or even next spring. Even if I have to forsake my dear Cubs. Budapest sounds better than the ballpark on a cold day. --Jim Broede

What my god tells me to do.

I'm with two of my great grandchildren. Oliver and Emma. How I reached this point, I don't fully know. Guess it has something to do with the fact that I've lived to 76. And that when I married, the deal came with a ready-made family. Two children. A step-son, 8, and a step-daughter, 12. In other words, a head start. So there have been grandchildren and great grandchildren. Maybe I'll be blessed to live long enough to have great great grandchildren. Which is okay. I'll accept that without complaint. It's sad that my wife, Jeanne, didn't live long enough to see the great grandchildren. She died five years ago, of Alzheimer's. We were married for 38 years. Of course, I'm dreaming that Jeanne can still see the great grandchildren. From the spirit world. That would be nice. And just the way I'd arrange the world -- that is, if I were god. Meanwhile, I'm gonna assume that god and I see eye to eye. And heart to heart, for that matter. That one way or another, life becomes eternal. Lasts forever. In loving ways. All I know is that I'm in love. With life. That's what my god tells me to do. Love. Love. Love. --Jim Broede

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Living in my idyllic cocoon.

If it's necessary for America to go to war -- well, then let's institute the draft. Yes, conscription. Call it whatever you like. Make everybody eligible to go to war. Men and women. Old and young. Rich and poor. Even 76-year-old men like me. Thing is, if we had a draft, there would be less war. Maybe no war. Because relatively few people wanna go to war. Only a few volunteers. And some of the volunteers are crazy. Super patriots. Or just plain stupid. They don't have anything better to do. Some of 'em are sent into four, five and six combat tours. Occasionally, they go crazy. They go out and kill indiscriminately. Execution-style. Just for the hell of it. Could be they don't even know what they're doing. Which is a definition of crazy. Unfortunately, there are so few volunteers that it's apparently necessary to send even the crazies into combat. Trained killers. Soldiers turned into killer robots. Sort of like drones. Push a button. And they go ahead and do the job. Machine-like. Without human conscience. Yes, folks, we've come to that. We have computerized war. Made it a video game. We can kill the enemy in Afghanistan merely by pushing a button on a computer in Nevada. We even kill our own American citizens with drones. Merely because we suspect that they may be collaborating with the enemy. No court or legal proceedings. The decision is made by some political hack. We allow our nation to get away with murder. Maybe because we are exempted from doing the killing ourselves. No draft. No conscription. We close our minds to what's going on. Or we're like me. I know what's going on. But I keep telling myself, not much I can do about it. I'm only a powerless individual. I have no control over the big picture. I merely rant and rave. In my blog. And get on with my life. Living with my Italian true love. In my idyllic cocoon. While the rest of the world goes into rot and decay. --Jim Broede

Saturday, March 17, 2012

Maybe on a wind-blown home run.

I've been listening to the wind today. Out on the Sonoran Desert. It was a completely quiet day. Until I heard the wind. Talking to me. In pleasant, meaningful ways. The wind asked me to turn and tilt my head. And to listen. Intently. The wind spoke loudly. And whistled. Directly into my ear. Then the wind mussed up my hair. In a playful way. And whispered. Sweet nothings. Gave me a caress, too. Felt like a feminine touch. With a cooling comfort. Right there on the usually hot desert. It was a cool front. Riding the wind. All the way from Northern California. Tomorrow will be 20 degrees cooler than yesterday. But not the bone-chilling cold I'm used to in Minnesota. Enough for me to don a jacket or sweater. It helps, too, that the wind brought in overcast skies. But no rain. Maybe rain tomorrow. But I hope not. I'm to be at the ballpark. Presumably to see the Cubs beat the White Sox. Maybe on a wind-blown home run. --Jim Broede

Yes, we deserve each other.

I've learned to treat myself nicely. But it's amazing how many people I know that don't treat themselves nicely. It's almost as if they dislike themselves. So they inflict punishment. On themselves. Strange, isn't it? Throughout my whole life I've known such people. My mother. My father. My sister. My brother. And so many others. I treat myself as a VIP -- a very important person. Why not? I deserve such treatment. Because I'm special. Maybe that sounds egotistical. But that doesn't bother me. Better that than people I know with low self-esteems. They often harm themselves. Because they don't fully believe in themselves. Occasionally, I believe in others almost as deeply as I believe in myself. That goes for the two true loves I've had in my life. Of course, that goes for my current Italian true love. I want her to believe in herself. And she pretty much does. Though like most people, she may have an occasional doubt. But she shouldn't. She's got everything that's essential in life. Including love. I treat myself nicely. By wooing her. I deserve her. And she deserves me. That's the way I look at it. Yes, we deserve each other. No doubt about it. --Jim Broede

Friday, March 16, 2012

Now he knows where Sardinia is.

Sat next to a guy at the baseball game today. And he started the conversation. I like that. Usually, I'm the instigator. He's from California. Lived there all his life. And he's just retired. Which is good. Because he doesn't look old enough to retire. Spent 36 years as a fire fighter. With the Los Angeles Fire Department. That's one of the last cities I'd want to live in. But the life there seemed to do him good. He's a Los Angeles Dodgers fan. But he was pretending to be a faithful San Francisco Giants fan. Because the Chicago Cubs were playing the Giants, and his wife and in-laws, seated next to him, are Giants fans. 'So I make off as if I'm for the Giants,' he said, 'to keep peace and harmony in the family.' He even cheered when a Cubs player hit a home run. 'I like to see home runs,' he said. He wanted to know where I'm from. I gave my usual spiel. That I divide my time between Sardinia/Italy and Minnesota. He had no idea where Sardinia is. But he knows now. And that I'm America's goodwill ambassador to Sardinia, home of my Italian true love. --Jim Broede

The easiest path to happiness.

Maybe there's only one person I can make happy. Me. Ultimately, happiness stems from an attitude. An individual attitude. I see so very many unhappy people. But seems to me they don't have to be unhappy. They choose to. I've struck this theme often. Right here in my blog. Because I'm fascinated by the concept of happiness. It's one of my major pursuits. I can't stand to be unhappy. If I'm down in the dumps, so to speak, I find my way out. Pronto. I try to make other people happy. Mainly my friends. But I can't do it. They have to resolve to be happy. Themselves. I can't instill happiness in anyone but myself. I can suggest ways to become happy. But I can't impose happiness in another being. I know people that go into the doldrums. Frequently. Some of 'em would like to pull me down with them. But I refuse to go. Because it's against my nature. Maybe the miserably unhappy want company. Well, I give 'em company. But my kind of company. Happy stuff. Take it or leave it. It's their choice. Always their choice. I'm a good listener. Because I like to psychoanalyze people. Especially unhappy people. Odd as it may seem, unhappiness makes some people sort of happy. They're masochists. They like to punish themselves. That's sort of sick. But hey, to each his/her own. For me, the easiest path to happiness is to fall in love. With someone. Or with something. I've been in love with life for a long, long time. --Jim Broede

More than anything, I'm a dreamer.

American-style capitalism. Seems to me that some day, the world will look upon American-style capitalism as immoral. Just takes time for it to sink in. That it ain't right. That it's downright corrupting. Unfair. Because it promotes a relatively few getting rich. At the expense of the many. Encourages a wide gap between the rich and the poor. Survival of the richest. Capitalists, of course, keep arguing that everybody has the opportunity to get rich, monetarily speaking. But there are other ways of getting rich. By shunning monetary wealth. That guy Jesus. Didn't he say something about it? About a rich hombre's chances of getting into Nirvana or Valhalla. About the same odds as a camel passing through the eye of a needle. Millionaires and billionaires seem to ignore that. They think it's possible to buy one's way into Paradise. Maybe they know more than Jesus. I'm not sure that I do. I ain't a Christian. And I doubt that Jesus would be a Christian today. In the modern-day sense. Maybe that's why I choose not to be a Christian. Or for that matter, choose to avoid any form of organized religion. I'm a free-thinker. A freelance monotheist. I'm my own man. Think of myself as a romantic idealist. A liberal. A lover. A dreamer. Yes, I dream of the day when capitalism is scrapped. No longer a viable economic system. Won't happen in my physical lifetime. But hey, maybe it's a possibility in a spiritual paradise. In a place where there's no moola. Where the spiritual life prevails. Goes to show that maybe more than anything else, I'm a dreamer. --Jim Broede

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Doing the right thing.

Sorry if this offends rich people. I want them to pay more to support the rest of us. For the common good. I want more social programs. For those of us who choose not to be rich, monetarily speaking. I want everyone moreorless guaranteed the basic necessities of life. Shelter. Decent medical care. A good education. A pension/social security. And let's tax everyone to make this possible. But let's especially tax the rich. I have nothing against the rich staying rich. But maybe not as rich as they are now. Just a little less rich. To make all this possible. Yes, I'm for redistributing some of the wealth. Because some rich people and big corporations are reaping obscene profits. And exploiting the underclasses. America isn't a poor nation. There's plenty of wealth. But it's mostly in the hands of relatively few people. The millionaires and the billionaires. They have far more than they need. So let's spread it around. In ways that benefit society as a whole. Serving the common good. I know this isn't a popular idea with the wealthy. But it's the right thing to do. --Jim Broede

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

A way to drive the GOP crazy.

I'll vote for Barack Obama again. Even though I'm a little bit disappointed in him. He could be more gutsy. That would make me happier. But what do I know? I trust the guy. Gotta assume he knows what he's doing. I'd rather have Obama in the White House than any Republican. I preferred Obama over Hillary Clinton. But now I wonder if Clinton would have made a more effective president. We'll never know. I supported Obama, in large part, because he's black. I like black people, generally. I like the black culture. Black people have had to learn to cope. Against discrimination. Against unfair treatment. Few black people get fair treatment in our society. That includes Obama. Sure, he got elected president. Which is a wonder. But he's been treated unfairly and unkindly. By Republicans. Primarily because he's black. Republicans tend to be racists. They'll deny it. But that's no surprise. Because Republicans also tend to be liars. Obama has put up with unfair treatment. Maybe because he's black. Black people are used to it. I wish Obama would get royally pissed. But he knows that won't do any good. He has learned to persevere. Because he's black. He's had to do that all his life. And still find a way to get ahead. A way to succeed. Despite his blackness. And what black man has done it better? Obama has a Harvard education and he's the president. That annoys many bigots/Republicans. They detest Obama. Because of his success. They think that black people should know their place. And that it ain't in the White House. Because the White House is suppose to be reserved for white people. That's the way our founding fathers wanted it. When it came to racial matters, the founding fathers thought pretty much like modern-day Republicans. With rare exception, they were racists. They also denied women their basic human rights. Republicans still do that. They consider women to be inferior beings. That's why I'd like to see Hillary Clinton become president some day. Maybe after Obama completes his second term. She knows how to deal with male chauvinists. I wish Obama would dump Biden as his vice president. In favor of Clinton. That would enhance the Democratic ticket. And make the Democrats almost unbeatable in the 2012 election. I like the combination. A black man and a white woman. As our supreme leaders. That'll drive Republicans and bigots crazy. --Jim Broede

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

I have the same right as god.

Don't get me wrong. I'm in love with life. Even though I abhor much of what goes on in the name of life. Such as war. I just try to shut out the bad stuff. For a while. For a day at a time. And make the most of life. In positive ways. Today I'm sitting at a picnic table. In the shade. In the Sonoran Desert in Arizona. In peace and tranquility. Putting aside what happened the other day. In Afghanistan. The senseless slaying of 16 Afghans by an American soldier. I can't allow the bad stuff to bother me for long. I have to get on with life. Living. Loving. Embracing the precious moments. Knowing that shit happens. But I ain't gonna allow it to disrupt my day in the desert. Or to disrupt my day tomorrow at a Chicago Cubs spring training game. I'm gonna be happy. By crawling into my cocoon. And shutting out the rest of the world. I have no control over what happens in Afghanistan or Washington or Timbuktu. Maybe even god almighty himself has no control. Or at least has chosen not to take charge. Therefore, I have the same right, too. To act like god. To take the day off. So that I can truly enjoy and love and savor life. --Jim Broede

Sadly, we'll never get it right.

War ain't pretty. And it's downright immoral. Because the intent is to kill, kill, kill. Every which way. Soldiers kill soldiers. They kill innocent civilians, too. The killings are intentional and unintentional. Some soldiers go berserk. I suppose that was the case with the American staff sergeant. Apparently went out at 3 in the morning into a remote Afghan village and murdered 16 Afghans, including women and children. Why? Maybe because that's the nature of war. Shit happens. Maybe it's an attitude of kill or be killed. Killing becomes routine. Senseless. Insane. The staff sergeant had already served three tours of duty in Iraq. And now here he was in Afghanistan. A fourth tour. His whole life was becoming a horrific tour of killing. Yes, killing for the sake of killing. Maybe we Americans have become good and expert at killing. We still have capital punishment. We keep finding better and more efficient ways to judge and put people to death. Used to be that we strung 'em up. On the gallows. Or we strapped them in an electric chair and turned on the juice. Literally fried 'em to death. I read about how the staff sergeant massacred the 16 Afghans. Human beings. An entire family. Went about it methodically. Execution style. Maybe he was trained to think of them as less than humans. Not real people. Hard to say what goes on in a twisted mind. Makes me wonder how many soldiers have twisted minds. I served in the U.S Army. A long time ago. I knew soldiers then with twisted minds. Capable of killing. Because that's what they were trained for. Kill the 'enemy.' Without hesitation. Without question. Without conscience. Doesn't surprise me when I read about what happened in Afghanistan. Sometimes, life is sordid. We're told that the soldier will be brought to justice. What does that mean? In many states, people are executed for far less crimes. Is that true justice? Should we kill the killers that our system helped to create? We can keep killing for killing's sake. And now we salve our consciences by executing people in a 'more humane way.' By lethal injection. I guess that's more civilized. We've progressed as a human race. No longer nailing a guy to a cross. But still, so many ways to kill. We don't even have to do it one at a time anymore. Think of it. A single bomb can wipe out an entire city. Already has. Hiroshima. Nagasaki. All in the name of doing the right thing. When really, it's all wrong. War is obscene. And the sad thing is, we'll never get it right. It's not in our genes. --Jim Broede

By the time I get to Phoenix.

I'm trying to decide whether people look different at the Minneapolis Airport. Different than the ones I see when I'm in Europe. My first impression. Americans look more bored. And second, Americans are heavier than Europeans. I'm more intrigued by Europeans. They arouse my curiosity. Maybe because they come from different cultures. The people I'm seeing in Minneapolis are headed for Phoenix. They look like escapees. Fleeing winter. Though the weather isn't bad. More spring-like than wintry. It's been a mild winter in Minnesota. And the sun is shining. But Phoenix has a predicted high in the 80s. I'm wearing an overcoat now. But I've packed two pair of shorts and short-sleeved shirts. Appropriate apparel for a Chicago Cubs spring training game that I'll be at tomorrow. Maybe some of these same passengers are going to Arizona for the same reason. Baseball. And sunshine. Another thing I've noticed. Americans seem more relaxed than Europeans. We convert our carry-on luggage into ottomans. To stretch and rest our legs. A young man across from me is pecking away on his computer with a long, yellow pencil in his mouth. I'm imagining the pencil being a long-stemmed rose. Off to my left is a portly man. Wearing a baseball cap. And another one with an orange and green Green Bay Packers cap. And a woman with a bulky scarf wrapped around her neck. Reading a newspaper. It's just been announced that our flight will be full. And that the last passengers to board may have to check their carry-on luggage. For free. Means I should try to get near the front of the line. But I'm in something called Zone 5. The last to board. Shucks. I had packed lightly. So I wouldn't have to check a bag. But that's all right. As long as I can play my game. Checking out my fellow passengers. I'm gonna be sitting next to a stranger. But he/she won't be a total stranger by the time I get to Phoenix. --Jim Broede

Took me three hours.

Awesome. Captivating. Compelling. I'm getting a panoramic view of Arizona. From atop something called Lousley Hill. But it feels more like a mountain top. I can see very, very far. The flat sagebrush covered desert below. But off in the distance -- mountains. Peak after peak after peak. No matter where I look on the horizon. In every direction. Mountains. Brown and black colored. From dense, lush growth of pine trees. Down below. My parked pick-up truck. A mere red speck. Oh, if only I were a bird. I'd drift. Glide. All the way down. A metal railing keeps me from tumbling down. As I came up on a winding path, I spotted a woman. With a backpack. Leaning over the railing. But she's gone now. Apparently, there's another route down. Not the same one I climbed. I wonder if the early explorers wondered what lie beyond the mountains. And how long would it take to cross the divide. Maybe months. And to think, I flew down here from Minnesota. Took me three hours. --Jim Broede

Monday, March 12, 2012

Rather an artist than craftsman.

I like to write. Almost anything. Whatever comes to mind. It's proof that I'm alive and thinking. Functioning. Creating. Using words. Language. I'm able to talk to myself. And others. Making myself known. I don't have to be with other people. I can be alone. Or I can choose to be with god almighty himself. I can connect to the spirits. I write my blog. Daily. With rarely a miss. Don't know if I'm reaching anyone. Doesn't matter, I suppose. Because I'm reaching me. If I can't do that, I'm lost. I find myself. Every day. The moment I sit down to write, it's a reminder that I'm alive and conscious. That's very important. Reminds me that I'm actually conscious. Because if I don't think about it, I may be merely going through the motions. Moreorless like a robot. On automatic pilot. Flying. Without a conscious direction. I also keep reminding myself that I'm in love. With my Italian true love. And with life. I ponder the thought of love. And write about it. Frequently. So important to put my love into words. Practicing the art and craft of love. My aim is to make love more an art than a craft. Yes, rather be an artist than a craftsman. --Jim Broede

Sunday, March 11, 2012

Gotta look where I'm going.

I'm learning more and more about the Sonoran Desert. I take to the desert almost every day. And there's no need to bring my umbrella. Can't recall the last time I saw rain. I'm always here in the dry season. But I'm told the average annual rainfall is about 8 inches. And that when it rains, it's like a monsoon. Big, big rains that flood the roads and leave huge piles of dirt and sand. Guess most of the rain arrives in the summer. When temperatures typically soar to 115 to 120 degrees. A cool night is 90 degrees. I'll take Minnesota cool over Arizona hot. But here I am. In March. And it's wonderful. When I'm not watching the Chicago Cubs play spring training baseball games, I'm walking the desert. Which is full of Saguaro cactus, the tallest cactus in the world and the symbol of the Sonoran Desert. The Saguaro is only found between 1,000 and 5,000 feet elevation and needs warmth and periodic moisture to survive. Successful seeds germinate near a nurse plant which is needed to provide shade and a moist environment for the first 25 years of life. The Saguaro grow arms, so to speak. But it generally takes 65 to 80 years for the first arms to appear. Woodpeckers drill holes in the Saguaro to stay cool. It's 30 degrees lower than the outside temperature. I learned all this stuff on a self-guided tour in McDowell Regional Park. My head was buried in a nifty little informational brochure. Didn't look where I was going. And I bumped into a Saguaro. Thank gawd, I wasn't hurt. Gotta look where I'm going. --Jim Broede

Saturday, March 10, 2012

A downright immoral situation.

The world needs more government. Not less government. Now that we are in the age of a global economy. Maybe we need a world government. To look out for the common good. Seems as if the private sector -- mainly business corporations -- are focused on the indivdiual good. On making a relatively few people rich. And that tends to widen the gap between the rich and the poor. Boils down to a moral issue. On whether it's more important to serve the common good. On what's best for society as a whole. Not what's best for a few select individuals. I have nothing against a society of some rich people and some relatively poor people. But not the current severe gap that we have now in America and the rest of the world. I don't want the masses of humanity exploited for the benefit of the rich. For instance, it seems grossly immoral to allow the American conglomerate Alcoa to reap annual profits of $21 billion at the same time that it pays workers wages of $6 per hour. That's obscene. The exploiting of the labor force. Yes, it's true that Alcoa is able to recruit immigrants to work for such low wages. But that doesn't make it right. I want a global government to be able to step in -- to establish rules of fairness. Because most businesses are unwilling to do the right thing on their own. Greed too often trumps the common good in a capitalist-oriented global economy. Unfortunately, business interests have gained the upperhand in the global economy. Big business has waged a successful campaign against government intervention. Business has long advocated a free econony. To allow private enterprise to thrive without hard and fast rules. Therefore, we need regulations. That should be the role of government. To serve the common good. To protect the interests of the common man and the common woman. Until that happens, we'll have an economy with an ever-widening gap between the rich and the poor. A situation that's downright immoral. --Jim Broede

Nice to be a citizen of the world.

While walking a trail in the Sonora Desert, thought I heard a couple speaking German. Took a while for me to swing into action. My curiosity finally got the better of me. 'Are you German?' I asked. Sure enough. From Koln/Cologne. Retired. And apparently well off. Because they purchased a condominium. In Arizona. And spend two months (winter) there. But they confess to being homesick. Looking forward to returning to Germany. They miss their grandchildren. He has a white goatee beard. They both speak good English. With nice German accents. We talked about Germany. And Sardinia. They've been to Sardinia. And they love the place. I consider it Paradise. They know that Sardinia is the home of my Italian true love. And that I recently returned to America after spending autumn/winter in Sardinia. They know, too, that my paternal grandfather was an illegal immigrant. From Germany. He sneaked into the U.S. around 1900. A godsend for me. Otherwise, I would not have been born. Anyway, the German couple made my day. Reminding me that I'm a citizen of the world. Some days, I feel like a German. Other days, like an Italian gentleman. And to think, I'm also an American. Yes, it's a nice feeling. To be a citizen of the world. --Jim Broede

Romney ain't a totally bad guy.

Mitt Romney. I like the guy in some distorted sense. Mainly because he contrasts with wild-eyed, insane conservative Republicans. He's far more conservative than I'd like. But he's less conservative than the rest of the GOP pack. He's funny. Inadvertently. Because he's trying to portary himself as just as conservative as the others. Hard to do. Because as governor of Massachusetts he sculptured a health care system very similar to so-called Obamacare. Romney is hated and despised by ultra-conservatives and the Tea Party yokels. Because of suspicions that he's really a closet liberal. He ain't. By any stretch of the imagination. But he doesn't pass the ultra-conservative litmus test. He's conservative, but not mind-boggling ultra conservative. To an ultra-conservative, Obama is a socialist, a communist, an atheist and the anti-Christ. They won't even acknowledge that Obama was born in the U.S. They think of him as a Muslim sympathizer, if not an outright Muslim. And what makes it even worse, the ultra-conservatives are livid because Obama is a black man living in the White House. A place built only for people of the white/Caucasian race. They call Obama a snob because he has a Harvard education. And because he wants everyone to have the opportunity for higher education. For ultra-conservatives, it's important that everybody remain a dunce. Uneducated. Because they tend to remain lifelong Republicans. Turns out that Romney has half a brain. And that scares ultra conservatives. And the fact that he's a Mormon. Not the usual kind of ultra conservative Christian. That perplexes the Republicans. They'd rather put their support behind the likes of Rick Santorum or Newt Gingrich or Ron Paul. Makes me think that Mitt Romney can't be a totally bad guy. --Jim Broede

Friday, March 9, 2012

Grateful for being a blessed lover.

Often, I think of my home as the world. Any place I'm at in the moment. Whether it be Sardinia or Minnesota or Arizona. But maybe my true home is wherever I feel most free. And that may not be Arizona. Where I am now. I sense that I am not at home. It's not my most comfortable place. I don't feel fully free. I feel out of place. Uncomfortable. I'd rather be in Sardinia. Or Minnesota. I'd rather be in easy and ready contact with my Italian true love. That's best accomplished in Sardinia. Where she lives. And where I spent much of autumn and winter. Minnesota ain't bad either. Because when I'm there, I have daily contact with my true love via Skype, an audio/video connection. But when in Arizona, we sometimes don't connect. I have to rely on other people's computers and technology. Maybe that can be fixed. By getting my own laptop computer or I-Pad. Very soon. Because I want to feel at home. No matter where I go. Won't be easy. I'd have to become a technical whiz. Which would take a miracle. I'm a natural born romantic idealist/lover. But I'll never be blessed with technical/mechanical talent. It's beyond me. But still, I am grateful. For being a blessed lover. --Jim Broede

A sign of a wise bird.

Amazing. The feeling. When one finds shade in the desert. It's comfortable. Especially today. Because there's a stiff wind. Refreshing. Almost feels like a sea breeze. Despite the dryness. There's a cooling effect. I'm seated in a picnic grounds. At the foot of a sagebrush-covered steep hill. That I'm gonna climb. Another picnic area nearby is fenced off. With a yellow tape. Like one finds at a crime scene. But this is to keep people away. To protect the nesting habitat of newly born great horned owls. I look around. I see no nests. Just as well. A sign that owls are wise birds. --Jim Broede

The wise and better choice.

I am watching a guy throw a frisbee to his dog. And the dog catches the frisbee. In mid-air. About half of the time. The dog is having a good time. So is the guy. So am I. I'm being entertained in the parking lot of a campgrounds in the McDowell Regional Park. Near Phoenix. In Arizona. I'm observing life. The way it should be observed. A little while ago, I was walking along the road outside the campgrounds. And a sheriff's department squad car whizzed by. With flashing lights. Later I saw the vehicle parked in the campgrounds. A crowd gathered. And I thought about mingling. And inquiring. What's it all about? But I decided not to. Setting aside my curiosity. Instead, I sat at a picnic table. And spotted the guy and his dog. I had made the wise and better choice. --Jim Broede

Thursday, March 8, 2012

In my open book.

I think of my life as an open book. No qualms about letting people see in. I venture into the world moreorless naked. I do relatively little to guard my privacy. I have no secrets. Or if I do, they aren't the kinds of secrets that would embarrass or shame me. Doesn't mean that I live a perfect life. Like everyone, I make my share of mistakes. Blunders. But I am generally open and above board. If someone asks me a question, I try to give an honest answer. Though I may choose to fool around for a while. Joke. Not take everything so seriously. Some people have difficulty determining when I'm serious, and when I'm joking. Eventually they find out. Because I tell 'em. Anyway, I like my approach to life. And to people. I try to get them to open up. To go naked, so to speak. Most of 'em don't wanna do that. Maybe they are too shy. Or maybe they have something to hide. Or they like their privacy. That's all right. But that doesn't stop me from being curious. I like to probe. To know more about people. Strangers. Aquaintances. Friends. Virtually any and every one. That's my nature. Maybe because I personally have nothing to hide. And even if I did, it should be exposed. Because I am for an open book. I make some people uneasy. Uncomfortable. Because I might write about them. Here in my blog. Because I write about my experiences. And most of the experiences are with people. People I like. And people I dislike. I speak my mind. And sometimes I rob people of their privacy. That ain't always good. But still, I try to be respectful. Especially of respectful people. But not everyone is respectful. And I might tell the world about them. In my open book. --Jim Broede

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

In a desert cathedral.

Deadwood. That's what caught my attention today on a long, long walk in the Sonora desert. Amazing. Where one finds beauty. In bare, withered deadwood. I couldn't resist. Taking digital pictures. Skeletal branches, silhouetted against the sky. As if ascending to blissful heaven. In death, they looked alive. In spirit form. And I was there. Communing. Seeing and feeling it all. A blessed moment. In a desert cathedral. --Jim Broede

My true love comes first.

I'm where I wanna be at the moment. In Arizona. Watching the Chicago Cubs play baseball. It's spring training. I like the feel of a baseball team getting ready for another season. Maybe a losing season once again. But hey, spring is a time of hope. And time to dream. Maybe the Cubs are in for a miracle season. Winning it all. For the first time since 1908. But it really doesn't matter. I'll settle for a team that wins as many games as it loses. And I'll dream of being a professioinal baseball player. Making a living by playing baseball. Wow! That's almost as good as having an Italian true love. Almost, that is. My precious true love comes first. So I'm happy. Just the way I am. In love. With life. With the Cubs. With my true love. --Jim Broede

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

I like the guy. Can't help myself.

Don't let it be said that I despise all Republicans. I have a favorite Republican. One that I respect. He's my son-in-law, Bob. He's a funny Republican. Makes me laugh. He would make a good court jester. Bob has a sense of humor. A saving grace for any Republican. Most Republicans grimace rather than smile. But Bob genuinely laughs. Granted, at me. Because I'm a socialist and communist sympathizer. I bring balance and intelligence to the family. I love to engage Bob in political talk. To determine where Bob went wrong. He's really gotta be a smart guy. After all, he married my daughter. So there's hope for Bob. Though I have to admit that my daughter has Republican leanings, too. But she's not as politically avid as Bob. I thought that maybe Bob would see the light after listening to the Republican aspirants for president. That he would write them all off. And maybe not go to the polls at all come November. But turns out that Bob thinks Obama is the worst president we've ever had. And that any Republican would be better. Of course, that scares me. The very thought that a Republican is a Republican is a Republican. But I look at it another way. Bob is Bob is Bob. And I like the guy. Can't help myself. --Jim Broede

I pursue my fondest dreams.

I've wanted for a long time to drive a pick-up truck. And now I'm finally getting the opportunity. Because that's what I'm renting on my 17-day stay in Arizona. A red pick-up truck that belongs to a young man. With a macho image. There's a skull and crossbones decal on the rear window in the cab. My daughter lined up the vehicle for me. If she had gone to the traditional car rental places, I'd be paying nearly $1,000. But the young man in a family she knows offered to rent his truck for $250. Too good of a deal to pass up. Cost me $100 to fill up the gas tank. But it'll still prove to be a bargain. Also, it'll enhance my image. Make me seem and feel younger. Now my only unfulfilled dream is to drive a Harley Davidson. And donning a black leather jacket. Without having shaved for two or three weeks. Give me time. I'll do it some day. Think my friend Rosie, who lives in Missouri, has a husband with a Harley. Maybe he'll give me a chance if I come and visit some day. Yes, I'm a man who pursues his fondest dreams. --Jim Broede

Monday, March 5, 2012

The real winners.

I was supposed to be watching the baseball game. A spring training exhibition game between the Chicago Cubs and Oakland Athletics. But it was a boring game. And I was more interested in the loving couple seated in front of me. He's as black as black can be. And she's as white as white can be. Which intrigues me. I like the color contrast. The racial mix. So nice. I wish there was more of it. Makes me feel good to see it. And I'd love to make contact with this couple. Interview them. To learn more about how they met. And what brought them together. In a loving way. And I'd like to know if other people they've encountered reacted the same way as me. Or if they were turned off by the racial mix thing. And reacted negatively. I wish we were all colorblind. Skin color shouldn't make any difference. But it often does. With so very many people. With racists. Anyway, I didn't make contact with the couple. Instead, I respected their privacy. That would have pleased my Italian true love. She's big on privacy. But I'm curious. I want to know a lot of meaningful stuff about people. I have an inquiring mind. This time I didn't intrude. The couple might have told me to mind my own business. But maybe not. Perhaps the couple would have been forthcoming. And satisfied my innate curiosity. Guess I'll never know. And I'll always have regrets. Because I didn't find out. All I know is that I like the couple. They made my day. The Cubs didn't. Because they lost the game, 8-7. But that couple. They're real winners. --Jim Broede

Sunday, March 4, 2012

Serving the common good.

I'm for a domestic corps. Sort of a peace corps that operates solely inside the USA. Not in foreign countries. The corps of volunteers, or perhaps even young citizens drafted, compelled to spend two years of their lives, serving the common good. Serving wherever they are needed. Maybe in hospitals and nursing homes, for instance. To care for Alzheimer patients. To relieve overburdened care-givers. And to upgrade the nation's other social services and infrastructure. Maybe by helping build or rebuild community centers and parks. Not military service. But domestic service. Peaceful service. To bolster the social service system. Welfare. Helping poor people. To lift themselves out of poverty. Some could be teachers. Or teacher assistants. In the classrooms. To reduce the size of classes. Or to offer better academic programs. The corps could draw upon people of all ages. Including senior citizens. Retired old farts like me. Paid a minimum wage. A very minimal wage. The basic idea is to serve the common good. To make for a better society. A better America. And the domestic corps could move into areas where natural disasters occur. Tornadoes. Or floods. Or earthquakes. To alleviate some of the suffering. And hardships. Imagine that. Giving service to the country. Everybody feeling obligated to give. Time and effort. Two years of their lives. Similar to the military draft. But non-military in nature. I'd be the first to volunteer. Send me to a nursing home. To care for Alzheimer patients. I'm good at it. Experienced. Knowledgeable. Enthusiastic. Another thing. The domestic corps could recruit the unemployed. Giving them jobs. Useful work. Yes, for nominal wages. But imagine the rewards. The joy of serving the common good. --Jim Broede

Friday, March 2, 2012

A solitary thing.

Seems to me that Jesus made a good choice. Never to return to Earth. Oh, some will say he's here in spirit. But that ain't true. Jesus knows better. He's off in some distant place. In Heaven. Nirvana. Valhalla. Paradise. He didn't find what he was looking for here on Mother Earth. And so he had the good sense to look elsewhere. In another dimension. Preferring to live with the holy spirits. My guess is that he welcomed death. Because it was the only way to escape. He had an abiding faith. That there was life beyond life. Beyond the physical. Jesus worked for change here on Earth. When he was still naive. But he awakened. Knew it would never come. Because the change has to come from within. In the individual human spirit, within the soul. And that cannot be dictated to others by anyone. But the self. Not even by preacher or philosopher Jesus. It's gotta be an individual decision. Not en masse. Not in a church. Not as a group. Yes, a solitary thing. --Jim Broede

Sad, isn't it?

Seems to me that most politicians don't love life. They hate it. As an example, look at the aspirants for president on the Republican ticket. Instead of savoring life, they are running for president. They seek power. Prestige. Celebrity. Adulation. They wanna dictate the way the rest of us live. They are pious. Sanctimonious. And they are natural born liars. They lie to us. And even lie to themselves. They spew bull shit. And some of 'em are angry people. Close-minded. Intolerant. Egocentric. Know-it-alls. Most of 'em are atheists. Deep down. They don't have any real spiritual roots. They merely pretend. That they are believers. When really, they aren't. The real believers, it seems to me, often live solitary and quiet lives. Because they know it's useless to try to change the world. Instead, they work on changing themselves. They cultivate a holy spirit. From within. I hear and see nothing of that from our politicains. Sad, isn't it? --Jim Broede

Thursday, March 1, 2012

I wanna talk to Methuselah.

I'd like to interview Methuselah. That is, if there ever was such a guy. Maybe he was merely mythical. He was supposed to have lived for 969 years. Wow! Hard to imagine. That's why I'd like to talk to him. And inquire if he ever got tired of living. Bored with life. And did he eat a low-fat diet? And did he ever get sick? And what about exercise. I'd think that after a century or two, he must have been in pain. With arthritis. Hard for me to imagine what he looked like. I'd like to see photos of him on his 100th and 200th birthdays. And how did he avoid getting Alzheimer's? He must have had good genes. Maybe when Methuselah lived, there were very few people on Earth. And not much, if any, disease. And a better living environment. Oh, so many questions. I wonder if Methuselah ever had a faint idea of what life would be like in the 21st centruy AD. Meanwhile, I try to imagine what life was like when Methuselah lived. Maybe I'll pretend to know Methuselah. I'll ask him. --Jim Broede

I'll try to live. To the fullest.

Growing old isn't as bad as I once thought it would be. Thing is, I haven't got a choice. As long as I want to live. It's better than dying young or in middle age. Reaching 76 has made me more appreciative of life. I'm grateful. That I'm alive and healthy and in love. And able to live abroad half of the year. With my Italian true love. I'm fortunate. In that I've lived long enough to retire. Not everybody gets that opportunity. And I'm making the most of it. By not getting too far ahead of myself. By living one day at a time. Savoring every day. Another thing. I've learned to be me. I know who I am. And I like me. I also like a chosen few people around me. Friends. Acquaintances. But especially my true love. I have a yearning to live forever. But knowing it won't happen. And I may ultimately not want to live any more. If I become ill and incapacitated. I'll deal with that when the time comes. Meanwhile, I'll try to live. To the fullest. --Jim Broede