Saturday, June 30, 2012

Motivated by love.

I've been listening to wild-eyed, raving maniac members of the Tea Party. They're pissed. Royally pissed. Because the Supreme Court ruled in favor of Obamacare. They pledge to fight this fall to defeat Obama and the Democrats. And they will fight. No doubt about it. Because they are motivated by hate. And they are passionate about defeating anything that sounds like socialized/universal health care and big government. They see it as unAmerican. A denial of freedom of choice. Maybe even a communist conspiracy. Yes, indeed, these Tea Party maniacs are radical. About politics. Maybe I'm radical, too. But in another direction. I'm a liberal. A socialist. A communist sympathizer. But I stop short of raving. I have higher priorities in life than to become stark raving mad over political issues. I have a different focus, a different aim/goal. Such as falling in love. With life. And with my Italian true love. I am a romantic idealist, a spiritual free-thinker, a lover, a dreamer. If political, economic and social matters don't go my way, I take it all philosophically. And get on with the rest of my life. Motivated by love. --Jim Broede

Gotta wonder.

We've come to know it as Obamacare. When really, the official title is the Affordable Care Act. But it became 'Obamacare' because that's initially what the opponents named it. Called it. Meaning it in a derogatory manner. As if Obama himself crafted the health care legislation. But it was really Congress. The Democrats in Congress. Because Republicans were virtually 100 percent against it. Because they're against Obama, period. Anything he does. Even if Obama proposes the very same policies that Republicans initially espoused. Often, the opposition is racist. They don't like Obama merely because he's black. Annoys them that a black man occupies the White House. That's why it's called the 'White' House. It's supposed to be reserved for white people. For white presidents. The most conservative Republicans were against Obama from the first day he got elected. They vowed to make him a one-term president. No matter what. They would oppose him at every step, every turn. They're racists. Bigots. Hateful people. Many of 'em grew up in racist families. Mothers, fathers grandparents -- all racists. After the Civil War, they were for the Jim Crow laws. That essentially denied blacks their civil rights. In the 1960s, they opposed civil rights legislation. They resisted equality for blacks. For minorities. Still do. But now in slightly more subtle ways. They'll deny it. When confronted. But still, deep down in their beings, they are racists. Yes, it's sad. But we'll always have racists with us. It's the way of America. The racists think that America was meant to be a white nation. And the irony of it all, many of these same racists proclaim to be Christians. My gawd! Gotta wonder what gawd thinks of it all. --Jim Broede

Too much BS.

I'm living in a preposterous surreal world. So are you. We all are living in a world in which we are inundated with information. Unfortunately, misinformation. Propaganda. Outright lies. It's become difficult, if not impossible, to differentiate fact from fiction. Because the news we are getting constantly changes. Totally different from one minute to the next. For instance, when I tuned in CNN and Fox News the other morning, I was told that the Supreme Court had ruled Obamacare to be unconstitutional. That the court had dealt Obama a bitter defeat. That his legacy was in a shambles. But five minutes later, the networks declared that there was some confusion. In other words, that they had got it wrong. Turns out, the Supreme Court had really decided that Obamacare was constitutional, after all. And that Obama had won. Get it, folks. We are living in an age in which we are deluged with information. So much that it's become almost impossible to separate fact from fiction. We have TV networks and other news outlets formed purposely to feed us misinformation. To make us confused. To make us throw up our hands in despair. We have too much information. Wrong information. Little wonder that opinion polls change from day to day. Even from hour to hour. Depends on what crap/bullshit/lies/sound bites we are being force-fed at the moment. We have a candidate running for president vehemently opposed to Obamacare. Even though a few years ago he guided through Romneycare in Massachusetts. Yes, essentially the same/identical health care program now referred to as Obamacare. But now Romney is bad-mouthing what he once supported. Because he's being pressured by his Republican conservative base. With misinformation. Boundless lies. Surreal stuff. And the polls show that it's gonna be a close election. Romney has a chance of winning. Because we are living in a preposterous surreal world. It's only a matter of time. Before we learn whether the electorate has been dumbed down by an avalanche of information. Too much information. Too many lies. Too much bull shit. --Jim Broede

Friday, June 29, 2012

Rock solid friendships.

Lately, I've been focused on the nature of friendship. Thinking a lot about it. Years ago, I thought maybe that I had only two or three friends in my entire life. But I've revised my thinking. Maybe I have a fair number of friends. Maybe in the double digets. Because there are varying degrees of friendship. My dearest and best friends are amazingly tolerant people. They tolerate me. Even my bad traits. They are remarkably forgiving. And they talk to me about any and everything. No subject is taboo. That's the way I treat my best friends, too. It's a reciprocal thing. I'm very tolerant. Very forgiving. I believe in unconditional friendship. Much as I believe in unconditional love. Though I admit that maybe I've never been put to the ultimate test. Whatever that might be. Occasionally, I lose a very close friend. Not from death. But by a gradual deteriorating of the friendship. We might remain as casual friends. But not so close any more. That's not necessarily reason to lament. It just happens. And one might as well learn to accept it. On the other hand, a longtime casual friendship may suddenly become very close and endearing. Yes, friendships can fluctuate. But my best friends always seem to remain as best friends. They are rock solid friendships. Never wavering. --Jim Broede

Life is an attitudinal thing.

I'm in favor of human decency. And that prompts me to put the good of society ahead of selfish individual good. Yes, there's something good to be said for the common good. That's why I tend to lean toward socialism. Rather than toward unfettered capitalism. But I know full well that when it comes to politics, I will seldom get my way. Because I live in a society and a country that tends to worship individual freedom more than anything. Even if that means allowing individuals to exploit each other. That allows the monetarily rich to get richer and the poor to get poorer. Doesn't seem right to me. Seems sort of indecent. I'd rather see a steady narrowing of the gap between the rich and the poor. For the sake of human decency. In my younger days, when growing up, seemed like I'd be able change the world. To alter political conditions and outcomes. So naive. So I've decided to settle for less. Which turns out to be more. Because I have different priorities. More magnificent. I've settled for being a romantic idealist, a spiritual free-thinker, a lover and a dreamer. Pursuits over which I have some semblance of control. Because life is an attitudinal thing. --Jim Broede

Thursday, June 28, 2012

My spirit ain't Republican.

I've noticed something about the Republican Party. Republicans cater almost exclusively to white people. Rarely do I come across a dark-skinned Republican. Republicans have shunned racial minorities. Blacks. Hispanics. Asians. You name 'em. Republicans roll out the red carpet for white people. White rednecks. White bigots. White rich people. I acknowledge that occasionally a person of color becomes a Republican. But they are the rare exceptions. Many of 'em have learned to act like white people. Happy to become tokens. People that Republicans praise for seeing the light. The white light. Fortunately, Republicans may soon be in for a rude awakening. In that white people are fast becoming the minority in America. I like that trend. Yes, despite the fact that I'm white. But believe me, at the core of my being, deep inside my soul, I feel more black than white. I don't know if a spirit has a color. But I know one thing for sure, my spirit ain't Republican. --Jim Broede

Smiling all the way.

I'm smiling today. Because the U.S. Supreme Court ruled by a 5-4 vote that Obamacare is constitutional. Republicans are wringing their hands. Liberals are rejoicing. I'm smiling. And I have a renewed respect for Chief Justice John Roberts. He's generally and mostly perceived as a conservative. But this time, he sided with the court's four perceived liberals. Of course, I'm biased. I'm a political liberal. A socialist sympathizer. And I'd vote for a communist before I'd cast my lot for a conservative Republican. I'm also for socialized medicine. For universal health care. Ultimately, I'd like to see Medicare for everyone. Yes, a single-payer health care system. So-called Obamacare is a step in the right direction. There's still a long way to go. Before America gets a health care system that serves the common good rather than filling the coffers of greedy private insurance companies. I'm going for a long walk and a long bicycle ride today. Feeling good. Smiling, smiling, smiling all the way. --Jim Broede

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

The matter of friendly mistakes.

I poke fun at certain friends. The ones with attitudinal problems. Poking fun. That's better than chastising 'em. I try to get 'em to laugh. Yes, to see themselves in funny ways. Of course, those with bad attitudes may not appreciate humor. But hey, they gotta learn. If one plods through life without a sense of humor, there's gonna be far too many bad times. I have friends that take themselves too seriously. We all do it. At least occasionally. But virtually every day? That ain't good. It's easy identifying my best friends. We put each other at ease. We come close to unconditional acceptance. Maybe I have only one best friend. My Italian true love. She's in a category all her own. Exceptional. Extraordinary. Exquisite. For a while, I thought maybe I had only one friend. That everybody else was an acquaintance. But that's not true. I have multiple friends. Everything from close friends to casual friends. I'm more dedicated to some of my friends than they are (dedicated/committed) to me. Which is all right. I don't put demands on my friends. Though it may sound like I do. By being critical. Which really is only honesty. If I'm dishonest with a 'friend,' maybe he/she really ain't a friend. Thing with me. I'm in a state of flux. I'm continually evolving. Changing. I'm not static. That goes for most of my friends. Guess it's that I'm attracted to people with open minds. Always seeking to learn. To become enlightened. And another thing. My good friends ain't afraid to make mistakes. That's how they learn. They also allow me to make mistakes. --Jim Broede

Perfect ending to a perfect day.

Rarely do I get up before sunrise to go out for my daily exercise regimen. But today was different. Ventured out before 5 in the morning. When the first glimmer of light was in the eastern sky. Walked 5 miles. And then hopped on my bicycle for a 12-mile jaunt. And I listened to classical music. On my portable earphone radio. To Wagner's 'Dawn' and 'Siegfried's Rhine Journey.' Wow! What a way to welcome the sunrise and another wonderful day. In Valhalla. Wanted to beat the heat. Minnesota is under a heat advisory. Supposed to be flirting with 100 degrees. And high humidity. I'll make the best of it. In my role as an extremist. I like extremes. Of weather. Of almost everything. So nice to test the limits. To savor it all. The extremes. And everything inbetween. Next up. The sunset. A perfect ending to a perfect day. --Jim Broede

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Before it's too late.

I know a woman going crazy. She used to be a close friend. More distant now. Because she's sort of pissed. At me. For writing about her. Like I'm doing now. I keep her anonymous. But when she reads this, she'll know it's her. And that will make her more pissed. Because she thinks I'm invading her privacy. But I really ain't. Because this could apply to all sorts of people that I know. She's a nervous wreck. In withdrawals. Because at the moment she's trying to quit smoking. After almost an entire lifetime of addiction. I've tried to get her to quit. Even chastised her about the smoking habit. And how destructive it is. And that I'd never want to live with her. Because she smokes. I abhor secondhand smoke. Anyway, she does other things to hurt herself. In a sense, she's committing suicide. Slowly. Bit by bit. By being less than kind to herself. Downright mean at times. She puts limits on our friendship. Refuses to write to me about the significant and meaningful aspects of life. Refuses to confide. Because I tend to tell her what she doesn't wanna hear. The truth. But still, I think she's nice. A decent human being. I wish she'd fall in love. With life. She disdains so much of life. When she doesn't have to. Of course, that's just my opinion. Maybe she's got diseases that I don't understand. Addictions. Compulsions. An inclination to depression. Chronic unhappiness. And maybe I should show more empathy. I've tried. In many different ways. With varying degrees of success and failure. Mostly, she needs to talk. And maybe I need to do more listening. And less talking. Anyway, I'm a little bit encouraged. Because I heard she's taken to an electric cigarette. In a genuine effort to quit smoking. Maybe that's a sign that she wants to live. And to savor life. Before it's too late. --Jim Broede

Monday, June 25, 2012

Of being whatever I wanna be.

I don't write poetry. Or short stories. Or novels. But it feels as if I'm living a storybook existence. Full of glamour and adventure and romance. That's the way I see life. Perceive life. Grasp life. I find my own meanings. In that sense, I'm creating a story. Of my life. I'm my own poem, my own short story, my own novel. No need for me to imagine it all. Far better to make it all real. By genuinely living life. I am what I am. That gives me a sense of accomplishment. Because I keep defining myself. My character. As romantic idealist. As writer. As thinker. Searching for clues as to why I'm on Mother Earth. I reach tentative conclusions. Valid for the moment. Knowing full well that I'll turn another page tomorrow, and the day after that. For an entire lifetime. Wow! I'm living happily. In a continuous unfolding story. Of being whatever I wanna be. --Jim Broede

Extraordinary and magnificent.

Long, long ago one didn't know much about what was happening in the rest of the world. And that may have been a good thing. One was isolated. Living in one locale. Pretty much all one's life. Never venturing very far. Wasn't unusual to hardly travel at all. One's world was very small. I could have made the best of it. Now maybe I know too much. About world events and calamities. Over which I have no, or very little control. But still, knowledge can be bothersome. If one lets it be. But back centuries ago, I'd not know or maybe even care about the happenings elsewhere. Because my world would have been small and isolated. More so than now. But even today, I suspect my world is very, very small and very, very isolated. So much that I don't know. About what lies beyond Mother Earth. Far, far into the cosmos. Into other dimensions. Such as the spirit world. But still, I have a sense of it. Something extraordinary and magnificent. --Jim Broede

Sunday, June 24, 2012

Living my dream.

I recommend becoming a romantic idealist. Which essentially means making one's dreams come true. In truly believing in something. In a romantic way. Beyond any doubt. That's how one learns to walk on water. Literally. If one has an iota of doubt, forget it. The goal won't be accomplished. One has to fully believe in the impossible. That's a lovely thought, isn't it? To believe in the impossible. The fact that I'm an alive and conscious being capable of falling in love -- that's gotta be impossible. But here I am. Because I believe. I am. Otherwise, I wouldn't be. I exist. What can be more miraculous than that? My existence is even more miraculous than a feat such as walking on water. And not only do I exist, but I am in love. I have a true love. An Italian. And she lives in Paradise. And that's where I go for half of the year. To Paradise. To reside with my true love. To live my dream. And that makes me a romantic idealist. --Jim Broede

On being a virtuous Cubs fan.

Maybe I'm a virtuous masochist. Because I enjoy watching my Chicago Cubs lose baseball games. It's the most inept Cubs team I've seen in my lifetime. And believe me, I've seen many inept Cubs teams. But we Cubs fans are lucky in one sense. We escape the presssure of losing heartbreaking games in the midst of a pennant race. The Cubs are so far out that there's no race. Therefore, there's no heartbreak factor when the Cubs lose. Just chalk it up as another routine loss. On the way to breaking a record for the most Cubs losses in a single season. Apparently, the decision has been made to gut the Cubs. To more or less start from scratch. To rebuild the franchise. From the bottom up. To get rid of veteran players. And the failures. Which means virtually everybody. And to start all over. With young ballplayers with lots of potential. And then to wait patiently for the players to develop. To emerge into stars. It's been a long wait since the last winning World Series for the Cubs. Yes, 104 years, and counting and counting and counting. If patience is a virtue, Cubs fans are virtuous. Makes me proud to be a Cubs fan. --Jim Broede

Saturday, June 23, 2012

Better than the real world.

If someone refuses to be my friend, it's their loss. Not mine. That's the way I look at it. Makes me less than humble. I'm really a very friendly guy. Worth knowing. Worth having as a friend. But I don't change my ways. For the sake of friendship. I try to be honest. But that doesn't necessarily mean that I'm honest. Because I don't always know the truth. And even if I did, maybe I wouldn't tell it. Because some people can't stand the truth. It'd drive them crazy. Berserk. Could be that I'm the crazy one. Because once upon a time I grasped the truth, and couldn't handle it. So I live in a fantasy world. Which ain't all that bad. Maybe it's even better than the real world. --Jim Broede

The ultimate pleasure.

I like to dabble. To try this and that. To feel my way through life. I know how to explore. Worthwhile pursuits. Such as falling in love. People tell me that can be very risky. That one can be hurt. But I've had two true loves. One died. And it hurt for a while. But, oh, the benefits. In some ways, love lasts forever. Makes me more whole. Turns me on. Having a true love makes a difference. Gives purpose and meaning to life. And pleasure. I suppose there's such a thing as infatuation. With things mistaken for love. For instance, one can be drawn to money or power or politics. I differentiate. That's not love. Brings a form of pleasure. But it's more diversion. Not the ultimate pleasure. True love. --Jim Broede

On Joe, and a blessed mother.

I should know better than to underestimate by friend Joe. He's only 15. And I thought maybe he'd have a difficult time adjusting to the break-up of his parents. But the thing is, Joe is up to difficult tasks. For a teen-ager, he's got smarts. A reasonable amount of maturity. I find it easy to talk to Joe. To cultivate a dialogue. We call each other by our first names. For a while, Joe was the only teen-ager in the neighborhood that I knew by name. I know more now. Dalton. Carter. Connor. In the case of Joe, I'm not afraid to butt into his family and personal life. To make a bit more than small talk. To treat him more or less as an adult. Meanwhile, I find myself treating some adults as children. Seems kind of funny. But that's a fact of life. Some adults never grow up. And some children become adults at an early age. Don't know if that's good or bad. It just is. One of these days I'm gonna try to have a nice enlightening conversation with Joe's mother. To tell her that she's got an extraordinary son. I wonder if she knows it. She's really blessed. Yes, despite the break up of her marriage. --Jim Broede

On living happily ever after.

I don't feel sorry for Curt Schilling. For losing the $50 million he made as a major league baseball pitcher. He invested all of his money in a video game business. In an effort to expand his fortune. And ended up losing all of it. Thing is, Schilling wasn't satisfied with a mere $50 million. On which he could have easily lived. He wanted more and more and more. Which is the American capitalist way. Some rich people are never rich enough. They have an insatiable appetite for limitless amounts of money. But who knows? Maybe Schilling will discover that life is better with only a few bucks in his pocket. He may learn to focus on other kinds of riches. And live happily ever after. --Jim Broede

Friday, June 22, 2012

A matter of walking on water.

I have friends that tell me they'll never master the art of unconditional friendship. Or unconditional love, for that matter. Maybe it's all one and the same. Friendship and love. I suspect the 'unconditional' aspect of almost anything may be impossible. And that most, if not all of us, will never know. Because we aren't ever put to the ultimate test. Thank gawd. To the best of my knowledge, I've been put to tests. But never an ultimate test. I discovered that I was able to love my dear sweet wife Jeanne even when she had Alzheimer's. I never dreamed I could do it. But I found that I had more love buried deep in me than I ever imagined. Still, Alzheimer's isn't an ultimate test. It's a test. But it falls short of ultimate. I believe in love. Avidly. Ardently. Passionately. But unconditional love? Only gawd knows. Maybe it's only gawd that is capable of such a feat. And even then, there's some doubt that gawd can achieve the unconditional. In organized religions, gawd always seems to be establishing conditions. For just about everything. Maybe that's why I steer clear of organized religions. Their gawds are far too limiting. Some of 'em are even vengeful gawds. Which seems to be a far cry from unconditional love/friendship. Anyway, I am bemused by 'friends' that tell me they are gonna put 'conditions' on friendship. As for me, I try to make a friendship unconditional. Because I wanna believe in the impossible. Seems to me that's a part of being a romantic idealist. It's a matter of walking on water. --Jim Broede

Thursday, June 21, 2012

How I became a romantic idealist.

I'm a romantic idealist. Which means I believe in love. That love is the motivating force of life. My life. Not sure that I always believed in love. Instead, I came by it. Maybe in the last 20 years. I merely let love take over my life. Fully believing that I'm destined to find true love. I found love with my dear wife Jeanne. Until she died five years ago. From Alzheimer's. For a brief period, I thought that was it. No more true love for me. But true love entered my life again. As if it was fated. Brought about by loving spirits. And I just let it happen. I went with the flow. One day at a time. Knowing that it was destiny. Supposed to be. Earlier in life, when I was much younger, I'm sure there were many other opportunities for me to find true love. But I was blind to love. I had not yet understood the concept of love. I wasn't ready for it. Could be that I've been blessed. By two love goddesses. Women that came down to Mother Earth from another dimension. From Paradise. They reached me. Touched me. Blessed me. And I was no longer able to resist the allure of love. I became a romantic idealist. --Jim Broede

How to annoy my stupid friends.

I'm able to accept stupid friends. But some friends ultimately can't accept me. Because I'm stupid. They insist that I not be stupid. But the thing is, I can't help myself. I'm naturally stupid. It's part of my genes. My physical and mental make-up. Stupid is stupid is stupid. And I accept being stupid. But some friends can't accept stupidity. Not only in me. But in themselves. They actually pretend that they aren't stupid. When really, they are just as stupid as me, if not even more stupid. They don't like the fact that I'm brash enough to point to their stupidity. Publicly. Right here in my blog. Even when I don't identify them by name, they still take offense. That I would call them stupid. Friends aren't supposed to do that, they tell me. But I gotta be honest with my friends. Some of 'em are downright stupid. And they'll always be that way. But that's not reason enough to write 'em off as friends. I've grown to like some stupid people. Enough to call them friends. I don't write them off. Even if they write me off. I accept them unconditionally. Even if they are 10 times more stupid than me. Makes me wonder if that makes me smart stupid. Certainly it makes me tolerant stupid. Or open-minded stupid. Possibly, I'm good stupid. And my friends are bad stupid. I suppose that will annoy some of my stupid friends. --Jim Broede

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Non-fiction as imaginative novel.

I have judgmental friends. They judge the people around 'em. Including me. Their judgments are not always favorable. They wish I didn't do some of the things that I do. Such as talk and write about them. Here in my blog. Oh, I don't refer to them by name. And don't even necessarily identify them as friends. But they often recognize themselves. And they may think that infringes on their privacy. But I like to write truth. Because it's more interesting and more preposterous and more entertaining than fiction. Yes, I've learned that truth sounds like fiction and fiction sounds like truth. Rather odd, isn't it? I could write a non-fiction book and pass it off as imaginative novel. --Jim Broede

Living in the right place.

Tonight, while riding my bicycle, I whizzed past a deer. Came within five feet. Close enough to almost be able to reach over and touch the doe. The action came so fast that maybe both of us were surprised. I looked back. Said hello. And waved. The deer had come out of a woods. Standing next to the road. It was my third sighting of a deer this past week. Gives me a sense that I'm living in the right place. --Jim Broede

We'll always be together.

It's been 10 years since I last had a dog. Her name was Dottie. A cross between a blacklab and a German shorthair. She looked like a shorthair. Dottie lived for 17 years. Considered very old for a dog her size. And the veterinarian credited her longevity to exercise. Dottie worked out daily. With me. If I ran or walked 10 miles, Dottie tagged along. Almost right up to the end of her life. When arthritis set in. Today, when biking 30 miles, I found myself speaking out loud. ' Come, Dottie.' Yes, I still talk to Dottie. Frequently. Especially when I'm exercising. I feel the presence of Dottie's spirit. The spirit is so very real. I don't give it a second thought any more. Dottie is with me. Always. So I was wrong when I started writing this piece. I momentarily thought that Dottie was dead. Maybe so, physically. But she still lives. And I was wrong when I said her name was Dottie. In the past tense. I meant to say her name is Dottie. In the present tense. Guess that makes Dottie about 27. And I suspect we'll both live into eternity. Together. Come to think of it. All of my loved ones are still alive. We'll always be together. --Jim Broede

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

So the friendship wanes.

I don't let my friends off easily. In that I psychoanalyze them. Rightly or wrongly. Because I wanna understand them. Of course, that involves some risk. I may end up misunderstanding. And that could jeopardize the friendship. But I'm willing to take that chance. I'm often trying to ascertain what makes my friends tick. And that if they are unhappy or disconsolate, what it is that bugs them. Sometimes, it's me. I have a knack at alienating people. Including some friends. Because I take a friendship seriously. Turns out that I don't break friendships. Instead, it's the other way around. My friends break it off. Because they reach the point of having had enough of me. I'm able to accept friends unconditionally. But some of 'em can't do the same with me. They wanna make the friendship conditional. Hard for me to buy into that. So the friendship wanes. --Jim Broede

Time to throw off the shackles.

I'm getting to know the teen-agers in my neighborhood. Used to ignore them. Focused instead on adults. On their parents. Which was kinda stupid. Teen-agers are worth knowing. They are more impressionable than their parents. Parents are sort of fixed in their ways. But teen-agers are still creating themselves. Hopefully as independent human beings. And as mavericks. And rebels. Some of 'em may even have the idea that they can make a difference. And have a real significant impact on the world. That may be naive. But still, it readies them for adventure. For risks. For taking chances. For learning something about themselves. And hey, teen-agers constitute our future. They'll be leaders some day. Replacing old foggies. Many of whom have been around for far too long. Dragging down the world. Politically. Economically. Socially. They have created bad times. Maybe even the worst of times. I suspect that the new and emerging generations can do a much better job of it. They'll throw off the shackles of immoral, greedy capitalism. And work for the common good. I'm gonna try to sell them on the merits of pursuing lives as romantic idealists, spiritual free-thinkers, political liberals, lovers and dreamers. Sure beats being carbon copies of their sometimes dull and robotic and lifeless parents. --Jim Broede

Monday, June 18, 2012

Wish me luck.

Maybe I should mind my own business. But I don't always do that. Or another way of putting it, I make it my business. For instance, in my neighborhood, there's something going on. That some neighbors gossip about. In hushed-hushed tones. About a family situation. I suggest that the family needs help. That the matter should be addressed. Directly. In helpful ways. And that I'm gonna talk directly to the principals involved. No, no, don't do that, I'm cautioned. In other words, leave the situation fester. Mind my/our own business. But that's not my way. I'm waiting for just the right opportunity to get involved. In a positive, constructive way. Wish me luck. --Jim Broede

My true love loves soccer.

My Italian true love is multi-dimensional. Which adds to her attractiveness. Among other things, she's bilingual, very intelligent, and beautiful. And she's a soccer fan. Knows something about the European game of football. What we Americans call soccer. Today she's watching a soccer match between the national teams of Italy and Ireland. At latest report, Italy was winning, 1-0. My true love was riveted to the screen. On the Internet. She'd normally watch on cable. But her cable went kaput. Instead of panicking, she retreated to her computer. And voila! There's the game. In living color. Of course, this was a break (good fortune) for me. Because I noticed that she was online. So I dialed up Skype, our audio-video connection. And watched as she became enraptured in the game. Allowed me to become enraptured in my true love. Yes, watching her watch the game. Everytime I'm connected to my true love, it's a vision of loveliness. Today, I got a bonus vision. I'm so very thankful. That my true love is an avid soccer fan. --Jim Broede

Dalton, a teen-ager on a mission.

I'm watching with interest, a 16-year-old kid in my neighborhood. His name is Dalton. He's 6-foot-5. And still growing. Won't be surprised if some day he's 6-foot-9. Dalton is making the most of his size. And his talent. He loves to play basketball. Practices every day. On improvised hoops and backboards in the neighborhood. On the street. In the yards. But he also plays in gymnasiums. In a summer league. Used to be enrolled at Forest Lake High School. He lives in Forest Lake. But last year, as a sophomore, Dalton transferred to White Bear Lake High School. Fifteen miles away. Because White Bear Lake has a better basketball program. And next fall, Dalton expects to be on the varsity team. When he'll be a junior. Won't surprise me if Dalton becomes a star player. Believe me, he's got ample talent. And he's fine-tuning it. With practice, practice and more practice. He's dedicated. To basketball. And to bettering himself. He's also pursuing a dream. Wants to play basketball some day for a major college team. I'll keep tabs on his career. Some teen-agers know exactly what they want. And they go at it early. As if they are on a mission. That's Dalton all right. --Jim Broede

My father was a good teacher.

Life ain't fair. I hear that complaint all the time. But from my perspective, things have a way of evening out. Eventually. Because good often springs from the bad. It's like when my dad committed suicide. A long time ago. Maybe the suicide initially seemed like a bad event in our family. But over the long-term, it was good. Made for a happier family life. And my mom went on to another marriage. Which resulted in the 34 happiest years of her life. If she had continued to live with my dad, she probably would have been unhappy. Because it was a marriage of convenience. Not based on love. The suicide also taught me to better cope with life. To make the best of bad situations. And to better appreciate being an alive and conscious being. Unlike my dad, I learned how to pursue happiness and true love. In that sense, my father was a good teacher. He nudged me in a good direction. With his suicide. Without knowing it. --Jim Broede

Sunday, June 17, 2012

On being truly alive.

Occasionally, I lose a friend. Most likely in a gradual manner. We drift apart. Maybe because I tend to put friends to a test, of sorts. By psychoanalyzing 'em. Maybe right here in my blog. Oh, I hide their identity. No names. But they see themselves. In what I write. I could easily write a novel. In which I create characters based on my family members. Or friends. And acquaintances. The thing is I find real life far more interesting than fiction. More preposterous. More unbelievable. More gratifying. Maybe that's why I'm in love with life. It's fascinating. I feel like I'm living in a novel. But it ain't fiction. It's real. Makes me wonder if there's a clear-cut separation betwen fact and fiction. Maybe not. I'm a romantic idealist. Among other things. But mostly, I allow myself to be. Exactly what I am. I really live as a romantic idealist. I've cultivated a real true love. A wonderful Italian. In Sardinia. And we've taken to living with each other. Physically together. Much of the year. We're in daily contact. We thrive. On each other. It's a wonderful love story. We're living it. At this very moment. Every day. Every night. I couldn't make it up. I call myself a dreamer. And a lover. And a spiritual free-thinker. And a political liberal. Yes, I'm all of these. I'm living. As me. So is my true love. I can't ask for more than that. Being truly alive. By letting things happen. Naturally. Thing is. Even if I lose a friend, I've gained a love. --Jim Broede

Saturday, June 16, 2012

Too much mean-spirited stuff.

Seems to me that the USA was founded on a mean-spirited premise. By mean-spirited politicians. Think about it. The fact that many of 'em were slave owners. Including George Washington and Thomas Jefferson. Yes, our founders thought that slavery was all right. Imagine that. I'd not call that the best moral foundation for America. Instead, it was immoral as immoral could be. Our founders even declared that the slaves were only three-fifths human. Demeaning and mean-spirited, isn't it? Our pious founders also claimed that all men were created equal. But they didn't believe it. Never practiced what they proclaimed. Another thing, they didn't consider women as equals to men. Many modern-day mean-spirited American male politicians still treat women as inferior. In keeping with the tradition established by mean-spirited founders. Won't deny that our founders did some mighty good things. But still, they perpetrated far too much mean-spirited stuff. --Jim Broede

On coping with the mean-spirited.

I differentiate between mean-spirited and kind-hearted people. I know both kinds. And generally, I try to avoid the mean-spirited. But sometimes, that's almost impossible. Might be a relative, or a neighbor. Someone I am more or less forced to deal with. When I was still employed, I worked with and for some mean-spirited people. Fortunately, they were few and far between. Thing is, not all of the mean-spirited are consciously aware that they are mean-spirited. Maybe because they've always been that way. Seems so natural. Sometimes, I suspect the mean-spirited can't help themselves. They are in a mean-spirited rut or routine. And can't find their way out. It's far too difficult. Others are mean-spirited only with certain people. For instance, I know racists that are mean to blacks and other minorities. But with their own family members, they are kind-hearted. Actually, very decent. As for me, I try to be kind-hearted. And to give people the benefit of the doubt. But I can get mean-spirited, too. Especially when I'm dealing with the mean-spirited. I'm capable of dishing it back. Not sure that's the right thing to do. Better to just steer clear of 'em. I could tell many stories about my encounters with the mean-spirited. I do that occasionally in my blog. Yes, I like to expose the antics of the mean-spirited. To shame them. But often, I decide not to. Because that would be mean-spirited. --Jim Broede

I'm gonna try.

If I were a smart fella, I'd ignore politics. Just get on with life. Knowing full well that I have no influence over the outcome of elections. Or what happens in the seats of political power. I'm merely an individual without a meaningful say. All I can do is watch. And let political events unfold. Oh, I'm told by political pundits that I have a say. That I can go to the polls. And vote. But I have yet to participate in an election in which my vote made a difference. I could just as well have stayed home. Wouldn't have mattered. One way or another. I have as much influence on politics as I have on the weather. It's raining at the moment. The sun ain't shining. And I'm choosing to make the best of it. I hardly ever complain about the weather. But when it comes to politics, I complain. Right here in my blog. And in casual conversations with my friends and acquaintances and strangers. With virtually everyone. Maybe because I see politics as stupid. And a curse, too. I tell myself that the game of politics doesn't have to be mean-spirited. But 90 percent of the time, it is. That's the nature of politics. Stupid and mean-spirited. Partisan as partisan can be. And often, it ends up in hateful fights. Even war. Killing. Death and destruction. Because politicians can't seem to work out their differences in any other way. It's a dirty, rotten shame. The lack of civility. Especially here in America. At this very moment. In the halls of Congress. In the presidential election campaign. And I'm a contributor to all of this negativity. Because I've learned to despise politicians. On all sides of the aisles. But especially Republicans. I suppose that makes me mean-spirited. Yes, another reason for me to become aloof. To ignore politics. And to get on with the rest of my life. Unfortunately, that's easier said than done. But I'm gonna try. --Jim Broede

Friday, June 15, 2012

Thank you, baseball gods.

Savored a rarity today. A Chicago Cubs victory. Over the Boston Red Sox. In interleague play. The score was 3-0. But I knew that the baseball gods wouldn't make it easy. By putting my faith to a test. Late in the game, I began imagining that the Cubs would find another heartbreaking way to lose. And sure enough. In the 9th inning. Boston loaded the bases. And only needed a grand slam homerun to win the game in dramatic fashion. To put me into mourning. But the Cubs got the final out. Leaving the bases loaded. My day had been made. Albeit, with steadily building tension near the end. The Cubs win. The Cubs win. The Cubs win. I have reason to worship the baseball gods tonight. --Jim Broede

Magnificence. Everywhere.

Walked into my yard the other day. And for an instant, thought I saw a big dog. Wasn't wearing my glasses. Lo and behold, it was a deer. A fawn. Alone. Apparently on an adventure. Without mother. I was awestruck. Motionless. We looked at each other. For how long, I don't know. Felt like time had stopped. So that I could capture the moment. And treasure it. Yes, that's an advantage of living in Minnesota. On a lake. On a wooded lot. Away from a big city. But then, no matter where I am, I see the wonders of life. Need only to open my eyes. And look around. Magnificence. Everywhere. --Jim Broede

To the GOP, it smells like perfume.

My gawd. Mitt Romney has mastered the craft of creating sound bites full of bull shit. He sounds idiotic. Suppose that plays well with fellow idiots. That scares me. Because when it comes to politics, America is full of idiots. They like the smell of bull shit. Little wonder that they end up as conservative Republicans. And Tea Party yokels. But I never underestimate idiots. For all I know, they may constitute the majority in America. Ready to follow the Pied Piper. Mindlessly. All they need for motivation is an asinine sound bite. From Romney, the walking-talking bull-shitting machine. No real substance. But it takes only a sound bite to attract conservative Republicans. A code word or two. Nothing that strains the brain. Yes, pure bull shit. I can't stand the stench of the stuff. To the GOP, however, it smells like perfume. --Jim Broede

Thursday, June 14, 2012

An amazing degree of flexibility.

I like people. But in different ways. Which seems logical. Because no two people are exactly alike. Not even identical twins. Everyone is different. Unique. Yes, I'm guilty of grouping some people. Conservative Republicans, for instance. But I gotta admit that when looking up close, in minute detail, everyone of 'em is different. Which is a good thing. In that sense, there's lots of diversity in the world. I love to search for what makes an individual different. And usually, that's what I like. Especially since I operate under the premise that everyone has at least an ounce of good. Even Adolph Hitler. And the same goes for the world's other despised characters. Indeed, they are characters. Worthy of study. Psychoanalysis. Maybe that makes some of my neighbors and other acquaintances and friends a little nervous. Because I tend to psychoanalyze 'em all. The good and the bad. Maybe that's wrong. An invasion of privacy. But makes for better understanding. And provocative thought. Which I deem a good thing. They're all characters in the grand scheme. With varying degrees of influence on my life. Each with different roles. Minor and major. I'm allowed to choose. Because it's my life. My story. I fit them into my life. With an amazing (and fair-minded) degree of flexibility. --Jim Broede

Living is so much better.

I see my life as a continuous unfolding story. Likening it at times to living in a novel. A new chapter virtually every day. Not always knowing what a turn of the next page will bring. Occasionally, a new character enters. Or it's an old character with a new twist. I'm on a voyage of discovery. Of my own little niche. Of the world in general, too. A vast world. And I'm often wondering out of curiosity what lies beyond the horizon. Imagining being a modern-day Christopher Columbus. Noticing things that maybe were always there. But I hadn't consciously observed before. I'm more aware. More conscious of the world that I was born into. And I'm making a living story of it. Oh, so much better than writing a novel. Living is so much better. --Jim Broede

A daily adventure full of intrigue.

My immediate neighborhood can be looked at as a microcosm of the world. As if each of us (the collection of my neighbors) represents a country. Our own often little and peculiar feifdom. Our home/castle, so to speak. We're a blend of competing personal interests. In many ways. For instance, some of us want our ways. No matter what. Even at the expense of other neighbors. And so to get our way, we often seek power. Political power. With local officials. Wealth can make a difference. Yes, he with the moola generally has the advantage. The owner of a $4.5 million mansion carries far more political clout than the owner of a $500,000 domicile. In my neighborhood. The rich get away with breaking rules. For example, rules pertaining to how much of one's land can become non-pourous surface. The owner of the mansion is allowed to cover far more than the owner of a lesser-valued property. It's the way of the world. And in the U.S., at least, the pattern almost always begins on the neighborhood level. Working it's way up. Living close together involves all sorts of issues. Many of 'em petty. Such as whether one's lawn should be 'properly' mowed. Or whether a particular style house should be allowed. Or how many trees and what kinds to grow. Yes, it's different tastes for different folks. But some neighbors/countries don't like what others do. In many cases, they object to or discourage or block the proliferation of trees. Prefering look-alike, well-manicured lawns. And a clear view. A certain sameness. Neighbors even become expert at keeping out certain types of people. People of lesser incomes or certain ethnics. They don't want diversity. Thinking it might hurt the high-falutin image of the neighborhood. There's some degree of that in my neighborhood, I suspect. And in many other neighborhoods. To a much larger degree. That's where discrimination begins. On the local level. In neighborhoods. On your block. And my block. Don't exactly know what I can do about it. The world is what it is. But hey, I'm on a mission. Trying to learn more about the ways of world. Especially in my little niche. And believe me, it's a fascinating experience. A daily adventure. Full of intrigue. --Jim Broede

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

She'll buy almost anything.

A lady that used to live in my neighborhood was back for a visit the other day. I met her at a garage sale. And we chatted. About lots of things. For a while, I thought she might be joking. Putting me on. About her doubts about the legitimacy of Barack Obama's birth certificate. My impression is that she's a reasonably intelligent woman. But no, she wasn't kidding. She's picked up on conservative Republican and racist thought that Obama ain't an American. And therefore doesn't deserve to be president. It's another indication of the gullibility/stupidity of so very many Americans. Or maybe it indicates they are racists. In the lady's case, I suspect it's more a matter of gullibility. I'd probably be able to sell her the Brooklyn Bridge. She'll buy just about any cock and bull story. --Jim Broede

In the game of life, Ed's a winner.

My gosh. My 90-year-old friend and neighbor Ed Hinrichs looks like he just got beat up. He's got a black eye and body bruises. Turns out that Ed fell. Obviously hurt himself. When his caretakers weren't around. Yes, it's dangerous for Ed to be alone. Most of the time somebody is with him. But all it takes is a few seconds. For an accident to happen. Ed so much wants to get around. To do things for himself. To be reasonably independent. But the physical rigors of age keep catching up with Ed. So he's thinking of leaving the neighborhood and longtime home on Forest Lake and moving into the Veterans Home in Minneapolis. Probably this autumn. Sort of sad that Ed won't be my neighbor anymore. But hey, I ain't gonna lament about it. After all, Ed's lasted nine decades. And he's really made the best of it. And maybe he even has a chance of reaching 100. Not sure that Ed absolutely wants to. Ed still takes life one day at a time. And he's not scared about moving. A change of scenery. That's something telling about Ed. He's a brave man. Always ready for a new adventure. Yes, looks a might beat up after that fall. But never count him out. In the game of life, Ed's a winner. --Jim Broede

In love, even when I'm tired.

I hardly ever allow myself to have a completely lazy and lethargic day. Because that makes me unhappy. And I know it. And I wanna be happy. So even if I feel lazy and lethargic, I venture out. And exercise. Physically. Mentally. Maybe I do the exercising at a slower than usual pace. But I still hop on my bicycle and ride 30 miles. Or walk 10 miles. Slower. And I take more time to ponder less thoughts. Gives me a sense that I'm salvaging something from the day. I can't tell when I last had a completely lazy and lethargic day. Long, long ago. I confess that I'm tired some days. Physically. Mentally. But that's not a valid excuse to take the day off. Only to slow down. I was put on Mother Earth to savor every day. And to be in love. With life. Even when I'm tired. --Jim Broede

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Maybe the sky will fall.

I tell my Italian true love to not worry. To be happy. To be an optimist. Despite what could become a worldwide economic depression. She has a tendency to think that the sky is falling. And maybe this time she's right. That makes me the pessimist. I don't like what I'm seeing in Europe. The lack of a united effort to fortify the euro zone. Not enough is being done to save the European Union. Because there are 17 disparate units of government in Europe. Going every which way. Rather than in a united way. In America, we have a single government. Although one suspects it's really divided. Republicans pulling one way. Democrats in another way. That could still be America's downfall. The lack of a united approach. But at least we Americans have an opportunity to meld the two political divisions. In Europe, it's gonna take blending 17 divisions. I'm for single, united big governments. Big enough to solve serious problems. And there's nothing bigger and more serious at the moment than the threat of a worldwide economic collapse. Believe me, it's gonna happen. Unless the world's politicians stop sitting on their hands. Yes, my Italian true love, maybe the sky will fall. --Jim Broede

Making me fall more in love.

I have friends and acquaintances that used to be far more pessimistic than optimistic. But there's been remarkable transitions for some of 'em. A significant shift. Maybe they are 60 percent optimistic and 40 percent pessimistic. If this trend continues, they might be legitimately declared optimists. Hopefully, it's the Broede influence that helped nudge them in positive directions. Anyway, they've certainly made me more of an optimist. Doing me a favor. Making me fall more in love with life. --Jim Broede

By making sense of it all.

I know youngsters going through tough times. Right here in my neighborhood. Because of marriage break-ups. Their parents going in different directions. I'm tempted to stick in my nose. To talk to the kids. But I'm often cautioned to mind my own business. By family friends and acquaintances. That it's not a good time to talk. Because the kids and the families are in the midst of emotional turmoil. But I counter that's exactly why one should intervene. To encourage talking it all out. To face up to what's happening. And why. And how to deal with it. A marriage break-up is a little like when my father committed suicide, and I was 13. In those days, suicide or a divorce in the family was considered shameful. We didn't talk very openly about it, if we talked at all. It was hush-hush. I never quite understood that approach. Because it's stupid. One should talk. And reflect. And make sense of it all. And learn to accept the situation. And make the best of it. Learning how to cope with disruptions in one's family is an important part of growing up. And the best way to do that is facing life head-on. Dealing with adversity when it happens. Putting it all in perspective. Things happen. One might say shit happens. But it ain't the end of the world. My dad's suicide, for instance. As I reflect decades later, it wasn't all bad. Much good came from it. I learned how to cope. To deal with life in effective and meaningful ways. By thinking. My talking. Yes, by making sense of it all. --Jim Broede

Monday, June 11, 2012

Turning inward.

Trying to imagine what it's like to be 90. Maybe it's similar to being 76. Which I am. The oldest guy in the neighborhood is 90. He's Ed Hinrichs. Maybe I'll ask him, 'What's it like to be 90?' Guess I have. Already. But I need more details. So I'll ask him again. Next time I see him. My mom didn't quite make it to 90. She died at 88. And she was probably ready to die. Wanted to die. Lost her zest for life. For a number of reasons. But mostly ill health. Ed's health isn't the best. He can't walk much any more. Rides a motor scooter. Anyway, seems that Ed still savors life. Enough to want to live for another year or two or more. But probably not forever. I still dream of living forever. Because I'm still in love with life. But maybe that won't be forever. I've been fortunate. Despite some adversities. And disappointments. I still feel good. Mentally. Physically. Spiritually. Every which way. But I can imagine the bottom falling out. Things going awry. But don't think about it very much. Because I'm trying to live to the utmost. Today. I don't get too far ahead of myself. Because if I do that, I'm not fully savoring the moment. I suppose Ed is savoring the moment. At least he seems to be. He likes conversation. Talks to me. And to others. No recluse. He's still mindful. I should engage Ed more than I do. But I also have a need to be introverted. To get inside myself. Deep into my soul. Into the essence of my being. Some days I prefer being aloof. Turning inward. --Jim Broede

Sunday, June 10, 2012

Enough to make my day.

I've decided to no longer feel frustrated when my Chicago Cubs baseball team loses a game. Instead, I'm gonna focus on the wins. Albeit, they are relatively rare. At the moment, the Cubs have the worst record in the major leagues. But the Cubs won today, for only the second time on a just completed 10-game road trip. And I'm savoring the elation that comes over me when the Cubs win. Doesn't bother me that the Cubs are in last place. I'm happy when the Cubs win a game. Occasionally. I'm able to settle for little blessings. Doesn't have to be a big blessing. Something nice happens in my life every day. Even if 10 things go wrong, something is still bound to go right. Might as well focus on that. Appreciate it. Embrace it. Feel good about it. Imagine that. The Cubs won. That's enough to make my day. --Jim Broede

Our greatest stain and shame.

Too many white Americans are racists. I know it. You know it. We lie to ourselves if we think there aren't many, many racists amongst us. I hit the racist theme again and again. Often. Because racism is shameful. Immoral. Wrong as wrong can be. I've lived in an era when blacks were overtly denied their civil rights. When they still faced the peril of being lynched. They went to separate, inferior schools. They weren't allowed into 'white' restaurants and hotels. They had separate drinking fountains. Separate swimming beaches and pools. Separate communities. They were second-class citizens, and less. And all this was accepted. Often without a blink of the eye. This was the America I lived in when I was in my 20s. When I went to work in Florida. Black people had reason to live in fear and in inferior segregated conditions. Yes, it was apartheid. No denying it. It was bad, bad, bad. Racism to the core. The situation has gotten better. But it's still bad. And those who would deny it are blind. Or liars. I see discrimination every day. In our political, economic and social systems. Some people tell me there's no more racism. That electing a black president proves it. But there are still hardcore racists amongst us. In virtually every community. In every walk of life. A certain number of people won't vote for Obama. Merely because he's black. It's racism more than anything else that causes conservative Republicans to oppose Obama's presidency. Right from the beginning. They are dedicated to making him a one-term president. Not because of political differences. But merely because his skin color ain't white. I'm not stupid. I know it. And you know it, too. If you face the truth. Racism is still this nation's greatest (and most evil) stain and shame. --Jim Broede

Saturday, June 9, 2012

My just deserts.

Maybe I stay out of the doldrums for the wrong reason. Just to spite people in the doldrums. To show 'em that one can be happy. Of course, that makes 'em pissed. Jealous. That I'm able to be happy. When they're in the doldrums. Misery often loves company. The unhappy prefer being with other even more miserable people. Because that often makes them feel a little less miserable. But when I happen along in my exuberant, happy-go-lucky manner, they feel even more miserable. They wish that I would go away. And leave them alone. Don't worry, be happy, I tell them. There's a song to that effect. By Bobby McFerrin. I've been known to play McFerrin's rendition in the presence of miserably unhappy people. It's as if I'm taunting these people. But really, it's the therapy they need. If they get mad/angry, it might give them an opportunity to release their unhappiness in a gush. By giving me a swift kick in the ass. Yes, a release of stored-up venom. A cleansing of the mind and soul. A way out of their doldrums. By giving me my just deserts. --Jim Broede

Connected.

My cat Loverboy and I stimulate each other. In that we pay heed. We are very much aware. Of our movements. Our thoughts. I know that seems a little odd. A cat and a being such as me communicating with each other. Rather extensively. Every day. But hey, that should be natural. Because we live in the same house. Together. My other cat, Chenuska, isn't like Loverboy. We don't communicate and mix to the same degree. That's just the way it is. Maybe it's that Loverboy and I speak the same language. Could be that Loverboy thinks of himself as my equal. Another real person. Could be that I think of myself as a cat. That maybe I evolved from a cat. And not an ape. All I know is that Loverboy and I can look into each other's eyes. And automatically know what's on each other's mind. Yes, there's a real link between the animal and human world. Loverboy and I are very much the same. Connected. --Jim Broede

Celebrate!

I have friends that should feel fulfilled. Should have a sense of accomplishment. Because they have completed a marathon, figuratively speaking. A rigorous phase of their lives. Maybe on the job. Or with another personal pursuit. I encourage them to think about all they've accomplished. Through ups and downs. They've hung in there. And did a good job of it. A life's marathon isn't easy. But they made a success of it. Stuck with it. Some of those friends have to start thinking more positively. About their accomplishments. Yes, I know they may be tired. Every marathoner should be feeling tired at the end of the race. But there should be a feeling of elation, too. For hanging in there. I encourage them to take a few days to lean back. And rest. And pat themselves on the back. For having coped with the rigors of a marathon. Life wasn't meant to be totally easy. But still, it should be fulfilling. They have reason to feel fulfilled. So, feel fulfilled, I tell them. Relish the feat. Celebrate! --Jim Broede

The coup de grace

My Chicago Cubs are in town. In Minneapolis. To play a weekend series of baseball games with the Minnesota Twins. In past years, when the Cubs showed up for interlegue play, I'd get premium tickets. Go to the games. Like a loyal Cubs enthusiast. But this time around, I decided not to go. Though I did listen to most of Friday night's game. On the radio. As I rode my bicycle. A one-mile route. Over and over again. To ease the tension. It was a see-saw game. The lead changing several times. And it looked good in the eighth inning. When the Cubs came from behind to take a 7-6 lead. On a two-run homer. And I dreamed of a satisfying win. But I knew better. I turned off the game. Knowing the script. Knowing that the Cubs would find a way to lose. Like they almost always do. And sure enough. Later last night, after the game was over, I checked it out. The Cubs gave up a run in the 9th inning, and the game went into the 10th. When the Cubs lost. The final was 8-7. Really, it was unnecessary to check. Because I'm a Cubs fan. I know the routine. The inevitable. The Cubs have mastered the art of losing. But I still accept the Cubs. More or less unconditionally. Only thing, I try to avoid watching the ending. The final moment of truth. When the opponent applies the coup de grace. --Jim Broede

Amazing, isn't it?

The people running the world are mostly nuts. Downright crazy. Often crazy in a bad sense. In negative ways. They don't mind being nasty. Mean-spirited. They'll even go to war. To get their way. And even if they don't go to war, they'll bicker. And threaten their own citizens. They covet power. Not sure that I'd say they love power. Because love is supposed to be something positive. Yes, lovely. And this quest for power ain't exactly lovely. Far from it. Maybe it's even a misnomer to say that someone loves money. One can covet money. But it ain't true love. Because love has to be nice. Hard for me to imagine wanting to domineer my true love. I'd rather let her be. Her natural self. I have to be able to accept her. Unconditionally. For true love. Powerbrokers don't love. They need to be in control. And in a position to manipulate events. Usually, to their selfish satisfaction. They want to do what's good for themselves, personally. And to hell with love. To hell with the common good. Maybe my perception makes me a cynic. But still, there's a paradox in all this. Because I'm a romantic idealist, a spiritual free-thinker, a political liberal, a lover and a dreamer. I can't help it. I'm in love. With life. That compels me to find reason and moments every day to savor the notion of love. To embrace life. And to be thankful that I am an alive and conscious being. Able to grasp reality. And still be happy. Amazing, isn't it? --Jim Broede

Friday, June 8, 2012

My recommendation.

I have more time to think. That's the chief advantage of being retired. Because I'm not obligated to earn a living any more. I can get by on my retirement income. So, I'm more free. I can more easily pick and choose what I'm gonna do today. And every day. I'm choosing to think. About anything that comes to mind. I'm a writer. Used to be that I wrote for hire. For newspapers. Earned a living that way. Didn't always write exactly what I wanted to write. But now I do. Because I'm not obligated to a boss. To an employer. I'm sort of my own boss. I've been able to cultivate a true love. An Italian. With whom I live much of the year. And I have the pleasure of daily contact. Through modern audio/video technology. Even when we are seperated geographically. By 5,000 miles. Anyway, I have love thoughts. Daily. Makes me feel good. That's the nature/benefit of being in love. Maybe that's the biggest and most dynamic and profound discovery of my life. Love. I'm pleasantly consumed by the thought. Love. Love. Love. I highly recommend falling in love. With life. --Jim Broede

It's a miracle.

Every day I listen to classical music. To other things, too. When I'm walking. Or biking. But mostly classical music. On the radio. Or on CDs. I have a collection of several thousand CDs. Mostly classical. Yesterday, I was listening mostly to Beethoven and Schubert. And that got me to thinking. About how nice it'd be to meet both composers. When they lived in Vienna. If only I could turn back the clock. I'm assuming that god could do that. Because god can do anything and everything. Or so I've been told. Interesting thing, too. Some historians claim that Beethoven and Schubert never met. Personally. Formally.That it's even possible that Beethoven wasn't aware of Schubert. Of course, Schubert would have been familiar with Beethoven's music. Beethoven was famous in his lifetime. Schubert not so well-known. He was more a recluse. And he didn't live very long. Died at 31. What a shame. Imagine what he would have produced. If he had lived as long as Beethoven, who made it to 56. Which is still considered relatively young today. But in the 19th century, that was longer than the average life expectancy. Anyway, the amazing thing is that I'm able to listen to Beethoven and Schubert daily. So easily. In that sense, Beethoven and Schubert are still very much alive. They speak to me every day. I can tune them in. Thanks to modern technology. Which makes me far more fortunate than people that lived when Beethoven and Schubert walked the streets of Vienna. I've walked those same streets, too. Makes me wonder if I touched the same ground that they touched. But one thing is for sure. They touch me. In spirit. Yes, they are very much alive. It's a miracle. --Jim Broede

Thursday, June 7, 2012

The decency factor.

When it comes to electing a president, I want Americans to vote for the most decent guy. That's the question to ask. Who's most decent? Obama or Romney. Forget about policies. Forget about who's more conservative or more liberal. Instead, let's elect the most decent one. I have little doubt over who'll win. If everyone answers that question honestly. Of course, there'll be a reasonable amount of honest disagreement over who's most decent. But I have great confidence in the majority of Americans making the right choice. That is, if the election is based on the decency factor. --Jim Broede

Our decrepit way of life.

Imagine. How much life would be different in the USA. If we hadn't gone to war in Iraq and Afghanistan. Instead, if we had minded our own business. And spent on domestic programs instead of on foreign debacles. My guess: Our economy would be immensely stronger. We'd have low unemployment rates. Our infrastucture would be superior. Yes, we'd be thriving. Instead, we Americans are a stupid lot. We allow our politicians to lead us to war. In the name of national security. Maybe it's that war makes the munition makers and the war-mongers richer. Helps to widen the gap between the rich and the poor. Which the rich see as fine and dandy. Why not? After all, that's in keeping with the nature of a greedy, selfish capitalist society. Better than socialism. Which operates on the premise of spreading the wealth. Narrowing the gap between the rich and the poor. Better to have an everybody-for-himself mentality. Survival of the richest. Oh, maybe some day we'll wake up. Future generations may look back on the year 2012 as a time of shame. The middle of an era when a collective immorality reigned. When wasting money on wars was still in vogue. When Americans lived as robots. Without ever seriously questioning our decrepit way of life. --Jim Broede

I yearn for ancient Greece.

I want/wish the Greeks to set an example for the rest of us. Like they did in ancient times. To pool all of their resources. Physical. Mental. And especially spiritual. In order to climb out of their modern-day abyss. Yes, I'm convinced it can be done. By dedicating themselves to working for the common good. We all should be doing that. World-wide. Instead, we are enslaved by selfish, greedy capitalist societies. By exploiters. By manipulators. By the filthy, obscene rich that seek to become even richer. Their aim is to widen the gap between the rich and the poor. In monetary terms. They worship money. They ignore the spirit of life. That wasn't the way of ancient Greece. When the mind and the spirit prevailed. It's time for a comeback. Give me the old Grecian ways again. --Jim Broede

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Almost an eternity.

The lady in front of me in the checkout line was muttering to herself. 'My day has been shot,' she said. The implication was a wasted day. 'The day isn't over yet,' I said. I wanted her to get the message. That she still had time to salvage the day. To find an endearing moment. To savor it. Yes, that's all one needs to save the day. There was still 7 hours left in the day. Almost an eternity. If one puts the time to good use. --Jim Broede

Sure beats love of money.

Thank gawd, I'm in love. Otherwise I'd be in a funk. In clinical depression. Because I am disillusioned and disappointed with much of life on Mother Earth. Especially in America. I detest our political, economic and social systems. They are rigged. In favor of the monetarily rich. The affluent. The millionaires. The billionaires. The bankers. The big corporations. If I weren't in love, I'd be consumed by the injustice of it all. In the exploitation of the middle class and the poor. In the ignoring of the common good. Unfortunately, the masses of people are ignorant or indifferent. Not knowing how to wield power. Because they are easily outspent, outmaneuvered, manipulated. By the elite rich. By the powerbrokers. By a small minority that controls the nation's wealth. The wealthy know how to use their power, their money, to bamboozle the masses. It happened in Wisconsin. Yesterday. When the Republican governor survived a recall election. In large part, because his campaign was financed by interests from out-state. By millionaires and billionaires. Which allowed him to outspend his opponent by a ratio of 7 to 1. And that may well be the precursor of the national elections this fall. There's no limit on spending. Because the U.S. Supreme Court has ruled that businesses and corporations have to be treated like individuals. They can spend whatever they want on political campaigns. No limits. For advertising. To protect their business interests. A form of freedom of speech. To support candidates that allow the rich to become richer. Rather than serving the common good, or the best interests of the poor and the middle class. Oh, I pray and wish for the masses of poor and middlle class to finally wake up. To organize. To educate themselves. To object to being exploited. To protest the ever-widening gap between the rich and the poor. Yes, folks, it's time to overthrow the plutocracy. Let's make America a democracy. The wait might drive me crazy. Put me into the doldrums. If not for the fact that I'm happy in love. With my Italian true love. Keeps me going. Sure beats love of money. --Jim Broede

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Cubs fans know how to dream.

The Chicago Cubs are cursed. They can't escape losing streaks. Last week, the Cubs broke a 12-game losing streak. But then I discovered that the Cubs had another losing streak. It's reached 11 straight losses of road games. Away from the Cubs home ballpark. And they've also started another losing streak since they last won a game. It's reached four games. Another way of putting it: the Cubs have lost 16 of their last 19 games. The only wins came against the more hapless San Diego Padres --the team with the worst record in major league baseball. But it's a long season. Give the Cubs time. They'll be the worst when it really counts. On the last day of the season. But that's all right with me. Creates the possibility of a wonderful scenario. Going from worst to first. Next year. Yes, we Cubs fans know how to dream. --Jim Broede

I'm opposed to political war.

Doesn't have to be my way or the highway. Or your way or the highway. I'd rather that we reach an accommodation. A blending of our mutual inrterests and not so mutual interests. We don't have to stay on our own sides of the political divide. This thought occurs to me today. While I'm waiting for the results of a recall election in Wisconsin. Sounds like it's gonna be very close. With Wisconsin voters being separated by only a percentage point or two over whether the Republican governor should be recalled. Democrats are pissed. Because the governor and the Republican-controlled legislature stripped away public employees bargaining rights. Fact is that Wisconsinites are sharply divided on the issue. Not a clear, defining majority on either side. Which invites compromise. Working things out so that both sides get some things they want. But not everything. Sadly, politicians aren't buying that concept any more. Instead, they are choosing to go to war. Against each other. And to the victor goes the spoils. Everything. My way or the highway. Your way or the highway. Little wonder why I'm opposed to political war. --Jim Broede

Monday, June 4, 2012

I refuse to be manipulated.

Americans are being brainwashed. In subtle and overt ways. By political advertising. Paid for by business. Corporations. And rich individuals. The aim is to deny Obama a second term in office. And to elect Republicans. At every level of government. Because Republicans will give the rich money manipulators virtually everything they want. Power. Power. And more power. Politically. Economically. Socially. And this immense, unlimited spending is the result of a U.S. Supreme Court ruling. That businesses/corporations are to be treated as individuals. Able to spend freely on political/election campaigns. Indeed, it's a sad state of affairs. Because people are easily brainwashed. By sound bites. Especially those repeated over and over and over. Even the worst, most flagrant lies become the perceived truth. It's a way of turning a nation's populace into robots. To do the bidding of the manipulators. Yes, folks, we've reached that point. We've become a society of the manipulated. Americans no longer think for themselves. Sad. Sad. Sad. I refuse to be manipulated. Unfortunately, I'm in the minority. --Jim Broede

The exploitation of labor.

When it comes to the high unemployment rate in the good old USA, I blame mostly Republicans. Individual Republicans. Loyalist Republicans. Corporate bosses that vote Republican. And give money to Republicans at every twist and turn of election cycles. So that they can have their way. To bigger and bigger corporate and individual profits. In keeping with the American style of capitalism. Which allows them to go wherever they can find the cheapest labor. Offshore. To foreign lands. Where they also stash most of their money. So that it's tax-free. This generally doesn't bother Republicans. Because it's in keeping with the principles of free enterprise. Making filty, obscene profits -- at the expense of ordinary people. Yes, at the expense of the common good. Instead, capitalism worships the good of the rich. The good of millionaires and billionaires. Certainly, not the good of America. Or of society. And I see it happening all over the world. Not merely in America. For instance, in Sardinia (Italy) where I reside half of the year, the American conglomerate Alcoa recently closed an aluminum smelter plant. Laying off 800 workers. And moved instead to Iceland, where it's able to hire immigrant workers for $6 an hour. Yes, this is the same Alcoa that posts annual profits of around $20 billion. In part, because Alcoa knows how to exploit cheap labor. Rather than do the decent thing. Little wonder that we have high unemployment in the USA. Our workers are a little like those Italian workers in Sardinia. They want jobs that pay more than $6 an hour. --Jim Broede

Sunday, June 3, 2012

Just trying to survive.

Let's face the truth. The reason the economy doesn't get fixed is divided government. Republicans and Democrats don't work together. Cooperatively. There's stalemate. President Obama needs the support of Congress to get legislation through to fix the economy and to create more jobs. But Republicans control the House of Representatives. And they ain't gonna do anything that helps Democrat Obama. They don't want Obama to get re-elected in November. Therefore, Republicans see it as a political advantage if the economy continues to tank. They'll blame Obama for it all. Obama will blame a 'do-nothing' Congress. The real blame belongs on both sides of the political divide. Personally, I put most of the blame on Republicans. For not giving a damn about America and the common good. It's all about political gain/gamesmanship. Republicans see a sour economy as the only way to defeat Obama. It ain't Obama's fault. But if Republicans tell a lie often enough, increasing numbers of people will believe it ain't a lie. Especially when large segments of the public tend to be uninformed/misinformed. Holding opinions based largely on sound bites and ads and other political bullshit. Paid for by political action committees. Financed mostly by millionaires and billionaires expecting tax breaks and other political favors in return. And to hell with a bolstered economy that might help the destitute and the middle class. No redistribution of wealth. Thing is, even in a bad times, the rich find ways to get richer. They ain't hurtin'. Evidenced by record high profits for most major corporations. Yes, the rich know how to manipulate the political and economic systems -- for their personal gain. The poor and the middle class, meanwhile, are still trying to figure out how to manipulate against the rich manipulators. Because they have other priorities. Just trying to survive. --Jim Broede

I love sauerkraut.

I love to simmer sauerkraut. Like I did yesterday. For four hours. Yes, sauerkraut is best when one simmers the hell out of it. So that the smell of sauerkraut permeates the kitchen and the entire house. To me, it's almost like a perfume. I'd market it as a cologne. Essence of sauerkraut. Of course, my Italian true love disagrees. She detests the aroma of sauerkraut. Burns incense for a long, long time after I've cooked sauerkraut. To try to rid the house of what she'd call a stench. But last night, she was in Sardinia. As I dined on polish sausage and sauerkraut. Here in Minnesota. Next to my Italian true love, I love sauerkraut. --Jim Broede

A vengeful lot.

I've toyed with the baseball gods. Duped 'em. Intentonally. By making 'em think I wanted the Chicago Cubs to lose. Knowing full well that the baseball gods hardly ever grant my wishes. Instead, they give me just the opposite of what I really want. Lo and behold, the Cubs went on their first three-game winning streak of the season. The baseball gods thought that would make me unhappy. Well, the baseball gods discovered my manipulation. Now they are making the Cubs lose. In especially heart-breaking ways. By scores of 4-3 and 2-1. Games they should have won. The baseball gods are doing that to be vengeful. Because I fooled them. Which I was able to do. Because the baseball gods are stupid. The least smart of the gods. That's why they have been relegated to oversee baseball. And not more important matters. They are much inferior to the supreme, all-knowing god. Of course, this public revelation will infuriate the baseball gods. I expect that they will soon cast a horrendous spell on the Chicago Cubs. In an attempt to make my life miserable. Like I say, the baseball gods are a vengeful lot. --Jim Broede

Mere zombies.

I'm constantly creating a reality. And living it. One day at a time. I wake up in the morning. Not always quite knowing what sort of reality I'll have. Because I'm able to pick and choose. Different realities. Merely by giving it some thought. And by using my imagination. I can choose to live within myself. Or I can open the door. And invite in other people. Often, it depends on my mood. If I'm adventuresome, I let in others. Because then I can't always dictate the path. Because there's give and take. Compromise. Outside influences. Of course, I always allow in my Italian true love. That's automatic. She's always a part of my reality. Even when I'm alone. It'd be wrong to shut her out. If for no other reason than she's my true love. That's the only thing that I can't shut out. Love. It's the overwhelming force of my life. Makes my pulse beat. Makes me fully alive. There have been times in my life when I wasn't aware of love. Maybe I hadn't yet been born. I'm told I was born in 1935. But that's a lie. A deception. I wasn't conscious until I loved. Before then, I was a robot. Going through the motions of living. I suspect that I am living in a world populated mostly by robots. Rather than conscious beings. I can tell. That used to scare me. But not any more. Because it makes me more aware of reality. The real world. That people have choices. And they can choose to live life without ever being consciously alive. Mere zombies. --Jim Broede

True liberals.

Guess I'd rather live in a politically liberal-oriented world than a politically conservative-oriented world. That's just me. Of course, I can't always have my wish. Because the world is the world. And I'm bound to accept what is -- to some degree. I'm still able to escape. To create my own environs. My cocoon. Which allows me to more or less ignore what's happening outside my cocoon. In a sense, I create my own world. My little niche. That allows me to survive. I could have found a way to even live happily under the most despotic of regimes. By becoming sort of a hermit. Staying out of the mainstream. Hiding. Being inconspicuous. I am more or less like that now. Even in my immediate neighborhood. I've been around the place for 40 or 50 years. And I recently noted that I don't know many of my neighbors. Not even their names. But the same goes for my neighbors. They don't know me. Other than superficially. We go our separate ways. Live our separate lives. I'm not exactly complaining about that. Just accepting it as reality. Quite possibly a good reality. Especially when it comes to privacy. But still, I'm making an effort to get to know my neighbors. Better. Without them necessarily getting to know me. Better. I don't mind treding down a one-way street. Knowing people better than they know me. Maybe even knowing people better than they know themselves. That can be a plus. Makes people predictable. Actually, the people I like most are unpredictable. They have evolving minds. They aren't static. They are constantly becoming new beings. Emerging. Not afraid to travel beyond the horizon. Into new worlds. In other words, they ain't conservative. They are true liberals. --Jim Broede

Saturday, June 2, 2012

My cup runneth over.

I pull for political outcomes pretty much the same way that I root for the Chicago Cubs. Knowing full well that rarely do outcomes go the way I want 'em to go. I'm attached and drawn to political and baseball losers. Used to be that I allowed myself to be disappointed. I lamented over losses. But I began to understand there was nothing I could do to change outcomes. I had to learn to live with life's so-called pitfalls. Setbacks. Because I wasn't god. Anyway, I've learned to take it all in stride. To control what I can control. My attitude. Which is to make the best of bad situations. And to focus on the good situations. Such as falling in love. With someone. And with life. Of course, I still complain. Over politics and Cubs baseball games and several other matters. Because complaining makes me feel good. Gives me great satisfaction. To be able to complain. Just for the hell of it. In the grand scheme of things, I know that life is good. Particularly, my life. I have been blessed. Maybe I have no valid reason to complain. About anything. Because I am alive. And conscious. And happy. Yes, my cup runneth over. Can't ask for much more than that. --Jim Broede

Friday, June 1, 2012

The real evil.

I'm not blaming any one individual for the bad economy. Because it's worldwide. Not only in America. But virtually everywhere. Every place. To blame Obama. Or Congress. That ain't sufficient. Maybe everybody is to blame. Because nobody seems to have the solution. All I know is that the poor and the middle class are suffering the most. As for the rich, even in bad times they have more than enough to get by. And thrive. Maybe that's the problem. The rich have an inordinate amount of the wealth. How about spreading it around? Maybe that will solve the problem. Or at least make conditions a little better for the poor and the middle class. I'm suggesting that's the right way to go. Especially in bad economic times. We gotta help each other. By making the 'haves' give more to the 'have-nots.' Seems like the right and moral thing to do. I'll bet that's the stance that religious philosophers such as Jesus would take. He'd call it the Christian thing to do. To share the world's resources. In a communal way. For the common good. Of course, this is an alien thought. Going contrary to the precepts of staunch capitalists. Sounds too much like evil socialism. But then, maybe the real evil is capitalism. Especially when capitalists become greedy and selfish. --Jim Broede

I shudder. Just thinking about it.

I've been a Chicago Cubs fan virtually all my life. But Maybe I have a new-found reason for abandoning the Cubs. No, it's not their perennial losing ways. Instead, it's the new ownership. The Ricketts family. Which paid nearly a billion dollars for the Cubs. The patriarch of the family is Joe Ricketts. His money bought the Cubs. Though his children are running the show. Happens to be that Joe Ricketts is a devout racist. Aiming much of his racist venom at Barack Obama. He's announced that he'll spend a small fortune on political race-based anti-Obama propaganda. Ricketts' children have tried to separate themselves from their father's racist views. And it could well be that they aren't racists. That they are far more enlightened than their father. Certainly, I'm more enlightened than my own parents. They had racist leanings. Which I came to reject. And I shouldn't be held accountable for their thoughts on racial matters. But still, it's Papa Joe's money that bought the Cubs. And maybe the way for me to protest Ricketts' asinine racist behavior is to boycott his baseball team. Which I would find hard to do. Because I'm addicted to the Cubs. I can conveniently claim that Ricketts' son and Cubs president Tom Ricketts seems to be enlightened. So for now, I'll remain a Cubs fan. Unless I discover that Tom and his siblings really share their father's views. Then I have a tough decision to make. Makes me shudder. Just thinking about it. Renouncing allegiance to the Chicago Cubs. --Jim Broede

Two choices.

Thing about most politicians. And many people, too. They aren't objective. They aren't fair. They are biased. Close-minded. Unwilling to meet the other guy half-way. Lacking human decency. Selfish. Egotistical. Stupid. Liars. And the thing is, if they have all of these negative traits, they are often drawn naturally to politics. But occasionally one finds a sense of human decency in a politician. Barack Obama, for instance. But the thing that works against him most is the color of his skin. His blackness. Because he's living in a racist society. A racist America. I'm not saying that all white Americans are racists. Not even a majority of 'em. But enough to make it difficult for a person of color. A little like a Jew in Nazi Germany. And the thing is that racists in America have tended to gravitate to the Republican Party. Little wonder. Because the so-called Southern Strategy of the Republicans has been to attract bigots. Yes, racists. And in that respect, the Republicans have succeeded. You'll find racists galore in the right wing. Republicans will deny it. But that's to be expected. They are liars. But they find it impossible to fully hide their hatred of Obama. And it's because of his blackness. And his sense of decency. That makes bigots/racists feel inferior. They full well know in their souls, that Obama is superior. An elite. Better than them. Actually, far more decent. So they have two choices. Acknowledge it. Accept it. Face the truth once and for all. Or continue to be racists. --Jim Broede

Experiencing the dawn of my life.

Living one day at a time helps me lose track of time. Because I don't get ahead of myself. Gives me little time to think about tomorrow or next week or next month or next year. Because I'm pleasantly busy living today. I'm not sure whether that slows time or hastens time. It's that I'm less aware of time. I know the calendar day. Friday, June 1. But then I forget about it. And merely identify it as another wonderful day in my life. To be savored. At the moment, by thought. Reflection. And listening to soothing music. It's early morning. Maybe I'll go back to bed. And allow my mind to travel freely. To the next thought. Or maybe I'll fall asleep. Relaxed as a newborn baby. Experiencing the dawn of my life. --Jim Broede