Friday, August 31, 2012

They aren't strangers any more.

Occasionally, I get advice. Don't cultivate strangers. Especially on the first meeting. But I hardly ever follow such advice. Because I wanna know something significant and personal about a stranger. Within the first 10 minutes. That's my nature. And I know how to go about it. I tell strangers something significant and personal about me. Right off the bat. And many strangers reciprocate. They volunteer stuff. And before long, we're talking significant things. Not mere small talk. But big stuff. Happens almost every time I travel. Because strangers abound. People I've never met before. Just the other day. My path crossed that of a total stranger. In Decorah, Iowa. Craig Newhouse. That's his name. He's an antique dealer. I stopped at his place. To ask for directions. Because I was lost. And before long, learned that Craig and I had a mutual acquaintance. In Forest Lake, Minnesota. And that Craig used to fish on my lake. The one I live on. Yes, it's a small and wonderful world. Getting to know strangers. And discovering, they really aren't strangers any more. --Jim Broede

Amazing. The power of love.

I know two Alzheimer care-givers. A married couple. Caring for her parents. In their home. For four years now. They are remarkable and amazing people. Maybe they try to do too much. To the point of becoming exhausted. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. But they've managed so far. And I know why. They are genuinely in love. With each other. They fall back on each other. For sustenance. Under similar circumstances, many a marriage would have broken up. But this marriage is full of love. That's the difference-maker. Can't say that this situation will go on forever. Because it's a daily test. But if ever there's a marriage that will last, this is the one. Amazing. The power of love. --Jim Broede

My dreams become real.

I want to live in a dream world. And I do. To some extent. In that I am genuinely in love. With someone. And with life. But I also know the harsh realities of life. They are unavoidable. And maybe the harshest reality happens to be dishonest and mean-spirited people. In virtually every walk of life. Fortunately, I also know of honest and kind people. And therefore, I have the option of looking at life as a half-full or a half-empty glass. I can choose to be an optimist. Or a pessimist. Maybe I waver between the two. Except when I am in love. Then I'm mostly the optimist. Willing and able to take on the challenge of being happy. That's my prime aim in life. The pursuit of happiness. And that's precisely what I find. Virtually every day. In my dream world. And the most amazing thing of all. My dreams become real. --Jim Broede

Thursday, August 30, 2012

To each his/her own.

My neighbor has a lawn sign declaring, 'Vote yes. Marriage. One man. One woman.' I'll go to the polls. And cancel my neighbor's vote. Because I'm opposed to putting restrictions on marriage. Doesn't matter to me if a marriage is between one idiot and one genius. Or for that matter, between two idiots. In other words, marriage between two Republicans. My motto is to each his/her own. Everybody should be free to choose his/her own mate. --Jim Broede

Crazy. Crazy. Crazy.

The Republican national convention. It's scripted. On lies. On huge deceptions of the truth. On a make-believe fairy tale. Laced with evil intent. I know it. And most people must know it. People can't be so stupid, can they? Liars know they are liars. Of course, maybe that ain't true. If one is a Republican. One builds his/her political life/reality on deception. Even of one's self, I suppose. Republicans have become pathological liars. Many of 'em believe in creationism. That human beings were created merely 10,000 years ago. By god. And Darwin was wrong. No such thing as evolution. And women who have been raped. They never become pregnant. Because women are designed to shut down baby-making if they have unwanted sex. Yes, it's preposterous stuff. Zany. Outlandish. But Republicans are learning to march in lockstep. Devising a new reality. Their reality. And they expect all of us to fall in line. To believe as they believe. All the lies. All the deceptions. And call it truth. Indeed, the inmates want to capture the asylum. Crazy. Crazy. Crazy. --Jim Broede

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Makes us romantic idealists.

My Italian true love and I will be celebrating the fifth anniversary of our relationship. On Oct. 25. My how time passes. When one lives life one day at a time. Rarely, if ever, getting ahead of ourselves. We savor each other. Every day. Doesn't matter whether I'm living in Minnesota. And she in Sardinia. That's the case for about half of the year, when we have a daily audio-video connection on Skype. But we are living together in the flesh, too. Sometimes in Minnesota. Sometimes in Sardinia. And we travel together. To such exotic places as Scotland and Iceland and the Italian Alps. Anyway, our relationship is an indication that the world is both big and small. There's no separation, even when we are almost half a world apart. Couldn't have lived like this 100 years ago. My gosh, I'm becoming Italianized. And she's being Americanized. An interesting blend. Makes us romantic idealists. --Jim Broede

The sad truth: We've lost our way.

When it comes to politicians, I'm judgmental. Especially about Republicans. Many of 'em are the lowest form of life. Scumbags. Liars. Cheats. Yes, that's a pretty harsh judgment. And I may be unfair. Because there have to be some Republicans that are decent human beings. But there aren't very many in Congress. They all pretty much stick together. In obstructionist ways. Partisan as partisan can be. They really don't give a damn about what's best for America. Obama is the enemy. Because he ain't a Republican. And even fellow Republicans are enemies. Despising each other. Particularly, if they don't rigidly follow the party line. Objectivity isn't tolerated in the Republican ranks. But then, I suppose that's the inherent nature of politics. One rarely has a rational, fair-minded discussion about anything. And that ain't the right way to run a country. Little wonder that America is in trouble. In decline. I put the blame mosty on Republicans. But also on politicians in general. Doesn't matter the party. The Democrats are the lesser of the evils. And some of them are fair-minded, open-minded. A rarity in a politician of any stripe. Anyway, that's a serious dilemma. Because we invest politicians with significant power. Doesn't seem right. Allowing our lowest form of life to moreorless dictate the direction of the country. We need to put a fair-minded, non-political philosopher in charge. But that won't ever happen. Sad, isn't it? As a nation, we've lost our way. Our sense of fairness. Makes me wonder if we ever had it. --Jim Broede

Monday, August 27, 2012

Light and color suits my mood.

I'm letting more and more light into my life. Maybe it's the effect of my Italian true love. She's getting me to see the light, so to speak. Used to be that I liked my environment to be dark and subdued. Had no bright lights in my home. Only small lights, many of 'em with dim amber bulbs. Thought of that as soothing. Suppose it was -- for that time in my life. But my true love encouraged me to lighten up. To even install a long line of track lights in the living room and brighter lights throughout the house. And to trim the trees in the yard to allow in more sunlight. It's worked wonders. I like the changes. Also, I'm living with far less clutter. And I'm adding color. Don't know the real significance of all this. Other than it suits my mood. --Jim Broede

Sunday, August 26, 2012

Spillville: A swinging place.

If I was plunked down in Spillville, Iowa, and told I had to stay there for the rest of my life, that would be just fine. I'd adjust and live happily ever after. I set foot in Spillville on Saturday. For the first time. And I liked it. Spillville has 367 inhabitants. Several of which I met. Including Lori Faust, proprietor of the Speakeasy Inn. Where I stayed. With my Italian true love. I heard of Spillville only because the famous Czech composer Antonin Dvorak spent the summer of 1893 there. He was visiting America, and got tired of big city life in Chicago. Preferring a countryside setting where he could listen to the birds. That inspired him to compose music. Indeed, even today, 119 years later, Spillville is a quiet place. At the same time, one can enjoy the creature comforts of the Speakeasy Inn. Nice rooms. Nice food. Nice camaraderie. And down the street, the building where Dvorak lived, still stands. Housing a museum of hand-carved wood clocks. And farther down, there's St. Wenceslas Catholic Church. And a cemetery with tombstones and silvery metal crosses of Spillville residents that passed away as long ago as the mid-19th century. Some were born in the 1700s. I imagined that Dvorak walked the very grounds that I walked. Gave me opportunity to commune with Dvorak's spirit. There's a monument to Dvorak in Riverside Park, along the Turkey River. And a playground. With leather-seated swings. Hanging from chains. Believe me, Dvorak's spirit touched us. Right on the spot. My true love and I took to the swings. And became real swingers again. Just like when we were kids. --Jim Broede

Saturday, August 25, 2012

A great artist & scoundrel, too.

Rembrandt. I learned some things about him yesterday. Because I went to an exhibit of his paintings. With my Italian true love. Never paid much attention to Rembrandt before. Now I'm taking heed of Rembrandt. An indication that my true love has a positive effect on me. On what I do. On what I learn. Wouldn't have gone to the exhibit on my own. Needed prodding. For which I am grateful. Because I like to discover things. I am mostly curious. But also, I can be a bit lazy. I procrastinate. Anyway, Rembrandt specialized in portraits. And he tutored students. Taught them his painting techniques. Some students painted very much like Rembrandt. And he sometimes put his own name/signature on their works. And he'd sell the paintings and pocket the proceeds. A true blue capitalist. My true love confirms that Rembrandt was greedy. Out to make a buck, or whatever the currency was in the 1600s in Amsterdam. It wasn't strictly art for art's sake. Some of the paintings at the exhibit (at the Art Institute in Minneapolis) may have been works of other artists. Art moreorless stolen from other artists. Art experts continue to question the authenticity of some art long-proclaimed as being Rembrandt's. No doubt about it, Rembrandt was a great artist. But maybe a scoundrel, too. --Jim Broede

Friday, August 24, 2012

Doing what I gotta do.

I'm addicted. To physical exercise and writing. If I take a day off to either one of these pursuits, I'm having a bad day. Relatively speaking. Some friends tell me it's all right to take a day off. No need to exercise daily. Or to write every day. That it can be a negative compulsion. That the mind and body need rest. But walking and biking and writing help me relax. Puts me in a good mood. Makes me feel well. It's just the opposite if I skip a day. I become sort of out of sorts. I'm up tonight. Writing at the moment. And before going to bed, I'll walk at least five miles. Maybe I won't get to bed until 2 or 3 in the morning. But that's better than not doing what I gotta do. --Jim Broede

Thursday, August 23, 2012

Beethoven and Dylan.

For almost 50 years I've lived in Minnesota. Without ever being in the Minnesota city of Rochester. Until Tuesday. People from all over the world come to Rochester. To go to the Mayo Clinic. But it wasn't the Mayo Clinic that drew me. Instead, it was Bob Dylan, the musicmaker and his band. And it was wow! Of course, I've heard of Dylan. But never paid him much attention. Until my Italian true love introduced me to his music. It's loud. At least on stage. And mesmerizing. I fell into a hypnotic spell. Very relaxed. Almost like listening to the bombastic part of a Beethoven symphony. Beethoven would have enjoyed Dylan. Especially when he was losing his hearing. It's music played at a loud volume. I'll bet that Beethoven and Dylan also would have felt camaraderie. After all, Dylan's real name is Zimmerman. About as German as a name gets. --Jim Broede

Making the most of it.

My life is full of choices. Wonderful choices. If the first choice doesn't quite work at the moment, there's almost always a second or third or fourth choice that works. I don't lament having to settle for something less than the preferred choice. I savor what I can get. For instance, this weekend my Italian true love and I are headed for a remote country town in northeast Iowa. Spillville. Many of you probably never heard of it. But I did. Though I've never been there. But for a long time I wanted to go. Because that's where the famous Czech composer Antonin Dvorak spent a summer in 1893. He wanted a quiet place. Where he could listen to the birds. And compose music. Which he did. Two chamber works. He also was able to feel and sense America. While enjoying Czech camaraderie. Spillville was largely settled by Czech immigrants. I'm gonna pretend I'm a modern-day Dvorak. Which would please my Czech heritage mother if she was still living. She loved Dvorak's music. My original intent for this weekend was to travel to Spring Green in Wisconsin, where architect Frank Lloyd Wright used to live. He built a famous house there, which my true love and I wanted to visit. She's a devotee of Wright's architectural designs. Also, she teaches English literature. And Spring Green has a theatrical group that performs Shakespeare outdoors every summer. This Saturday, it's Richard III. Unfortunately, we were unable to book overnight accommodations in Spring Green. So we settled for our second choice. With no regrets on my part. Because I love life enough so that it doesn't matter whether I'm in Spring Green or Spillville. I'll make the most of it. No matter what. --Jim Broede

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Knowing beauty.

Sitting with my Italian true love. Late last night. In a restaurant. In Rochester, Minnesota. After a Bob Dylan concert. A lady walks up to our table. As she's leaving. Turns to my true love, and says, 'You are lovely. Beautiful. Just wanted to tell you.' Of course, my surprised true love says, 'Thank you.' And I thought, how wonderful. I've told my true love much the same. Often. In fact, I routinely call our audio/video connections on Skype visions of loveliness. No secret. I'm in love. "See,' I say, 'others see you in the same way as I.' Yes, folks, I know beauty when I see it. On the inside. On the outside. --Jim Broede

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

In symmetrey

Comes a time when I gotta do what I gotta do. Such as go out for a walk at 1 or 2 in the morning. To commune with the spirits. Or to get a better grasp on life. I call it reconciling issues. All sorts of issues. Intended to get me at One/in symmetry  with the cosmos. With all of creation. The nicest thing about the human condition. We have the ability to create ourselves. If I so choose, I can become a romantic idealist, a spiritual free-thinker, a political liberal, a lover, a dreamer. Puts me on the right track. Makes life worthwhile. A truly loving experience. --Jim Broede

Monday, August 20, 2012

The way life should be - and is.

Some people are never fully satisfied. With the way their day transpired. They always want more. Something better. That used to be me. But I've adapted. To being reasonably satisfied. That is, if I'm able to savor a little bit. And I am able. Because I routinely savor being alive and conscious and in love. Day after day after day. But some people I know go through a day -- in fact, much of lifetime -- without being conscious enough to savor life itself. Maybe it was while I was an Alzheimer care-giver, for my dear sweet wife Jeanne, that I learned to savor the smallest things. A smile. A look of recognition. The actual notion that I was in love. Not only with Jeanne. But with life. Even in what some would construe as the darkest moments. Anyway, that ability has lasted. Over five years since Jeanne died. I feel inspired virtually every day. For having experienced life. The way it should be experienced. In love. --Jim Broede

Sunday, August 19, 2012

On not caring enough.

Care-givers. Especially Alzheimer care-givers. They are the busiest people in the world. Busy caring. At least that's so with the truly caring ones. I know all kinds of care-givers. I've seen them from the inside. And the outside. Some are very, very competent. Others are incompetent. Doing more harm than good. Granted, the harm is mostly unintentional. Because they are too busy. Too exhausted to do a really good job of caring. They don't get respite. They drive themselves into the ground. In a sense, they are the ones that need caring. Even more than their patients. Often, I blame them for their incompetence. That may be unfair. Could be that they are too caring. For others. But not for themselves. They don't understand that unless they care for and about themselves, they lose the ability to care for others. Anyway, I give the care-givers I know some slack. I should be helping/assisting them. More than I do. Maybe it's that I'm one of those that doesn't care enough. --Jim Broede

Am I a liar or a truth-teller?

I retired early. From my job as a writer. In the news media. Thank gawd for retirement. Because I had to get out. For two reasons. Mainly, to care for my dear sweet wife, Jeanne. She had Alzheimer's. But the second reason was that I was beginning to despise the news media. The news business. Because in an effort to be 'fair,' the news media was giving equal time and space to the political liars. That was supposed to be 'fair and balanced.' No, it isn't. Because lies eventually become the truth in the minds of too many. Lies begin to prevail. Yes, that's what happens in so very many political campaigns. We Americans have difficulty separating fact from fiction. Many of us will believe almost anything. The preposterous. The lies. Look at the political ads and commercials, my fellow Americans. Many of you buy what you wanna buy. Doesn't matter if it happens to be filthy, despicable lies. You'll believe good is bad and that bad is good. That's what the lying politicians are good at. Telling lies and making it all seem like the truth. America has been built on a foundation of lies. And the biggest lie of all is that America is the greatest nation on Earth. Believe me, it ain't so. Does that make me a liar or a truth-teller? --Jim Broede

Saturday, August 18, 2012

A genuinely free spirit.

Stuff. I have stuff. Far too much stuff. Possessions. Really, it's junk. Stuff that I don't need. I was reminded of that today. When I went to an auction. Of stuff. Collected by a friend. Howard. A district court judge. He died a year ago. Didn't know it. Until I learned of the auction. Assumed then that Howard had died. Because there was no other way he'd sell all his stuff. The auction is expected to last three days. So much stuff. Didn't know he had so much stuff. Looked like some stuff went back generations. Stuff acquired by his grandparents and great grandparents. Stuff handed down to children and grandchildren. But now, strangers were buying the stuff. Talked to a lady who knew him. Probably a relative. 'Howard would have enjoyed seeing people buying his things,' she said. I thought about it. Yes, that was part of his enjoyment of life. The stuff reminded me of my friend. Yes, the stuff was part of Howard. Stuff that had meaning. Perhaps infused with Howard's spirit. Lasting. Lasting. Lasting. If not forever. For long after death. But my stuff really isn't all that meaningful. My spirit, even before I die, must be free of stuff. Only then will I be a genuinely free spirit.   --Jim Broede

Friday, August 17, 2012

A taste for everything Italian.

My Italian true love is particular about coffee. She doesn't like American coffee. Says it really isn't true coffee. We had lunch today at the Swedish Inn in the city of Lindstrom. In Minnesota. A state known for its Swedish heritage. So there was some hope that the coffee would taste more Swedish than American. Unfortunately, it didn't. The American taste prevailed. And so my true love settled for water. Without ice. She likes water at room temperature. When it comes to coffee, only the Italian kind suffices. And that's what she gets when I brew coffee at home. Usually, espresso. Italian espresso. Not American. I've never been much of a coffee drinker. Drank milk for breakfast. But now I have my morning espresso. I've cultivated a taste for it. In fact, a taste for everything Italian. --Jim Broede

Thursday, August 16, 2012

The wait was worth it.

My Italian true love had a whim today. To go to a farmers' market. For fresh homegrown produce. And that made our day. Came back with zucchini, sweet onions, potatoes, green beans, carrots, parsley, tomatoes and a round loaf of spinach/ feta cheese bread. Had all that for supper. Farmers markets are a daily fare in Sardinia, where I spend the fall and winter with my true love. She's with me in Minnesota now. And she wasted no time scouting up farmers' markets. This one in a small city called Hugo. Named after the French novelist Victor Hugo. The town was settled by French immigrants and their descendants. Lots of French names and Catholics in Hugo. The market was in the parking lot of St. John the Baptist Catholic Church. We tried to enter the church. But it was locked. A pity. A shame. Seems to me that a church should be open. Always. Another reason why my church is the great outdoors. The way god intended it. Anyway, back to the farmers' market. The market was setting up when we arrived at about 2 in the afternoon. And we tried to buy stuff immediately from the appetizing array of produce on the tables. But we had to wait til 2:30. Because that's the prescribed time for the market to open. Guess rules are rules. Meant to be followed to the letter. Anyway, the wait was worth it. --Jim Broede

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Better than to stagnate.

Paul Ryan. I don't like the guy. He's a fake. A political animal. Enraptured by his own image. As a darling. But he's shallow. Superficial. Little wonder that he's a Republican. I grew up in southern Wisconsin. Near the same city where Ryan was born and raised. In a different time, I might have known him. Been in the same high school class. I know Paul Ryans. Many of 'em. Fakes then. Fakes now. Didn't buy their bull shit then. Don't buy it now. No reason to go back to my class reunions. I have no desire to see the Paul Ryans. And they have no desire to see me. We've gone our different ways. To explore new horizons. New worlds. Never to return. Better than to stagnate in the political realm. As a Paul Ryan. --Jim Broede

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Exactly what we deserve.

It's a nearly impossible feat/task for me. Thinking positively of a politician, especiallly a Republican. They all represent what's wrong with American politics. No objectivity. No sense of fairness. Imagine trying to inject objectivity and fairness into politics. It won't ever happen. Because politics is about subjectivity and screwing your opponent. Yet we turn running of the nation over to politicians. Little wonder that we get ineptitude.  Exactly what we deserve. By tolerating it. --Jim Broede

Monday, August 13, 2012

Beyond the notion of country.

I like the idea of being less and less connected to the USA. To not be beholden to American ways. Especially in matters of politic. I'm not gonna be loyal just for the sake of being loyal. Especially if conservative Republicans are calling the shots. No thank you. I have higher values than those prescribed by the likes of Mitt Romney or Paul Ryan or any of the other Republicans trying to foist their idiocy on everyone. Seems to me they love money more than they love anything. And they want to make all of us greedy money-grubbers. They have no sense of the truly priceless commodities. Especially the aura of the spirit. Things that go far beyond the notion of country. --Jim Broede

Makes me feel less provincial.

My Italian true love and I have it made. In that we have two homes. Her home in Italy. And my home in Minnesota. And we can go back and forth. Any time we please. For me, it means summertime in Minnesota. And fall and winter in Italy. More precisely, on the island of Sardinia in the Mediterranean Sea. Meanwhile, she's spending part of the summer with me, in Minnesota. Five years ago, never did I dream that life would evolve in such a spectacular and romantic way. But it happened. Like in a fairy tale. For which I am thankful. For having an international flavor to my life. I'm beginning to feel as much Italian as American. I have significant connection to both countries. In fact, to Mother Earth, period. Makes me feel good, and less provincial. --Jim Broede

Sunday, August 12, 2012

Getting on with life.

I'll manage. And enjoy life. No matter who gets elected president. No matter which political party dominates. Because politics pose no stumbling block for me. I get on with life. No matter the political system that I live under. I take no time to lament if political outcomes don't suit me. Knowing full well I don't have any influence on politics. Therefore, I hardly ever participate in politics. Other than castigating Republicans. I'm saddened by the state of American politics. I wish it were different. And I'd welcome a revolution. But it ain't gonna happen. At least, not in my lifetime. I have learned acceptance. Knowing full well that I could have survived even in Stalinist Russia and Nazi Germany. I would have found ways to get on with life. --Jim Broede

Saturday, August 11, 2012

Five blissful, pleasurable years.

The best pleasure is slow pleasure. Pleasure that lasts and lasts and lasts. Pleasure experienced forever, of course, would be the best pleasure. Maybe there is no such thing as unending pleasure. So the next best thing is extended pleasure. Making it last. Requiring foreplay, of sorts. Lots of it. Foreplay in every kind of pleasure. Might be in eating/dining. Or even in falling asleep. I almost always take my leisurely time having supper. Especially in preparing supper. Putting it all together. And when I sit down to eat, I eat ever so slowly. Usually takes more than an hour. Don't eat large volumes of food. But I savor. Even the tiniest portions. Did it last night. An hour to consume a relatively small plate full of food. I almost always finish last. In keeping with my goal. Much the same in falling asleep. I doze off slowly. Clinging a little bit to consciousnes. Because only when I am conscious do I fully enjoy falling asleep. By the way, I've been falling in love with my Italian true love for almost five years now. Oh, imagine that. Five blissful, pleasurable years. --Jim Broede

Friday, August 10, 2012

No end to discovery.

I've known a particular neighbor for years and years. A long time. But really don't know her. In many ways. Because I keep discovering things. Such as, she's an accomplished swimmer. Swims across Forest Lake and in and out of a three-lake chain. Yes, literally swims miles. Non-stop. Her husband often follows her. In a pontoon boat. He's not much of a swimmer. Maybe can stay afloat for a couple hundred yards. All this is unimportant tidbit in the grand scheme of life, I suppose. But to me, it's interesting. I like to know things. Little things. About the people around me. Even about strangers. I like to discover something new. Every day. Maybe every minute. There's no end to discovery. --Jim Broede

I'm adding color to my life.

My Italian true love has opened my eyes. To color. Always thought that the interior of my house should have walls of one color. Really, no color. White. But the other day, she suggested that maybe the kitchen area would look nice painted a light purple. Lilac. So, on the spur of the moment, we have started painting. And I'm amazed about the effect of a color change. Might even consider a different color in the bathroom, and a bedroom, and my study. Yes, I'm adding color to my life. --Jim Broede

Thursday, August 9, 2012

It's gonna be a dirty fight.

I'm not a politician and I don't wanna be. Tried it for a while. Many years ago. By getting elected to a three-year term on the local school board. And never again did I seek political office. Meanwhile, I wrote about politics and politicians and the political process. Often. As a writer for newspapers. I mingled with politicians. And I've learned that politics is a very dirty game. Especially as one climbs the political ladder. National politics in America. It's the worst. Deceitful, lying scumbags often get to the top, or near to it. People like George Bush. Or Mitt Romney. Or Newt Gingrich. It's very few politicians that I respect. Barack Obama is an exception. But even he has turned to dirt. To very dirty politics. Because that's the way the game is played. And it's necessary for survival. An honest politician cannot succeed. He will be drummed out. Obama thought he could change things in Washington. He can't. At least not significantly. And he's learning that he's being dragged down. By the political system. He's forced to play the game. Especially if he wants to get re-elected to a second term. He has to play dirty. He can't be Mr. Nice Guy and still succeed. Because the lying bastards, the corrupt politicians, the one's capable of selling their souls, will try to do whatever it takes to bring him down. To cover him with dirt. Bury him alive. Obama has to find a way to fight back. And it ain't gonna be a clean and easy fight. If Obama wants to win, he can't merely turn the other cheek. He has to counter punch. To lie and cheat -- to some extent. Because the corrupt politicians with dirty tactics know how to manipulate. To sway the gullible public. With oft-repeated stretchings of the truth. Say something false often enough, and it's gonna be believed by a signnficant percentage of dimwits. That's the way it is. Huge hunks of the electorate are swayed by 30-second sound bites. By negative ads. The Republicans know it. And so does Obama. It's gonna be a dirty fight on both sides. --Jim Broede

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Used to waiting.

Winning ain't everything. Therefore, I'll remain a Chicago Cubs baseball fan for the rest of my life. Doesn't matter that the Cubs haven't won a World Series in 104 years. Or that they're likely to lose 100 games this season and end up with one of the worst records in baseball. Because the Cubs are in a rebuilding mode. Or so we're told. Another excuse for losing. Used to be that Cubs fans were told to wait 'til next year. But now we're told wait for 3 or 4 more years. Really doesn't matter. We Cubs fans are used to waiting. For a long, long time. --Jim Broede

Life is mostly happiness.

Sitting on a park bench along the St. Croix River yesterday. With my Italian true love. And a woman happens by. Looks at us. And admires us. Because we look happy. And in love. Or so she tells us. 'You two are lucky,' she says. 'I'm a widow.' She looks sad. My true love tells her, "I'm sorry.' I say nothing. Wish I had. I should have told her give it time. Life will get better. My true love and I have had sadness in our lives. As does virtually everyone, I suppose. But life is mostly happiness. --Jim Broede

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

About Julie and Rick.

I try to enter other people's worlds. Today it's the world of Julie and Rick. They're in their 60s. Working two jobs. Together. A marketing consulting business they own and operate. That's the easy job. It's the second one that leaves me in admiration of this married couple. They're care-givers for Julie's dementia-afflicted parents, Arlene and Ron. They've been at it for four years. All of 'em live together. In the same house. In my neighborhood. They're my heroes. Julie and Rick. Not many couples would take on such a challenge. With one parent. Let alone two. Doubt that I would. Though I cared for my dear sweet Jeanne for 13 years. When she had Alzheimer's. Ain't easy, believe me. I retired as a writer for a newspaper. So that I could handle the care-giving. And for the last 38 months of Jeanne's life, I put her into a nursing home. Allowed me to be an 8-10-hour-a-day care-giver. Instead of 24/7. Julie and Rick hop-scotch from business to home. Daily. And they employ part-time care-givers, too. Yes, they are remarkably proficient jugglers. Exhausted ones, too. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. Still, they plug away. Valiantly. Maybe because they have each other. And love in their hearts. Julie and Rick once wanted to hire me. As part-time care-giver. Because they were aware of my experience and dedication. With Jeanne. I thought better of the offer. For selfish reasons. I have an Italian true love. In Sardinia. Where I go every autumn and winter to be with her. And she's with me now. In Minnesota. Anyway, I wanna savor life. With my true love. Still, we find time to give Julie and Rick a little relief. We had Arlene and Ron over for dinner and camarderie the other evening. So that Julie and Rick could go out for the evening. Yes, everybody needs respite. Especially care-givers. Learned that as a care-giver. I'm still taking my hard-earned respite. I'm gonna see that Julie and Rick get theirs, too. --Jim Broede

Monday, August 6, 2012

I'm betting on Dirty Barack.

Seems to me that Barack Obama has learned something in these past four years. How to fight back. Republicans routinely play dirty. But Obama's been a nice, clean cut guy. Turning the other cheek. But now Obama counters by returning dirty politics with dirty politics. Maybe even more effectively than Romney. I sense that Romney is squirming. Knowing full well that he has met his match in the upcoming alley fight. The one that will determine the outcome of the looming election. I'm betting on Dirty Barack. --Jim Broede

Sunday, August 5, 2012

My most pleasant addiction.

It's a rare day that I miss posting in my blog. Happened Saturday. But it goes to show what's most important in my life. My Italian true love. She's arrived from Italy. To spend August with me in Minnesota. And she moreorless gets my undivided attention most days. Yes, the way it should be. Because I'm a romantic idealist. Living for the sake of love. True love. And if that means shoving aside other responsibilities, so be it. But I'm up especially late tonight. Writing. Which is an addiction. A positive one, really. And only second to my most consuming and pleasant addiction, my true love. --Jim Broede

About Arlene and Ron.

I like Arlene and Ron. Despite their dementia. Really, they have uncanny intelligence. Amazing. Amazing. Amazing. Some people won't believe me. They'll think I'm kidding. But I ain't. My Italian true love and I spent Saturday night with Arlene and Ron. They were our guests. At our home. For dinner and camaraderie. Years and years ago I shunned people with dementia. That was before my dear wife Jeanne had Alzheimer's. After the diagnosis, I was scared silly for a while. Until I learned to enter the world of people with dementia. Jeanne helped me. When I was her care-giver. For 13 years. Until the day she died five years ago. Jeanne taught me a whole lot. About love. About what it's like to have dementia. About communication. Jeanne invited me into her new world. Opened my mind. My heart and soul. And so it was no problem conversing with Arlene and Ron. They've been married to each other for the better part of a century. Fortunate to grow old together. Better than dying young. And Arlene and Ron know that they still have each other. Even in the state of dementia. Ron is happier than Arlene. Because Ron isn't really all that aware of his dementia. Arlene is more aware. That her mind isn't functioning the way it used to. Makes her a little uneasy. But I'm able to give her reassurance. Just like I did with Jeanne. Because I'm capable of entering Arlene's world. I can speak her language. Better than I speak Italian. Which is all right. Because my Itallian true love speaks fluent English. Anyway, I'd rather focus my efforts on dementia-talk. My mission is to reach people with dementia. To not write 'em off. Everyone of 'em can be reached. I know it. Beyond a doubt. But it's important that I enter their world. They aren't gonna enter mine, or the one they used to live in. Arlene and Ron have let me in. For which I am grateful. And I'm gonna talk more about them and their world in upcoming weeks. Stay tuned. --Jim Broede

Friday, August 3, 2012

A friend and an acquaintance.

I know two kinds of Catholics. Very liberal. And very conservative. Two people I see almost every day. A friend. And an acquaintance. The friend is a very liberal Catholic. Accepts me unconditionally. Despite me being a free-thinking non-Christian. Doesn't make any attempt to change me. I like that. The very conservative Catholic, an acquaintance, says I'm going to hell. Wants to convert me. To save me from hell. I find that funny. And it's another good reason why one is a friend, and the other, a mere acquaintance. --Jim Broede

Thursday, August 2, 2012

All I need is love.

The rest of the world is smarter than the USA. Especially when it comes to spending for defense and the military. We Americans spend pretty much more than the rest of the world combined. Add up the defense budgets of China, Russia, the United Kingdom, France, Japan, Saudi Arabia, Germany and Italy -- and it doesn't equal the USA budget. Yes, folks, our priorities are out of whack. And then we wonder why we're going broke. Yet the Republicans want to spend even more on defense. And less on our domestic programs. Doesn't seem to make sense. Yet we allow our politcal bozos to get away with it. Maybe because Americans are the most stupid people in the world. Maybe it's that we live in fear. Afraid that the rest of the world is gonna rob us of our American way of life. To tell the truth, that would suit me just fine. Because I think there's a better way. Much better. That's why I'm living in Italy half of the year. Maybe I'll make it a full year one of these days. Thing is, though, that I still haven't given up on America. I'm the eternal optimist. But if not, there's always the rest of the world. It ain't all bad. I could even salvage a reasonably decent life in hell. All I need is a little bit of love. --Jim Broede

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Wouldn't that be wonderful?

Polls are showing that most Americans like the black guy more than the white guy. Because he's more personable. Yes, nicer. That's amazing. Didn't use to be that way. Because America has been a racist nation. Right from the beginning. But maybe not as racist as it once was. Could be that we Americans are moving in the right direction. Away from racism. Toward open-mindedness. And fairness. Away from bigotry. I'm even beginning to believe that the black guy might win a second term as president. Over the white guy, who represents the party of diehard bigots. I like to think of myself as an eternal optimist. That over the long haul, things get better. Wouldn't that be wonderful? If I don't have to write-off America. --Jim Broede

A better place to live.

I tell my Italian true love that I'm a philosophic Athenian. Rather than a Spartan. That I enjoy the finer things in life. In keeping with the ways of a true blue Athenian. I shun the worst of America. By leaving Minnesota for six months every year. To come to Italy. To live with her. That allows me to savor the best of Italy. Mainly, my true love. And now I get a bonus. She arrives tomorrow. To spend the rest of summer with me. In Minnesota. Ah, an Italian import. Makes America a better place to live. --Jim Broede