To touch one of the best.

I don’t blame others for my shortcomings. As a writer, or for anything. It’s my fault if I don’t overcome obstacles that prevent me from being better. In certain skills. And as a human being. Don’t know about other people. They may have legitimate gripes. That they’ve failed  to achieve being good at something because of reasons perpetrated by others. Maybe by society or by the  political, economic and social systems. If I’m not a good writer, it’s me to blame. I’ve had the opportunities. And for the most part, I’ve taken advantage of ‘em. I’m a good writer. But I could be better. Probably because I didn’t push myself hard enough. I’m a good guy, too. But I could be better. I suspect many human beings have fell short because of discrimination. Lack of equal opportunity. That might have applied to me if I had been born black in America. In 1935. It would have made  a big, big difference. But then again, I might have become a better writer. Because of the experience. Especially if I had the gumption to overcome. Hard to say. I know some black people who are the finest human beings I’ve ever met. Despite having been treated badly. I haven’t met Nelson Mandela. But I would like to. And shake his hand. To be able to say I touched one of the best. –Jim Broede