Life ain't all that bad.

Bad times in my life don’t seem quite so bad any more. After reflection. And learning from it all. From my dear sweet Jeanne’s 13-year siege with Alzheimer’s. Ending in Jeanne’s death seven  years ago. Of course, I wished Jeanne never had Alzheimer’s. But fact is, she did. Something I couldn’t change. So I learned acceptance. Made the best of the situation. Now it almost seems like a blessing. For me. And for Jeanne, too. After all, I was there for her. When she needed me the most. Could have been a much better care-giver at the start. But I finished strong. Learning. Learning. Learning all the time. By trial. By error. Learned to make care-giving a pleasure. Not a job. Not work. By polishing my loving skills. Became a better human being in the process.. Goes to show that life ain't all that bad. –Jim Broede

On not being all things to all people.

I can’t be all things to all people. That’s impossible. Probably applies to everyone. So I have to pick and choose. Set my priorities. Happened years ago. When my dear sweet wife Jeanne had Alzheimer’s. It was a 13-year siege with dementia. I chose to focus on Jeanne. Above all else. Even when my mother was ill and dying. Had to leave the primary responsibility for mother to a niece. Yes, that’s the way I look at life. I’m spread thin. I can do only so much. And I have to try to not feel too guilty. When someone/something gets neglected. But I know people who try to be all things to all people. And sometimes they collapse, or even die, in pursuit of the unattainable goal.  Doesn’t make sense. If they are my friends, I encourage them to focus on the most important people in their lives. Mostly, loved ones. As for me, my devotion/responsibility/love for Jeanne was put on a higher level than my devotion/responsibility/love for my mother. I couldn’t do it all. And I lived with that decision. Without too many qualms of conscience. –Jim Broede

Now I can say it. Honestly.

I remember. Living life 60 or 70 years ago. Vividly. But that wasn’t me. I was going through the motions. Of living.  And maybe I still am. Acting like a robot. Only difference may be that I’ve duped myself.  That these are more than motions. That I’m really me. A genuine thinking and functioning human being.  Making my own decisions. One thing I couldn’t say 60 or 70 years ago. That I was in love. With life. Now I can say it. Honestly. –Jim Broede

Getting to know someone.

Nothing wrong with not liking someone. Instead, the ‘wrong’ is in maltreating him/her.  In being unfair. Yes, I’m supposed to love everyone. Even my enemies. Maybe not having to like what they do. Their actions. But still showing them basic respect. As human beings. Or so that’s what I was told. When hauled off to Sunday school. Anyway, I'm following my instincts. Rather than hard and fast rules. One amazing thing. A discovery. Some people that I disliked. Well, now I like ‘em.  Makes a big difference, I guess. Getting to know someone.  –Jim Broede

Getting on with the rest of life.

My friend Julie didn’t like the way everyone acted. In the hospital room. When her mother was dying the other day. She was annoyed. If not downright angry. At her sister. Her husband, too. And others. For being too loud. And gregarious. In a sense, disrespectful. She wished they had been more quiet. More subdued. More spiritual.  Julie felt like telling ‘em all to get out. To go to the hospital lounge. Because Julie wanted an environs of peace and solitude.  As she focused on making a spiritual connection with mom. In the waning minutes of mom’s earthly/physical life. Albeit in a coma.  Still, maybe mom’s spirit could hear all the commotion. But then, everyone has his/her own way of dealing with death. Some prefer Julie’s way. Others like to pretend that it ain’t happening. They ask, ‘Where are we going for dinner tonight?’ Or they are busy text messaging about the pending death. Or they may even tell jokes to relieve the tension. As for me, I’d rather not be there.  Instead, I want to waste no time. Getting on with the rest of life. –Jim Broede

Please, no more funerals.

When my dear, sweet Jeanne died seven years ago, I decided not to hold a funeral. It would have been too macabre for me. Besides, I don’t think Jeanne wanted a funeral. I thought about a memorial service. Maybe months later. But even that didn’t materialize. Thank goodness. Better to commune directly with Jeanne’s spirit. Whenever I feel like it. And anyone else that misses Jeanne can do the same. Any time.  Another thing. I abhor ‘visitations.’ That’s an odd word. An opportunity to view the deceased in an open casket.  Again, that’s too ghoulish for me. I’d rather remember Jeanne as a vibrant living being. Not as a corpse. Her physical life is over. Now she’s a beautiful and magnificent spirit. That’s my focus. On the spirit. Not the physical any more.  And still another thing, Jeanne was cremated. No need for burial or a graveside service. Yes, let’s eliminate the usual  rituals. Better to get on with life. Recognizing that the spiritual part of Jeanne never died. Let’s celebrate a grand and glorious life. Jeanne lives. Forever. I know. For certain. After all, her spirit permeates me. –Jim Broede

Better than dying young.

Living into one’s 80s isn’t necessarily a bad option in life. Even if one eventually dies of complications from dementia/Alzheimer’s. Maybe that beats dying young. In one’s 40s, 50s or 60s. Everyone has to answer that for himself/herself. But I know which I’d choose. Give me a long life. Even if I have to die in a demented state. Yes, I know that ain’t a nice way to end one’s life. Dying ain’t pretty. No matter the way. My neighbor Julie has both of her parents living today. In their 80s. And both with dementia.  Julie’s mother Arlene may be gone by the end of the day. She’s in the hospital. Just taken off a respirator that helps her breathe. Without it, she’s expected to die. Arlene had a good life. As teacher and mother and decent human being.  And so has her dad Ron, who used to be a scientist at 3M Co.  He’s still in reasonably good physical health. But his mind is far from what it used to be.  Julie and husband Rick have been care-givers in their home for over four years. And they have been stretched and stressed thin by the experience. But still, they consider themselves lucky. In fact, blessed. For having Arlene and Ron around for such a long time. Better than if they had died young. –Jim Broede

Rather be spiritual than religious.

I’m spiritual. Not religious. There’s a big difference.  Religions turn me off.  The spirits turn me on. My guess is that the creator wanted us all to be spiritual. And to spurn religions. Because religions divide us. Spirits bring us together. Initially, there was spiritual life. Which comes naturally. But then mankind went wrong. And started forming religions. Of all kinds. And each religion tended to say it was the only true and valid and correct way to worship. Everybody else was wrong.  Little wonder that produced feuds and wars. People thought it was all right to kill each other over religious principles. That the creator was on their side.  That he turned the world into good and bad. And it was up to us to get it right.  Well, seems to me that the creator meant that we’re are all spiritual beings. That the spirit comes naturally. And that all religions are bad/unnatural. And the creator wants the spirit to prevail. Because the basic spirit is love. Religion is just the opposite. The teacher of hate and intolerance. –Jim Broede

My cats. I love them so.

I talk to my cats. Out loud, of course. Because I want them to hear me. It’d be nice if they understood. Maybe they do. But it’s really a monologue. I don’t expect much, if any response. Though sometimes I pretend that they are telling me something. Not in spoken words. But in thought. They tell me what I want to hear. And maybe that’s why I talk to them. Helps me create a dialogue. More or less with myself.  My cats have names. Loverboy.  Chenuska. They seem like real people. Therefore, it’s natural. To talk to my cats. That’s funny. I call them ‘my cats.’ Why is that? People don’t belong to me. But cats/pets do?  It’s like I own them. A bit arrogant, isn’t it? Like when masters owned slaves. I’d rather think of my cats as free and independent. In a sense, they are. But they’ve been domesticated. And they need care. Loving care, really. In some sense of the word, I ‘love’ my cats more than I love people. My neighbor could die, and I’d shed no tears. But when my cats die, I cry. And feel real remorse. As if I have lost a true love. So maybe that’s why I talk to my cats. I love them so. –Jim Broede

My aim: A society with no secrets.

I dislike secret government. Secret police. Secret anything. I want full disclosure. Of everything. No secrets. Let it all hang out. I’m for establishing an anti-secrecy bureau. Responsible for exposing/uncovering secrets. Yes, secrets of all kinds. But especially the secrets that government keeps from us. And if the bureau needs a director, I’ll nominate me. I’d like to make the revelations of secrets my full-time job.  By publishing all of the secrets. Maybe right here in my blog. I’m on another mission. To create a society with no secrets.  –Jim Broede

No fair shake from Republicans.

I don’t trust conservative Republicans. But hey, if I were black instead of white, I’d never turn my back on Republicans. I’d watch their every move. With wary disdain. Because chances are they are racists. And up to no good. Of course, Republicans relate to me in a different way. Because I’m white. That helps. But once they know my political views, Republicans would start treating me more like a black man. As a black sympathizer.  Similar to the way Nazis treated Jewish sympathizers in Germany. Meanwhile, I’ll concede that not every Republican is a racist. But generally, Republicans of every stripe go along with the racist dictates of the party rulers. The party’s conservative base is fearful of the white race some day soon becoming the minority in America. That’s an abhorrent and scary thought for the GOP’s racist element. They’d like to disenfranchise minorities. Especially blacks and Hispanics. Because they vote overwhelmingly for Democrats. And why is that? Because minorities know they won’t get a fair shake from racist Republicans. –Jim Broede

The most moral option.

Doesn’t seem right. The conservatives on the U.S. Supreme Court foisting their political beliefs into their judicial decisions.  Maybe that makes me a hypocrite. If I were on the court, my impulse might well be to advocate liberal interpretations on judicial matters. I confess. Too often my tendency is to be more subjective than objective. Especially when it comes to ordinary, everyday matters. Can’t you tell? Just by reading my blog. Subjectivity abounds.  Which I deem as okay. Because I’m not in a position of power. But let’s pretend.  I’m a member of the mighty powerful Supreme Court.  Should I make a genuine effort to be objective/fair/unbiased? Leaving politics out of the equation. Yes, no doubt about it, that would be the best and most moral and prudent option. –Jim Broede

Little wonder. I'm a Putin fan.

I’m a fan of Russian President Vladimir Putin. In part, because he ain’t afraid to stand up to American officials.  And he’s good for Russia. In that he knows how to get things done. Politically. His way.  Barack Obama could take lessons from Putin. He’d show Obama how to deal with Republicans. In a more ruthless manner. Obama does too much pussyfooting. He’s too nice. Putin has a gruff and scary side. Another thing. Putin keeps himself in svelte condition. He could beat up an opponent. Political and otherwise. With his bare fists. Obama may be a decent basketball player. But he’d be pulverized in a fist fight, even with out-of-shape fatty Newt Gingrich. With the weight advantage, Newt would merely fall on Obama and crush him to death. Yes, I know that wouldn’t be a fair fight. But Putin could handle Gingrich. By circling and giving him a lethal kick in the ass. Little wonder. I’m a Putin fan. –Jim Broede

The makings of a foolish wise man.

Don’t mind being a fool. It’s a part of my genetic make-up. Doesn’t necessarily mean that I always act like a fool. Only that I’m fully capable of being a fool at any time. Especially when I sit down to write. I know no bounds. Writing whatever comes to mind. Even foolish stuff.  Doesn’t embarrass me. Because I am what I am. An unmitigated fool. So are many other people. Virtually everyone, in fact. But many of ‘em try to hide the fact. Out of embarrassment, I suppose. That makes them even bigger fools. Someone (not sure who) said a fool doth think he’s clever. But a wise man knows himself to be a fool. Maybe that makes me a foolish wise man. –Jim Broede

Too much to expect.

I have no faith in the U.S. Supreme Court. Because it’s dominated by conservatives. And I’m a liberal. In just about every walk of life. Political. Economic. Social. Spiritual. Of course, I’d like to see a court with a liberal majority. But that would annoy conservatives. Maybe the answer is a court that looks at matters objectively.  Without political bias. But maybe that’s too much to expect. In present-day America. –Jim Broede

Losing as a natural way of life.

I don’t like it. The  Chicago Cubs. Being groomed to lose. Intentionally. Because that’s supposed to be good for the long-term future. The Cubs are supposed to be ‘rebuilding.’ Stockpiling very young baseball players. Some just out of high school. Players with potential. Might take five years to mature into decent  players. Another thing, if the Cubs have the worst record in baseball, they get a top pick in the annual draft of amateur talent.  Therefore, it pays to lose. To have a spectacularly bad season. Because it'll pay dividends in the future. Instead, let's find innovative ways to win now. And in the future, too. Unfortunately, the Cubs have a long-time losing tradition. Seems to me that players have been taught that losing is acceptable. For now. Losing becomes a habit. The Cubs are undisputed masters of losing. Every which way. Discovering new ways every day.  Losing  is engrained in the Cub psyche. It's become the natural way of life in the Cubs domain.  –Jim Broede

Blessed/cursed with a Slavic face.

I have a good feeling about Russia and Russians.  Wouldn’t mind living there. For an extended time.  Of course, language would be a problem. I don’t speak Russian. And at my ripe age, I wouldn’t have time to learn to speak (and understand) fluent Russian. But I’d seek out English-speaking Russians. Just as I look for English-speaking Italians when living in Italy.  I try to make the best of every situation. I’m of Slavic ancestry on my mother’s side of the family. Czech. Maybe that draws me to Russia.  Russians that I’ve met have a Slavic pulse beat. I like it. My Italian true love tells me I look like a Russian. She tells me there’s a slight resemblance to Boris Yeltsin. I’m not sure if she means the living or the dead Boris. I take it all in stride. ‘Don’t I look more like an Italian gentleman?’ I ask imploringly. She replies, ‘No way.’  Well, that’s life when one is blessed/cursed with a Slavic face. –Jim Broede

Three cheers for political asylum.

It’s wonderful. That Americans can seek political asylum. In various countries around the world. Places like China and Russia and Ecuador and Iceland and Cuba and Venezuela. Safe havens. Thing is, America isn’t always right. Isn’t always fair. Even to its own citizens. In many ways, America is a hypocritical nation.  On the political, economic and social levels. Therefore, some Americans need protection. From persecution. From unfair and sometimes abhorrent treatment.  From its own government.  From domestic political factions.  I can imagine some day needing political asylum. If America was taken over by lunatic fringe Republicans. I’d want a place to flee to. Maybe Canada.  Living in Minnesota, I almost sit on the border now.  And I spend almost half the year living with my Italian true love in Sardinia. I have options. And that’s what I want for other Americans. Such as Edward Snowden, the patriot who leaked secret/classified information about American government surveillance.  Of course, the government is taking a hostile stance toward  Snowden. Charging him with espionage and other crimes. The government doesn’t see Snowden in the same way that I do. As a hero. For his disclosures. I’m not sure that Snowden will get fair treatment in America. The political and judicial systems may be rigged against him.  Snowden may be better off living in a more neutral country. Maybe in English-speaking Iceland, for instance. Where he can speak more freely. Where he doesn’t have to cater to the whims of a hypocritical American government. –Jim Broede

Setting a fine example.

I’m living a lazy summer. Not tackling any big work projects. Setting a fine example for humanity. Gliding and drifting through life. Without stress.  Restful days. Restful nights. I put in my physical exercise. And I write. And I relax. And don’t worry about getting this and that done. Other than preparing the house. To be in relatively decent condition. When my Italian true love arrives in July. –Jim Broede

A way to feel good. About America.

Edward Snowden. I’m on his side. In efforts to avoid arrest by the U.S. government. For espionage. For leaking information about U.S. surveillance. On its citizens. In my mind, Snowden is a hero. Doing the right thing. Making secrets less secret. I want to live in an open society that abhors the keeping of secrets. Maybe that poses a contradiction. Because government surveillance is intended to collect information. About people. Stuff that might otherwise be private. But when government collects, it’s spying. Maybe for the wrong reasons. We the people have a right to know when we are being spied upon. By the government. Or by anyone. I’m not necessarily against spying. But I want full disclosure. That it’s being done. And for what purpose. I’m making an assumption. That there’s more harm in knowing too little than in knowing too much. When working as a journalist, I abhorred liars. And people who kept secrets. Unnecessarily.  Anyway, seems to me that Snowden is being cast by government as an enemy of the government. Could be. That he's the foe of clandestine government. Which makes him a friend of the people/society. Chances are, Snowden will be put on trial some day. By a misguided and vindictive government. But I have faith in the American jury system. Snowden will be acquitted. By his peers. And over the course of history, he’ll be judged a patriot. A hero. Indeed, that would make me feel good. About America. –Jim Broede

A spiritual orgasm.

Think about it. A spiritual orgasm.  What would it feel like? And how does one  achieve it? Maybe I have. In a limited way.  Imaginatively. Thing is, I’m held back by my physical being.  One must be a spirit, and only a spirit, to feel the full effects of a spiritual orgasm. So unlike a physical orgasm. A spirit is a spirit. Seeking an overwhelming feeling  of peace and tranquility. No longer being encumbered by the physical restraints of life. Better to be weightless and adrift. Like a vapor. A mist. A feeling of eternal pleasure. Long-lasting. Nothing like the short-lived physical/sexual orgasm. Maybe I’ve had a hint of spiritual orgasm. A momentary willful out-of-body experience.  A continuous flow of pure love. Permeating my spirit.  Yes, that’s a spiritual orgasm. --Jim Broede

A dialogue: As equally free spirits.

I’m a free-thinker. Shunning organized religions. Preferring to proceed on my own. I believe in a creator. In a spiritual force of life. If I am to live forever, it’ll be as a free spirit. On the same level/dimension as the creator.  I’m able now to commune with the creator. Directly. From my perch in the physical world. But it’s not the same as being fully in the spiritual dimension. The physical world is too limiting. For me. The creator is at an advantage. In his more lofty environs. One can be truly free only in the spiritual realm. Not so in the physical.  Give me direct access to the creator. In his domain. That is where I yearn to be. Then the creator and I  can conduct a real dialogue. As equally free spirits. –Jim Broede

To live with passion.

Occasionally, I allow my emotions get the worst of me.  Rather than the best. For instance, if I very, very much want a particular outcome, and it doesn’t happen. I’ve been known to fret. To anguish. To pout. To go into doldrums.  Might be over trivial things. Such as a sporting event that didn’t go my way. Or something more serious. Gore losing to Bush in the presidential election. Or my dear and adorable Jeanne having Alzheimer’s, and dying from it. But more and more, I’m learning acceptance. Of things over which I have no ability to change.  I’ve even learned to control my emotions. To a degree. Don’t know if that’s always good. Because there are times when it’s best to be very emotional. To live with feeling/passion. –Jim Broede

High-strung people resent me.

Nervous and high-strung people tend to make people around them nervous. Unless you are me. I refuse to allow people to make me nervous. Instead, in my calm, cool, collected way I make nervous people even more nervous. They resent me. For being calm, cool and collected. And for being a man of moderation. In addition to acting like a dapper and relaxed Italian gentleman. –Jim Broede

Just-deserts for the guilt-inclined.

Practice. Practice. Practice. Yes, I practice ways to not feel guilty. Because guilt can drag one down. Instead, I persuade myself that I don’t have to do everything. Or to be everything to everyone. I can’t do it all. I have to draw lines. And declare that enough is enough. I could easily list 100 things to do around the house. Projects of one kind or another.  But by doing that, I might have pangs of guilt. No sense in feeling guilty. So there’s no list. Therefore, I have no written reminder to feel guilty. That helps. But I know people, including some dear friends, that are constantly feeling guilty. About big things. And little things, too. They never run out of guilt. Endless guilt trips are routine. They try to make me feel guilty. For not feeling guilty. Instead, I make them feel guilty for trying to make me feel guilty. Serves them right. –Jim Broede

Living in the spiritual realm.

I’m fortunate in that I found ways to commune with my dear and precious Jeanne’s spirit. Before she died physically. And after she died, too. Even today, almost 7 years after she died, I’m able to connect/commune with Jeanne’s spirit. I came to know Jeanne’s spirit intimately during our 38 years of marriage. It was always there. Inside her. Just as my spirit is alive. Inside me. I’m assuming my spirit will live. Forever.  My spirit will survive my physical death. Doesn’t matter whether I’m Christian or Muslim or Jew or Buddhist or Hindu. Or yes, even atheist. Spirits live on and on. The spirits are there to be cultivated intimately. Now. One doesn’t have to wait until physical demise. The real inner me is spirit. The real Jeanne is spirit. I’m aware of spirits. The ones inside me. Mine. Jeanne’s, too. Everyone has spirit. The creator is pure spirit. Without physical form. Spirits are free to commune and cavort with each other. Not physically. But spiritually. I believe in spiritual communication. And in spiritual lovemaking. It’s vastly different from physical lovemaking. On an entirely different plane. In another dimension. Spiritual love goes far, far beyond physical love. Incredible. Extraordinary. Fantastic. Amazing. Maybe beyond physical human comprehension, I suspect. Perhaps grasped fully only by pure spirit. On the same level as the creator. --Jim Broede

Benefits of a one-track mind.

I dislike getting ahead of myself. Better to do what I am doing. By being immersed. Rather than thinking about what I’m gonna do next. No distractions. That’s a benefit of a one-track mind.  Focus. Focus. Focus.  On the moment. Oh, sometimes I take pride in my ability to multiple-task. To become a juggler. To do six things at once. But that’s not my preferred way. One thing at a time. Maybe I learned that as a care-giver. For my dear wife Jeanne. When she had Alzheimer’s.  I taught her the benefits of a one-track mind. To wear blinders. To shut out everything but the task at hand. It often works for those with dementia. And it can work for others. –Jim Broede

A constant state of flux.

A well-regulated society. We’ll come to it some day. That will upset libertarians. But it’s gonna happen. Because it will be deemed best for the common good. To limit profits. To end exploitation of the masses. The alternative is to give everyone free rein. To allow individuals to do as they please.  To make unlimited profits. To have a society where the filthy rich rank supreme. All-powerful. Politically. Economically. Socially.  Oh, maybe there’s a happy balance. Somewhere in between. That could be the answer. A compromise. But sooner or later, we humans tend to go to extremes. From well-regulated. To unregulated. Thing is. There’s no perfect way. Therefore, we settle for being in a constant state of flux. –Jim Broede

It's downright immoral.

I’m for siphoning the profits of big business. And using the proceeds for the common good. Mostly, by putting people back to work. In pursuits good for society. Even for the support of the welfare state.  For social programs that benefit the poor and the middle class.  That’s the advice of some modern-day economists. They point out that in the so-called good old days, in the 1950s, the profitable big businesses were exemplified by the likes of General Motors. Businesses that employed many, many workers. Paid them decent wages. To produce. That was a way of sharing profits with the producers/workers. But today, some of the biggest profiteers are companies such as Apple and Microsoft. They have relatively few employees. And they ship jobs overseas. To very low wage workers. Thus, the workers receive smaller and smaller shares of profits. And some economists tell me that hurts the economy. Especially here in the U.S. Because these companies hoard the profits, and make a few people rich. Rather than distributing the wealth to the many. Little wonder, the ever-widening gap between the rich and the poor. Unfortunately, the rich are in positions of political and economic power. They call the shots. Making the rich richer. And the poor poorer. Obviously, that doesn’t serve the common good. In fact, it’s downright immoral. –Jim Broede

A wise and happy spirit.

People tell me, do this, do that. Doesn’t bother me. Because I generally follow my own inclinations. Doing as I please. And I do my share of telling, too. Offering advice. That’s my specialty.  The way I was raised. My mother always had ample advice. For me. For everyone. Dad wasn’t around that much. Don’t remember if I ever really got tutored by him. Though I learned stuff. On my own. He was an habitual gambler.  Got into big debts.  And big trouble. From gambling.  Eventually committed suicide. Maybe dad was teaching me. By example. To not gamble. To not kill myself. Better to enjoy and savor life. I’ve already lived twice as long as dad. And I have a desire to live forever. Maybe not physically. But spiritually.  Could be dad is doing that now.  Living. In the spiritual realm. Which means he’s probably a wise and happy spirit. –Jim Broede

Honoring the snails of the world.

I’m on a mission. To slow down the people around me. Mostly, my friends. And especially my Italian true love. People tend to live at too fast a pace. Maybe because they try to do too much. They spread themselves thin. I try to live slowly. Taking my good-nature time. Savoring life. Everything. The big things. The little things. Seeking to make time pass slowly. To almost stop. More and more, I refuse to allow others to dictate the pace of my life. Of course, I probably shouldn’t dictate to others. But still, I do. Because I have a dictatorial gene. Can’t help it. The world moves too fast. But I deal with it. By retreating. Into solitude. Where life proceeds tranquilly. My respite time. I emerge from my haven/cocoon. To pursue my mission. Honoring the snails of the world. –Jim Broede

A part of life. And death, too.

My neighbor and friend. The care-giver. Is feeling guilty again. Because her mom might have died yesterday. Unnecessarily. Of pneumonia.  That went undetected for a while. My neighbor feels guilty about it. Blaming herself. For not knowing better. By merely putting her mom to bed when she had a 101-degree fever. The next day she took mom to the emergency room at the local hospital. Where she was diagnosed. And judged to be in mortal peril. Fortunately, she’s responded to treatment. And is on the road to recovery, it seems. But if she had died, her daughter would have felt responsible. And blamed herself. Unfortunately, she’s an overwhelmed and exhausted and overworked care-giver. For a patient with dementia. A patient unable to fully explain how she’s feeling. Care-giving ain’t easy. Especially under these circumstances. Care-giving of elderly parents with Alzheimer’s should be a team-effort. Invoking all sorts of people. Professionals. Amateurs. Family members. Friends.  Doesn’t always turn out that way. Often, the onus falls on a single 24/7 care-giver. That’s an enormous and virtually impossible heart-rending task. It shouldn’t happen. But it does. And if something goes wrong, as it usually does, that’s a part of life. And death, too. –Jim Broede

Let's share the world. Together.

Let’s make it exceedingly easy for immigrants to enter the U.S. And to become citizens. That’s how this nation was built. By immigrants. Looking for a better life. Maybe some of ‘em will live in their own enclaves initially. That’s understandable. But eventually, they’ll blend in. And maybe in some ways it’ll be other Americans that blend in with the immigrants. We can learn from each other. I’m of German and Czech heritage.  I’m a little bit German, Czech and American. A nice blend. I also have an Italian true love. And live almost half of the year in Italy. So I’m feeling like an Italian, too. A citizen of the world. I’m for free exchange. I want to be welcomed into Italy. And in turn, I’ll welcome immigrants from all over the world into the U.S.  We’re different people. But we are all human beings. Earthlings.  Let’s share the world. Together. –Jim Broede

Give me a wonderful forever.

My Chicago Cubs are pitiful. In the last 11 weeks, they’ve had 15 one-run losses, seven two-run losses, 14 blown saves, a 15-game deficit in the standings and no way up in a division that includes three of the top four teams in the majors. And I suspect that the Cubs management loves what’s happening. They want the Cubs to lose. So that they can trade some of the veteran players for  younger players. With great potential. To become future stars. Don’t know if it’s gonna work. We Cubs fans are supposed to have faith. That it’s all leading to the World Series. Some day. But I would have preferred more effort this season. Imagine turning 10 of those heartbreaking losses into wins instead. That would be 10 more wins and 10 less losses. A 20-game swing. The Cubs would be contending now. They’d be billed as the Amazing Cubs.  With momentum that could carry them all the way. But the management plan is to lose, lose, lose. In order to stockpile the Cubs farm system with young baseball players of the future. But I tend to want to live in the now. Not the future.  I want it both ways. A wonderful now. A wonderful future. A wonderful forever. –Jim Broede

A world full of dreamers.

Wonder. Wonder. Wonder if the creator/god went through a mortal stage. Maybe the creator was a physical being.  And created other physical beings. And then died. Reason to conclude that god is dead. Physically speaking. Raises the question. Can one be dead and still alive? If so, is death merely an illusion?  Or does that make life an illusion? Perhaps no more than a dream that seems real. And if so, can one dream the same dream over and over? Or is every dream new and different? Maybe that’s all god ever created, ever intended. Imagine. A world full of dreamers. That would make god a romanticist. –Jim Broede

Superiority.

I’m superior. For a funny reason. Knowing that I’m really not superior. Yes, that makes me superior. Because I know the truth. And as the old adage goes, the truth shall set me  free. Thing is, I feel good about life. About being alive. And conscious. A thinking being. Capable of savoring an emotion called love. Can’t ask for much more than that. Doesn’t really make me superior to other people. Because everyone has the opportunity to feel good within his/her own skin. Not everyone does. But hey, they have the rest of their lives. To find a way.  Fortunately, there are many, many ways. An infinitesimal number. No single right way. Or wrong way. It’s merely a matter of creating one’s self. Becoming a creator. Makes me wonder if that means being The Creator. Wow! Knowing that I could be what I am not.  Makes me as superior as one can be. –Jim Broede

Bad. Bad. Bad.

Syria. A place I have no desire to visit. In fact, I don’t even want to think about Syria. I have better things to do. I know there’s a civil war going. Syrians are fighting each other. And trying to oust their president. He’s portrayed as a bad guy. Real bad. But ‘bad’ also seems to apply to everyone/rebels fighting in Syria. Merely varying degrees of badness. Therefore, it’d be a mistake for America to intervene. Nothing good can come of it. Ultimately, some bad guys will win. Let them fight it out. Maybe they’ll all kill each other. Leaving a vacuum. To be filled by nice guys. We have a similar problem in America. Lots of bad guys. Namely, Republicans. Like John McCain. They’d like America to intervene.  To pursue another war. Now that wars are winding down in Iraq and Afghanistan. Fortunately, in America we have some good guys, too. They’d rather spend money on domestic programs that help the poor and middle class. But the bad guys much prefer dumping the money down a rat hole. Into another war. In Syria. Bad. Bad. Bad. –Jim Broede

Slowly. Slowly. Slowly.

I avoid gluttony. Especially when it comes to food and love. For instance, if I’m invited to dinner. And a feast is being served. I discriminate. Carefully selecting a morsel or two. And I nibble. And sip. Slowly.  No reason to hurry. Better to savor. Don’t like to overindulge. I know people that hardly ever take more than 15 minutes to dine. At a feast, they shovel it all in. Non-stop. At record speed. Makes me wonder if they are really enjoying themselves.  The same goes for lovemaking. I want acts of love to last for hours. Maybe days. Once again, no hurry. Savoring it all. Slowly. Slowly. Slowly.  –Jim Broede

Knowing how to teach. Effectively.

Something I like about the Italian educational system. The emphasis on oral testing. More so than on written tests.  Allows for nice dialogues. Between students and teachers. Give and take. Which determines what students have learned. And how they express themselves.  Orally. Wish there was more of it in America. In elementary schools. In high schools. Everywhere. My Italian true love teaches English and English literature. In an Italian high school. She’s less than enamored with the Italian educational bureaucracy. But she loves oral testing. She’s on a special three-week assignment now. Outside of her own school district. For oral testing of students in another high school. That way, Italian students aren’t tested by their own teacher. But by another. Which is a good idea. The outside observer/teacher/tester tends to be more objective. I’m an outside observer, too. Encouraging my true love to be fair in evaluating the Italian educational system. She often puts the emphasis on what’s wrong with it. Rather than what’s right.  And maybe what’s most right are teachers like her. They know how to teach.  Effectively. –Jim Broede

No reason to have boundaries.

America. Love it or leave it. I’ve been told that many times over the years. Because some self-styled patriots think I ain’t so patriotic. I don’t pledge allegiance to the flag, for instance. And I’m critical of many, many policies. Especially those proposed by Republicans. I’m also pretty much opposed to American-instigated wars. I’ve served my country. In the Army. But I’ve never had to go to war. Fortunately. Anyway, I’ve done more than some war-mongering American politicians. They love war. Except when it comes to volunteering to be soldiers. Instead, they prefer sending others to fight the wars. I’m for war only if it means sending the politicians into mortal combat. Meanwhile, I’ve found a way to love my country. And leave it, too. I live in Italy almost half of the year. But I’m also happy to return. To spend the other six months in Minnesota. Being a good American. Though I wouldn’t mind having dual citizenship. I could be a patriotic Italian, too. Divided loyalties. Come to think of it, I’m feeling more and more like a citizen of Mother Earth. No reason to have boundaries. Especially when it comes to love. –Jim Broede

Delving. Delving. Delving.

I have mixed feelings about privacy. People should have a right to privacy. But I’m a curious guy. And I like to uncover secrets. Other people’s secrets. As for my secrets – well, I don’t really have any. Because I pretty much walk naked. I have little or nothing to hide. Though I don’t go around telling people everything about everything. Just for the sake of telling. If people ask me about this or that, especially out of curiosity, I’ll answer  truthfully. Maybe this has something to do with my chosen profession. Journalist. Writer. I was in the business of being nosy. I had to get people to talk. To tell me everything. And I’d engage them in conversation. Answering their questions, if they answered mine. Usually, curiosity breeds curiosity.  I have an innate interest in people. In their psychological make-up. I would have liked to be a professional psychoanalyst. Indeed, that would be an interesting pursuit. Delving into people’s minds.  Learning their secrets. And what makes them tick. –Jim Broede

I don't wanna be perfect.

Jesus has flaws. So does the creator/god. Everybody has blemishes. That’s the nature of existence. It ain’t all perfect. Even the creator/god makes mistakes. I tried to make that point with a self-professed Christian last week. The fella was agonizing. Because he wasn’t more like Jesus. I had to laugh. Because I don’t want to be like Jesus. I’d rather be me. I’m not even a Christian. That shouldn’t bother Jesus or the creator/god. Because I’m basically a decent guy. Anyway, I suggested to the Christian fella, that he should just be himself. And to not worry about it. The creator/god won’t mind. My guess is the creator/god believes in diversity. Wanting people to be different. Not all the same. He wants people to find their own ways.  Their own paths to happiness and fulfillment.  To become independent, free-thinking human beings.  I encouraged the lamenting Christian fella to accept being his imperfect and unique self. To set his own parameters.  As I do. Don’t ever intend to be perfect. Don’t wanna be. Don’t have to. Jesus and the creator/god set the example. For me. For everyone. By being less than perfect themselves.  I’d rather be a mistake-prone romantic idealist, a mistake-prone spiritual free-thinker, a mistake-prone political liberal, a mistake-prone lover, a mistake-prone dreamer. It’s my way of  savoring and loving every precious moment.  Life itself. The imperfections. Everything. –Jim Broede

To be a recovering Cubaholic.

I’m addicted to baseball. No. No. That’s not true. Instead, I’m addicted to the Chicago Cubs. A team that pretends to play baseball. Some pretty bad baseball of late. My addiction goes back to when I was a youngster. Even before my teen years. I’ve been a Cubs fan ever since I can remember. Back as far as 1945. When the Cubs were last in a World Series.  I was 9. Going on 10. I’ve followed the Cubs avidly ever since. I’ve considered going in for a cure. For the same kind of treatment they give alcoholics. Thing is, I’m a Cubaholic. Every baseball season, I swear I’m through. No more Cubs. I’ll ignore ‘em. Completely.  But I keep coming back for more. Another fix. Oh, I’m a little bit more under control. I’m better at accepting heartbreaking losses. I don’t lament for days and weeks any more. Maybe for a few hours.  But still, that’s too much. I should learn to take it all in stride. No trauma. No stress. But I can’t. Today the Cubs had a 3-0 lead in the ninth inning. Only to bring in a relief pitcher named Carlos Marmol. A guy known for blowing games in dramatic fashion. And he was true to form. Gave up two home runs, including a walk-off three-run homer. The Cubs lost, 4-3.  I’m bothered. Shouldn’t be. But still I agonize. I need help. Maybe it’s time to check in to the addiction clinic. Time to be a recovering Cubaholic. –Jim Broede

Republicans are liars.

From what I read and know, Obamacare is going to be well-received. Once fully implemented. Americans will love Obamacare. As much as they love Social Security and Medicare. No more talk of repeal. Other than by diehard Republicans, who would rather see health care provided by rip-off artists. Obscene capitalists looking to make obscene profits from people’s illnesses. Obamacare will set up health care exchanges, state by state. Allowing for true competition. Lower rates. Better coverage.  Obamacare is a big step in the right direction. Toward universal and affordable health care. Decades from now Obamacare will be the shining legacy of the Obama Administration. Of course, Republicans keep saying otherwise. Because Republicans are for the rich elite, the indecent profiteers. Rather than for the common good. Republicans like the wide gap between the rich and the poor. The wider the better. Republicans tell us that Obamacare is bad, bad, bad. When really, Obamacare will be good, good, good. Fortunately, it’s the public that will decide the truth. When Obamacare is fully implemented. It will become apparent. Republicans are liars. –Jim Broede

It's a spiritual thing.

We all have to cope with life in our own way. I did it by capturing my dear and precious Jeanne’s spirit long before she died physically.  The nice thing about spirit is that it lives forever. It exists at the moment. In the now. Always. No reason why I can’t embrace the living spirit immediately. Rather than waiting for the afterlife. When I discovered that, maybe in the last three years of Jeanne’s physical life, I was able to obtain spiritual sustenance. From Jeanne. From the grand designer/creator.  It gave me a positive grasp on life. The life of true spirit.  That allowed me to put the disease, Alzheimer’s, in proper perspective. Alzheimer’s is a physical malady. Not one of the spirit. In our 38 years of marriage, I captured Jeanne’s spirit in many, many ways. All this coalesced in the waning physical years of Jeanne’s life. I was far more in love with Jeanne’s spirit than with her physical form.  And I still have Jeanne’s spirit today. Living inside me. Forever. Jeanne was teaching me how to live. At the very moment that she was dying. Physically. She made me aware of spirit. Wonderful spirit. I am very much in love. With life. It’s a spiritual thing. --Jim Broede

Hey, folks, that's a joke.

I’d like to cultivate friendships with conservative Christians. Because they would add balance to my life. I’d add balance to theirs, too. Because I’m a very liberal free-thinker. But that doesn’t stop me from liking conservative Christians. I find them stimulating. And very funny.  They don’t always know it. But many of ‘em are natural born stand-up comics.  I try to get them to not take themselves too seriously. To spend more time laughing. And mixing with guys like me. I don’t take myself too seriously. That’s an attribute. I can help conservative Christians in that regard. We could discuss ways in which Jesus and their god displayed senses of humor.  Unfortunately, too many conservative Christians are easily offended. Because they don’t know how to laugh. They’ll pretend laughter. By grimacing. But that doesn’t fool me. I know a grimace when I see a grimace. By the way. I’d also like to tackle the ultimate challenge. Becoming friends with a lunatic fringe Republican. The ones that also pretend to be Christians. My thesis is that they can’t be both. They have to make a choice. One or the other.  At least a Christian has a sense of decency/morality.  A lunatic Republican doesn’t. Hey, folks, that’s a joke. –Jim Broede

Give me animals over people.

I’m dog-sitting. A neighbor’s dog. So that the neighbor can get away for a few days. For a wedding. In Kansas City. It’s good for the neighbor to flee. Because for four years she’s been saddled. The primary care-giver for her aging parents. Both with dementia. I’ve encouraged the neighbor to put her parents into assisted living.  So she can become a better care-giver. By tackling the immense care-giving task part-time. Getting respite. And sharing the workload with professionals. And she’s finally gonna do it. The parents go into assisted living in July. Still another encouraging sign, too. My neighbor boarded a plane today. Other volunteers are caring for the parents while she’s gone.  I’m taking the dog, Sasha. She’s with me now. Being brow-beat by my two cats, Loverboy and Chenuska. Oh, maybe I exaggerate. They are all getting along just fine.  No jealousy. Really, animals get along better than people. Animals being very tolerant of each other.  First time I’ve had a dog in the house for years and years. I’ve become a cat person. I talk to cats. They talk to me. We speak each others' language.  I love my cats dearly. More than people. Except for my Italian true love. Don’t get me wrong. People are all right. But I prefer animals. –Jim Broede

Breathing the fresh air of life.

A conservative Christian asked me the other day, what am I smoking?  It wasn’t a put-down. I assume he’s nice guy. A nice Christian, too. In his own way.  Deep down, he probably suspects that I’m not a Christian.  He’s probing. Trying to be polite about it. Anyway, his inquiry came in a public forum. I could answer him. In the same forum. But it would be unwise of me.  Because that would stir a debate and unwanted controversy in that particular forum. Better that he write to me. We could exchange emails. Privately. Or I could take up the issue right here  in my blog.  Where I have great flexibility. That’s why I started Broodings. It’s my personal forum. I call the shots. I set the rules.  Same goes in my private emails. I’m forthright. Honest. Above board. That’s the way I like it. Wish I could be open all the time. In every instance. But that’s impractical.  Maybe it would do more harm than good. And lead to misunderstandings. Or hard feelings. In real life, I make no pretense about it. I ain’t a Christian. Used to be. Was raised a Christian. Attended Sunday school regularly. Got confirmed in a liberal Protestant church/denomination. Even served on a board of deacons. Imagine that. Deacon Jim. Funny. Funny. Funny. But I ain’t a Christian no more. Instead, I’m a free-thinker. Shunning organized religions. I believe in a grand creator. And prefer direct communication with him/her. In a spiritual rather than religious way. I also believe in an afterlife. In a spiritual realm. I don’t believe in Hell. And I believe in salvation for everyone. Even Hitler. We are all given repeated chances to get it right. Which means becoming true lovers.  Little wonder that some conservative Christians think I’m smoking something. When really, I’m breathing the fresh air of life. –Jim Broede

My illusionary 'best' Cubs team.

I’m resigned. To the fact. That the Chicago Cubs have a very bad baseball team. Relatively and comparatively speaking. But I could construe the Cubs as pretty good. If they played in a minor league. Maybe even the best minor league team in baseball. Unfortunately, the Cubs are in a major league. And that makes them bad. Maybe not quite the worst team. But very bad.  Therefore, I could take solace if the Cubs were moved into a minor league. Maybe for a season or two. That would give me the illusion that the Cubs are damn good. Perhaps the best. –Jim Broede

While waiting for my pure pleasure.

I am grateful to my Italian true love. For turning me on to the pleasures of coffee. Particularly, cappuccino. Made with milk. Rather than water. And with a dab of whipped cream.  I have my cappuccino every morning. With cinnamon toast or a powdered sugar doughnut. Spurs me on to my daily workout. Forty miles of bicycling. Or 10 miles of brisk walking. Some days, a combination of the two. That way, I don’t have to be concerned with my calorie intake. I can indulge myself. My true love initially tried to steer me to a daily dose of espresso. Instead, I’ve settled for an occasional espresso. I can live without it. Especially when espresso is consumed the macho Italian way -- in one big gulp. I prefer sipping. Slowly.  While waiting for my pure pleasure. Cappuccino. –Jim Broede

Pure blissful happiness.

I love to psychoanalyze unhappy people. To figure out what makes them tick. Usually, it’s the savoring of unhappiness for nonsensical reasons. Such as they  like to be unhappy. In a sense, that makes them sort of happy. Deep down.  In their souls. They have unhappy spirits. And they desperately want to be their true selves. Yes, that’s odd. But it’s a source of pride. Being different. Crazy. The last thing they wish is being normal. And truly happy. That goes against their grain.  Against their natural flow.  They’d rather swim upstream. Against the current. In some ways, they are to be admired. As rebels. Saints. Masochists.  Born to suffer. To sacrifice their beings. For the good of mankind. Many of ‘em are Christians.  Imagining themselves being nailed to the cross. Their form of pure blissful happiness. –Jim Broede

My need: A vision of loveliness.

I need my daily fix. No, not a drug. Instead, a vision of loveliness. That’s why, when separated from my Italian true love, I insist that we connect on Skype. Daily. Even if it’s only for a few minutes.  So I have the opportunity to gaze in awe.  At her loveliness. Most days, we link up for an hour or two. Not necessarily continuously.  But even if it’s for only a minute, I’m able to absorb her beautiful demeanor. And savor it for hours. Until the next time. Of course, I spend months every year with my true love in the flesh. In Minnesota and Sardinia and in travel together in such outposts as Iceland, Scotland and continental European countries.  But hey, like I say, I always need my daily fix. Achieving it one way or another.  –Jim Broede