A real sense of being alive.

An afterlife. I believe in it. Because I’m a romantic idealist. And it would be a romantic thing to live as a spirit. Meanwhile, I live life as if it’s a one and only. Which means getting the most out of life. Living as if there’s only one go-around.  One chance to get it right. Savoring. Savoring. Savoring everything. Really, that’s the only decent way to live. Even if I have multiple lives. Each one of ‘em should be lived to the fullest.  Can’t say that I always do. Because I haven’t always been in love.  Doesn’t necessarily mean I have to be in love with someone. Something will do. Yes, love gives me a real sense of being alive.  –Jim Broede

He gave me ample freedom.

Earl Lellman. He turned 100 on Saturday.  Imagine that. Maybe the best publisher I ever worked for. In that he gave me free rein. More or less. I could write almost anything. It was the first time I wrote a weekly column titled ‘Broede’s Broodings.’ Earl came up with the name. He hired me in 1965. As a writer. For the weekly Forest Lake Times. I was gone by 1969. Moving on to the daily St. Paul Pioneer Press. Earl sold the Times in 1968. The primary reason why I left.  Wasn’t working for Earl any more. Might have stayed longer. If Earl had remained in charge  But he retired. While still  in his 50s. Maybe that decision contributed to Earl’s lengthy life. Ditching the stress of running a weekly newspaper. Maybe I helped in that regard. By causing Earl some distress. By getting us into trouble. Writing controversial stories. Not the least  being my highly opinionated columns. Sparing no one my satirical barbs. Got us summoned by the board of directors of the local chamber of commerce. For touting an ‘improper image’ of Forest Lake. Anyway, I survived. And had name recognition. That later helped me get elected to the local school board. Now I don’t waste my time on such lowly and slovenly pursuits. Having better things to do.  Such as being a romantic idealist, a spiritual free-thinker, a political liberal, a lover, a dreamer. I suspect that Earl learned to enjoy life, too. Some critics claim in selfish ways. I won’t enumerate. Except to say that Earl was always Earl. He knew how to take care of himself. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. Doing things his way. But allowing me to go my way, too. More than most other publishers would. Yes, Earl may have been the best. He gave me ample freedom. Which, by the way, I demanded. –Jim Broede

The nature of true love.

I’ve been on the road. With my Italian true love. She flew into Chicago. Where I met her. And we’ve been occupied with each other. Driving from Chicago. Through Wisconsin. To Minnesota. With nice stops along the way. Including the city of Spring Green. Once the home of Frank Lloyd Wright. I came away wowed. By the brilliance of Wright and his architectural style. Anyway, I’ve been very focused on my true love. Therefore, no time to post in my blog. A good sign. She’s the only one that can divert me from my blog and my other regular pursuits and endeavors. –Jim Broede

The way it's supposed to be.

My sister Babs is amazing. Having learned to finally grab on to her life. Seven years ago. As she was nearing 70. She decided to stop drinking. And smoking, too. Cold turkey. Sheer will power. On her own. She just upped and did it. Without any fanfare. She still has booze and cigarettes in the house. Just to prove that she can resist temptation. She's become a strong and determined woman. Yes, absolutely amazing. I wouldn't have fully believed it. Without first seeing it. Yesterday, I became a  believer. I saw my sister for the first time in 26 years. When I ventured into her domain. A trip, by car, of 337 miles. Into southeast Wisconsin. Near where we grew up. Anyway, I had more or less written off my sister. Since I last saw her. In 1987. At the funeral for our step-father. She was drunk then. I tried to intervene. But it was useless. So I had more or less written her off and got on with my own life. Maybe that was wrong. Maybe I could have done more. But really, it was up to Babs. She had to learn to take charge. And lo and behold, she has. Better late than never. And so, here I am. Renewing our acquaintance. Guess that's the way I deal with life. Don't let anyone drag me down. Into the pits. I even ignore my own sister. For a long, long time. Knowing she has to do her own thing. Her way. Finally, I have come to like her way. Good to see her again. Would not have recognized her if we had passed on the street. Same goes for her. She would have taken me for a stranger. But once again, we are coming to know each other. As true brother and sister. The way it's supposed to be. --Jim Broede

No need to get upset.

People get upset over trivial matters. Such as the cover on Rolling Stones magazine. A glamorized photo of Dzhokhar Tsarnaev. The surviving suspect in the Boston Marathon bombing. My attitude. It’s a photo. And who cares?  Apparently some people do.  They’d rather see an ugly and villainous photo. One that makes Tsarnaev look bad.  Doesn’t bother me if a so-called ‘bad guy’ looks handsome. A photo is a photo. That’s all it is. No need to get upset about it. –Jim Broede

Interpreting the events of life.

Tragedy ain’t always bad.  Because good springs from bad. If only one looks for it. I’ve seen it in my own life. Over and over again. In other lives, too.  I exist because of tragic deaths. My maternal grandparents died early. At young ages. Leaving my mother an orphan. When she was still a teenager. Prompted her into a marriage of convenience. With my father. Really, a mostly loveless marriage. Ended in my father’s suicide. But not until after I was born. Timing. Bad things happening to other people. But lucky for me. Maybe even a blessing. Perhaps intended. As part of a grand plan. I look around me. At my friends. Julie and Rick. They are survivors. Of five years of grueling care-giving. Because Julie’s parents have been touched by Alzheimer’s. They took on the loving task. Of caring for the parents. In their own home.  An incredible feat. The kind that sometimes ruins a marriage. But I suspect that these bad times are bringing Julie and Rick closer together. Into a wondrous strengthening of their marriage. Yes, another example of good springing from bad. From tragedy. Just depends. On how one interprets the events of life. –Jim Broede

I want forever and ever.

Let’s say that someone has a death wish. And then  dies. Of so-called natural causes. Is that a form of suicide? I suspect it is. Dying willfully. Another thing. Maybe one chooses to die for a cause. Sacrifices his life. For the good of the cause. Jesus did that, didn’t he?  He accepted death. When he really didn’t have to. But he considered the cause greater than his life. And in a sense, he looked forward to death. Because he had a staunch belief in an afterlife. Maybe that’s why some folks commit suicide. Such as terrorists. Not only for a cause. But for belief in a blissful afterlife. My father committed suicide. And my guess is that he didn’t believe in a cause or in an afterlife. He merely wanted out. Fully and completely. I’m of a different mind. I want in. Life. Forever and ever. –Jim Broede

I have no time to worry.

I know many people with anxiety disorders. They’re anxious about life. Nervous. Almost all the time. Which means they don’t enjoy life. Because they worry, worry, worry. Mostly about things going wrong. They never get a good night’s sleep. Because they fret about what might go wrong tomorrow. When I show up, they’re worried about me. Because I don’t worry. They conclude that I’m oblivious about what’s happening in the real world.  That I’m living in a fantasy land.  And that if I knew better, I’d worry myself sick. Maybe even to death. They tell me that it’s natural to worry. Because those are real cracks in the sky. That it’s only a matter of time. Before the sky falls. And crushes us all. But I counter. I have a crush. On my Italian true love. I’m enamored. And I have no time to worry. –Jim Broede

Knowing thyself.

Too many white Americans are racists without consciously knowing it. That’s a problem. Because the first step in getting things right is to know thyself. These white Americans think like white Americans. They find it difficult, if not impossible, to imagine what it’s like to live as a black American. To be profiled. To be slighted. To be treated as less than white. For these white Americans, I wish their skin color could be turned black. For a year or two.  So they could truly obtain the black experience. Not in an imagined way, but a real way.  Maybe that would make them more conscious -- and less racist. –Jim Broede

On getting the best of a bully.

I like it when Russia stands up to the U.S. And refuses to be bullied. It’s nice if Russia bullies back. Bullies should be treated like bullies. Bullied. Bullied. And bullied some more. So they know what it feels like to be bullied. Of course, Russia has been known as a bully, too. But in recent years, the Russian bullying comes mostly in response to bullying from others. Seems to me that America is the biggest bully in the world.  And America needs to be cut down to size.   I'm capable of being a bully, too. Often am. But 90 percent of the time it’s because I’ve been bullied. And I decide to act like Russia. I bully back. I also like the concept of turning the other cheek when slapped. I might even do that for a time or two or three. But eventually, I counter punch. Not only with a powerful slap to the bully's face. But a knee to the bully's groin. And maybe even a kick in the teeth as he falls. Eventually, I get the best of the bully. One way or another. –Jim Broede

As a black, I'd not stand a chance.

My dear friend Rosie goes too easy on George Zimmerman.  The neighborhood watch guy that shot and killed black teenager Trayvon Martin. She seems to think that Trayvon was just as responsible as George for the  shooting. That Trayvon had opportunity to retreat. And not be confrontational. To have acted more like a pacifist. But I’m judgmental in a different way. I put 90 percent, if not all, of the blame on gun-toting Zimmerman. Because I’m convinced that deep down, Zimmerman is a racist. A bigot. And a liar. Can’t prove it beyond an iota of doubt. And that’s why I might have let Zimmerman off the hook. If I had been on the jury.  But in a real life after-the-trial setting, I’d not trust Zimmerman. I’d always suspect that he’s a racist. A no-good fella. I’d avoid him.  Not want him as a friend. Maybe that’s wrong of me. But I’d still know, deep down inside me, that if I were black instead of white, I’d not stand a chance with Zimmerman. I’d not be treated fairly. So it wouldn’t bother me if I treated Zimmerman unfairly.  –Jim Broede

Getting on with lovely/idyllic life.

Thing that worries me. Republicans ain’t doing too bad. When it comes to getting elected. They have the majority in the House of Representatives. And polls show that maybe they will gain a slim majority in the U.S. Senate in 2014. I find this hard to fathom.  Makes me conclude that in America we have a basically stupid electorate. People that vote against their best interests. Liberals claim that the Republicans are shrewd. That they know how to gerrymander districts. So that they can win elections. Without a national majority.  That they enact clever laws that keep non-Republicans away from the polls.  I don’t know. I remain mystified. I know Republicans that really shouldn’t be Republicans. Even my sister. And my daughter. I hate to call them stupid. But then again, stupid is stupid is stupid. Maybe I’m just as stupid as any of ‘em. If not more so. But please give me credit. I live almost half of the year outside of America. In Italy. Gives me the opportunity to ignore American politics. For a while. Maybe I’d be a wise man by learning to ignore politics, period. Totally. And getting on with the rest of my lovely and idyllic life. –Jim Broede

Living black in gawd-forsaken USA.

White Americans aren’t facing up to the truth. The fact that America is a racist country. Racism is deeply engrained in the nation’s white psyche. Unfortunately, many, many whites are in denial. They think great strides have been made since the days of slavery and the Civil war.  And therefore, racism no longer exists. But that’s poppycock. It’s pretense. Take the white jury that acquitted George Zimmerman of second degree murder and manslaughter in the death of Trayvon Martin. Really, Zimmerman should have been on trial for racism. For being a bigot. Secretly. If not openly.   Of course, that’s a hard case to prove. Delving into one’s soul/spirit/psyche ain’t easy. One’s true nature can be effectively hidden.  Racism comes in many forms. Some subtle. Some overt.  The judge in the trial ruled out references to racial motives in the killing. Instead, the case was decided on the technicalities of law. In fact, laws designed to make it relatively easy to kill someone, and then claim self-defense. That puts blacks at a distinct disadvantage in a racist society. Makes it much easier for a self-appointed neighborhood watch wanna-be cop to track down a 17-year-old black youth and shoot him dead.  And get away with it. Indeed, that’s a disgrace. But it’s all part of living black in gawd-forsaken America. –Jim Broede

Without ever having truly lived.

In order to have a soul/spirit, one must be aware of it. And I am aware. I feel the existence of soul/spirit. It’s alive. Thriving inside me. In the depths of my being. I’m not sure it was always there. Maybe when I was born, it was in an embryo stage. Not yet developed to the point of recognition. The soul/spirit came on slowly. And one day, I don’t know exactly when, there it was. Existing. Beyond a doubt.  Makes me wonder if some of us lack a soul/spirit. Or that it may have always been there. But it takes time to be nurtured. To be discovered. Initially, I wasn’t consciously aware that I existed. Could be that I was born as a robot. An automaton. Could have died at age 2, and never known that I existed. And it’s possible that I was still soul-less/spiritless through much of my youth. Although I was conscious and aware of my physical existence.  Makes me wonder when life really begins. Certainly, not at conception. But rather much later on. Could be that some people could be around for a lifetime. Without a soul/spirit. Without ever having truly lived. –Jim Broede

Learning to savor my truth.

I have an ever-evolving philosophy of life. One that satisfies me. At almost all times. Because if I’m the slightest bit unhappy, I make changes. To make myself fully happy again. Simple. Simple. Simple. I’m always in pursuit of happiness. Which means remaining calm, cool and collected. Even in the midst of turmoil and turbulence. I merely back out of difficult and undesirable situations. Into my self-created idyllic realm. Some of my close friends suggest that I deceive myself. That beneath the surface, I’m troubled. But that ain’t so. Believe me. Trust me. I speak/write the truth. My truth. Of course, it may not be other people’s  truth. They have to find their own calming truth. That’s what it is. Really. A soothing truth. I keep learning to savor truth. My truth. –Jim Broede

Boldly. Bravely. With no regrets.

Critics tell me that my world isn’t the real world. Maybe not for them. But I know better. I am in the real world. Because it is my world. Belonging to me. I am the creator.  Too many people leave others to create their worlds. Acting as if they have no say.  That’s why their worlds have become living hells. I know better. God gave me special power to be the creator. I suspect he gave others the same opportunity. But they haven’t exercised it. Maybe out of timidity. Or fear. But I have forged ahead. Boldly. Bravely.  With no regrets. –Jim Broede

Makes one wonder about crazy folks.

I refuse to be dragged/forced into other people’s worlds. Instead, I prefer to open the door into my world. And invite in kindred spirits. They are welcome. My world is bliss. Full of happiness/tranquility. Too many of the other worlds are living Hells.  No place for me. Therefore, I stay out.  Strange thing. We all have the opportunity to create our own environs. That’s the ultimate freedom.  Yet, people keep choosing grinding and unhappy lives.  Full of hate and turmoil. Instead of love and peace.  Makes one wonder…about crazy people. –Jim Broede

Making the right choices. For me.

I know many a Nervous Nelly and a Nervous Ned.  They exist. I see them. Everywhere. All around me. Friends. Colleagues. Neighbors. Strangers, too. I can spot them. From miles away. They emit nervous vibes. They are in a hurry. Trying to get things done. They have too much to do. Take on too many burdens/responsibilities. They have no time to savor life. To stay calm, cool, collected. Of course, I could feel sorry for them. But I don’t. Because they are making their own choices. For hectic-paced lives. Years ago, I decided not to be like them. I slowed down. Created environs of peace and solitude. It helped that I was able to retire. To not have to report for work. Instead, I began to do my thing. Writing. For the pure enjoyment. Exercising. Again, for the pure enjoyment. Living. For the pure enjoyment.  Nervous Nelly and Nervous Ned try to knock me off track.  But I refuse to be knocked. I go my way. I do my thing. Laughing. Laughing. Laughing all the way.  Because I am in love. With life. My life. Making the right choices. For me. –Jim Broede

The most precious ingredients of life.

If I never spent another day of my life in a big metropolitan city, that would be fine with me. I could adjust. And feel that I wasn’t missing anything life-fulfilling. Doesn’t matter whether it’s big city New York or Chicago in America. Or Rome or Paris in Europe. I’ll settle, instead, for the little out-of-the-way places. I don’t like big cities. The traffic. The noise. The hustle-bustle. Just too much going on.  I leave big cities with a feeling of inauthentic.  That’s just me. I’d rather be in a slow-paced small town. Or out in the country. Yes, I want to mix with country hicks rather than city slickers. I’m gonna be in Chicago next week. With my Italian true love.  Because she wants to see the big city. To get a true taste of America.  But for me, it’s a sour taste. Even though that’s where I was born. Chicago, that toddlin’ town. The windy city. The city of big shoulders. And my Chicago Cubs. But usually when I’m in Chicago, I can’t wait to escape. To the countryside of Wisconsin and Minnesota. To quiet. To solitude. The most precious ingredients of life. –Jim Broede

Let's make the GOP more truthful.

No doubt about it. The Republicans’ push for voter picture IDs is a way to make it more difficult for poor people and minorities to vote. That helps Republicans. Because these are the people who mostly don’t vote Republican. Instead, the Republicans are mostly affluent/rich white people. They tend to vote Republican. And they come with picture IDs. Republicans want to discourage non-Republicans from voting. In a way, can’t blame ‘em. Might be the only way for Republicans to win an election. Especially on a national scale. Of course, it’s wrong. Immoral. Ain’t the way a true democracy should operate. But then, Republicans really are against democracy. Preferring  rule by the white elite. Also known as WASPs. White Anglo-Saxon Protestants.  Really, we need more truth in labeling. Political parties named after the people they represent. Let’s be truthful and call Republicans  the White Party. –Jim Broede

Getting away with murder.

Race relations. That’s what the trial of George Zimmerman should have been about. That’s why Trayvon Martin, a 17-year-old teenager is dead. Shot by Zimmerman, a gun-toting neighborhood watch captain. Because he was a black teenager. Profiled. By Zimmerman. Solely because Martin was black. Had he been a white teenager, no way would Martin have become suspected of being up to no good.  That’s the reality many Americans don’t face up to. Pretending that everything is all right when it comes to race relations. But it ain’t so. If everyone admitted to the truth, people like Zimmerman would acknowledge being racist. No surprise that the judge in the trial of Zimmerman on murder charges barred any discussion of race relations. Skirting the real issue. Zimmerman was exonerated. On technicalities. It’s all right for him to be a racist. As long as he doesn’t openly admit it. A convenient way for racists to get away with murder. It happens all the time.  Murders perpetrated by racists that deny being racists. It is what it is. Chances are if I were on that jury, I would have acquitted Zimmerman, too. Because of the technicalities of law. The law is what it is. A way to get away with murder. Ain’t right. But that’s life and reality in America. –Jim Broede

My attractive Italian true love.

I marvel. At myself. At how calm, cool and collected I’ve become. Over the years. Especially since linking up with my Italian true love. Over five years ago. Actually, it’ll be six years in October. She has a very volatile personality. Being passionately Italian. Just the opposite of calm, cool, collected.  Which makes me seem even more calm, cool and collected. Because of the sharp contrast. I tell my true love that maybe it has a lot to do with our contrasting ethnic backgrounds. My heritage is German and Czech. And American, of course. That’s an interesting blend. Makes for personalities more calm, cool and collected than Italians. Italians are flamboyant. More impulsive. In odd sorts of ways. I like that. Especially in my true love. I really don’t want her to be like me. Instead, I want her to be – well, herself. Nothing less. Oh, I’ll try to sell her on the idea of being more calm, cool and collected. But knowing full well that I won’t succeed. Because she is what she is. And you know what? That’s the attraction. –Jim Broede

Yes, life is good.

Gonna meet my Italian true love in Chicago later this month. Where we’ll spend time exploring the museums and the lakefront. Then we’ll wind our way through Wisconsin and to Minnesota.  For a rollicking time for the rest of summer.  We’ll have a layover in the small town of Spring Green. A very interesting place. Including a home built by Frank Lloyd Wright. Also, we’ll see a performance of ‘Hamlet’ in an outdoor amphitheater. Ah, yes, more reason to conclude that life is good. –Jim Broede

Life in Russia may not be so bad.

If I had to seek political asylum, Russia would be a good place to go. I could become comfortable living there. Maybe it’s because I’m of Slavic heritage. On my mother’s side of the family. I'm Czech.  I’d feel more at home in Russia than in a Latin American country. I’ve been pondering this. Because Edward Snowden, the American dissident accused of espionage for revealing government secrets, is stuck in Moscow and exploring political asylum options. Including Russia. Other possibilities are Venezuela, Ecuador and Nicaragua. If I were Snowden, I’d also explore Iceland. That ain’t a bad place to live. And almost everyone there speaks English. But American authorities, acting like bullies, are making it difficult for Snowden to go anywhere. They’d like to capture him and put him in prison. And throw away the key. Anyway, I’d much prefer living in Russia, especially in St. Petersburg, than wasting away as a political prisoner in America. –Jim Broede

Reminds me of the Italian Mafia.

Bully. Bully. Bully. Could be that’s what I dislike most about my native country, the United States of America. A world bully. Big. Powerful. Bullying smaller nations. It’s not nice. Republicans are the biggest bullies. They bully the Democrats. But the Democrats have learned to be bullies, too. Picking not so much on Republicans, but on Latin American nations lately. Such as Ecuador, Venezuela and Nicaragua. For hinting that they are receptive to giving political asylum to Edward Snowden, the American accused of espionage. For releasing secret classified information. That America is spying. On just about everybody. Other nations. And even its own citizens. Of course, the attitude of the Obama administration is, ‘How dare he do that.’ They’d like to put him away. In a jail cell. For a long time. Maybe Snowden should consider himself lucky. Because America now zaps some of its enemies. From drones. Yes, including American citizens. Without a trial. The president and his national security cronies just decide. On their own. To not only act like bullies. But to resort to murder. Maybe that’s better than torture. To be blasted away. Means a quick death. Rather than a slow and agonizing torturous death. Doesn’t make me proud to be an American.  But that’s the way it is. Now, based on news reports in the New York Times, the Obama administration has threatened Latin American countries with bad times and bad treatment if they give refuge to Snowden. Kind of reminds me of the way the Italian Mafia works. –Jim Broede

My yearning to be a free spirit.

Some day, I’ll live outside of time. As a non-physical spirit. Full of abstract thought. Here’s my supposition. At the moment of death, time stops. Because one departs the physical world.  And immediately enters the spiritual world. Outside of time. One has to be physical to experience the passage of time.  I imagine it’s uncanny pleasure to exist outside of time. While living in the physical domain/realm, I can sense in vague ways the spiritual world and the spirits living inside it. But I can’t fully comprehend/grasp what life is like there. For me to do that, I must be a full-fledged free and loose spirit. Without any physical restraints. That’s the main benefit of being pure spirit. No longer being  anchored to a body. From the perspective of an embodied spirit, the body must feel like a prison. From which a spirit yearns for release/escape some day. Not a bad thought. My yearning to be a totally free spirit. –Jim Broede

I am touched. By a spirit.

I don’t celebrate the dead. Instead, I celebrate the living. Spirits. Seems to me that people who have died often are still alive. In spiritual form. And we connect. Especially goes for people I love. Only a handful. Not all that many. But all I need are two or three or four true spirits in my life. Maybe one will suffice. A true love. Give me quality over quantity. Could be that I am surrounded by hundreds, thousands, maybe even millions of spirits. An infinite number. The spirits of everyone who once lived in a physical life.  Far too many spirits to really know. Other than for a select few. Where there’s a true spiritual connection. Maybe with something spiritual they left behind.  Such as music. Mozart does that for me. I’m touched by a particular piece of music. It speaks to me in a penetrating and spiritual way. Deeply. Moves my soul. My spirit. I believe in the  communion of spirits. That’s what I want to be some day. A real spirit. No longer linked to my physical being. That will be cause for celebration. That’s why when someone dear to me dies. I don’t lament. I feel the pulse of joy.  I am touched. By a spirit. –Jim Broede

Are they saints? Or masochists?

What if one existed. And didn’t want to exist. But couldn’t die. One was forced to live forever. I wonder if that happens. In a strange but real dimension. Could that be hell? Where one is forced to live. With no option to die. Eternal suffering. I suppose the only true happiness under such a circumstance would be learn to embrace suffering. By loving to be punished. I suspect that some people have done it. Are they saints? Or masochists? –Jim Broede

No beginning. No end, too.

Nobody can be certain of an afterlife. But hey, the idea of an afterlife. It’s wonderful. I want to live forever. Because I’m in love with life. With consciousness. With existence. Sure, life can be sad and painful. At times, that is. But not always. I’m willing to pay the price. For the sake of eternal life. Preferably as a body-less spirit. Thing is, I’m a romantic idealist. Which makes it natural for me to assume that I can handle being an eternal lover. Totally in love. With life. I can’t accept a creator that would give me life, and then deny me the pleasure after a mere short-lived lifetime. That would be cruel and unusual punishment. Though I wouldn’t know it if I no longer existed. Therefore, maybe the creator is merciful. Of course, it could be there is no creator. Life always existed. And it always will. No beginning. No end. I can accept that notion. Life just is. And there’s no creator. Humans created religions. To fortify the concept of creator. But if life always existed, no need for a creator. Maybe there’s no beginning. No end, too. –Jim Broede

He's a keeper.

As a diehard Chicago Cubs fan, I want baseball players that come with exceptional talent and good attitudes. That’s the winning combination. Less talented players may be all right. But above all else, they need positive attitudes. And baseball smarts. Able to make the most of their limited skills. Unfortunately, the current Cubs management seems willing to trade away a player with exceptional talent and a good attitude. Yes, pitcher Matt Garza. Apparently, the feeling is that Garza will fetch several young prospects that may help the Cubs win in the distant future. It’s a gamble. And it may return dividends some day. But I’d keep what I’ve got. A known commodity. One of the best pitchers in baseball. And I’d make trades with some of the lesser lights on the Cubs team. To bolster the team’s weaknesses. Mainly defense and relief pitching. I’d find ways to win now, and in the future, too. I want the best of everything. Starting with Garza. Keep him. Keep him. Keep Garza. I can’t say it often enough. –Jim Broede

True love ain't on their minds.

No doubt, it’s immensely difficult loving one’s enemies. But if you are an American politician, one doesn’t even love colleagues sitting across the aisle.  Try to imagine a conservative Republican embracing a liberal Democrat. Or the other way around. In far too many instances, they passionately hate each other. They wish each other ill. But many of these same politicians attend church services. Even claim to be Christians. In reality, that’s bull shit. They ain’t any more Christian in practice than the man in the moon. Maybe that’s the problem. They are out of touch with the concept of love.  Religious love. Spiritual love. Romantic love.  Any kind of love. They are more in tune with the concept of hate. The idea that they could love their enemy is preposterous. They can’t even love their would-be friends. Probably not even their spouses. Many of ‘em are cheaters and liars. They have been drawn to politics for the wrong reasons, Mostly, to satisfy their bulging egos.  True love is the furthest thing from their minds. –Jim Broede

The religious roots of evil.

Religion. War. Witchcraft. Three popular and destructive pursuits of humankind. Heard this topic debated. On the radio today. While I was driving. Didn’t pay all that much attention. Initially. But I’m thinking about it. Now. And surmising, how true. Especially when it comes to unhappy people. They often pursue religion, war and witchcraft. Happy people tend to seek other forms of satisfaction. Because religion, war and witchcraft tend to make ‘em unhappy. Downright despondent. I avoid religion. The organized kind. I have nothing against a spiritual life. But religion – well, that’s another thing. It’s abhorrent. Often leads to discrimination and recrimination and senseless bloodshed. All in the name of an almighty and often vindictive god.  And think of all the religious wars over the span of history. And people accused of witchcraft. By religious fanatics. Makes me wonder if evil is triggered/perpetrated by religions. –Jim Broede

Compromise needn't be a dirty word.

Opposition political parties don’t know how to work with each other. Instead, they do everything possible to make each other fail. That’s the aim. Failure. Rather than success. That applies all over the world. In virtually every country. Little wonder that the world is in a mess. Politically. Economically. Socially.  Everything could be better. Far better. If only we tried to solve our problems. Together. Cooperatively. With some degree of good will. But it won’t happen. Because we always try to make the other guy fail. That’s how we measure success. By wishing for failure. Doesn’t make sense. But that’s our political nature. The way we operate. It’s been that way forever. Yes, I’m aware that I don’t always set the best example. Don’t get along with many of my fellow human beings. But often, I try. I make the effort. To create situations that allow both of us to win. Compromise needn't be a dirty word. –Jim Broede

A pure act of will power.

Maybe one has to want to be a spirit in order to become a spirit. It takes will power. An overwhelming desire. That’s the essence of true freedom. Becoming what one wants to be. One can achieve virtually any goal. Walking on water, for instance. By truly and fully believing that one can do it. Beyond an iota of doubt. Same goes for achieving the spiritual form. Believe. Believe. Believe.  Once upon a time, it seemed virtually impossible to land on the moon. Some people still believe that it all was a hoax. That it never happened.   But hey, we’ve even gone beyond the moon. To Mars and other planets. A spacecraft has even sailed beyond our solar system.  Fantastic stuff. But not as fantastic as becoming spirit. That could be the ultimate achievement. A pure act of will power. –Jim Broede

No more flagellating.

I wonder why some people flagellate themselves. Especially self-professed, diehard Christians. It’s as if they want to nail themselves to the symbolic cross. To be more like their hero Jesus. To me, that seems like a sick mind. I suspect that Jesus didn’t go willingly to the cross. That’s a horrible way to live and die. Instead, one must learn to be nice to one’s self. Stop the flagellating. Fall in love. With life. Maybe Jesus went to the cross because he wasn’t in love any more. With life. With anything. So he decided to go to the other side. It was his form of suicide. Oh, I know that to devout Christians that sounds like blasphemy. Heresy. But I suspect that upon reflection, Jesus is convinced that he made the right decision. Suicide. Even though his followers call it something else. If he had to do it all over again, he’d pick the same course. That is, if he hadn’t yet learned how to fall in love. With the physical life. I’m sure he still prefers the spiritual way. Outside of time. With no physical restraints.  No more flagellating. –Jim Broede

Wondering forever. Did I get it right?

If I don’t live forever, it’s a crying shame. Hard for me to fathom. Not having the opportunity to go on and on and on. To new horizons. New dimensions. Life is meant to be lived in every which way. Not to be a one-time instant of consciousness. Come and gone. I need forever to grasp the true meaning of the life force.  For that to happen, I need to exist. In the dimension outside of time.  In the same realm as the creator. Where I am given opportunity to re-enter time. At will. Whenever I please. To experience the thrill of physical being. Again and again and again. But always, I return to the timeless dimension. As spirit. For soulful reflection. Wondering forever. Did I get it right? –Jim Broede

I'm tired of waiting for tomorrow.

I’m stupid enough. To believe that the Chicago Cubs can play winning baseball. Even when they are in the midst of a rebuilding program. Cubs management, however, doesn’t believe it. By trading away their best players. Thinking they’ll get young prospects in return. To bolster the Cubs minor league teams. Which then can serve as a feeder system to replenish future Cubs teams.  Meanwhile, Cubs fans are supposed to accept losing big-time. For another year or two or three. Which means dispirited players and fans during the waiting period. I want it both ways. Winning now. And winning in the future. The Cubs might not be ready to contend for the play-offs yet. But with a little tinkering, they could be an above .500 team. Winning more games than they lose. If only they were buyers instead of sellers in the current trading market. Adding maybe two decent relief pitchers and another potent bat. That would make a significant difference.  Now.  Maybe not as a play-off team. But a decent winning team. Better than the present dysfunctional crew. Hey. Am I expecting too much? For the Cubs to shed their longtime losing tradition. Let’s live the best we can today. Rather than always waiting for a better tomorrow. –Jim Broede

How does one deal with a zombie?

I wonder if mean spirits are real spirits. Maybe they are fake spirits. I commune regularly with blessed spirits. But I’ve had no direct connection/contact to a so-called mean spirit. Though they seem to exist. Take any Republican, for instance. They appear to be as mean as mean can be. But they don’t seem to have a true spiritual nature. It’s something else. As if they are zombies. Humans without spirits. The living dead.  Without consciences. Without decent principles.  Merely going through life in a spiritless manner. I’m dumbfounded. Every time I meet a Republican. I question whether he/she is really an alive and conscious being. I keep asking, should I be scared? Or should I show pity? How does one deal with a zombie? –Jim Broede

The true lands of the free.

Looks like Edward Snowden may elude the clutches of the bully. His native country, America. Imagine that. Escaping the so-called ‘land of the free,’ just to be truly free. Snowden has displeased some American politicians/power brokers. By hacking into secret stuff. Revealing that American government spies on its own citizens.  Yes, secretly. Until Snowden made it public. For that, he’s been charged with espionage.  Which means he could go to prison. Maybe for the rest of his life. Little wonder that Snowden is seeking political asylum. It’s been offered. In Venezuela. In Nicaragua. Little countries. The true lands of the free. –Jim Broede

Into my own little idyllic world.

I dislike bullies. Maybe that’s why I tend to be un-American. Because America is a bully nation. Arrogant. Sometimes, America fakes it. Pretends not to be a bully. But strip away the façade, and there’s a bully that surfaces. Maybe it has something to do with capitalism. Yes, greed. Selfishness. To have one’s way. No matter what. That’s the bully instinct.  American politicians are bullies. To the core. But that especially applies to Republicans. They bully everyone. Even their own members. They are required to toe the line. Bullied. Bullied. Bullied to follow the pied piper. Right over the cliff. I, for one, refuse to be bullied.  Though it’s difficult. I resist. I fight back. Kicking and screaming. And when that doesn’t work, I retreat. Into the wilderness. Into my cocoon. Into my own little idyllic world. –Jim Broede

Presto. Problem solved.

When there’s a problem, I like to get it fixed. Right away. Or soon. Especially if it’s an annoying problem. If it ain’t bothersome, maybe I ignore. And get on with the rest of life. No sense in fixing every little thing. I’m not known as Mr. Fix-It. If it’s a mechanical or technical matter around the house, I leave that to the skilled handyman. If it’s a personal problem, dealt with in a psychoanalytical way, I’m always ready to swing into action. Accepting the challenge. Yes, it’s very satisfying. Turning someone’s sadness into happiness.  Merely by talking. Reasoning. Most psychological problems have easy solutions. By pursuing happiness. In one way or another. There are hundreds, if not thousands, of ways. Choose one. Presto. Problem solved. –Jim Broede

On drawing the poop line.

Having been an Alzheimer care-giver for 13 years, I learned many skills. Not least being on poop clean up detail. Round-the-clock. Poop in the pants. Poop in the bed. Poop on bookshelves. Poop hidden in boxes. Poop. Poop. Poop everywhere except in the toilet.  Yes, that’s one of the many perils of Alzheimer’s. Not everyone is continent. When I got married, a ready-made family came with the bargain. A son, 8. A daughter, 12. Made me think I was smart. Having avoided the diaper stage. Thought I’d get through life without ever having to clean up poop. But life takes strange and interesting twists. I learned how to handle poop. All sorts of it. And really, it’s not all that bad. I can do it. Others can’t. They draw the line.  With poop. One they refuse to cross. I’ll do almost anything. For the sake of love. –Jim Broede

Dear government. Please. Spend.

To hell with austerity programs. I want government to spend, spend and spend. To create jobs. To put everyone who wants to work back to work. That will help the economy. Because working people spend, spend, spend. The money invested in more jobs brings returns. More consumer spending. Don’t worry about deficit spending. The government prints money. And a little bit of inflation won’t hurt. Better than being jobless. Better than being in an eternal recession.  More economists are coming around to this sort of thinking. And I’m buying into it. Let’s give it a try. The old ways aren’t working. Let’s put new ways to the test. No more austerity. Dear government. Please. Spend. Spend. Spend. For the sake of the common good. –Jim Broede

Baseball advice from Doubting Jim.

I’m a Doubting Thomas/Jim when it comes to the plan to rebuild the Chicago Cubs into winners. Because the aim of Cubs management is to win in the distant future. Not now. I say come up with a plan to win now. Or next baseball season at the latest. Keep your most prized assets/players. Get rid of the remainder. In trades. Or by outright release.  Thing is, the Cubs are trading their best players. Starting pitchers. And keeping relatively ordinary position players. Including first baseman Anthony Rizzo and shortstop Starlin Castro. These guys can go. Even though they are young and under contract and may some day blossom into fairly decent players. But I question whether they’ll ever be true stars. Castro, for instance, isn’t the brightest guy around.  And maybe he’s lazy. Especially since he has a big guaranteed contract. He’s already fixed for life. At age 23. Therefore, he may not have incentive to get better.  He’s already got it made. Financially. And I suspect that’s all he cares about. The same goes for Rizzo. He’s got the big long-term contract. Though he has more gumption and savvy than Castro. So it’s more of a calculated risk getting rid of him.  The Cubs big mistake is trading starting pitching. Especially Scott Feldman and Matt Garza. Unfortunately, Feldman is already gone. To Baltimore. For nondescript pitchers. And Garza, by far one of the best pitchers in baseball, is expected to be gone by the end of July.  If the Cubs can get two or three young prospects. I say, keep what you’ve got. A true star pitcher in Garza. Trade Rizzo and Castro. And, oh, by the way. Keep closer Kevin Gregg. He’s spectacular. Saved 14 games. And blown only one. The Cubs lead  the league in blowing games after leading in the eighth and ninth innings. So, why get rid of the one guy that has been most successful? It doesn’t add up. It’s stupid. Keep your prized assets. The guys that know how to play winning baseball. Get rid of everyone else. Including the idiots that devised the long-term ‘rebuilding’ program. –Jim Broede

In my own independent way.

The Fourth of July. The people around me are going crazy. They explode firecrackers. The idea is to make noise. Italians do that, too. On New Year’s Eve.  Maybe that makes Italians less patriotic than Americans. Or should I say that Americans are more patriotic than Italians?  I ain’t patriotic. Because I don’t celebrate the Fourth. Didn’t go to the big parade in town. Didn’t wave an American flag. Declined a dinner invite from a neighbor.  No patriotic music for me. I listen to Haydn trios. Do my ritualistic 40 miles on a bicycle. Another normal day. My next door neighbors hoist the Stars and Stripes. I display the Italian and Sardinian flags. Makes me different. Finding peace and solitude and happiness in my own independent way. On the Fourth of July.  –Jim Broede

A pleasure rather than a task.

I’ve been promoting the one-track mind concept lately. Because it can be a positive way of thinking. To put one thought. A happy thought. On one’s mind. And then blocking out everything else. It’s a good way to relax.  Some people can’t do it. Other things keep popping into their minds.  Often, negative thoughts.  A clutter. Of course, it takes discipline to allow only one train of thought on the track. Though in the case of people with dementia, it can become a little easier. But they have to be coached. Trained to wear blinders. Like a race horse. To focus on the single, immediate task at hand. I can multiple-task. Do several things at once. When I have to. But most times, it’s unnecessary. And undesirable. It can be stressful. I’d rather focus on one task/thought at a time. Making for a pleasure rather than a task. –Jim Broede

The art of lying.

I’m a potential enemy of the U.S. government. Because I abhor secrecy. If I had a security clearance and access to top-secret information, look out. I might choose to reveal all sorts of secrets. Because I think we Americans have a right to know much more than the government tells us.  Therefore, it’s very unlikely that I’ll ever hold a job that requires a top-secret clearance. I won’t be in a position of an Edward Snowden.  Because I’ll be honest about it. No way am I gonna take a pledge to keep everything secret.  When I was employed as a journalist, I actively looked for secrets. The ones kept by local government. And local politicians.  I looked for liars. And to find one, all I had to do is pick out a politician at random. Any politician.  That’s how successful politicians get ahead. They cultivate lying.  They make lying an art instead of a mere craft. Makes me sound cynical, doesn’t it? –Jim Broede

The nature of politics.

One thing I’ve never understood. Why aren’t political parties more inclusive? Whether it be in Egypt or the United States or Timbuktu. Virtually every political party tends to be selfish. Putting its petty interests above the common good. Instead of serving the masses, the parties cater to a select few. Political parties lack objectivity. And instead pursue their own subjective and selfish interests. It happens everywhere. Oh, individual politicians will spout the correct rhetoric. But when it comes to actual practice, they almost always pursue something far less than the collective good. The common good is given short shrift.  Unfortunately, that’s the way politicians operate/manipulate. But it doesn’t have to be. Human beings don’t have a predetermined essence. They can change. And do the honorable and fair and decent thing. But once they get into the political realm, they succumb to the allure of power. They do as they please. Even if it’s destructive and contrary to the common good. –Jim Broede

Not merely an American.

I don’t pledge unequivocal allegiance to any country. Not even to America. My pledge is conditional. Depends. On lots of things. I’m an American citizen. A decent and respectful one, too. I even served in the armed forces for three years. And I pay my taxes.  I also say and write nice things about America. But I’m also critical. I’m disenchanted with America’s political, economic and social systems. There could be significant improvements. A better serving of the common good. I’d rather see more socialism and less capitalism. Less racism, too. I no longer live in America year-round. Residing in Italy for several months a year.  Living in two countries makes me feel worldly. Gives me a sense that it’s all right to have divided loyalties.  My ancestral roots are in Germany and Czechoslovakia. I’m really a blend of nationalities. Not merely an American.  –Jim Broede

Waiting. Waiting. For the next scene.

If I were the creator/god, I’d probably just let things happen. Good things. Bad things. All ,kinds of things. Without any manipulation. No interference from me. I’d not want to have control over my creation. Maybe that seems unwise. Downright dangerous. But think of the fascination. I’d be able to see creation evolve. Without knowing for certain what’s gonna happen next.  Life can’t be more entertaining than that. Maybe I even planted the seeds of my own destruction. But I’m a gambling creator/god. Willing to take chances. I would have created my own theater. My own entertainment. A work of art. A theatrical performance with unpredictable twists and turns. Filled with heroes and heroines. And cads and villains, too. An infinite number of characters. I’d go to bed/sleep at night. Hardly able to wait for the wake-up call. Holding my breath. For the next scene. –Jim Broede

My most precious freedom.

I am not always a happy camper in the United States of America. Thus, I sometimes choose to live abroad. In Sardinia, for instance, with my Italian true love. That makes me happy. Also, I’m happy knowing that I have the option to return to America. When I feel like it. Gives me a sense of being free.  To stay. To leave. That’s the second nicest thing about my life. The built-in freedom to go back and forth.  Of course, the nicest thing about my situation is the ability to spend time with my true love. That easily offsets any personal annoyances I have with the political, economic and social climates in the USA. Another important thing. I have the freedom to complain. About things I dislike. About America.  Maybe that’s my most precious freedom. –Jim Broede

The Heartbreak Cubs.

I’d rather make my Chicago Cubs respectable now than wait until the year 2015, and beyond. Thing is, the Cubs could do it. But management seems inclined to trade away the Cubs best players now. For young prospects. Expected to blossom in two or three years. Meanwhile, Cubs fans are supposed to accept losing on a grand scale as a normal way of life.  Thing is, we have.  For over 100 years. Except for an occasional rise above mediocrity. I’m willing to even settle for mediocrity. A team that barely wins more games than it loses. And the Cubs could have that. This season. If the Cubs became buyers instead of sellers before the July 31 trading deadline. All the Cubs need to make that possible are two or three decent relief pitchers.  The Cubs lead the league in losing games in which they led after the seventh inning. Time to change the team’s name. From the Chicago Cubs. To the Heartbreak Cubs. –Jim Broede

I'd rather gaze at a Picasso.

I’m seeing increasing numbers of women with tattoos. They look funny. No doubt, they catch my attention. As far as I’m concerned, women can do anything they want with their bodies. Including abortions. That ain’t my business. But if my Italian true love showed up with a tattoo. I’d be downright surprised. In fact, flabbergasted. It would be so totally out of character. Not sure that I’d laugh. More likely, I’d channel her to a psychiatrist. To determine if she has any mental/psychological problems. But I’d try to be accepting. And understanding. Looks to me like some women have tattoos over most of their body. Maybe they are trying to become living artworks. Looking for a job. As a piece of art. Standing around in a museum. Personally, I’d rather gaze at a Picasso. –Jim Broede

A true blue whistle-blowing patriot.

 If I were in Edward Snowden’s shoes, I’d happily seek and accept political asylum in Russia. From where I would publicly defend myself. As a patriotic American. For revealing that my government was secretly spying on its citizens. And on countries all over the world. Including America’s friends/allies. Yes, spying. Through surveillance programs.  Some of which may be illegal.  And immoral, too. Little wonder that I need political asylum. The American government (the Obama administration) accuses me of espionage and wants to put me in prison. Apparently for a long, long time. Mostly for political reasons. Of course, I could return to the U.S., and defend myself and seek acquittal. But I also know that the American judicial system can be rigged against me. All the more reason to seek political asylum. I'm also aware that conservatives/Republicans would do me no favors. They’ve accused me of being a traitor. Which is absurd. Because I’m a true blue whistle-blowing patriot. –Jim Broede