Traveling in life's slow lane.

I’m a cool cat. Because I plan in cool ways. To keep me out of stressful situations. By giving myself plenty of time to live. The right way. Slowly. Ever so slowly. With ample time to do big things. And little things, too. Everything. My Italian true love wanted to get me off on my return flight to the U.S. a little too efficiently. Wasting no time. But I’d rather have time to waste. To deal with any unexpected difficulties. She said it would be all right to get to the airport 75 minutes before my flight takes off. That’s cutting it too close. I insisted on 2 or 3 hours. Speculating that we might encounter long lines. Checking bags. Or passing security.  Or a traffic delay on the way to the airport. Turns out nothing went wrong. Might have been all right to follow true love’s original plan. But hey, my scenario gave us more time to focus our love on each other. Having a leisurely breakfast at the airport.  No rushing. No hurry. Yes, I need time to savor true love.  The nice things in life. Without stress. That’s what I am teaching my true love. I’m a master at it. The best. She’s still something of a novice.  But no need to worry. I’m a good teacher. So is she.  But I’m the better teacher when it comes to traveling in life's slow lane. Eliminating  the hurry. Reducing the risks of stress. –Jim Broede

Creating life imaginatively.

A life of solitude.  Alone.  A hermit, of sort. I could live it. And be happy. But I’m also happy living with others. Especially a true love.  I can be very, very happy in many ways.  Shows that I’m flexible. Adaptable. When it comes to the pursuit of happiness.  Much depends on the circumstances. Maybe events over which I have no or little control. Such as the death of a loved one. I might allow fate to be the dictator. But then, maybe I can alter fate. By taking an unhappy situation and finding a way to turn things around. In a positive way. If the creator can do it, why not me?  I can be creative, too. And create the life I desire. By putting my imagination to work. –Jim Broede

I like the total package.

Only one day since I left Italy. Without really leaving Italy. I am still there in spirit. Of course, I was looking forward to my return flight to America. Despite having to physically depart Paradise. Namely, the beautiful Mediterranean island of Sardinia, the lifelong home of my charming and delightful Italian true love.  Thing is, I want everything in life. The world of America and the world of Italy and the world of my inner spirit – that of a romantic idealist. I insist on having it all. And so I’m savoring what I just left. With the help of my far-reaching spirit. Today and every day, I’ll be in video and audio touch with by true love. In ways that are virtually as good as being there in the flesh. The spirit often is the most expressive and intimate and profound way to make love.  Though I don't rule out other ways. I like the total package. –Jim Broede

Their happiness rates very high.

When it comes to language, I understand more than words. Which is a plus. Especially when it comes to understanding Italians. Because I don’t speak or understand much Italian. But still, I understand some Italians. By their vibrations. That goes for Bruno and especially his wife, Mariella. She’s very expressive. With the tone and modulation of her voice. She’s able to speak passionately. I see it in her face. And in the vibes she emits. Of course, I also get an assist from my Italian true love. Who is sitting next to me. I lean over, and ask for a translation. Though I’ve already guessed what Mariella is saying. I surmised that Bruno and Mariella are a happy couple. But Mariella said that on a scale of 1 to 10, she rates herself as 5, when it comes to happiness. But I’m not sure about that. I suspect Mariella focuses much more on the things that make her happy. Not so much on the things that don’t. Focus is the true barometer. Bruno and Mariella have each other. That’s a big part of their happiness. But they also have a nice home. And a beautiful flower garden. And good health, it seems. They have created a cocoon, their own little world inside the big world over which they have little or no control. Seems to me they know how to control the basics of happiness. The things that really count. Such as their loving relationship. And their immediate environment. When I’m with them, they exude abundant happiness. And believe me, I know happiness when I see it. This kind of happiness rates much higher than 5. It’s at least 8. Maybe 9. –Jim Broede

I'm hanging around.

I’ve been hanging curtains today. In our two bathrooms. My Italian true love is on a curtain kick. Several weeks ago we hung curtains in the kitchen. Lilac-colored. The ones in the bathrooms have a yellowish hue. We bought rods for the curtains yesterday. And it took me a little while to figure out how the rods worked. Not good at that sort of stuff. Much easier to write about putting up curtains. Anyway, I had to get up on a ladder. Which is always risky for me. But I managed. Without incident. Now the curtains have been taken down in the study/computer room and a bedroom.  They’re being washed. I’m sure I’ll be assigned the task of putting ‘em back up. So I’m not home free yet. Anything could happen. –Jim Broede

She was a delightful snob.

I get pressure. To not write about certain things. Which means I’ll more than likely write about them. Because I don’t like to be browbeat. I show my independence. Doing as I please. Though I do make exceptions. For my Italian true love, for instance. Not always. But some of the time. Anyway, writing a blog is my sort of thing. Because I’m composing it all. Without an editor. Gives me a true sense of freedom. Oh, I do edit myself. I have standards. Of decency. I’m not totally unrestrained. When my blog first started five or six years ago, a group of ladies  I dubbed ‘snobs’ tried to edit me. Tried to tell me how to write. And what to write about. And not write about. But that didn’t stop me from doing it all my own way. The ladies have disappeared. Crawled back into the gutter, or wherever it was they came from. Actually, they were a rather comical lot. One even admitted to being a clown. Dressed up as one. With painted face and all. She  was a delightful snob. Think she went by the name Maebe. Wonder whatever happened to her. –Jim Broede

In my nifty fret-free cocoon.

Fret. Fret. Fret. I know people who, if not fretting endlessly, fret 90 percent of the time. Interesting word, isn’t it? To worry. To be unhappy. Often for no valid reason at all. Just for the sake of fretting. Hard for me to understand. Because I hardly ever fret. It’s such a waste of time. Besides, I abhor being unhappy. Of course, I try to ignore fretting people. Even avoid them. But there are so many of ‘em out there. Some days, they seem like the majority. Like they have taken over Mother Earth. Fortunately, I’m able to isolate myself. In solitude. In my nifty little cocoon. Where I don’t allow anyone to fret. –Jim Broede

Wondering whether I'm a dreamer

Idle, empty buildings. Public buildings, too. Such as closed schools. But the city where I’m living, Carbonia in Sardinia, is doing something about it. By putting the buildings to good use. As havens for homeless people. And as a youth hostel. Good. Good. Good. Practical uses. That serve the common good. That serve the needy. We should have more of this in the world. Everywhere. I’d also put some of the unemployed back to work. Refurbishing these buildings. If we really cared, as a society, much of this would be happening. All over. Instead, we have rotten societies. In difficult economic times, our rich and elite politicians call for austerity programs. For tighter budgets. To make the poor and downtrodden suffer even more. It’s a sacrilege. An obscenity. Society doesn’t have to let it happen. We could have a heart. A compassion. For the needy. For the down and out. It’s a disgrace. But I see a glimmer of light. In Carbonia. In Italy. On Saturday, I’m returning to America. Where I hope to see more than a glimmer. I’ll wear very dark sunglasses. So I won’t be blinded by the light. Makes me wonder. Whether I’m a dreamer. –Jim Broede

Bruno. My mentor. My teacher.

Bruno looks like an Italian gentleman. Makes sense. Because that’s what he is. He looks dapper walking down Carbonia’s main street, Via Gramsci. With his white moustache. And a gray hat. To hide the bald top of his head. But he still has hair. Long gray hair. On the sides and back. Makes him look modern. And younger than his 65 years. He also speaks some English. And he’s garrulous. Strikes up a conversation easily. Sees me from a distance. Shouts my name. And walks with me. Nice to be seen with Bruno. In distinguished company. He’s really a man about town. Knows what’s going on. If I have a question about what’s happening in Carbonia, Bruno has the answer.  Like me, he’s retired. Used to be an official for trade labor unions. Makes him politically liberal. Socially progressive, too. And he likes gardening. Identifies all the trees and flowers for me. By their Italian names.  He’s teaching me. How to be mistaken for an Italian gentleman. I won’t ever match Bruno. But hey, I’m willing to fake it. I can act the role. By watching Bruno. He’s my mentor. My teacher. –Jim Broede

Ah, for the life of a gypsy.

I am fascinated by gypsies. Wouldn’t even mind traveling with them. To better understand how they live. But I rarely mix with the gypsies residing in and around Carbonia in Sardinia, where I’m living now. They more or less live in seclusion. In a gypsy camp. On the edge of town. I’m told by the natives that most of the gypsies come from Romania. That they come and go. Willy-nilly. That they live by their own rules. That they used to scattered around Carbonia. On empty lots. Anywhere they could find unoccupied space. Started to make some people uneasy. So the city established a gypsy camp. Invited gypsies to stay there.  And so that’s where they stay now. In trailers. And ramshackle shacks. Seems that the city has a policy of live and let live. If gypsies don’t cause too many problems, they’re pretty much left alone. There’s debris and garbage around the gypsy camp. Even off the premises. They toss out their garbage. Sometimes in plastic bags. Along the roadside. And the city comes in and picks it up. In an effort to keep the roadsides reasonably clean. Guess the city does this without charging the gypsies a fee. Just for the sake of a cleaner Carbonia. The gypsies have a reputation. For being untrustworthy. But I might trust a gypsy. Especially if I got to know one. And if he/she spoke English. So we could communicate effectively. I have lots of questions that I’d ask gypsies. Because I’m curious. I’ve been reading the Internet. In an attempt to learn more about gypsies. Italy seems to be an alluring place for gypsies. The Italian authorities estimate that 150,000 gypsies live in Italy. Maybe because they are more tolerated in Italy than in other European countries. I wonder if that speaks well for Italians. I suspect it does. –Jim Broede

I am unafraid of walking naked.

In many, many ways, my life is an open book. I have nothing to hide. Yet I have friends and associates who tell me, be more secretive. Hide your true self. Apparently because people may take advantage of me. By knowing too much about me. Occasionally, I clean house. Taking my hand-scribbled writings and throwing them away. Because I’ve preserved them in other ways. In my computer,  for instance. Now my Italian true love is busy tearing up what I’ve just thrown away. Scraps of paper. Containing my words of wisdom. Maybe even secret thoughts. But really, I have no secrets. Some people find that hard to believe. That I am capable and unafraid of walking naked into the world. –Jim Broede

Things meant to be.

I’m winding down my almost five month stay in Sardinia. Really, with no regrets. Not that I won’t miss the place. Rather, it’s that I like being alive and conscious. And in love with life. No matter where I am. I keep in daily contact with my Italian true love. Every day. No matter where we are. Whether together. Or separated. That’s the nice thing about our relationship. We know how to savor every day. Know how to appreciate each other. Being ourselves. Yet, blending. In loving ways.  Maybe some would say it’s an unlikely relationship. Unlikely that our paths ever crossed. But then, maybe certain things are meant to be. It’s no coincidence. Simply, the nature of love. –Jim Broede

Wonder if she believes me.

When with my Italian true love in Sardinia, I like to do little things. That make her life a little bit easier. Such as getting up. And making breakfast. Every morning. So she can stay in bed a half-hour longer. Makes her better rested. More able to cope with days of teaching teen-agers English and English literature. I also do the dishes. In the morning and the evening. So she can rest. Watch TV. Or read a book. Or just sit down and relax. Quietly. I also make the bed every morning. And change the sheets once a week. I vacuum the house. But she mops the floors. Because she imagines she does it better than me. Though that’s not true. I’m better at almost everything, or so I tell her. Wonder if she believes me.  –Jim Broede

Different in very nice ways.

I know Germans. I know Italians. I know Americans. I’ve spent time in all three countries. And I’m wondering if there’s a difference in nationalities. Or if we are all essentially the same. Well, for one thing, there’s a language difference. And maybe, in general terms, there’s a difference in national traits. Germans tend to be more efficient. More organized. Maybe it’s that they are more rigid. Willing to follow a schedule. Italians are more laid-back. More casual. More easy-going. More manipulative in coping with the bureaucracy. They also live at a slower pace than the rest of us. And they talk with their hands. Maybe I’m too close to Americans to notice our traits. But I’m told by Italians that we are more competitive. More ego-driven. Fast-paced.  More arrogant.  But kind, too. As for me, I like Germans and Italians. Maybe more than Americans.  Because I sense they are different. In very nice ways. –Jim Broede

Closer to my favorite sport.

I’m sensing from what I read that the Chicago Cubs like being the Chicago Cubs. Really, that’s important. For a baseball team. Because attitude makes a difference. Especially when it comes to a team sport. If players like what they are doing. And if they learn to function as a unit. Downplaying the ‘me’ and emphasizing the ‘we,’ it’s more likely to produce winning baseball. And even if it doesn’t, it still makes for more pleasure, more fun. Therefore, as a lifelong Cubs fan, I’m feeling more encouraged, more confident going into the new baseball season. Which starts Monday. Another reason to savor my return to America, from Italy. Brings me closer to my favorite sport. –Jim Broede

I'd rather be me than Caesar.

I feel more privileged and more blessed than Julius Caesar. In that I will move in less than 20 hours on Saturday from Italy to Minnesota. That’s something Caesar never dreamed of doing. Just to plod a few miles or to hop a ride across town in a chariot  took more time than that. And every year I keep going back and forth. To be able to live with my Italian true love in two different countries on two different continents and across an ocean. Caesar also never had an aerial view of Rome. Like l do. Another thing. Caesar is dead. And I’m alive. I have absolutely no desire to change places with Caesar. –Jim Broede

Enraptured. Enwrapped. Engulfed.

Time becomes increasingly meaningless. As I learn to live one day at a time. And from moment to moment. Maybe because I don’t get ahead of myself. I cease living in the past or the future. Instead, I absorb and grasp and savor a  moment. An instant in time. Now. Now. Now.  Wonder why I didn’t do this sooner. Because it’s the fascinating way to live. It’s as if time has stopped. No more ticking clock. Makes me unaware of everything outside the moment. Because I am completely in the moment. Like being enclosed in a shell. Or in a suit of armor. I am at one with the cosmos. With all of creation. Enraptured. Enwrapped. Engulfed. –Jim Broede

What is life all about?

The computer. Makes it so much easier to write. Easy to erase. Or to insert words. To rearrange. I like this way of writing. And preserving the written word. Even when I had to write words with pen and pencil. On paper. I loved to see the words. That I created. Words with meaning. When I was a youngster, so very many of the words lacked meaning. True meaning. They were just words. But now words are meaningful. A single word can convey all sorts of meaning. A few words can become a poem. Or a loving thought. I was born into this world with virtually no knowledge of words. Can’t remember my first word. Maybe it wasn’t a word. But mere meaningless sound. Testing. Testing. To see if I could find a word. St I could communicate. With others. But mainly with myself. I was soon asking, what is life all about? –Jim Broede

Oh, so many options.

I love to reflect on life. And how to deal with it. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. I was born to think about the purpose and meaning of life. That’s why I was given a mind. Consciousness. I keep becoming more aware of existence. Particularly, of my own existence. Because I’m getting an inside look. I’m able to observe others. From outside. But I can’t see them from inside. Only the exterior. But I’m within me. I can delve deep. Though I don’t know exactly how deep. I’m assuming that’s what other people are doing, too. Trying to grasp themselves. And to find meaning. But for some that might be scary. As for me, it’s fascinating. That I have been given this gift. Life. Consciousness. Every day I try to figure out what to do with it. Oh, so many options. –Jim Broede

At the very best we can dream.

One gets old and weary eventually. I know that. Because I see it happening. All around me. Nobody lasts forever. Some of us drop dead. And go pretty fast. Without having time to grow old and weary. For others, it takes a while. Maybe even a long time. But I try not to dwell on the prospects of dying. I’d rather spend my time living. Though forever is only in my dreams. But maybe that’s the nicest part of life. The dreams. And having today. Thing is. People in love want forever. It’s not necessarily a craving. Instead, it’s an innate desire. And to have it under one’s own terms. With vim and vigor. I’m assuming that the creator has reserved such an existence. For himself. Maybe for nobody else. Or maybe it’s that the creator is just like the rest of us. And has died. And left the living behind. Until they die, too. I really don’t know. None of us do. At the very best we can dream. Imagine all sorts of scenarios. Maybe that’s the biggest and most precious gift of all. The ability to speculate about the future. About the purpose and nature of life. To give it all meaning. –Jim Broede

Their aim is to stay up and awake.

I know adults that are like rambunctious kids. They don’t want to go to bed even when dog tired. Hard to figure ‘em out. They insist on staying up. Maybe just to watch TV. And they fall half asleep. Almost all the way to sleep. But they don’t go to bed. As if that would be surrender. Their aim is to stay up…and awake. Counts even if it’s a very little bit awake. That’s the nature of the game they play. And it is a game. And the real weird thing about some of ‘em. They claim to be insomniacs. They’re always a little bit awake. Morning, noon and the whole night. Little wonder, they’re watching TV and fighting the urge to sleep. They don’t want peace and quiet and complete darkness. But if only they tried such an environment, they’d probably fall asleep pronto. But they really don’t want that. Maybe because they are afraid to fall asleep. For fear they’ll never wake. But I tell them, it’s worth the gamble. I’ve managed to ultimately wake from my sleeps. Without fail. –Jim Broede

The little less than humble me.

I’m learning to promote myself. To be a little less than humble. Nothing wrong with that, really. One can be overly modest. Pretending  to be humble. Thing is, if I’m good at something, and people don’t recognize it, I might as well tell them. Hey, I’m good. I know how to write, for instance. My way. I’m able to reach people. With the written word. But some of ‘em won’t know it. Unless I promote my written words. By publishing. That’s what I’m starting to do. I’m distributing my writing. In various ways. In this blog, for example. But there are other ways, too. In book form. In letters. In postings. In various publications. I’m even devising a business card. Promoting my blog. And myself. As a romantic idealist, a spiritual free-thinker, a political liberal, a lover, a dreamer. Yes, that’s the little less than humble me. –Jim Broede

Good teachers make pupils excel.

My Italian true love tends to get me better organized. Though I don’t like to admit it. Because I think she’s sort of disorganized herself. But I give her credit for prodding me. To become more organized. Yes, I do need prodding. The irony, of course, is that she’s so good at organizing me that I’ve become more organized than she. A case of the student becoming better at it than the teacher. She scoffs at this. Says it isn’t true. But I know better.  Thing is, she’s a professional teacher. Very good at whatever it is she’s teaching. Whether it be English or English literature or organizational skills. But that doesn’t mean she always practices what she teaches. Like the preacher that doesn’t practice what he preaches. I find this very funny. Though she doesn’t always laugh at my humor. Because she doesn’t fully understand it. But maybe someday she’ll learn and become a better humorist than the teacher. Really, that’s what good teachers are supposed to do. Make their students excel. –Jim Broede

Too little time for learning Italian.

No doubt, it’s easier living in an English-speaking country than in Italy. At least it makes communication easier. For me. But easier is not necessarily the most desirable thing. Living in Italy, particularly Sardinia, is a pleasure. I like the people. And the weather. And the scenery. I manage just fine. Especially since my Italian true love speaks English. Therefore, I’m talking English every day. And learning some Italian. If I weren’t so lazy, I’d learn Italian much faster. I’d be better focused. On truly learning. I’m really not a lazy guy. It’s just that I spend the bulk of my time writing and walking and biking and reading and thinking and loving and dreaming. Leaves too little time for learning the Italian language. –Jim Broede

I'll be pulling for the deer to win.

Doesn’t matter to me whether stricter gun laws actually reduce killings. I’d still make it extraordinarily difficult for anyone to obtain firearms. I just don’t like the idea of lethal weapons in anyone’s hands. Apparently, in America, we have 250 million guns floating around. From single bullet pistols to automatic rapid-firing assault weapons to powerful bazookas. I’m for denying people’s rights to many of these weapons. Even for hunting. I want animals to have a better chance for survival. By requiring hunters to hunt with bows and arrows and knives and with their bare hands. If someone wants to kill a deer, require the unarmed hunter to enter a ring and take on the deer mano to mano. Bare-handed. Let the deer use his hooves and antlers. I’ll be pulling for the deer to win.   –Jim Broede

Holding up my end of friendships.

Occasionally I lose touch with people with whom I don’t want to lose touch. But it happens. Without consciously thinking about it. Until suddenly it occurs that I haven’t heard from Gerhard for a while. Or from several other people. So I begin to wonder. Is it his fault? Or my fault? Maybe it’s me. Because I haven’t taken the time. I’m more focused on other people in my life. But then it could be that Gerhard is ill. Or he’s just plain busy. With  other priorities. Anyway, this means I’m gonna sit down in the next week or two and write letters. To people I know, as more than acquaintances – friends, really – to make inquiries. In the hope that everything is all right. For me, it’s only that I want to hold up my end of friendships. That should always be high on my priority list. –Jim Broede

Forever may not be long enough.

My Italian true love is on the top of my priority list. And as a result, I may neglect other friends. Which reminds me. I can’t be all things to all people. That’s a potential frustration in life. Though I don’t let it bother me too much. Because being overly bothered can be distracting. And self-defeating. Instead, I just try to forge ahead. Every day. Taking care of business in pleasurable and relaxed ways. Getting done what I can reasonably get done. Letting  other things slide. Until tomorrow or next week or next month.  Makes me wonder if the creator is in a similar situation. Unable to do it all in a single day or a single lifetime. Yes, even if one has forever. That may not be long/time enough. –Jim Broede

No desire to go to Timbuktu

Thing is. If I hadn’t made a reservation to return to the U.S., I might never return. I’d just keep living in Sardinia. But I’m scheduled to return. This Saturday. I’ve already paid for the flight. So it’s use it or lose it.  Maybe it doesn’t matter. Because I can be happy no matter where I’m living. In the U.S. In Sardinia. Maybe even in Timbuktu. Every place is fascinating. Exotic. When one is in love with life. Though I have no immediate desire to go to Timbuktu. –Jim Broede

The transition ain't so difficult.

Packing a bag. For a flight back to Minnesota.  I have to make choices. Because I want to fly light. To have the option to carry everything aboard. To avoid checking a bag. And I can do that. Because I have more than adequate wardrobes. In Sardinia and Minnesota. I can come and go. Hop on a plane. Carrying virtually nothing. And still having all the  necessities.   Having adapted to life in two worlds. The transition ain’t so difficult. –Jim Broede

A wonderful spiritual language.

Oh, if only wishing were enough. And I could speak fluent Italian. As good as I speak and write  English. Merely by wishing it. I’d be able to cultivate new  friendships. With Italians.  More easily. But anyway, I’m not gonna be stopped by the language barrier. Because I can improvise. With the help of my Italian true love. Serving as faithful translator. She’s the next best thing to me achieving the almost impossible task (at my age) of learning to speak fluent Italian. Maybe I’m capable of rudimentary Italian. But not fluent. I’ll try that. Certainly, it’s better than not trying. Anyway, this is a lead in to what happened yesterday. My true love and I visited an Italian couple. Friends. Claudia I’ve known for some time. Because she’s our housecleaner. But I met her husband for the first time. Vittorio. I was instantly impressed. I want to be his good friend. I like the guy. He exudes good vibes. Pleasant vibes. And after a hour together, I could tell Vittorio and Claudia are truly in love. No doubt about it. I saw the signals. The affection. Physical. Mental. Spiritual. They’ve been together for 30 years. Since they were teen-agers. It’s the kind of love being nurtured continuously. And it needs to be. Because both have had hard setbacks in their lives. Claudia has health problems. Vittorio is out of work because of bad economic times. But still, they have each other. An innate love. That sustains them. And they know it. They’re in this life together. For better or worse.  I see true love. These are my kind of people. I want to know them. Better and better and better. They are truly alive human beings. Loving. My true love and I lost sense of time when we were with Vittorio and Claudia. We were all immersed in each other.  Connected. That’s the way life is meant to be. Yes, we do speak each other’s language.  Fluently. A wonderful spiritual language. –Jim Broede

Trying to survive in bad times.

Sat down on a park bench yesterday with Alexander, my refugee friend from Nigeria. And talked about quantum  physics, the cosmos and Einstein’s theory of relativity. Gives me the impression that he’s a fairly smart guy. But like I’ve said in previous threads, he’s more or less jobless. Working as a street peddler/beggar on the Italian island of Sardinia. That’s about the best work he can find. And he does it because he has to survive. In Italy, like in many parts of the world, the economy is awfully bad. And jobs are few and far between. Especially decent jobs with decent wages. Millions of Italians can’t find work. And that doesn’t bode well for a Nigerian immigrant. No matter how qualified he may be. Alexander also has three years of training in veterinary medicine. And he speaks English, Arabic and Italian. The impression here in Italy and even with many of my friends around the world is that a street peddler in Italy isn’t qualified for anything else.  That he’s a ne’er-do-well, also known as a worthless person, an idler, a loafer, a wastrel.  Trust me. That ain’t so in the case of Alexander. Instead, it’s the nature of the times. That totally competent and intelligent people can’t find decent jobs. But they still have to find ways to support themselves. Some of ‘em end up as street peddlers. And I wouldn’t have guessed  it until I met Alexander.   So now I’m writing about him. And I’ve asked that he stay in touch. With me. When I return to the U.S. in a few days. I want to know what finally happens to him. I’m hoping for a happy success story. But won’t surprise me if it turns out to be a sad story. Because  these are bad times. –Jim Broede

Cloistered. Bothered by no one.

So many things I like to do alone. Writing. Walking. Thinking. My most favorite pastimes are done alone. Away from other people. In quiet. In peace. In solitude. Of course, I do many, many things with my Italian true love. But every day I need alone time. And so does she. That’s a vital part of life. The enjoyment of being alone. Of not always having to be in the presence of another. Time to reflect. To get inside one’s own being. Into one’s soul and spirit. Yes, I want to be with other people, too. But not all the time. I need breaks. Virtually every day. Cloistered. Bothered by no one. At times in my life, I lived alone. That posed no serious problems. I adapted.  Adjusted. And made it all pleasurable. –Jim Broede

I want a bright future for Moses.

My Nigerian friend Moses is headed for Bologna. Leaving Sardinia. Because he thinks the north Italian city is a better place for a refugee to survive. To maybe even find decent work. But I suspect Moses is fooling himself. Really, Italy isn’t a haven for refugees. He’d be better off in Germany, and most any other European country.   But at least Moses is giving Bologna a try. I’d hate to be a refugee. Particularly at this time. When the economy is bad, worldwide. Jobs are scarce. Wasn’t like that when I was Moses’ age. In my mid-20s. In the 1960s. When I was looking for a job as a writer. For newspapers. Jobs were plentiful. I had my choice. Of as many as 30 jobs. All over America.  Now there would be hundreds of applicants for a job.  Times are tough. Some people tell me the worst since the Depression Era of the 1930s. Yes, time for a new approach. A new kind of society. A new kind of government.  Designed to put people back to work.  In America, there’s plenty of wealth.  But the problem is the distribution of the wealth. So heavily weighted in the hands of a relatively few rich people. We need a better distribution. To serve the common good.  We’re in this world together.  We have to learn to look out for each other.  Means the rich can’t be given free rein anymore.  They have to be harnessed. Taxed appropriately. To benefit the poor and the middle class.  The era of selfish and greedy capitalism must come to an end.  Yes, that’s what I want. The creation of paths that lead to bright futures for guys like Moses. –Jim Broede

Wake up! Live to the fullest. Now.

I know black refugees from trouble spots in Africa. And they are devout Christians. Just like so many blacks everywhere. They’ve been sold a bill of goods. Adopting the white man’s religion. Often, they are down and out people. Facing difficult if not impossible futures. In many cases they have been discriminated against. By racists. Merely because of their skin color. Think about blacks in America. So many of ‘em devout Christians, too. Descendants of slaves. Still, they’ve bought into Christian religion. In part because they’re supposed to have a better life when they die and go to Valhalla. That’s what the white man wants ‘em to believe. So they settle for being poor and downtrodden. Treated as second class citizens. Denied basic human rights. Christians, they are told, accept their fates. And just look forward to better days in heaven. Of course, they are being duped. By hypocritical white Christians. By people who don’t really believe in Christian principles.  I tell my African refugee friends, wake up. You are entitled to your grand reward now.  Here on Mother Earth. In this lifetime.  Seize the moment. Live to the fullest. Now. Now. Now. –Jim Broede

Italy: For Italians & people like me

A refugee. From a war-torn country,  such as Libya. Where do I want to go? If it’s me, probably the last place I’d want to go is Italy. Where I’m living now. Because Italy is not a good place for non-Italians. Consider the fact that Italy is Italy. Look in the phone books. And at  the names on tombstones in the cemeteries. They’re 99 percent Italian names. Italy is not the United States. In America there’s a mix of nationalities. From all over the world. Europe, Asia, Africa, Latin America. A melting pot. Italy is closely knit Italian. Through and through. Generally, you have to be of Italian descent to get ahead. I like Italy. I like Italians. But I’m an American. And a  retiree. I don’t have to find a job. Able to live on my retirement income. In Sardinia. Of course, it helps that I have an Italian true love. With whom I live. And she not only speaks English, she teaches it to Italian high school students. But the refugees I’ve encountered here are having very difficult times. To survive, they have menial jobs. As street vendors. Really, it’s a form of begging. Very degrading. Some of ‘em are well-educated. And have skills that might normally help them get decent jobs. But not in Italy. Because Italy has a high unemployment rate. And Italians tend to be loyal to other Italians. They’ll put fellow Italians to work before refugees from Africa. That’s only natural. I’m not taking Italians to task for it. They gotta do what they gotta do. Therefore, I encourage my African refugee friends to get out of Italy. As fast as they can. Go to Germany, or almost any other place in Europe. But best of all, try to immigrate to the U.S. or Canada. They may have a far better chance there. Especially if they speak English. And they do. When I return to America next week, I’m going to make inquiries. How do refugees go about coming to America, or maybe Canada? If I can, I’d like to help the refugees. They’re in their mid-20s. They want a decent future. A happy life. They aren’t going to find it in Italy. Italy ain’t for refugees. Instead, it’s for Italians. And people like me. –Jim Broede

An exuberantly good mood.

I make it a point to be in a good mood. Especially when I’m in the presence of people in bad moods. I like the contrast. To see if my mood can prevail. Usually, it does. Because I’m exuding powerful good vibes. Doesn’t work all the time. Only most of the time. Which is good enough for me. I actually gain something from people in bad moods. It motivates me. To be in a good mood. Just for spite.   Puts me into a funny frame of mind. To even think that I could be spiteful. For a moment. That’s enough to put me into an exuberantly good mood. –Jim Broede

An intentionally imperfect world.

I have reason to be upbeat. Because life is good. Even when it’s not perfect. Turns out that I like dealing with imperfections. With challenges. Finding ways to make things better. Actually, it would be boring living in a perfect world. Where everything went right. It would make living too easy. I see so many imperfections. But that doesn’t discourage me. Because there’s great satisfaction in solving  problems. And seeing the world become a better place. Though still very short of perfection. My guess is that the creator created an imperfect world intentionally. To give us something constructive to do. –Jim Broede

I like life, period.

I look forward to change. Change of location, for instance. I’m moving back to Minnesota next Saturday. After an absence of almost five months. Living in Sardinia, an island in the Mediterranean Sea. With my Italian true love. It’ll be nice becoming reacquainted with the USA. Maybe a case of absence making the heart grow fonder. Anyway, I’ll be back to Sardinia in the autumn. And my true love will join me in Minnesota this summer. It’s the good life. For both of us. Not everybody can change the scenery so easily. So conveniently. We’re both blessed in that regard. Living together. In Italy. In America. I like both countries. Fact of the matter, I like life, period. –Jim Broede

My foolish ways.

I sometimes get to know people by misjudging them. Initially. Eventually, I get it right. Thing is, I form opinions. On little evidence. I reach tentative conclusions. Because I’m on an expedition. An exploration. I’m feeling my way. That’s the nature of life. I don’t fully know what I’m seeing. And feeling. Never knowing if I have it completely right. Gotta admit that I could be wrong. About everything. But that doesn’t stop me from proceeding. I’m not afraid to make mistakes. To make the wrong guesses. Making a fool of myself. I take solace in being foolish. Because it’s often funny. Worth a laugh. I find that most people tend to be foolish. Very foolish. So in that sense, I’m like most everyone else. –Jim Broede

I like people that I dislike.

I like people. Even the people I dislike. I make an effort to like everyone. Instead, it’s their thinking that I dislike. They’re still okay people. Republicans, for instance. Even some of my relatives are Republicans. And they’re nice people.  Other than when it comes to the matter of politics. Then they are ignoramuses. Idiots. But still, I accept their right to be selfish and greedy. To oppose the common good. In many other respects, they are decent people. They suspect I’m kidding them. And they may be right. I’m half serious. And half merely poking fun. Thing is, I tend to like odd people. And Republicans are as odd as they come. Of course, Republicans think I’m the odd one. For liking people that I dislike. –Jim Broede

Reason to cringe.

Paul Ryan. Every time I look at him. Makes me cringe. He’s supposed to be the Republican congressional budget guru. And was Mitt Romney’s choice for vice president. Thank gawd, the ticket lost. But still, there’s Ryan, chairman of the house budget committee. He’d like to screw the poor and the middle class. Pad the pockets of the rich.  In the Republican never-ending quest to widen the gap between the rich and the poor. And essentially eliminate the middle class. So that everyone is rich or poor.  Nothing in between. Ryan has no grasp of the common good. Instead, he’s for the good of  the rich elite. People like Ryan often think like their parents and grandparents and great grandparents. Stuck in early 19th century ways. Wishing  there was still a slave economy. When rich white males were the ruling elite. The masters.  The powerbrokers. And to hell with everybody who isn't rich. Yes, it's the credo of Ryan and his Republican cronies. Reason for the rest of us to cringe.  –Jim Broede

Hale and hearty no matter where.

The windows are wide open. Because it feels like summer. Though it’s only the second day of spring. In the city of Carbonia on the island of Sardinia in the Mediterranean Sea. I have only another week in this summery paradise. Then it’s back to Minnesota. To the frozen lake on which I live. But I’ve missed the brunt of winter. Having been gone since early November. Not that I’m immune to winter. I could take it. But I’d keep the windows closed. And the furnace on. To tell the truth, winter in Minnesota ain’t all that bad. Blizzards. Sub-zero temperatures. Good exercise. Shoveling snow. Keeps one hale and hearty. But so does springtime in Sardinia. –Jim Broede

Obama's edge: He's got a brain.

Maybe Barack Obama has learned to like being president. Not sure that he liked the job initially. Because he had to make hard decisions. That may have been troubling. In trying to be fair and accommodating to everyone. Including Republicans. He tried to be nice.  But he’s learned that being nice in politics doesn’t necessarily mean that your opponents will be nice, too. They’ll take advantage of you. My guess is Obama learned that lesson. The hard way. Now he can play roughshod, too. Without too many qualms of conscience. Obama plays dirty in smart ways. He outmaneuvers  his foes. Backs them into corners. Thing is he’s smarter than most politicians.  He's got a brain. Which gives him a huge advantage over Republicans. –Jim Broede

Kapow! Kapow! Kapow!

It’s a new way to eliminate one’s enemies. Merely blast them off the face of Earth. With an explosive. Launched from a flying drone. Equipped with a powerful telescope. And laser. To spot the enemy.  Far more sophisticated than a nuclear bomb. More precise. If we had drones back in the 1930s, Hitler could have been eliminated. Maybe in a forum. As he made a speech. Kapow! One less menace. Thing is, maybe it’s Hitler that had access to the drone. He could have eliminated the eliminators. With a first strike. Obama seems to have little qualms of conscience. He’s even ordered a drone strike on an American citizen. Albeit in a foreign country. Kapow! He’s gone. I wonder if Obama is worried. That one of his enemies has a drone. And some day, some night. Kapow! No more Obama. –Jim Broede

People lack desire, not time.

People tell me they don’t have time. For this and that. And I tell them, quit making excuses. Everybody has time. They just don’t take the time. To do the important and must things. Sometimes, I ask someone to do me a favor. Might take three minutes. But still, they tell me they don’t have the time. They can’t spare three minutes.  Of course, that’s just so much BS. They are really telling me they don’t wanna take the time to do me a favor. One encounters such in bureaucracies. So much could be accomplished. In short order. If one merely took the time to do it. I have time today to do many, many things. I may choose to not take the time. But hey, I gotta admit. I have the time. To do almost anything I want. If only I had the desire. That’s really what most people lack. Desire. They have plenty of time. Time to burn. –Jim Broede

Give me a truly civilized society.

Not sure that my African friends in Italy think of life as pleasurable. More likely, perilous. But I’m hoping that in 10 years, they look back on this period in their young lives (they’re in their mid-20s) as adventurous times. Full of learning experiences. That helped them find their niche in the world. As happy and prospering human beings. These are hard times for them. Barely scrapping by. As street peddlers. Having come to Italy, in many instances, from Libya. Where they were better off than in their native countries of Nigeria and Ghana. That is, until Libya became enmeshed in a civil war. So they fled to Italy. As refugees. Wow! They have stories to tell. About survival. About living hand to mouth. But along the way, they’ve managed to learn skills. As computer whizzes. As trainee in veterinary medicine. In linguistics. Speaking several languages. English. Italian. Arabic. I’d like to see them end up maybe in America. In decent jobs. Earning decent wages. Raising families. Pursuing life the way it should be lived. Happy. Secure. Not rich. Not poor. But with the basic necessities. What I call the good life. I’m a dreamer. Maybe a Pollyanna. Because I think it’s all possible. In a restructured world. If only we can narrow the gap between the rich and the poor. Yes, a building of an ever-expanding middle class. All over the world. A truly civilized society. That’s all I want. –Jim Broede

The good and bad sides of life.

My Nigerian friend Alexander lived in Libya for three years. Some of it under Gaddafi. And the surprising thing to me was his take on Gaddafi. That life was good under Gaddafi. An interesting perspective. Because in America, Gaddafi has been portrayed as a despot. The personification of evil. I suspect there was bad and good in Gaddafi. A blend. That might apply to almost any ruler, any leader. In any country. Even American presidents. Take George Bush, for instance. He probably was responsible for more deaths than Gaddafi. Out of political blunders. Out of needless and obscene wars. American deaths. Iraqi deaths. Soldiers. Civilians. Innocents. That’s the way it is. Americans like to think we’re the good guys. The others are the bad guys. Truth is, we all have good sides and bad sides.  Even Gaddafi. Alexander said that Gaddafi saw that everyone in Libya either had a job, or if unemployed, received  a cash stipend every month. To get by. In a reasonable, comfortable manner. Even if you weren’t a Libyan citizen. Just a foreigner, like Alexander. Sure, Gaddafi was a dictator. Set some hard and fast rules that some people didn’t like. On some matters, he was a religious zealot. Outlawed drinking booze. No smoking, too. Women had to remain virgins. Unless they were married. Rigid rules. But Alexander said he treated the vast majority of Libyans and foreign residents decently. Alexander said life in Libya was better than in Nigeria. Less poverty. More employment. Alexander worked on a poultry farm. Assisting the staff veterinarian. Now he’s living in Italy. Barely making a living. As a street vendor. Life in Libya became dangerous, especially for foreigners, after Gaddafi was ousted in a civil war. Italy sent a ship to rescue 2,000 refugees. And Alexander came over in a little boat, with 20 other refugees. He’s been in Italy for a year. Learning the Italian language. He’s already conversant. And also speaks good English and Arabic. He’s only 26. And in search of the good life. Hasn’t found it yet. He’s had three years of veterinary medicine training. But in today’s world, there’s no guarantee of a good life. Especially for the poor and the unemployed. That’s the bad side of life. –Jim Broede

Gonna love...no matter where I am

Not sure if there’s a vast difference in my two worlds. The one in Sardinia, an island in the Mediterranean Sea. And the one in Minnesota, on the shore of Forest Lake. By the end of the day on March 30, I’ll be back in Minnesota, for the first time since early November. And it’s gonna seem like a different world. Though both places are on the planet Earth. But the natives speak different languages. Italian. English. And the terrain isn’t the same. And I’ll be surrounded by a different cast of characters. Though they are all human beings.  Anyway, I like the movement. Back and forth. Between Italy and America. Gives me a better perspective of the world. I like the Italian way of life. It proceeds at a slower pace than in America. And Italy is Italy. Look in the phone book or at the names on tombstones, and they’re virtually all Italian. In America, one encounters all sorts of nationalties. Italian. French. English. German. Scandinavian. African. Spanish. Mexican. Asian. You name it. A hodge-podge. A blend. From all over the world. That’s something nice about America. On the other hand, America has been and still is racist. A nation that was built on a shameful legacy of slavery and discrimination against black people and women. But at the same time America was assimilating many nationalities. A paradox. America has been spectacularly great and outrageously shameful. All at the same time. Maybe that goes for all countries. In different ways. Italians, too, have reasons to be proud and ashamed  of their history.  Same goes for individuals. You, me, everyone. Maybe that’s what I’m learning. That we all live in the same world. Things could be better. Things could be worse. As for me, I’m gonna love and savor life. No matter where I am. –Jim Broede

As if the dream never occurred.

Why does there have to be a creator? Could be that creation always existed. We humans tend to think there has to be a beginning, a middle and an end. To virtually everything. But I’m not so sure about that. Maybe there never was a Big Bang. Maybe there never was nothing. Always something. Maybe it’s impossible to have nothing. At least in the physical world. Of course, the physical world may only be an illusion. A dream. Not real. But if that’s the case, the dream has to be real. Even if it’s only a dream by a non-physical spirit. That would make the dreamer the actual creator. Makes me wonder what will happen when the creator awakens. Will it be as if the dream never existed? Because he completely forgot the dream.  Or maybe after the spirit awakens, the spirit evaporates into nothingness. And it’s as if the dream never occurred. There’ll be absolutely no trace of it. –Jim Broede

I want to see/visit it all firsthand.

I see no sense in the creation of the vast unending cosmos. Unless I can visit every nook and cranny. And get a feel for it. Means I gotta travel into other galaxies. Visit other planets. I’m assuming the creator – if there is one – can do that. And I want the same opportunity. Maybe a good start would be to visit other planets in the solar system where I’m living now. Presumably I can do that by evolving into spirit. With no physical body serving as a handicap to space travel. Spirit form that allows me to enter other dimensions would do the trick. If only the creator can do all this, and he’s denied me and other forms of life the same opportunity, he’s selfish. To be a decent and moral creator, he’s gotta share it all with all of us. I want to be his equal when it comes to privilege. To visit any place in the cosmos. To see/visit it all firsthand. –Jim Broede

Upon entering a fantastic world.

Maybe the nicest thing about life is language. The ability to use words and thoughts. To communicate with not only others. But with one’s self. In meaningful language. Wish I spoke everyone’s language. But I don’t. But I suspect that if one enters  a spiritual dimension, maybe there’s a universal language. Thoughts are translated. Automatically. Spirits know what’s on each other’s minds. There’s no hiding one’s thoughts. Which might be scary for some spirits. Still, maybe spirits find ways to get along. Without warfare. One cannot reek physical harm. Can’t bomb the hell out of other spirits. It’ll be interesting to see how spirits handle disagreements. Disputes. Maybe it’s necessary that spirits be able to hide their thoughts. To keep secrets. Anyway, entering another dimension would be an adventure. Feeling one’s way. Just like it happens in the three-dimensional physical world. I’m trying to imagine living in a four- or five- or six-dimensional world. Must be fantastic. –Jim Broede

Won't change my love pattern.

Maybe I allow my life to get too much into a pattern. Doing the same things. Daily. Over and over. Such as walking. Every day. Without miss. I write every day, too. Without miss. Maybe I should try  not writing. For a few days. Maybe I can’t. Because I’m addicted. To writing. To exercise. Maybe that’s all right. Good addictions. Used to be that I was addicted to the Chicago Cubs. In a negative way. Allowed myself to be bothered for a few hours to a day or two after a heartbreaking loss. Until I recognized that was nonsense. Not good. Now I don’t sweat a loss for more than a few minutes. I get over it. Fast. Knowing I can’t change outcomes of games. I’ve learned acceptance. And to quit wishing that things were different. Anyway, I do follow certain daily routines. But I’m still a flexible and adaptable guy. I adjust to the moment and the situation. And keep reminding myself that I’m in love with life. No reason to change that pattern. –Jim Broede

A sin: Not thinking for one's self.

I always have something to write about. A constant flow of thought. When I was in elementary school and high school, maybe I had a blank mind much of the time. Certainly not as many thoughts as I have now. And I like it. The abundance of thought. Some days, maybe much of it frivolous thought. But that’s all right. Frivolity should be a big part of life.  But I think about life. A whole lot. And whether it’s meaningful. It is, I suppose. If I give it meaning. And I do. Some days, that’s my preoccupation. The search for meaning. Wish I had started that earlier in life. Though maybe it doesn’t make a difference. I just wasn’t ready then. I’m a late bloomer. And I’ve had to learn to think. My way. Rather than let other people do the thinking for me. That’s what I suspect many people do. Not think for themselves. That’s a sin. A sacrilege. –Jim Broede

I live comfortably. Thriftily, too.

One thing I miss most about the place where I live in Minnesota. The thrift stores. I like to go shopping. For bargains. For little knick-knacks. That come cheap. Maybe it’s a shirt or sweater. Or a book. Maybe a kitchen appliance. A compact music disc. Sheets for my king-sized bed. I also discard my stuff there. Donate. A nice way to turn things over. Don’t see much of thrift stores in Italy. But that’s where such stores are most needed. Where poor people live. In bad economic times. I’m surprised there aren’t more. Instead, they pop up in relatively affluent places. In America. Maybe it’s that Americans, more than any other people, like to go shopping. Especially for bargains.  I really don’t need to be all that thrifty. I’m not rich. Nor poor. I live comfortably. Thriftily, too. –Jim Broede

To have a friend. Sight unseen.

I’ve never formally met some of my best friends. Maybe that seems odd. But I know them. From a distance. Having never met ‘em face-to-face. In person. We’ve exchanged letters. Emails. Maybe even a phone conversation or two. But still they are friends. Trusted friends. It’s been enough to exchange words. Mostly written words. Used to think that one’s only true friends had to be people one could see. Physically. Able to touch. But that’s not so. I’m still able to touch these friends. In very meaningful ways. Maybe it’s spiritual. And maybe that’s even better than a physical connection. To have a friend. Sight unseen. –Jim Broede

No matter the place, it's paradise.

I like being where I am. But then, I don’t mind being some place else. Because I make it a point to like wherever I am. No sense in wishing I were elsewhere. Might as well savor the place and the moment. And then make plans to go elsewhere. Not because I’m disenchanted. But because it’s nice to not be stuck in one place. Better to get around. I’m in Sardinia now. But in 10 days I’ll be in Minnesota. Maybe for several months. Thing is, there are similarities between Minnesota and Sardinia. Both are forms of paradise. Maybe that’s why I don’t mind being on the go. No matter where I am, it's paradise.  –Jim Broede

Because he's an honest idiot.

I try to let people be themselves. But at the same time, I try to encourage people to try something new. To change their ways. To even take a new approach to life. For instance, if someone seems to be unhappy all the time, why continue being unhappy? Nothing wrong with experimenting. Finding a way to live happily. Maybe I should mind my own business. But if I did that, I’d not be following my inclination.  It’s really my business not to mind my business. To interfere. Especially if things don’t seem to be going right for my acquaintance or friend. I even like to approach strangers. Either for no reason at all. Or just to satisfy my curiosity. Of course, that alienates some people. For instance, Republicans. I may ask a Republican, why are you acting like an idiot? And he responds by acting like an idiot. He’s just answered my question. Honestly. Because he’s an idiot. And that’s what I let him be. No sense in asking him to change .–Jim Broede

Better to be crazy than bored.

I’m surprised by how many people allow their lives to drift into boredom. Maybe they are waiting for stimulation. From outside. From others. But really, they have to learn to motivate themselves. To light a fire. Under their ass. Or preferably in their belly. They don’t get turned on. Makes me wonder why. Oh, they may have a convenient excuse. Being tired, for instance. But then I know tired people who still get going. Find stimulation in their waking hours. Maybe they sleep for 10 or 12 hours. And take naps. But man, when they get going, they get going.  As for me, I refuse to be bored. And if I’m with boring people, I may stand on my hands or do cartwheels or sing a song badly. Just to catch their attention. Just to show them I ain’t bored. I’m also crazy. And that’s far better than being bored. –Jim Broede

Meaningful stuff happens.

Maybe people have to learn to look at their lives as unfolding stories. True stories. Better than any fiction. In which they are the main character. Gives them the opportunity to relate to the others. In meaningful ways. For instance, one can choose to fall in love. Doesn’t automatically mean that the love will be reciprocated. But hey, it’s worth a try. And if things don’t work out, chalk it up as a learning experience. And go on to the next challenge. Seems to me the nicest thing of all is the opportunity to choose an interesting life. Really, there are so many, many ways to make life interesting. Often, by being different. By not fitting in. Doing whatever turns one on. Of course, one can choose to live a boring life. And just mark time. But one can also choose to travel and search for exotic pursuits. So many, many options. Most days, I can list 10 or 20 things to do. Fanciful and otherwise. Depending on my mood. And more often than not, meaningful stuff happens. –Jim Broede

Instead of reading it, I'm living it.

I lead a charmed life. Doesn’t mean that everything flows to perfection. Instead, it’s a life full of dreams that come true. Maybe I don’t have everything. But hey, 90 percent ain’t bad. And who knows? Maybe I’ll get the other 10 percent sooner or later. Of course, that’ll take living forever. And as long as I’m alive, that remains a possibility. Not sure that I really want to write my own life script. Maybe I’d rather just let things happen. Like living in a story. And not knowing the future. If I were to know what’s coming next, it’d rob me of the joy of anticipation. I’m patient. I can wait to see how things unfold. Really, there’s no predicting. No way could I have seen the life of the past five years coming. Yes, the entry of the second true love of my life. After the first one died. Which allows me to split my time between America and Italy. Thus a charmed life. Just like in a storybook. But instead of reading it, I’m living it. –Jim Broede

Bruno spurs me on. To try harder.

Bruno is becoming one of my favorite Italians. Because he’s so cordial. And just a plain nice guy. He’s invited me to go for walks. And when he spots me out on the streets of the city  Carbonia in Sardinia, I hear shouts of ‘Jim, Jim, Jim.’ He’s hailing me. I’ve been trying to cultivate Italians, despite my limited Italian vocabulary. And it’s nice that Bruno is cultivating me. I appreciate it. He makes a good effort at speaking to me in English. Makes me feel a little guilty. That I don’t do better with my Italian. But Bruno spurs me on. To try harder. –Jim Broede

I'll take it all in stride.

We are getting a stretch of summer-like weather in Sardinia. Lots of sunshine. Temperatures hovering in the low 70s. Gentle breeze. But still, when it cools down, we’re talking daytime highs in the 50s. Being a Minnesotan, I can take that. And savor it. I’m returning to Minnesota in 10 days. And won’t be surprised to see snow and freezing temperatures. And ice still on the lake. I’ll take it all in stride. And be thankful for my five-month stay in Sardinia. Also known as Paradise. –Jim Broede

A decent distribution of wealth.

Tax the rich. Tax the rich. Tax the rich. I can’t say it often enough. Tax the hell out of the rich. Until there’s a narrowing of the gap between the rich and the poor. That’s my credo. I have absolutely no qualms of conscience if the rich become less rich. If that’s what it takes to make the poor less poor. I’m anti-Republican. Anti-conservative. Yes, I’m a progressive. A liberal. A socialist. Because I want the rich taken down a peg or two or three. I despise the especially greedy rich. The ones that think it’s all right to widen the gap between the rich and the poor. Even if it means obliterating the middle class. Making everyone rich or poor. I don’t want that. I want a decent distribution of the world’s wealth. –Jim Broede

Is this a civilized society?

The Nigerians I’ve met in Sardinia are nice clean-cut young gentlemen. They go by the names Moses and Alexander. Moses is a computer whiz. Alexander has three years of training in veterinary medicine.  My Italian true love met Alexander today. While we were sipping espresso and cappuccino  at a coffee bar. She was impressed. That he sounded articulate and well-educated. Yes, seemed like a gentleman. But these young men face somewhat doubtful futures. Because of the economy. And the lack of opportunity to truly get ahead. There just aren’t the jobs to be had. Now they are barely making livings as street vendors. Existence is a day to day thing. It’s tough. Just surviving. These guys are no riff-raff. They’re intelligent beings. With skills. They could do any number of things. But hey, jobs are few and far between. No matter where one lives. In Italy. Anywhere in Europe. In America, too. Stumbled across a statistic the other day. Some 1.3 billion people in the world are living in abject poverty. With wages of $1.25 a day, or less.  Moses and Alexander are doing better than that. But still, it’s not a decent way to live. Makes me wonder if we really have a civilized society. If we let things like this happen. –Jim Broede

Beyond one's wildest imagination.

I’m a Chicago Cubs fan. Easily pleased. I’ll be happy even if the Cubs don’t make it to the World Series. I’ll settle for a season better than last. Which won’t take much. Because the Cubs lost 101 games and finished with the second worst record in baseball. If the Cubs lose only 90 games this season, I’ll consider it a success. And if they finish with a record of 81-81, it’ll be astounding. Nothing less than a miracle. Imagine if the Cubs ever won the World Series. Of course, that’s impossible.  Even beyond one’s wildest imagination. –Jim Broede

Got no complaints. Life is good.

Not sure whether I’d rather be in Sardinia or America. Got feelings for both places. Virtually all good for Sardinia. And a mix of good and bad for America. Things is, no matter where I am, I find ways to savor it all. Even the bad stuff in America. Such as the lunatic fringe Republican politicians. I learn to laugh. Rather than anguish. Humor is a way to salvage one’s sanity. Anyway, I’m returning to America in 10 days. After nearly a five-month sojourn in Sardinia. With my Italian true love. Got mixed feelings about leaving. But I take solace because my true love will be joining me in Minnesota this summer. And I’ll be returning  to Sardinia in the autumn. Another thing. When I walk into the door in Minnesota, my two beloved cats, Loverboy and Chenuska, will be there to greet me. And I’ll be connected to my true love daily. On Skype. So really, I have no complaints. Life is good. –Jim Broede

Gotta make my haircut productive.

In my journeys about the city of Carbonia in Sardinia I pick up scuttlebutt. About people. Such as my Italian barber. His surname is Patane. And I’ve heard he’s a disc jockey. On the local radio station. That he specializes in Latin American and Spanish American music. Heard that a TV station did a little feature piece on him. And that arouses my curiosity. I want to know more. How he got turned on to such music. And whether he’s visited Latin American countries. Or Mexico. Or the American Southwest. I need a translator to accompany me when I get a haircut. And my Italian true love is reluctant to volunteer. Because she considers the barber shop a strict male domain. So I’m thinking about asking my Italian walking buddy, Bruno, to go with me for my next haircut. He speaks a little bit of English. Yes, I’ve gotta find ways to improvise. To innovate. To get the job done. Satisfying my curiosity. Doing whatever it takes. Only one more haircut before I return to America. Gotta make it productive. –Jim Broede

I rest my case.

Maybe the biggest myth about creation is that we earthlings are alone. That there’s no other intelligent life in the entire cosmos. Two big mistakes. First, we earthlings ain’t intelligent beings. And all sorts of life abounds. Including intelligent life. Far beyond anything we primitive and stupid  earthlings can imagine. Many of us (not me) believe that somebody called god created Adam and Eve something like 6,000 years ago. And here we are. God’s gift to the cosmos. The masterwork of his creative imagination. I’m smarter than that. Some days, I’m certain we earthlings aren’t the masterpiece. But rather an afterthought. Maybe a mistake/experiment that went awry. Many of our more conservative brethren don’t even believe dinosaurs existed millions of years ago. Yes, because the earth is only 6,000 years old. Once upon a time, many of us even thought the earth was the center of the universe. And that the earth was flat. That one could fall off the edge. Into an abyss. And keep falling forever.  In fact, there still is a flat earth society. And another thing, if any of you still believe there’s intelligent life, take a gander at our politicians. Especially Republicans. Look at me with a straight face. And tell me that’s intelligent life. I rest my case. –Jim Broede

I'm losing faith in democracies.

People are easily duped. Maybe that’s why I’ve become leery of democracies. People believe lies. Because they don’t take the time to seek the truth. To understand what’s happening in this world. They live by sound bites. By impressions. By what they are told to believe by  the authorities. By the so-called experts. That’s how America got into a costly war in Iraq. We were duped. Sold a bill of goods. By politicians. Even by the news media. Because the media itself was duped. Maybe it’s that people are generally stupid. Too stupid to ask the right questions. If that’s so, little wonder that democracies don’t work. Because people can be mislead. Easily manipulated. Sold a bill of goods. Repeat a lie often enough, and it’s accepted. As the truth. Yes, I’m becoming disillusioned. Losing my faith in democracies. –Jim Broede

Let's spend our way to prosperity.

I’m opposed to austerity programs being foisted on countries with big debts and high unemployment. I’d rather have big spending, even if that means increased national debt. In order to put people back to work. And to revitalize the economy. I side with economists who argue that austerity does more harm than good. That it’s better and wiser to spend more. Of course, the well-off amongst us, the very rich, tend to advocate austerity. Because they aren’t in dire straits. They are still able to live extravagantly. Despite the bad economic times. But they want the poor and the middle class to tighten their belts. To live on less and less. To go unemployed. To live in poverty. That ain’t right. It’s immoral. Doesn’t matter what country it’s in. Whether it’s America or Greece or Italy or Spain. Anywhere in the world. That’s the way governments must start thinking. Taking care of the masses. Serving the common good. Rather than serving the interests of the rich and elite. –Jim Broede