Don’t know if there’s a right and proper way to write and
speak, Instead, I merely forge ahead. Do whatever seems natural. Even if my
many, many ways seem unnatural to others. I like to dabble. When it comes to
communication. Trying this and that.
Experimenting. Used to be that I was shy. Was born that way. Now I’m a unique blend of shyness and
boldness. Doing whatever it takes. To
reach certain people. Don’t know if that would make me a good diplomat.
Instead, I became a good interviewer. A writer. I’m supposed to be retired. But
really, I’m not. I write more now than when I was employed as a writer. I don’t
write for money. Or to make a living. But I write to stay alive. Physically.
Mentally. Emotionally. I’m in love. With words. Mostly English. I know some
French, Italian, German, Spanish. But very little. Not nearly enough to carry on a decent, in
depth conversation. That’s one of my
biggest regrets. That I didn’t become multilingual. But I seek out foreigners
that speak English. Many of ‘em are my heroes.
Because they set a fine example. For me. They have accomplished what I
should have accomplished. That includes my Italian true love. Had she not
become bilingual, I’d have missed out on the most wonderful experience of my
life. –Jim Broede
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