Wednesday, August 31, 2016
Sunday, August 28, 2016
That's their right. To be wrong.
I don’t have to be loved
or liked. By many. It’s sufficient to be respected. By a few close
friends. I’m not out to win a popularity
contest. If people perceive me in negative ways, so be it. I won’t lose sleep
over being disliked or misconstrued. It’s more important that I like myself.
That may sound egotistical. But it isn’t. I know
me. And that’s just fine. I’m proud and happy. To be a romantic idealist, a
spiritual free-thinker, a political liberal, a lover and a dreamer. If others
don’t see me that way, that’s their
right. To be wrong. --Jim Broede
Saturday, August 27, 2016
Off we go. With a sigh of relief.
I waited and waited and waited. To be let into Canada. Along
with my Italian amore. We sat there. In the customs office. In Fort Francis.
In Ontario. We wondered why. I asked the woman seated
next to us if she had a clue. She didn’t. Or was she playing dumb? Turns out her
companion was off being interrogated. He returned, and whispered, that he was being
denied entry into Canada.
Because of an unpaid parking ticket. Years ago. In Chicago. He had to make restitution. Or be returned
to the U.S. Made me wonder if I had an unpaid parking ticket. At least I knew. That I wasn’t a terrorist. Anyway, I finally ambled
up to a counter and asked a uniformed clerk. Why do we have to wait so long
for clearance? “Oh’ she said, “we didn’t notice that you had come in. She quickly summoned a customs officer. Who
apologized for the delay. Five minutes later. Off we went. Toward Kenora and Lake of the Woods. With a sigh of relief. Thankful. That
I don’t have any unpaid parking tickets --Jim Broede
Wednesday, August 24, 2016
Doesn't matter what others think.
I didn’t take offense today. When a friend told me that she
perceives my Italian amore as a bit crazy.
She didn’t mean it in a nice way. Oh, I’ll concede that Cristina is
crazy. But in wonderful ways. That’s why she’s my true love. I adore her. Even
her craziness. As far as I’m concerned, we’re both darn good crazy. And different. In so many ways. Yet, we know
how to accept each other. We are both tolerant and open-minded and independent,
and yes, downright crazy. That makes for a loving relationship. And it doesn’t
matter one iota what others think. --Jim Broede
A mere sip of the good life.
I’m trying to be happy. When my cup runneth over. And not ask for more. Though that’s what I want. Perfection from my Chicago Cubs. They have the best record (80-45) in major league baseball. In the old days, I’d have settled for the Cubs splitting their games. A so-called average season. But now I want it all. Everything. A World Series. In which the Cubs dominate. It’s hard to tell myself to settle for anything less. I’ve become spoiled. By Cubs baseball riches. Second best won’t be good enough. When really it should. I’m similar to the billionaire. Who never has enough. Always an insatiable desire for more. I keep musing. Settle for less. Life is still good. Without everything. I’m blessed. Even when my cup doesn’t runneth over. Give me a mere sip of the good life. --Jim Broede | |||
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Tuesday, August 23, 2016
Better than the Northwoods.
Being in the Northwoods. Of Minnesota
and Canada.
For two weeks. Was thrilling. But not
nearly as thrilling as being with my Italian amore, Cristina. That was the
highlight of my vacation. The presence of my true love. --Jim Broede
Monday, August 22, 2016
A dreamless reality.
Give me time to dream. That’s a benefit of being on
vacation. I had time to dream. In my sleep. More than usual. Of course, I also continue to day dream. In
an effort to make sense of my night dreams. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m dreaming
round the clock. Day and night. In order to find meaning. If not immediately.
Maybe in a week or two – or even much later. Several weeks ago, while traveling in Canada, I got up at 3
in the morning. To ponder my night dream.
I had already forgotten much of the dream. I should have put the dream in writing. Instantly.
While it was still fresh. Though I often wonder, it it’s really necessary to
analyze my dreams. Perhaps we humans have become too analytical. Animals don’t analyze. They just live. For
the day. By instinct. That’s what I was thinking about when I went to bed. A
few hours after visiting museums dedicated to the study of wolves and bears.
And the way they live and think. Seems that they live to survive. Merely by
being their natural selves. Without giving thought to yesterday, today and
tomorrow. No musing. No reflecting.
Wolves and bears are what they are. And that’s good enough. No desire to
be something else. Better to be their true selves. Without question. But here I
am. Raising questions. Pondering. About my own being. The whys and wherefores
of my life. I am compelled. To think. To muse. About everything. Maybe my life
is a continuous dream. That will end. When I awaken to a new and fully conscious
and dreamless reality. --Jim Broede
Sunday, August 21, 2016
More reason. To be in love.
Nicest thing about traveling. Isn’t so much the discovery of
places. Never seen before. But rather, and more importantly, the continuing
discovery of my beloved companion. My Italian amore, Cristina. She’s with me.
Sharing the same, often intimate travel
experiences. Morning. Noon. And night. Together. Together. Together. Though we
may get different stuff and meanings, from the same experience. But we are
able. To describe. The fullness of our
lives. To each other. More reason. To be
in love. With life. --Jim Broede
Sunday, August 7, 2016
Sweet and pleasant dreams.
I wonder what it means. To take care of one’s self. Depends
upon the individual, I suppose. For me, it means being happy. And in love. With
life. And with someone other than myself.
Sounds pretty simple doesn’t it?
No doubt about it. I’m in love. But I need reminders. And I have them.
Every day. In my Italian amore, Cristina. And my cat, Loverboy. And in just
being alive. In vibrant ways. It helps. That I am able to write. And to muse.
About the wonders of life. About being truly alive. And going to breakfast. This morning. With
dear friends. No doubt. I have problems. Mental. Emotional. Physical. Like
everyone else. But I love to cope. With life’s daily challenges. Hardly ever do I go to bed. In anything other
than a happy frame of mind. Amazing, too. I wake up happy. Yes, I’m off to a
good start. Knowing there’s a good finish ahead. Tonight. When I fall
asleep. Drifting into sweet and pleasant
dreams. --Jim
Wednesday, August 3, 2016
A reasonably good lover.
My Italian amore, Cristina, is virtually as important as me.
At least in my little world. Because she’s my one and only true love. I accept
her. Unconditionally. That’s a requirement of true love. Not easily attained.
My best guess is that most relationships are conditional. If pushed to the
extreme. Anyway, I try to take good and loving care of Cristina. And that’s
best achieved. When I also take good care of myself. Physically. Mentally.
Emotionally. That makes me a reasonably good lover. --Jim
A way to the good life.
This may sound egotistical. From my perspective, I’m the
most important person in the world. That’s the way it should be. I have to take
care of myself. One way or another. Because if I don’t, there’s no guarantee
that others will do it for me. Meanwhile, I have no qualms about taking care of
others. But if I don’t take care of myself, I’m likely to be in no position to care
for others. Therefore, I put myself first and foremost. I encourage others to do
much the same. Yes, it’s an individual approach
to life. Of course, some are incapable of caring for themselves. They need
help. Which society is capable of providing. Face it. Truth be told. I like and
respect me. But I can’t force others to.
Fortunately, some do. But others don’t. Incidentally, the people I like most
are the ones that like and respect themselves.
And they aren’t necessarily egotistical about it. It’s simply a
practical and productive way to the good life.
--Jim Broede
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