Eccentric. And proud of it.

I’ve been described as eccentric. As different. Out of the ordinary. As perhaps more than a  bit crazy. Nothing wrong with that. It’s just the way I am. No sense in being anything other than what makes me feel like me. In comfortable and idyllic ways. A romantic idealist. A spiritual free-thinker. A political liberal. A writer. A lover. A dreamer. An extraordinary Chicago Cubs fan.  And for good measure, I also walk 10 miles most days. I live with a cat, too. Named Loverboy. Because that’s what he is. Qualifying as my closest living companion.  I’ll be devastated. If and when he dies.  But I’ll adjust. Because I have a true love. My Italian amore, Cristina. For eight years now. Ever since my longtime wife Jeanne died. Of complications from Alzheimer’s. Anyway, Cristina and I flit back and forth. Living with each other. For periods every year. In Minnesota.  In Sardinia.  When we aren’t together in the flesh. We are still in daily video contact. On Skype.  We’ve been drawn together. Because we’re daffy. Yes, we are both eccentrics. And proud of it. --Jim Broede