A speck in human history.

I refuse to admire. Certain people. Yes, the ones who want to be admired. That’s their mission in life. To be admired by the throngs. To be worshiped. That fits Donald Trump. To a tee. To become a Trump devotee, one must learn to admire the egocentric. One’s heroes become the likes of Julius Caesar and Alexander the Great and Genghis Khan. And sadly, even Adolph Hitler. Yes, wide-ranging personalities. With one thing in common. Gigantic egos. Didn’t matter whether their pursuits were good or evil.  They coveted fame. Celebrity. In some cases, notoriety. Didn’t matter. There always would be elements from the anonymous masses that admired their accomplishments. They would be men that went down into the annals of history. For being recognized. For doing something or other. Albeit, in sometimes odd and curious ways. Most of us don’t need/desire such ego-soothing placement in the chronicles of time. We settle for merely having lived. And loved. In non-illustrious ways. Without ever being remembered. Lost in the flow of history. Never to be heard from again. As if we never lived. Other than knowing. Personally. The fact that we really lived. For a moment. A mere instant. As a member of the masses. In the space of unending time. That’s where my admiration goes. To the anonymous and humble individuals. In the teeming masses. That learned to love life. In their own unique ways. Which, of course, includes none other than fabulous me. An outstanding speck in human history.  -Jim Broede